Pandemic in Paradise: Home-Quito-Cotopaxi
While the definitive global crisis of the modern era spread across the globe, I ventured off on a solo adventure around Ecuador. In my typical fashion, I had only decided on the trip a few weeks prior, after looking at my upcoming work schedule, and felt the need to scratch that traveller's itch.
Why Ecuador, you ask?
The initial choice was Sri Lanka, although that was quickly moved to the back burner when 24 hour travel itineraries with layovers in China looked to be the typical path to the Teardrop of India. Even in early February, the idea of transiting through China seemed like a poor choice for a vacation plan based on the International news headlines of the day.
So, like many times before, my attention drew back to Latin America. Costa Rica was the first consideration, as the Envision Festival was taking place in late February, with surfing opportunities abound. Last minute accommodation options for Envision looked to be limited to sweltering general admission camping at that point, and I was really craving something a little more adventurous than another trip to Central America, and a tropical "transformational festival" that likely felt a bit like a sweatier California (saying that, I absolutely would love to check out Envision Festival some day).
A quick bit of research on popular surf destinations in Latin America lead me to Montanita, Ecuador, a small Pacific town with a reputation for consistent waves, and even more consistent partying. I'm not one to put much of a focus on the latter when travelling, but it seemed like it had strong potential, and after considering the inclusion of the Galapagos, plus the incredible Ecuadorian high Andes, Amazonian rainforest, the compact size of the country, and ease of transport, it quickly became my top pick.
I found inexpensive flights on Air Canada through Toronto direct to Quito, though unfortunately the return ticket would provide no use in my escape during the impending shutdown of… well… the entire world.
More on that later.
The remainder of February was a good chance to catch up on work, and spend some quality time around Squamish with Noots before taking off.
Feb 17th: Trail Running around Brohm Lake to the Tantalus Lookout, and potentially the last time I would see good friends like Mike and Audrey in the flesh for a long time.
Feb 22nd: I bought us season passes at the Sea to Sky Gondola
Feb 22nd: Lighthouse Park with Noots en route to a Canucks game with Ryan, where we absolutely destroyed the Bruins and drank their sweet sweet Boston tears
Feb 23rd: Nootka and Ignatius made great strides in patching up past grievances and acting like good friendly cousins
I'm including these here, as it is really is strange in this moment to see how strikingly different my life and the world is today compared to when these events took place. I can no longer freely see friends like Mike and Audrey, and will be completely cut off from lovely wee Meta and her darling Ignatius for quite some time, as she protects herself and battles yet another incredibly difficult obstacle as a high risk of infection with Cystic Fibrosis. Attending a professional sports event with 20,000 fans surrounding you is likely to be a completely foreign concept for some time. Even Lighthouse Park in West Vancouver is closed, along with many other public places.
Feb 26th, 2020: Endless beautiful views in Toronto
Flying to Quito, Ecuador through Toronto was relatively uneventful; a nice contrast to the return journey. The plan was to spend a day and night exploring Quito, then pick up a motorcycle rental and spend a week exploring the high Andes mountains and villages. After that, I didn’t really have anything set. I had brought my surfboard, with the intention on spending a significant amount of time on the coast, and the Galapagos Islands were still in the mix, though I hadn’t committed and bought a flight at that point.
Quito is the political and cultural capital of Ecuador, and at an elevation of 2850m, is the second highest capital city in the world after fellow Andean locale, La Paz, Bolivia. Built on the side of a volcano, its beautiful "old town" historic centre is designated a world heritage site, and located just 25km from the equator.
I spent the day wandering around "Old Town", checking out the sites and sounds. The city exceeded all expectations, and I was immediately enamoured by the place. The architecture was rich in diversity, the food was excellent, the people friendly. It is relatively small and easy to get around, especially with the modern convenience of Uber and ubiquitous cell phone coverage.
I was immediately reminded of my atrocious Spanish by every taxi/Uber I sat in, which remained a frustration for the remainder of the trip. I’ve said it many times before, and I’ll likely say it again: I need to take a damned Spanish class!
On a recommendation from a few locals, I ventured up to the top of the town to Cafe Mosaico for the nicest cheeseburger and onion rings romantic dinner for one I’ll likely ever enjoy. I met up with some fun locals I had chatted with earlier at an Irish Pub for some local pints and games of pool, ending up at a nightclub for the full local city experience. A full value day made for a solid start to the trip, and I managed to escape at a reasonable time for a solid sleep, ready to kick off the moto adventure the next morning.
