Day 8: Alfonso's Shack To Pilalo (35.7 Miles)

We passed the night without incident, woke up bright and early, and lazily made coffee from the tent.  We tried one of the cheese "empanadas" and were less than impressed... maybe there were trace amounts of cheese in them, but they were basically the ubiquitous white bread rolls available in Ecuador.  Then we saw them.  An indigenous man and woman made their way carefully down faint trail with some horses and livestock to the shack.  "I'll talk to him," I informed Ed and Ani.  Since my Spanish was the best of the group, I figured it was only fair that I be the one to try to diffuse the situation.  But before I could say a word, I was greeted by a giant smile.  "Welcome!  Don't worry, there is no problem," he encouraged me in Spanish as I quickly explained that we meant no harm in passing the night there.

It turns out Alfonso built the shack for the growing season when he spends several days in a row tending the crops on this canyon side.  He showed us some chocho plants and explained to me that he intended to rebuild the shack and to advise all my friends they could stay there next year.  Then he asked if we had anything to eat as he and his wife had not had breakfast yet, so we gave him the rest of the "empanadas" (which ended up just being bread with cheese inside) we had bought in Chugchilan and a few dollars.

Alfonso investigates the pannier situation after I tell him there is a load of cash there.  His verdict?  It will be a gift to the river when the rainy season comes.  He threw some rocks at the pannier to see if he could knock it down, to no avail.  He then took care of business with his livestock and got water from all the way down in the canyon.

Even though we took our time to pack up and continue on, we were a bit thrown off by our morning visitor, so we just ate some of the chocolate swirled bread with our coffee and got started towards the Quilatoa Crater.  This would end up being fatal for Ani, who suffered her first true bonk later that day.

On the road again, a little lighter but still in good spirits.

We are going the right way!

We were back to pavement with a steady but steep pitch towards the crater.  It was so steep that I made my own little switchbacks back and forth to be able to keep pedaling.  Normally, Ani is the strongest climber of the three of us, but she was lagging and then we saw her pushing her bike.  Ed and I knew we would need to have a bonk intervention.  Ed tried to make her eat an apple.  Nope.  I told her now was as good a time as any to have lunch, and so we made cabbage with lime, tuna, queso fresco, and spicy aji sauce wraps.  Then finally, Ani ate an apple and after some chocolate, she was ready to go.

Fueled up, we made it to the Quilatoa Crater.  There is a nominal fee for cars and other motorized vehicles, but it was free for bikes!  We quickly found the bike parking area and did the obligatory lake viewing and I bought a sexy new alpaca sweater and cotton pants.

Awww, look at my sad single panniered bike...

Ooh, plants and a crater lake and stuff.

Ooh, Ani and a crater lake.

To whoever used the bathroom at the visitor's center after Ed, we apologize profusely.  He may or may not have broken the bathroom with his poo.  Ed owes you a beer if you are ever in Portland.

Anyway, we had glorious warm descent into a town called Zumbahua where we had the privilege of witnessing an indigenous funeral procession.  There were a half dozen food stands catering to the funeral crowd and we felt a self-conscious as we eyeballed each stand.  After while, we just went for it, and ordered fried trout, boiled potatoes with a fried egg and onion salsa, and some ridiculously good sweet beignet-like fried empanada de aire.  Ed, that jerk, dropped the trout on the ground (or as he recalls, "I didn't drop it, it's more like it swam off the plate!"), so we salvaged what we could, then ordered more empanada de aires to console ourselves.

Fortified for more climbing, we made it to another 13,000 foot summit where we saw an Argentinean bike tourist.  We exchanged pleasantries as the cloud mist condensed around us.  It was time to layer up for the huge descent ahead.  I borrowed a fleece from Ani to throw over my alpaca sweater and hoped for the best.  I didn't have gloves or a rain layer, but let me tell you, alpaca fur is a lifesaver!  We had a gloriously cold and wet descent, and by the time we hit the first real town of Pilalo around 8,000 feet, we were all ready to stop.  Chilled to the bone, I asked where to get a nice hot soup at the first market.  The gentleman pointed the way and I jetted over and ordered a caldo de gallina, the most delicious hot chicken soup with rice.

The woman who ran the restaurant pointed us to the only hospedaje in town... the oh so mildewy dank Divino Nino at $7 a person.  Even though we had to suffer truck traffic most of the night, it was worth the rainbow as the rain stopped, listening to the frogs sing, and drying out.

The Divino Nino, not my favorite digs, but a necessary stop!

A few tips for cycle tourists:

• There appeared to be many touristy hostels/hotels at the Quilatoa Crater.  We didn't care to stay there, but there were plenty of amenities to make it a nice jump off spot to explore the crater area by foot or bike.  

• Zumbahua also had a lot of amenities, in particular, a hotel with a restaurant attached to it that was on our way out of town.  I can't remember the name of the place, but it looked new and a very kind owner who offered to fill our water and free use of the wifi.  He also had the nicest bathroom that we had the whole trip.