Clothes washing day

August 17th, 2009: Attractive women must to be banned from all laundry facilities. Being a backpacker it is necessary to wear your clothes much longer than you would normally at home. By not knowing people for more than three days at a time and by not traveling with a girlfriend…it is a commonly accepted practice to wear clothes for a multitude of days. When I handed over my foul clothes over to the beautiful woman behind the desk, I was utterly embarrassed when she held the plastic bag away from her as if the smell was going to attach itself onto her. I left the facility hoping she would not look too closely at the items that needed to be tossed in a biohazard bin, not a laundry machine, praying that the price I was paying did not include…stain removal.

Backpack almost ready to give birth

August 17th, 2009: My backpack is pregnant and it is about to give birth. I started this trip with a bag that was in its second trimester. Now…after 4 months of traveling, it has expanded at almost the same rate of a woman’s belly during pregnancy. When carrying my backpack, I am even experience similar difficulties of a pregnant woman such as having troubles standing up, back pain, moodiness and not wanting to walk too far. Though, unlike a woman…I have a choice to abort this excess baggage anytime I choose, even during the end of my third trimester. No trusty metal hanger or shop vac needed…just a simple plastic bag.

Having options…I have scraped all of my potentially disposable items to see how much smaller I can actually make the backpack. It ended up being about the size of two healthy twins. I can now pick up my pack without having to wear a lifting belt or letting out a somewhat entertaining grunt. It’s feels liberating, but…can I go through with it? Since my friend is visiting me from back home…I might wait for my bag to give birth and hand off my responsibility to her. As I type, I look over at the…twins. They somehow look at me as if it has a conscience, whimpering, questioning my decision. You know what? I think I need some sleep.

(I officially threw out in total…four receipts and a map of some random park. I now have the twins in a plastic bag which now clearly represents the placenta. Impatiently, I wait for my friend’s visit in 24 days)

Life without WiFi

September 19th, 2009: Currently I am living life without WiFi...meaning I cant post anything new that I wrote until I find somewhere that has it. It gets harder when the towns get smaller. Or I can get a bit crazy and live life on the edge by putting my memory stick into a dirty public computer, potencially giving my computer a virus or worm. I have not stopped writing so check back later this week.

Also...if you are reading my blog, please sign up as a follower. It helps me see that more than 9 people are reading it, this might motivate me a bit. If you dont want me to know you are reading it, be creative and sign up under some fictional name - thanks!

Over the top

August 10th, 2009: Feeling the need…for speed (some famous movie quote), I was cruising on a perfectly functioning mountain bike down a perfectly constructed paved road leading to the Jungle. Looking back over my shoulder for any potential cars that might be approaching me…I swerved ever so slightly off the main road for a brief second, going on the algae covered water runoff drain that ran parallel with the road. My front tire quickly buckling underneath me - time slowed down but not enough for me to be able to make any choices. My arms instinctively flew out in front of me, only having enough time to protect my left and right nipple. Somehow, I turned my head to the side and pulled my chin tightly into my neck…denying myself a prime opportunity to make out with the pavement as my head smacked the concrete.

Embarrassed, I quickly rose from the cement and attempted to get back on the bike. Feeling as if I had a much too many beers, I couldn’t ride the bike. When the cars down the road slowly passed by me, I looked away just in case they saw what just happened. Blood dripped down my skinned palms and knuckles from when my body slammed onto the concrete. My head was throbbing and throat hurt from imbedding my chin into it. Wearing a helmet that properly fit was the key to gradually making it back on the bike. Wondering if I had a concussion, I didn’t immediately vomit or form a speech impediment…which for starters, was a good sign. Thankfully, as for the rest of my body, I was wearing so many layers of clothes it provided me with a nice cushion upon impact.

Turning my bike in…the lady noticed the blood on my hands. Seeming concerned, she asked me if I was okay. I told her I was fine, saying that I scraped it falling off a rock at the waterfalls…not wanting her to worry about calculating the astronomical costs for the cosmetic damage I did and did not do to the bike. I thought since I saw no major visible damage…there was no reason to make her work too hard – it was a holiday.

Next time…check the bike

August 5th, 2009: I took a mountain bike trip that was run out of my hostel today. The selling point was that it was $30 cheaper than their competitors costing me only $15. After seeing their competition when going up the mountain yesterday, I thought that I must have gotten a good deal.

Driving up to the top of Mt. Ruminahui we disembarked the vehicle at 15,180 feet. Once we took the bikes off the roof of the SUV, I was able to get a closer look at the bikes…realizing why we got such a good deal. The bikes were perhaps worth $15…a lot less if you calculated what needed to be fixed. The repairs I initially saw were things like a bent seat, handle bars and pedals. Prior to leaving for the tour, I didn’t notice that in the book describing this tour, someone added an arrow in front of the word bike and wrote, “shit.”

