Guest Post: Merging

Hola! It’s me, Cait. You might recognize me from my previous roles as Supporting Street-Food-Sampler/Salsa Partner in blog posts past. Surly has been burdened even more than usual since I piled all my belongings on top of Ryan’s, so I thought I’d temporarily relieve him of his literary duties and lend the blog a fresh — albeit equally sarcastic — voice.

Today’s story actually starts several months back. At some point, Ryan had planted the seed that I consider joining him for part of his bike tour. Initially, the idea was a massive improbability, considering that prior to now, my cycling skills peaked the year my mother began allowing me to ride my bedazzled Little Mermaid bike to 7-11 for Coke slurpees. After lots of thinking, many conversations, and an exorbitant amount of Amazon prime-ing (thanks, Dawn!) I figured I’d give it a shot. After all, if the notion of repeatedly pushing myself to maximum physical capacity wasn’t appealing enough, how could I resist the opportunity to spend day after sweaty day with this adorable face?

Training Day

After some muddy and meandering rides through the immaculately manicured and vista-filled parks of Quito, I moved on to the next phase of my cycle-touring christening: 3 days/2 nights riding outside the city before Dawn (Ryan’s mom) arrived for the weekend. In the days before we left, Ryan adjusted my bicycle seat several thousand times, fed me copious amounts of oatmeal and legumes, and demanded that I pay close attention to a podcast about pushing the limits of human endurance.. or something.

We planned to leave the house at 7am on the morning of our departure. Everybody close to me knows that for me to be an awake and functioning human before 7am is a truly magnificent feat. So when we impressively left the AirBnb at 7:10am, I was ready to find the nearest panadería, cozy up with some coffee and a croissant, and call the day a success. Luckily, the plans we’d made to rendezvous with a new friend kept me motivated. Miguel and his buddy Mauro joined us for the first stretch of road beyond Quito to a town called Machachi. Miguel, who works at a local bike shop, made sure all the do-hickeys and hoosy-whatsits on my new bike were just right. I am extremely grateful for his patience, generosity, and sense of humor during our nearly daily visits to his store.

Highlights from those first couple of days include:

• A very steep and bumpy 2,000 ft climb up a cobblestone road, through rolling hills and valleys, and the greenest, quietest pastures
• Friendly local firemen, astonished that we refused a ride in their pick-up truck
• Dining on the fresh trout that we caught ourselves from the pond next to our hostel at almost 12,000ft
• Ryan’s unremitting words of encouragement after every one of my graceless, unsuccessful attempts at mounting my bike on a 30% grade
• Finally rolling back into Quito with searing hamstrings and an equally burning appetite (proving that what doesn’t kill you… makes you want to eat all the pastries)

Quito Round 2

Dawn arrived just in time to grant me a temporary respite, and give us an excuse to do all the touristy things in Quito. Three lovely days were spent riding horses through the Andes, conquering all the urban hikes, people-watching in the incredible parks, haggling at the artisan market, and (mostly) resisting the temptation of every 50 cent ice cream cone that was offered to us.

Westward Bound

The last couple weeks of traversing western Ecuador have been full of literal and figurative highs and lows, but despite my preoccupations, things have gone way better than expected. For example, I’ve wept at the sight of a steep, looming climb only a handful of times, and I’ve shouted only the most polite expletives at some dangerously inconsiderate drivers.

In all seriousness, I don’t know if I could have asked for a better introduction to cycle touring. The weather has been nearly ideal, the scenery stunning, and the locals endearing and overly accommodating at every turn. Whizzing through the crisp air during the first major descent out of Quito, surrounded by lush foliage and waterfalls, was perhaps the closest feeling I’ve experienced to flying, and not one I’ll forget anytime soon. We leisurely pedaled through the tiniest of towns, were greeted with the warmest hellos, and were blessed with surprisingly comfortable bike lanes. Countless abuelas welcomed us into their roadside eateries and happily cooked us the obnoxiously complicated egg dishes we always request, and I’ve been able to rationalize eating more fried plantains than should be acceptable. We camped perched on ocean bluffs, inside a vacant restaurant, and on a rooftop with a sea view. I gradually watched the landscape change from jagged, mountainous Andes, to sweeping farm valleys, to boundless jungle hills, to striking coastal cliffs before my very eyes.

R&R

We’ve spent the last 8 days decompressing in a little beach town called Ayampe, which is quaint and sleepy during the week, and erupts with vacationers, surfers, and horseback demonstrators (?) on the weekends. Ayampe has provided plenty of waves for Ryan, plenty of Spanish practice/general lazing about for me, and most importantly, 15 cent chocolate-covered bananas sold out of a local families’ kitchen window. In addition to the opportunity to compulsively eat said choco-bananas, the break from cycling has also given me the chance to reflect on the experience so far. While there have certainly been moments of exhaustion and frustration, they’ve been far outnumbered by the urges I’ve had to pinch myself to prove that I’m not dreaming — that this ridiculous adventure is, in fact, my life. It’s probably a good sign that one of my only laments is the shortage of Cevichochos (undoubtedly the greatest ceviche dish/street food that ever existed) we’ve faced since leaving Quito.

I’m hopeful that I’ll maintain my high morale, that my floundering gringa Spanish keeps improving, and that Ryan’s unwavering patience for my novice shenanigans continues. But hey — there’s a chance I hit a rookie wall, and come a few weeks from now, my tired and sore little culo might not be able to bear the idea of another day in the saddle. At the very least, this experience has given me enough fodder to write a marginally interesting blog post about bike touring from an amateur’s perspective. Plus, to have a genuine glimpse into the life Ryan has been maintaining for the last 10 months has not only exponentially increased my respect and admiration for him, but has given me a profound understanding of his affinity for such a unique, adventurous, and truly liberating method of travel.