Vuelta al Cotopaxi, Primera Parte; Ecuador.
June 1, 2012
I’m just back from the Vuelta al Cotopaxi. Ok, not the official mountain biking race around Ecuador’s most famous volcano, but a similar route of our own doing. More photos from this bikepacking adventure soon…
Onward plans are now almost fully formed, though typically subject to change… I’ll be heading south from here, looping round to Lago Quilatoa, before picking up some dirt roads to Baños. From there, I’ll backtrack to Amabato, and follow a trail that wends its way between the twin volcanoes of Chimborazo and Carihuairazo, down to Riobamba. Then, I have a choice. Cut down to Macas in the Amazon basin lowlands, or stay up high towards Cuenca and pick my way down a dirt road further to the south. Once in the Amazonas, it’s a paved road to Loja, then more dirt into the mountains to Zumba, on the Peruvian border…
Summer seems to be coming to Ecuador, so I’m hopeful for some dry days!
After a high traverse from Pintag, we approached mighty Cotopaxi – one of highest active volcanoes in the world – on this wisp of a jeep track.
And the following morning, under clear skies.
The remote jeep track that leads to the lone hacienda at el Tambo, 3700m, on the eastern side of Cotopaxi – by now lost behind a thick halo of cloud.
Ecuadorian farmers on their way up into the páramo, the treeless, barren, high altitude plains typical of Ecuador.
This ‘road’ barrelled us down from our highest pass, 4200m, hopschotching crevasses and watersnakes as we went.
Picking our way across the various mini-canyons in El Morro.
My Ecuadorian riding companion, Michael, shared a love of exploring each and every singletrack opportunity that came our way…
After a medley of trains, planes and even a nocturnal bicycle ride across LA (with dumpster-diving feed en route), here I am back in Quito. Or rather Tumbaco, a small town squeezed between steep, quilted hills, set some 12 kms to the east of Ecuador’s sprawling capital. And sprawling it certainly is. Despite its relatively modest population size – sub 2 million in number - this runner bean-shaped metropolis extends some 48kms in length, draped between a rugged corridor of active and dormant volcanos.
The culture shock of such an arrival can be intense. It’s a time when senses are at their sharpest and their most impressionable; before the brain has a chance to adjust to the barrage of sensory experiences that bombard it. After a smooth transit through Ecuador’s immigration, I crammed my bicycle into the trunk of a cheap taxi sedan, resuscitating my neglected Spanish into life over small talk with its driver. Luckily I had a home to head for that night, courtesy of Steve Tober - a teacher at a British school near Tumbaco – and his Colombian, elite-level mountain-running wife, along with their two kids.
Steve has a passion for bicycle touring that courses strongly through his veins. Nowadays he concentrates his two-wheeled explorations around Colombia and Ecuador; pre-kids, he travelled all over around world. Check out his excellent blog if you ever question the plausibility of touring as a family in South America – his stories are inspiring. In fact, it was Steve’s local route-finding expertise and enthusiasm that I have to thank for one of my favourite rides: Tulcan to El Angel, via the otherworldly Paramo. And, no doubt, his guidance that I’ll be grateful for when it comes to the adventures that lie ahead. Indeed, it wasn’t long before we’d cracked out a collection of well-thumbed maps; now my head is spinning with possibilities for unbeaten path travel to Peru and beyond.
It feels good to be back on the road, especially given my happier state of health than last time round. Although the sensation of returning to a nomadic lifestyle, after so long, is overwhelmingly one of excitement, I have to admit it’s tinged with apprehension. I’m back on my own, dealing with whatever life throws at me. Last time my journey to Ecuador took months; a slow, natural adaptation to Latin America. This time it’s been accelerated into a handful of hours. Almost immediately I’ve had the realisation – or rather the stark reminder – of how much more intense bicycle touring is here, compared to my recent journeys in South West USA.
Which is probably what keeps drawing me back. Aside from the physical challenges of near vertical climbs through the Andes, there’s that infamous Latin American edge to contend with. And the cars too – and the frenzied, diesel belching buses – that drive with wild abandon. The glass-littered roads, mined with unexpected, cavernous potholes, or protruding with sculptures of contorted rebar.
Of course, these challenges are more than offset by the vibrancy of life here, the warmth and curiosity of those I meet and the natural beauty and diversity of the land. Not to mention the wealth of new foods to savour – streets and markets resplendent in mysterious produce awaiting the intrepid, hungry cyclist…
The Tober Rig: a hardtail pulling a tag-along pulling a Chariot trailer… Incidentally, the tag-along bike is 9kg, Ramon is 17kg, the Chariot trailer is 15kg, and Carla is 12kg. Add Steve’s bike and 10kg in the panniers, and you have some serious load hauling… Every Sunday, a car-free route – the Ciclovía - runs much of the length of elongated Quito, so we headed out en famille to rub shoulders with hundreds of Ecuadorian cyclists. The Tober Rig proved to be quite an eye catcher.
The historic centre of the capital, which lies some 25 kilometres south of the equator. Hence the name of the country.
