Madness at Midnight

Day 42 - Friday, December 13th

Quito

The ominous energy of Friday the Thirteenth was no match for the indomitable karma of the Riding to the Moon team. It was a picture perfect day from start to finish, complete with new friends and an angry mob.
 
Gary and Alex woke up eager to see more of Quito. The day before they had only a cursory glimpse from the taxi ride to the American embassy, but it seemed a very pleasant city, clean and modern, nestled in a 9000 foot valley surrounded by fertile mountains. They had a few tasks to accomplish, which would take them into the heart of the city. The first was to try and get a letter of introduction from the Peruvian embassy. The second was to find the South American Explorers Club and research the e-mail and internet potential. The first task went off without a hitch. The letter would be ready at 4:00 in the afternoon. Satisfied, the two went off in search of their fellow explorers.

The scene at the South American Explorers Club was highly energized. Situated on a quiet street in the downtown area, the club resides in a large two-story house. Inside, each room serves a different but important purpose. There is the bookstore, the lending library, the trip files and topographical maps room, the computer room, and the chill-out room. People were everywhere, everyone looking very much the modern-day explorer - long hair and unshaven (men and women), sandals and boots, backpacks and beads, and wild-eyed from too many South American buses and trains. We fit right in.

Gary noticed one his e-mails printed out and tacked to the wall; he had sent it the week before informing them the Crucero Express ferry was out of business and to spread the word. He felt proud to be at the front wave of such important information. Otherwise, e-mail at the clubhouse was not set up for our needs, but Jane, one of the staff, offered us her connection at home if we needed. Gary and Alex left but promised to return before closing with the rest of the team for some photo ops.

For David, Jim and Jay, customs went smoothly and quickly. They declined Gary and Alex's offer to accompany them to the airport and usher them through the procedure. No doubt they felt they could work some scam and do it better their own way. Ultimately, they went through the same channels and met the same people, all of whom were ready and waiting to help, prepped by Gary and Alex the day before.

By 2:30 in the afternoon, their bikes were built and ready to go. It was a beautiful day in Quito, and the hot sun and thin air gave Jay, who always takes his shirt off at every opportunity, a little bit of a sunburn. The front wheels were a little bit of a problem for everyone; the speedometer casing was hard to align properly and the washer inside bent when the axle was reinserted. Everyone had to take their tire back off to hammer flat the now bent washer, but no permanent damage was done.

Gary and Alex showed up as the others were finishing up and helped everyone to the gas station for gas and air for the tires. Dirty from playing mechanic, the trio needed to freshen up, while Gary and Alex needed to go back into the city to pick up the Peruvian letter. They gave the others directions to the Explorers Clubhouse with plans to meet there at 4:30 pm.

There was a little time to kill before the letter was ready, so Gary and Alex stepped into a small restaurant for a quick snack. Fate stepped in with them. Seated at a table was the family who owned the restaurant. Noticing the brightly colored Arai helmets, they asked what kind of bikes we were riding and where we were from. It turns out they are a big biker family. The father, Frank, is a successful sportbike racer, and the two kids, Genny and Frank Junior are both avid riders. Gary and Alex couldn't stay long but promised to come back for dinner with the whole gang.

The Peruvian consulate stonewalled us until well after 4:00. Alex stayed, but Gary headed out to the Explorer's Club. The others had just arrived and we did the photo thing. Unfortunately, the staff was closing up the house which stays closed for the weekend, so the others had only a quick glance inside at the wonderful resources available to members and non-members alike.

Alex finally showed up letter in hand too late for the picture. We returned to the restaurant where Frank, his wife Martha, and Genny pulled triple duty as cooks, waiters, and diners. Dinner was a joyous affair of motorcycle stories and much laughter. Genny, as it turns out, is a Canadian citizen, born there when her parents were living abroad, and currently goes to school in Toronto. She and Jay hit it off very well; Canadians tend to stick together.

Later that night, after a quick run back to the hotel for warmer clothing, Frank took us on a nighttime tour of Quito. Jay's allergies were acting up so he stayed back at the hotel. We were quite a site, the four beefy KLRs following Frank on his CBR 1000. Two other Ecuadorians riding a little 250 something joined up. We wound through the old town, up and down narrow cobblestone streets, working our way up one of the surrounding mountains to the Angel, a huge statue overlooking the city.

Although it was late, we weren't the only ones up there. A spotlight hit us as we approached and through the glare we could see at least a couple hundred people gathered around. When we drove past the crowd to park, it seemed as though everyone was cheering us. It turned out that the cheers were jeers. We parked on the far side of the statue, but in no time, the entire throng descended upon us, shouting epithets in Spanish and brandishing sticks. Even the local police at the scene were more interested in harrassing us than protecting us. One old lady seemed intent on braining Gary as he fumbled with his Rob Roy, trying to fix it from the jarring ride through the cobblestone streets. David urged him forcefully to just bungee it down and drive away.

Awkwardly, we made our getaway, hearts pounding and much confused about what had just happened. We didn't even get a decent look at the Angel. We decended the mountain and returned to the narrow confines of the Old City. Adrenalin pumping through our veins, everyone and everything seemed like a threat. We came around one corner to see the road blocked by a roaring fire laid across the cobblestones from sidewalk to sidewalk. It looked like a makeshift barricade, intended to box us in, making us easy fodder for the angry mob waiting in the shadows. Paranoia had gotten ahold of us, though; these fires were simply intended to loosen the asphalt underneath so telephone wires could be laid.