We headed down a dirt road on these… pieces, dodging the minor obstacles such as rocks, fresh cow piles and the makers of these piles. The ride was not difficult by any means - the problem was when I was approached my first corner at a high rate of speed. Applying my brakes softly at first, nothing happened…applying more pressure, the only thing that happened was that my front brake pretended it was working and back one worked so well, the tire wanted to come out from underneath me - now it is time for me to add another minor item that needed repairs…brakes. Not a problem if you were intending on just going straight on a flat level surface, but you see…this was a 3,630 foot downhill bike ride.

Not sure if I should go off the hill with the bike and pull a massive non-recorded last jump or just lay it down - I choose neither as I squeezed my brakes, skidding sideways on the loose gravel. When hitting the grass before the drop off my tire gained stability as I was just able to make the turn. The bike ride just became…a little more exciting. Now that I knew not too expect much from the bike, I was able to compensate the lack of stopping power by unwillingly wearing out several weeks of good use on the soles of my shoes by using my feet.

Stopping the bike, I decided to do a somewhat delayed equipment check. At one point during my bikes life it had disk brakes on the front but for some reason they were replaced with pad brakes that were purely aesthetics. Continuing our ride I was happy that I was not the only one that had a lemon… everyone had issues. Next time, I will have to think about…spending a few extra dollars.

(Bow your head - I was told that the following week someone actually went off the side on one of these “shit” bikes and had to go to the hospital due to some deep lacerations to his face)

Hiking at 16,170 feet

August 4th, 2009: Stepping out of the Toyota VI land capsule, I made one small step for man and one large step for mankind as I faced the elements on Mt. Cotopaxi. It seems as if I just walked in on a 1,000,000 plus year battle between the wind and the mountain as it rips over its surface, trying to peel its loose lifeless skin. With no trees to hug or bushes to hide under, I had nothing to keep me for being involuntarily lifted off the mountain as the wind pushed me around. Leaning deep into the wind I was able to walk in somewhat of a straight sober-like line until it would take a breath, falling forward as I leaned into what was no longer there. The small rocks tried to escape the mountain by sneaking in from the tops of my shoes, hoping that I would transport them to safety. Helping weigh me down, I was initially happy to assist a few refugees… until they tried to completely occupy my shoes. Not wanting to be selective, I dumped all of them on the side of the trail.

At about 15,180 feet, I thought I would have had more serious issues adapting to the thin air. Initially I felt as if each breath was a challenge and every movement seemed as if I was on my third and final set of resistance training at the local gym. The immense sound of the wind doing its war cry masked all other noises, preventing me from hearing the sound of my lungs struggling for air and the impact of my feet as it made contact with the snow and rocks. As time grew older…instead of being weakened by the altitude I began to feel extremely light and powerful. For some odd reason, it didn’t even seem as if I owned my body…it was a machine, moving to its destination. I experienced almost no pain except for when the wind performed an unqualified acupuncture session on my face with what felt like frigid needles. Either I was actually getting stronger as the trail moved us higher up the mountain or I might have been - just maybe…suffering from a lack of oxygen and didn’t know it.

After an hour of hiking, my group and I reached the refuge at 15,840 feet. Standing here, for the first time I thought that it would have been amazing climbing to the peak. When I say climb, it is more like a stroll since Cotopaxi is the place where you can see a pregnant woman with a bad fitting artificial leg and her 6 year old son strapped to her back summiting the top - as long as she has the $190…for each of them.

Intending to make it to the base of the glacier, we left the safety of the refuge and headed up the trail. As the elevation increased, the trail began to hide from us by going underneath the snow. Standing there naked, with no gear, I noticed the angle of the slope with dramatically increasing. I am not calling myself a mountain climber, but having watched enough Hollywood films to know that if there was a slip, we would be performing a high speed slide, without stopping until striking the jagged rocks sitting below us as bumpers in a pinball machine. Just as I internally thought that I really didn’t want to play follow the leader anymore, our guide turned to me and said that we could not go any further. Thanks beejesus…he reads minds - stopping our ascent at around 16,170 feet.

On my decent from the refuge, I felt the hood on my jacket filling with air, creating a miniature parachute carrying me down, as my steps were more like record breaking long jumps on the loose tiny stones. Reaching the Toyota VI capsule, I childishly called…shotgun. Slightly chilled, I climbed inside sitting in front with my hands resting on the vents…hinting to our driver that I was anticipating the hot air…that never arrived. I would like to think, it was broken. Today, Mt Cotopaxi…tomorrow, Mt…Rushmore.