Day 7: Isinlivi To Random Farm Shack (20 Miles)

We headed out of Isinlivi after one last glorious breakfast.  We were supposed to head through Sigchos and onto Chugchilan, but we accidentally took a shortcut up and down a gnarly steep push-a-bike gravel road straight towards Chugchilan.  And then, we found pavement.  While I love dirt roads, pavement feels like a luxury when there is no traffic, and this section of road was recently paved.  We had read that the government of Ecuador was slowly improving road infrastructure all over the country and to expect random pavement.  And random it was as it kept starting and stopping here and there.

Just some views, ya know.

Bici glamour shot.

On the road again.

Sweet sweet empty pavement!

Peanut butter jelly time.  With company.

Not the most handsome dog we encountered, but he was sweet and fed him peanut butter and tortillas.

Group shot... the summit before Insinlivi is somewhere over there along the ridge behind us.

We arrived in Chugchilan around 2 pm and contemplated stopping.  We had heard nice things about the Hostel Cloud Forest from folks that had hiked into Isinlivi, but we were itching to camp and there was still plenty of daylight left.  After a quick water refill and stocking up on some random supplies, including what I thought were cheese empanadas and sweet bread swirled with chocolate, we hopped back on a dirt road toward the Quilatoa Crater.  Since we were all a little tired, we decided we would stop at the first good camping spot.

Stocking up on supplies.

Waiting for Ani to pee at a fancy hospedaje on the outskirts of Chugchilan.  The bikes match the flowers!

Steep canyon walls and cliff sides did not give us much hope for camping.

Seriously. So steep!

We investigated each flat looking spot as we climbed higher and higher to no avail.  And then we saw it.  A tiny shack nestled into the canyon, barely visible from the road.  Ed joked around that we should stay there.  It wasn't a bad idea.  I figured, it was worth a look to see if it was inhabited, so Ani and scrambled down a faint steep crumbling trail and peered inside.  Nothing but some empty fertilizer bottles.  It was flat and sturdy enough.  "We should totally stay here," I declared.  We decided to take our bikes down fully loaded so we didn't have to leave someone at the road to guard our gear, or to linger too long, lest someone see us bringing our bikes down.  It was cumbersome, but we all got our bikes down.

Ani and I investigate this fine abode.

As I pulled a pannier off my rear rack, the handle that engages and disengages the hooks for the rack broke and the whole pannier went tumbling down head over tail.  There was one area that looked less steep where I thought it might stop, but it just kept going over the cliff and out of sight.  Ani went sprinting down after it after she saw my horrified face.  Turns out it lodged itself in the middle of a bush on the steepest part of the slope.  It would require someone to rappel down to retrieve it.  Ani is a good climber and I know just enough that we decided we would see if we could fashion harnesses from hammocks and maybe, just maybe we would have enough rope to make it down.  After assessing the situation, we realized there was nowhere safe to anchor in, just some scraggly bushes, and not nearly enough rope.  Nope, I said.  Not worth it.  

Peering into the canyon of doom for my Ortlieb pannier.

I didn't lose anything I couldn't live without.  Even though it had all my rain gear, puffy jacket, clothes, beloved camping hammock, shoes, flip flops, electronic dongles, journal, spare credit card, and $150, I would survive the night by borrowing some of Ani's clothes and luckily I still had all my camping gear. 

Exhausted after running up and down the canyon a few times.  Time to make a lovely dinner of pasta with spicy red pepper and chocho sauce, red cabbage, onion, carrot, queso fresco, and parmesan.

View from inside our shack.  Ed slept in his hammock and Ani and I set up my tent inside to stay warmer.  We passed the rest of the evening chatting and otherwise lamenting the loss of my pannier.

A few tips for cycle tourists:

• If we had stayed on the road toward Sigchos, the riding would have been a bit nicer, I think.  The "shortcut" we took was fine, but was super steep and unrideable for us.  

• I contacted Ortlieb after we got back to the U.S. about my pannier malfunction.  I was a bit disappointed in their customer service.  Nearly three weeks had passed with no response to my email, so I called.  Ian was friendly enough and apologetic, and told me that while the pannier wouldn't be under warranty because the broken handle was considered a "wear and tear" issue, that he could get me a "crash replacement" new set for $90 if I sent back the other pannier.  I wasn't super excited about that solution, but needed the documentation of what they could do for my travel insurance claim.  Also, if you ever need to deal with Ortlieb's customer service, just call, lest your email get lost in cyberspace.