Room for two in the deluxe Chariot. After a long day out, treats help keep smiles on faces…
The next morning, Steve and I awoke at the crack of dawn to head out for a day ride to Cumbre del Llalo. A chance to refamiliarize my legs with relentless Ecuadorian grades, the route covered the full gamut of terrain, including cangahua, dry mud moulded into a curious lunascape.
And, of course, the classic Ecuadorian cobblestone – empedrado – a filling-loosening surface that defies even the benefits of 29er wheels.
During much of the ride, we were engulfed by a thick veil of cloud cover. As we neared the top, we weaved our way through an alleyway of eucalyptuses poking out of the swirling mist.
A triumphant Cass and Ogre at Cumbre del Ilalo, 3200m. (photo Steve Tober)
Let the street food feast begin… These tortillas de tiesto are made from wholewheat or corn, stuffed with cheese and sweetened with panela – unrefined whole cane sugar. Prepared on a traditional ceramic bowl, they go down a treat after a ride.
I did, however, pass on this poor fella – hornado de chancho – cooked in a large dome oven and served as seen.
A devout vegan, Steve had rustled up some of his delicious powerbars, laced with all kinds of nuts and flax seeds for a slow burning, long lasting and nutricious energy boost. Recipe below…
Another healthy boost: lush, tropical fruit sold at almost every street corner in Ecuador.
Sometimes you don’t even have to go looking for it – it comes to you. This open air fruit truck passes by Steve and Maria’s home every week to unload the latest in fresh produce.
Alternative uses for a stroller…
Incidentally, the Ogre arrived safe and sound. Although the flight was operated by American Airlines flight, booking through LAN Ecuador meant there was no excess baggage fee to pay, saving me the $150 charge I’d have been hit with otherwise. As usual, I used my Ground Effect Body Bag, bolstered with locally sourced cardboard. It folds down small to be forwarded onwards or sent home.
When I flew home from Quito last year, I’d left some panniers and gear at the ramshackle Casa de Ciclistas in Tumbaco, so I headed over to sift through long forgotten belongings.
Resident hound Luna.
I set up camp in the open garage at the end of the garden, protection from the afternoon deluges typical at this time of year, before the dry season takes a firmer hold.
My neighbour, Frenchman Arthur, who has ridden down from Mexico City.
And Miguel, from Asturias, Spain, who’s pedalled up from Ushuaia, Argentina.
Of course, no self-respecting Spaniard begins the day without a cigarette and a cup of coffee…
For the perfect cup of coffee you need, of course, a miniature caffettiera in your panniers.
Gear talk… I hadn’t realised the Truvativ GPX crankset fitted to the Ogre wasn’t Shimano compatible – even standard Shimano chainrings won’t fit without modification. Luckily (for me at least), someone else had run into same issue. There was a damaged crankset amongst Santiago’s treasure trove of spares which I cannibalised for parts .
For aspiring 29er riders, the good news is that the big wheel revolution has made it to Ecuador – or at least, to its high end bicycle shops. I noted an impressive collection of Maxxis 29er tyres were available, for as little as $23 each.
Our hosts. Santiago and his wife Ana Lucia have been receiving roving cyclists for over 20 years, offering them a place to pitch a tent, a workshop to repair their bikes and warmhearted, Ecuadorian hospitality.
A change of plans.
July 23, 2011
For various reasons which I’ll expand on at some point, I’ve had to put my journey on hold for a few of months.
I now find myself back in the UK, desperately missing the road and its rhythm. The bananas don’t taste half as good, the avocados are tiny, and a clean bed is definitely no improvement on my cosy little tent… But on a brighter note, it’s wonderful to see my family again and catch up with friends after so long away. And reacquainting myself with my local Bristolian trails is a good reminder that you don’t have to travel across the world to have a great ride.
I aim to keep the blog going during this interim, as there are various stories and kit reviews I have in the pipeline. I’ll be posting a report on the last ride into Quito soon – a cracker of a dirt road climb to Lago Mojando, followed by 40 kms of uninterrupted trail and blisterinly fast singletrack along an old railway line. In fact, the last few days in Ecuador were as good a finale as I could have hoped for after two incredible years in the Americas.
Our last campspot. Lago Mojanda, 3700m, reached by climbing one of Ecuador's infamously cobbled climbs.
Arnaud picks his way along a sublime dirt road up at 4000m.
Welcome to the Ecuadorian Andes: the permanently snow-capped Volvan Cayambe, 4690m.
I'm already missing the simple life, my bike loaded with only as many possessions as I can carry.
A boxed Troll, a sad sight indeed. Heading home two years and three days after I left... But I hope to be back soon.
Dirt roading in Ecuador – El Angel and the Paramo
July 6, 2011
I’m on Day 3 in Ecuador, and so far, I’m loving it here…
Special thanks are due to Steve, for guiding me by email to one of my favourite rides of the trips so far: a high altitude dirt road that wends it way amongst the Paramo, the amazing watery ecosystem unique to this northern swathe of the Andes.
Here’s a short report on the ride across the border from Pasto, Colombia, to El Angel, Ecuador.
Leaving Pasto, we teamed up for the day with Michaels, Joost and Siska, who I'd last ridden with back in Mompos, many hilly miles to the north. Michaels is building up an impressive selection of flags, that snap in the wind like the top of a Himalayan pass.