After breakfast at the surprisingly comfortable Hostal Masaya, I headed over to the moto rental shop (Ecuador Freedom) and picked up the bike to head off on a seven day tour around the Ecuadorian high Andes. The Suzuki DR650 dual sport is the big brother to the DRZ400 I previously owned back in Squamish, so everything felt relatively familiar. It ended up being the perfect bike for the trip, as I spent a lot of time off-road, though running up and down the arterial Pan-American freeway for sections at 100-120KPH meant the bigger bike was much more comfortable.
Ended up rather overdressed compared to the typical local rider, but I was happy to have the extra gear for the many sections of sketchy road ahead.
Within minutes I was reminded of why I love traveling by motorcycle. The immersion within an environment is so complete. The sights, sounds, and smells constantly surround you; a sensory bombardment that is at the same time chaotic and tranquil. Besides short legs on the Pan-American divided freeway, cruising at 120kph, the riding pace is relatively slow both off and on the pavement, providing a pace suitable for picking out small details that could otherwise be missed.
I find that many of my favourite aspects of travelling abroad are the subtle things that seem just so culturally distinct, reminding you of how narrow your experience is when considering the other 7.5 billion people spread across the globe. Countless vendors walking up the rows of stopped vehicles at traffic lights selling school supplies/children’s toys/candy/chips and even ice cream from bins up and down a major divided highway. Livestock herded to and from market with surprisingly deft control through traffic. A group of children in a long row, laughing and playing leapfrog as they walk home from school on a narrow, winding mountain road. Roadside food vendors grilling chicken legs alongside corn-on-the-cob with questionable sanitization and “food safe” practices. Dogs. Everywhere.
For the first day of riding, my destination was a hacienda-turned hostel, Secret Garden Cotopaxi, that looked absolutely incredible, up in the highland plains surrounding Cotopaxi National Park. Escape from the city was relatively painless, as Quito is a relatively small and well organized city. Within minutes I was on a divided highway with reasonably light traffic heading south on the Pan-American Highway, chasing the rains that generally picked up in the mid-afternoon. Besides waiting in a long toll booth line unnecessarily (this one was free for motos), Google Maps took me to my exit off the highway without a hitch, and I was soon out in the countryside, winding around on a mix of surfaces from Roman cobblestone to loose gravel to dirt, abandoning pavement much earlier than anticipated.
“No worries” I thought. '“The skies are clear, the bike sturdy, and this road is definitely easily rideable…”
“As long as it doesn’t start to pouring rain, everything should be cruisy”
Looks a lot like rain…
Famous last words… As I got closer to my destination, the clouds rolled in, and things started to look ominous. Thunderclaps echoed across the plains. The roads continued to degrade. “When did I loose cell service?” I wonder.
As soon as the skies opened up, and the heavy mountain rain started to fall, Google kindly led me through a gate with signs to a cattle farm, and one that said “Secret Garden Cotopaxi” which appeared to be the right direction. Another 15 minutes of soaked riding through varying depths of sketchy mud still had me confident in my path, as the road seemed to be leading directly to the location of the hostel. I arrived at the farm, which appeared to be about 200 metres from my destination where, looking confused, a farmer and his dogs came out to greet me, and with the language barrier such that only broken English/Spanish and wild hand gestures were effective, I determined that Google was honest about the location of the hostel, but not about the road on which I should ride to access it. I would have to return to the gate and come back around on an alternate road.
There was no connection to finish the final couple hundred meters connecting the farm to the hostel, with a cattle fence blocking the path, and the farmer was not interested in helping me build a jump.
Turns out the “Secret Garden Cotopaxi” sign from earlier had an opposing arrow I had somehow missed while blindly trusting my California-based digital navigator.
As the thunder continued to increase in volume and frequency, and my body temperature starting to drop, I started torquing on the throttle more on the return ride, which only lead to my rear tire slipping out in the mud, and chucking me off the front over the bars into a face-first baseball slide into “mud” base. Picking myself back up, I was relieved to see that both myself and the bike seemed unscathed. I was ready to get the hell out of there and into a warm hostel and a cup of tea, so I didn’t waste any time before righting the bike, finding the correct road to the Secret Garden (at the time I felt the name was well earned), and cower on my bike under torrential rain and thunder to the safety of the hostel.
I wanted a bit of an adventure, and day one delivered the good.
Fortunately, I had just arrived at a truly incredible destination, complete with toasty wood stoves, natural spring-fed hot tub, wonderful large communal dinners, a classic social hostel atmosphere filled with great people, and quality trekking and climbing around the many peaks of the surrounding area, including Cotopaxi itself.
