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Leaving Macas, the landscape had changed: the common picture we have in mind when we think of jungle and Amazonas. The road meandered through the valley of Río Upano, past wooden shacks hidden in Banana plantations, a freshly bleeding dog dead on the tarmac, and in the afternoon a black wall of rain which catched me up 5km to Mendez. In the following days, until Loja, I should understand why the rainforest has its name. There is rain coming like a black wall and chasing you, there is malicious rain dropping suddenly out of the blue sky, there is sneaky rain, starting as mere increased humidity and when you notice it you are already wet, there is dumb rain being there when you start, going down like a curtain of strings until the evening, and there is intermittent rain catching you whenever you just wrapped up the raingear in the depths of the luggage. I had all of these in changing orders.
After the bus excursion from Mendez to Cuenca (see there), I was eager to ride the bike again. It became a long day. The way oscillated up and down around 1000m altitude in a pure greenhouse („Gewächshaus“) climate. Sweating at 36º humid Celsius, but with nice views into the valley of Yungaza, I reached Limón for lunch and had an informative discussion with a kiosk owner about the mines nearby: time ago, his parents fished for gold in the local river, now great parts of the region are licensed to big chinese mining companies. For them, the government has tarmaced the sand tracks five years ago (and still large constructions!). I should see one of those mines after Zamora (see pictures above). With a long climb to Plan de Milagro and a steady descent, I accumulated 2270 height meters upwards, my new day record after Pasto, and reached the little town S.Juan Bosco in dawn.
The next day involved again two stiff climbs to 1840m altitude each. On the 10km earth road after the dreary street village Tucumbatza in the middle of the forest, around a turn, two dogs attacked me. Of course, this happened before, and my normal procedure for barking and snatching dogs is to shout at them and to sprinkle them with water. The next step of escalation is to stop and get off the bike. This needs some overcoming but normally breaks the chasing pattern. Here it didn’t. I faced the approaching beasts baring their teeths. I kept shouting at them, barking myself, and took stones up from the ground which I threw at them from 1,5m distance. All instincts were concentrated in those moments of fight, eye in eye with the primeval nature. Since then, I always carry some stones at hand.
The next morning in Gualaquiza, I faced a more modern problem: the days in the small villages without any cash points had consumed up my spare money reserves and I was not able to pay the bill for the night nor buy any food or water with the 35cts in my pocket. The amicable host family understood my delicate situation, and equipped with a few bananas and two liters of drinkable water, I hit the straight road to Yantzaza which I arrived in one ride in the afternoon. Imagine my fright when the only larger cash point there failed due to a blackout! The problem was settled to my great relief later that day…
In continued the next morning the short and flat way crossing the river Yucuambi to Zamora, where I spent one day in the national park Podocarpus (see there) before tackling the last stiff climb up to Loja at 2300m altitude. After an extended goodbye, I only left at 12.30 (in a rain of the dumb sort). The climb took no end. At 6.30 p.m., I was still struggling in the rain and mist at 2980m. What a miracle when out of night and darkness the lights of Loja appeared!
After these 565km with 10.476 height meters climbing since Riobamba, I met there again Andy with the german cyclist Armin. Andy, just before arriving Loja on the Panamericana, had a severe road accident and injured badly his shoulder. I admire him for his composure in this situation and wish him a fast recovery!

Map of Reise Know-How Ecuador (1:650 000)

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Just before arriving Zamora, I felt, for the first time on this journey, a sharp muscle cramp in my right thigh. I decided to take a day off hiking in the near national park Podocarpus, named after a type of conifers. It is known mainly for the 560 different species of birds which have been registered there. I have seen only a few of them, nicely coloured, black with a yellow tail e.g. At the park entrance I had met a friendly family, together we went to the nice waterfall of Río Bombuscaro, in whose crystal-clear water they took a bath – fully dressed, even with shoes on!
In the afternoon, I followed for about one hour a path right through the brush to an elevated natural mirador and enjoyed the cloudy view over the surrounding, densely wooded hills.

Landslide on the way to the park

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Cycling the part of the Panamericana between Quito and Ambato that Alex Humboldt once called the „alley of the volcanoes“: nowadays a large highway with at times four lanes in each direction. Black clouds of exhaust from the left, glass splinter on your track, barking dogs from the right and steadily subiendo. But the landscape is indeed marvellous: numerous volcanoes at both sides, the Pasochoa, Illiniza and Rumiñahui.
Reaching in the evening of the second day at last the entry to the Cotopaxi National Park, we sneaked under a fence of barbed wire, which Andi had secured with his carabiner „to comply with German safety standards“, and pitched hiddenly our tents in thick forest at 3500m, the highest I have ever camped. Next day we climbed up to a seemingly abandoned train station in the middle of nowhere and tried to cross over to the base of Cotopaxi whose white cap we saw from far. But the road was broken and after several hours of hard work pushing our bikes over braided paths, we returned to the Panamericana, filled up our pasta supplies and chose another park entrance. Again, we found a nice quiet spot for camping hidden in the forest and enjoyed with the sunset a rich pasta meal from Andi’s stove. After drying our tents from the heavy rain at night, we worked our way up on a perfectly tarmaced, later gravelled road through the beautiful landscape at the mountain base to a campsite at 3800m. As luck would have it, a whole battalion of soldiers had a training session the whole night through which kept me awake for long hours, listening to the wind and pondering confused thoughts.
I’ve set up my alarm clock at 4.30 a.m. to ascend the near volcano Rumiñahui, but when I sticked my head out of the tent, it was all rain and mist and I preferred to stay in the warm sleeping bag for a few hours more. After a pasta breakfast with Andi, I cycled some kilometers up the hill to the lagoon Limpiopungo. The lagoon was not that special, but the landscape was just breathtaking: a large plane at about 3900m altitude in all shades of brown, browsing horses in front of the steep rise to the gleaming white crown of Cotopaxi (5943m).
After striking the tents in a quite strong storm, we enjoyed the long ride of about 25km down to Lasso (lunchtime) and continued on the Panamericana to Latacunga.
With one night of interruption at a pension in Tambillo, we now have camped out for 12 nights. My Nordisk tent suits me perfectly: extremely lightweight, it offers just enough space for me and the luggage and stood uncompromisingly the heavy rain and strong wind at 3800m. Crawling into the tent and closing the zip behind me, I feel on my own, sheltered and comfortably, listening to the sounds of the night, the murmuring wind, the gentle dropping rain. La vida se siente tan libre en estos momentos.