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SASA: Ipiales, Colombia!

Posted July 10, 2007, 11:13 a.m.

So leaving Quito was a pretty drawn out process. First we spent almost our whole “departure day” packing. Then we argued about whether we should take a bus or ride out of the city. Then we decided to ride up the big hill behind our hostel and take a look at the city, which we did, and we were glad of it too (it was really impressive). Then we got back to the hostel and decided at once to take off on the bikes. It was nearly 5 p.m. but we had a contact on the other end of the city; a 'couchsurfing’ contact where we could stay for free (could have stayed there the whole time but never quite made it because it was on the other side of town and Old Town was just such a nifty place).

While riding across town we discovered that Xeno’s last minute drivetrain adjustments for Andean riding resulted in a spindle-crank mismatch (basically his left cranks wouldn’t stay on his bike). We stopped at a few big bike shops on the way over, but none of them had much to offer (although one took a picture of us, gave us some Orbea “do-rags,” took our email addresses, and has started sending us regular spam).

For the equipment savy reader, Xeno was encountering the reverse of the problem Toby had while trying to set Beatrice up for the trip. Toby had a nice Campagnolo bottom bracket and shimano cranks, while Xeno had a shimano BB and Campy cranks. In both cases it was a situation of looking to replace a double crankset with a triple. The problem is that Shimano and Campagnolo shape their square tapers differently; don’t try mixing them (it may not destroy the parts, but they won’t stay on). The curious can check out Sheldon Brown’s article.

We showed up at the German’s house without warning but were invited right in (our couchsurfing hosts; they’re from Germany and doing volunteer work in Quito). We helped set a new record for them (five couchsurfers and a total of 13 people sleeping in their house that night). They were a cool bunch and had a nice place.

In the morning we headed out to look for a bike shop that could provide some Shimano cranks. After a little searching we discovered a place, called Bikanics, that wasn’t just shiny new stuff but had a workshop too. The owner was very friendly and useful; the parts distributor who was there at the time seemed quite interested in selling us a set of cranks for $50 or so. We found out that a better solution could be had a day or two north; a Campy BB (meaning Xeno could use the cranks he had). For the time we needed something that would work though. The shop owner quite generously offered a set of used Shimano cranks for free. These were mountain cranks which means the chainrings are tiny giving Xeno some ridiculously low gearing. We could have switched the cranks ourselves, but the owner, wanting to make sure all went well for the touring cyclist, took Abeline (Xeno’s bike) back into the shop and switched the cranks himself.

So we made another late start that day (around noon) to leave the city. This time we got out; thankfully. We made it to a police academy stationed at the intersection of highways on the way north. They provided us with a little wooded area in which to camp, lots of conversation, and even a couple helpings of their dinner. The night was quite cold after an overwhelmingly hot afternoon; we’re back in the mountains all right!

Well equipped with raisins, oats, butter, powdered milk, brown sugar, and cinnamon, and even real coffee (as opposed to instant) we had an excellent breakfast. This propelled us over the equator sometime around noon. This marks 34.6 degrees of latitude covered by Toby and I, and about .18 by Xeno. Although we had a brief bought in the northern hemisphere between Coca and Quito, we will now be staying on this side of the equator indefinitely (until other distant travels are undertaken).

The climbing that day convinced Xeno that the huge change in gearing we made in Quito was actually for the better (he maintained a cadence around 100 while Toby and I ground up the hills behind him). We made it to Otavalo that evening where the bomberos were quite welcoming and whose kitchen was almost as good as home.

In the morning we rode right past Ibarra (where we’d been told we could get a Campy BB for Xeno, but decided it wouldn’t be necessary). We descended a long time into a hot river valley and then started climbing back out. We took a long break to escape the sun, but were then caught by night, and forced to climb up a small, steep, cobbled road to find a camping place. There we met Miguel, who gifted us several tree tomatoes or tamarillos.

We slept out, confident that being back in the mountains, we were safe from rain. About half an hour before sunrise we woke to find large drops falling on our faces. Xeno put up his tent and went back to sleep while Toby and I, confident the rain would pass, just hid our sleeping bags under a tarp and made breakfast (also under a tarp). The rain didn’t stop so we ate in Xeno’s tent. We waited a while and the rain still didn’t stop. I washed dishes, and waited a while longer. The sky was still a solid grey. We packed our soaking gear and left in the cold drizzle.

Not too much later the rain did let up and the sun even came out. We had lunch that day in a restaurant where the owner explained that it was currently summer and it never rains in summer; or never used to, but in the past few years, as a result of global warming, things have been getting mixed up and now it sometimes rains quite hard during the former dry season.

A few hours later in San Gabriel a stop at the police station resulted in an invitation to bull fighting in a town just up the road. We said we would go on our bikes (they offered to take us in their pickup). We made it the town mentioned, and found the police station there abandoned; they too were at the bullfights of course. We found the stadium but did not have a safe place for the bikes nor two dollars a piece to get in (well, we had $6, but it seemed like quite an extravagent expenditure on entertainment, albeit a form none of us have ever seen). So we moved to the plaza where we set up our kitchen (now a two stove, two pot operation, thanks to Xeno’s additions) and set about preparing dinner. A geology major studying in Quito but visiting her family on vacation sauntered over and explained that her department did a lot of field studies and they had to learn to cook the way we were. We assured her it was quite easy. Of course, it is easy for us because we always make the same thing: something between soup and stew (ingredients vary, but often include some ribs, potatoes, yuca (cassava), carrots, onion, garlic, and chard), we’ve added a pot of rice now too supplement our growing numbers.

The police never returned from the bull fights. Luis, however, a good Catholic, leaving the post-fiesta mass saw us sitting on the plaza as it grew cold and a heavy dew was starting to fall and invited us into his house. We slept well and stayed dry in Luis’ front room with somewhat un-Catholic decorations.

The next day some climbing and a long descent brought us to the Rumichaca Puente Internacional where we thankfully avoided any $200 fines from Ecuador by having not lost our little entrance ticket stubs, still stuffed away in our passports (something we did lose in Chile, or maybe never got them, but it didn’t matter when we left either). This was by far the largest border crossing we have ever gone through (we’re on the Panamericana now, afterall). I went to get my Ecuador exit stamp first and it soon became apparent that “Nuevo Rocafuerte” (where we entered Ecuador, a very small border crossing) was entirely foreign to the responsible agent. After lots of looking around on the computer and talking with her superior, however, she agreed to let Daniel and I leave the country. On the Colombia side, the only snag was that we received only sixty day visas. We were told that we could request more “wherever we are” if they run out, however. This sounds like a process that is much easier said than done.

A short hill brought us to Ipiales where we quickly found the bomberos. Unfortunately they were in the midst of rebuilding their cuartel and quite honestly had no free space. Upon further questioning they suggested something affiliated with the Catholic church where we might be able to stay for free. We investigated and discovered the Casa de Paso where we were welcomed and given beds and space to cook. Dinner; soup and rice! Birthday presents for Toby: none other than arriving in Colombia.

In the morning it rained. We found some internet to let people back home know that we had reached the long awaited promised land for cyclists.