After an initial 14km climb out of Pasto on a busy road share with packs of local riders, a massive, swooping 25km descent led us back down valley. Before its inevitable reply...
Medicine ball sized pumpkins on the road to Las Lajas.
Despite the harsh weather in these parts, local country buses are often open on one side - hence the wooly hatted, wrapped up passengers.
Stripey ponchos are in. This smiley elderly man insisted on taking me for a tour of his corn crop outside his house.
Earth bricks drying by the roadside. Maybe I was just hungry, but they reminded me ofgiant cubes of dark chocolate...
This is berry country. Arnaud stopped for this bizarre mish mash of a dish at a roadside eatery: various fruit-infused milk products, drenched in condensed milk, with a sliver of cheese.
Our first stopover was Las Lajas. Built between 1904 and 1949, this santuary claims to be the most visited church in Latin America. I found its design gaudy but its setting, wedged deep down between two towering canyon walls, is definitely impressive. In one last show of Colombian hospitality, a hotel gave us a free room to roll out our matts for the night.
People have been to Las Lajas here for many years. In fact, the sanctuary was once a more boxey affair, before the neo Gothic bridge and spires were added like layers on a wedding cake.
A walk spirals its way down to the church, pass hundreds upon hundres of religious messages offering thanks to the Virgin Mary. The story goes that her image miraculously appeared on the wall of a nearby cave in 1754, giving a deaf-mute Amerindian girl the gift of speech.
This plaque is from an ultra marathon runner who seems to have run from Patagonia to Alaska. Makes cycling seem rather easy...
I'm in! Ecuador, country number ten on the journey so far.
My entry stamp, printed over that of Nicaragua. I'm ok with that, as my passport is getting tight for space...
Ecuador swapped over to the US dollar about a decade ago. Now it combines both US currency with chewed up Ecuadorian cents. There's also dollar coins, which I never saw in the lower 48s. Seems they all ended up down south...
My first old Ford pickup truck.
And my first meal. This trout was simply enormous and quite delicious - the whole meal set me back $5. By way of reference, the plate on the right is a normal size dish. The one on the left could have been on a set for Land of Giants. The restaurant was run by a Gordon Ramsay-esque manager, who ran round the packed premises yelling randomly and slapping anyone within reach heartily on the back. He was delighted to see us, and ended our visit with a knuckle-crunching handshake and warm hearted wishes for the journey ahead.
And first impressions of Ecuador? Like Southern Colombia, only a little shabbier. So far, very friendly folk.
Baby papaya a plenty.
Climbing out of Tulcan on the dirt track to El Angel. In the absence of any signs, look for the unmarked road beside a modernist church, with a weird statue of a muscly dwarf brandishing a rifle...
More timewarped trucks bouncing around the backroads.
I was keen to reach the Paramo before sundown, and we just made it... This is the view from where we camped.
Such unusual probosci-style plants, protruding out of the ground.
The trail was incredible... A dirt road that wended its way across the mountains for some 50 kilometres. No traffic at all.
So many textures...
Fungis, ferns, epiphytes and all manner of mysteries inhabit this world.
But amongst this high altitude, humid moorland, the 'frailejon' was really what I'd come to see. These curious looking plants, complete with furry leaves, sit atop their bendy podiums. They only sprout above 3000m in Colombia, Venezuela and Ecuador.
There were so many of them... The average life expectancy of a frailejon is over a century, and they can reach 6 foot in height. I'd love to see them flower - apparently they look like giant daisies.
They were everywhere. Literally. Carpeting the whole mountain. In this ecosystem, moisture from rain and mist is sponged up by their leaves, and released slowly into the earth in the form of streams, feeding into larger rivers.
Dotted about amongst them, weird storks poked up into the air.
They surrounded us, almost as if they were watching...
We weaved our way between them...
... as they disappeared into the mist. Each seemed to have its own quirky character and punk hairstyle.
Bedraggled, we hit the top of the trail at 3700m and huddled in the toilet block of the empty mountain refuge, before beginning a long, rough descent. This in term morphed into Ecuadorian cobbles, a new riding experience, and one guaranteed to loosen fillings: the carretera empedrada.
The cobbles rattled us down the valley, back into the sunshine and the warmth.
The town of El Angel.
So far, random, bizarre monuments seem a popular roadside feature in Ecuador. This one lies at the entrance to El Angel. Stranger perhaps than the muscly, moustachio'd dwarf was the massive, gaudily painted statue of a mother about to breastfeed her baby outside Ibarra.
Potatoes and plantanes cooked over charcoal keep the legs turning.
While descending from Myra, I spotted this interesting zig zag of a dirt road on the other side of the valley. So many opportunities for exploration. One for next time...
Down, down, down...
All the way from a drizzly 3700m to a bone dry 1700m...
... where we found our way back on the Pan American for a stint, pitching our tents in a patch of scrubby land outside Salinas.
Fittingly, this roadside sign reminds drivers how important the Paramos are - much of the water supply of Nortern Ecuador originates from El Angel. A truly wonderful place.
