ASSIGNMENT 2 – MU – TRANSITIONS

“De donde viene… de Guayaquil, en bici? Wow.” (you came from Guayaquil on a bike?)
“No, I brought my bike here on a bus last night but I’m going to Agua Blanca, they tell me that there are some nice trails out there”
“Right.”
I woke up at 7am to get a ride in before the sun brings its oppressive heat. I am here in the quiet fishing village of Puerto Lopez to meet some friends and go to my first Latin wedding later tonight. The occasion provides an excuse to bring my mountain bike and explore some of the trails I heard about in Manchalilla National Park surrounding the indigenous community of Agua Blanca. After a jump in the cold shower and a two dollar continental breakfast I am on my way.
Riding out of the village, pushing through a mild headwind, the road soon turns to dirt and mud. Cars and busses pass me; but I don’t feel as threatened by the traffic as I do while riding in the city. I’m glad I took this trip out to the beach. Soon I enter the national park, and after explaining that I don’t really want I guide and I’m just looking to ride my bike, I am still faced with a five dollar entry fee, but it’s worth it to support Ecuador’s national parks. The gravel entry road turns to dirt and leads further into the coastal mountains. As the trail dips down into protected troughs, I surprise hundreds butterflies and shades of black, red, yellow and brown explode around me. Wrens with vivid yellow and black colors cut through my path.
I return to the Puerto Lopez and eat almuerzo at 2:00 and by 4:00 I finally find our hostal closer to the wedding reception in Las Tunas where the groom has reserved a few cabanas for us right on the beach. Until today, I didn’t realize that so many hidden beaches with attractive hostals exist between Montanita and Puerto Lopez on the Ruta del Sol.
At 7:30 my friends arrive to Las Tunas and we decide that we missed the ceremony, so we’ll just go to the reception. After showering and changing, we find a guy with a truck to take us down the road to the party. Open air rides are so typical in Ecuador but they were a privilege when I was growing up in rural Pennsylvania.
Riding on the tailgate of the family station on the way down to the pond to swim or to the neighbor’s house to visit was a rush. We begged Mom every time to let us sit in the back. Riding with our feet dangling down almost touching the road, feeling every bump of the road doesn’t compare to sitting in the back seat with the seat belts safely fastened. There is something about feeling the wind plaster your face, or the exhaust burn your leg that is equally more exciting to me at 12 or 28 years old.