We cooled our heels at Plaza Indepencia, just one of the many beautiful spots Frank took us to. David attempted some long-exposure photos and Gary and Alex talked about coming back to film something, anything, it was so beautiful. One friendly Ecuadorian in a plaza offered us all a sip of his rum. With Frank's approval, we kindly accepted.

The cool Quito night didn't want to let us go just yet, so after bidding Frank a good night, we went to the happening section of town. We got as far as parking our bikes outside a popular nightclub and waiting outside with the crowd trying to get in. The doorman actually gave us the come-on-in sign, but it was so packed inside, we declined, prefering to just stand by the bikes and look good.

This exercise in futility lasted about 20 minutes, then became ridiculous, so we went back to the hotel to rest up for our departure tomorrow. It had been a long time since we had ridden any appreciable distance, and we needed our rest.

Miles - 47

Day 43 - Saturday, December 14th
Quito

This was the plan: get up early and go for breakfast at Frank's, ride north with him and Genny to see the equator, then return through the city and leave Quito for parts south. All of this happened... except the leaving part.

Breakfast at Frank's restaurant was a feast of pancakes, eggs, ham, coffee, and juice. The bill was really more like a tip; they didn't want to charge us at all but we insisted. As we drove off, Gary dumped his bike while riding off the curb, taking Jim down with him. That was the definitive sign that we were truly back riding to the moon.

The ride up to the equator, known in these parts as La Mitad del Mundo or the Middle of the World, was quick, only about 20 minutes. As we neared the equator, Frank and Genny in the lead slowed down a little, glanced over at the monument marking the spot, and kept on riding. Our destination, unbeknownst to us, was a volcano just a few miles ahead. The view from the upper rim was magnificent. Down in the crater, several farms took advantage of the rich volcanic soil and warm temperature. A narrow dirt path angled sharply down, zig-zagging all the way to the crater floor. Frank told us it was a popular trail for dirt bikes. Jay's ears perked up, but being sight-unseen and having little tread left on his tires (none of us had much left), he resisted the temptation.

Resisted, that is, until a trio of Ecuadorian motorcrossers showed up and without hesitation dove over the edge and down the path. Jay quickly removed his packs and followed suit. One of the Ecuadorians wiped out after the first couple hundred yards. Jay spun sideways to a stop on the steep incline to help him up, then took off again.

Back up on the rim, we could hear the unmistakable sputter of his aftermarket muffler long after we could no longer seem him through the foliage. After a time, we saw his tiny figure shoot out onto the flat bottom at least a thousand feet below. The Ecuadorians, amazed at his prowess, told him how to get back up top by paved road which takes an hour. Instead, Jay chose to attempt the steep climb back the way he had come. He should have gone the long way; it would have been easier on all of us.

The lack of tread was a major detriment to his climbing ability, although there was no lack of skill. With fresh tires he would have made it no problem, but about three-fourths of the way up, the bike just wouldn't stick any more to the loose rocks and dirt. Gary, David and Frank had wandered a ways down the path to witness Jay's ascent and ended up putting shoulders to the wheel and pushing and pulling the bike up while Jay rode it, ekeing out every last bit of traction available. Jim came down to replace David, who was breathless from the lack of air at such altitude. Everyone finally made it to the top, dirty, sweaty, and exhausted.

After a short rest and lots of deep breathing, we rode down off the volcano (on the paved road) and returned to La Mitad del Mundo. A large tower lay directly on the equator, an observation deck at the top where one can look in every cardinal direction. A painted line on the ground runs the entire length of the site, through the little plaza and down the road, marking the division between the northern and southern halves of the planet. David and Gary staged a mock argument and agreed to stay on different sides of the line, goading each other to cross into the other hemisphere.

We returned to Frank's restaurant again for lunch, where he invited us all to stay the night at his house. It was already early afternoon, and we knew we wouldn't get far anyway. Besides, this was the first time anyone had offered their own home to us. We gladly accepted. This also gave us the chance to check out a museum of musical instruments we wanted to see. Alas, we misunderstood the closing time and showed up too late.

Instead, we attempted to talk our way into a musical festival being held at the cultural center that night. We tried to use the consulate letter to impress the event coordinators, but were embarrassed to learn that this event was a major bigtime festival, and heads of state were coming to it. Feeling a bit foolish, our egos were soon reinflated when some police officers who stopped to chat told us they knew all about us from the television news. We questioned them about what they meant, and it turned out we'd been on the news the week before, on a segment that reports on internet sites concerning Ecuador. A search by the news staff must have pulled up our web site so they did a little story on us. The cops even knew about David's friend, Ginny, who died of cancer recently.

That night, we took Frank and his family out for pizza as thanks for their hospitality, then a friend of Franks, a wild guy named Byron, took us to his nightclub for drinks and dancing. (At this point, we're thinking of renaming the ride Dancing to the Moon). We returned late to the house, but David managed to keep his eyes open for a few more hours working on the computer.

Miles - 49