24,25/3/2013 Manta, Manta to Machalilla National Park
D86, T5.18,Av16.88, Max62, Tot 12136, 1893
The day back in Manta was spent just pottering about, prawns and squid were bought at the beach as was cerviche for breakfast.
The girl filling in for Javier gave me a few Spanish tips, she was twenty and had a 6 month child, her husband lived in El Carmen, sadly the outcome here is fairly predictable. This situation exists, especially in Nicaragua, many guys show no responsibility towards these kind of commitments.
Things were methodically packed and a divine feed of prawns, calamari and salad was enjoyed.
Manta had been a great base, it was a place I enjoyed, Xavier was a good host.
Getting up early, like at 0500, a good coffee was made and my gear was trundled down three floors, luckily this only had to be done once. Xavier was up and about to say goodbye.
Leaving town took me along the coast on the E15 again. I passed Manta Tennis club, here a Davis Cup play off is held.
The terrain was going to be ideal for someone who hadn’t ridden for the best part of three weeks. The humidity well, that remains to be seen.
Once again today and every day the sea was like a mill pond.
It was great to be riding again. The euphoric feeling of freedom was overwhelming.
Just thinking about this aspect, it occurred to me how free one really is without having to own or use something that is powered by an internal combustion engine. By this I mean cars, lawn mowers, boats, etc. and whipper snippers, especially these small engine nightmares that have the ability to bring the coolest of people undone when they won’t start.
These inventions of ours, though most people and all countries can’t live without them, are often so painful.
They are installed in all manner of equipment that has so many moving parts. In reality the only things they do, other than work, is break down and cost a fortune to feed, garage, maintain and repair. All the while depreciating.
When was the last time you had one of these things break down when you were not using it!
The average person, when it comes to cars, rarely buys what they can afford to pay for, with cash. Or is it the fear of seeing so little for such a big pile of notes? One of credits many "c'mons". Oh, what some people will do to reward themselves. I know, we used to do it!
This time for me, without using or requiring one of these items, is like a breath of fresh air on a daily basis.
Life without reliance on the internal combustion engine comes highly recommended, at least at some stage in your life. Pre divers license years not allowed or later life!!
At least it works for me at present.
Back to proceedings.
The ride south became more picturesque as the kilometres mounted. Ecuador continues to amaze me, this small country, has it all, mountains, islands, quiet beaches, rainforest, stunning wildlife and a wide cultural diversity all on the equator.
Arriving back on the coast at San Lorenzo, the local police station had sweeping views north along the coast and the pueblo. It was all fairly newly constructed.
They had a viewing area, a guy and his girl were appreciating the vista, as was myself, we had a good chat, he was a policeman, he lived on site. All the while there was a borracho that could be heard in the lock up throwing up for half an hour, it was classic.
It never ceases to amaze me how flat the ocean is day after day.
A few km on, arriving at a small fishing pueblo right on the coast, Santa Rosa was rustic postcard material.
Boats returning from the night at sea, men walking the beach with nets over their shoulders, casting a keen eye, and their net on the shallows in the lazy surf, frigate birds soaring with no effort, kids playing football, people just relaxing anywhere there was shade. All hands were available to help the fishing skiffs journeys up the beach on log rollers.
All this was the foreground in a vista otherwise dominated by the Pacific ocean, oh so peaceful and inviting in its calmness.
Brunch was enjoyed here, fish soup. It is so interesting talking to these people in these coastal pueblos,and other small pueblos, their lives are blessed in many respects. Without the relentless need for money, they are very time rich and with this time comes a special ambience in their presence, an ambience that is becoming contagious.
Every headland with an updraft, had its skies above hosting untold Frigates, they are masters of lazy flight. They are also masters of opportunity, more on that later.
The plan was to spend the night at Puerto de Cayo. Arriving here about 1300, a cruise along the Malecón was taken, things were a bit run down. Anyway with time to spare and energy levels still respectable, water for the night was bought.
Without rain about it was a good opportunity to camp. The Machalilla National Park was just ahead, here camping would be no problems, it was hoped.
A coco helado was enjoyed at Salaite, the milk was drunk and the soft white flesh eaten, all were deliciously cold. The owners were lovely people, he made wooden models from locals timbers. Stopping here, we talked about heaps of stuff for some time.
Time, I had, as camping too early allows the chance of being spotted, to arise.
The road, still the E15, through the park was some distance from the sea. Both sides were heavily vegetated with what certainly looked like some introduced aggressive small shrubby tree. It was indeed dominant.
Coming to a bend about 1630 , a small track was spotted on the left, no vehicles were heard, a hasty exit was made, perfect, undetected.
The place was knee deep in vegetation. “Beggars can’t be choosers”, a spot further in was found, so if someone fronted they would have to have a good scan to see me.
The tent went erected easily on a perfect slope, allowing for sleep with my head elevated.
That bike stand purchased, continues to be so practical, here in long grass on a slope, the bike was easily held slightly off upright whilst unloaded, though a plastic cup restricted the foot of the stand from digging deep into the soft soils at the site.
The weeds in the area had seeds and leaves that stuck to anything they touched, like shit on a blanket. At one time my long nylons pants from the knee down became polka dotted. That of green and black. I had heaps to do other than cook and relax!
This kind of camping holds its own special appeal, it really cements the emotion of freedom. It is a home for one night in its purist form. Though I will admit, deep inside it is nice to know one has a real home.
Camping puts a spell on me, a spell that induces deep sleep, though always at its deepest with the bike loosely strapped to the tent frame, any attempt of removal will most certainly alert me.
D86, T5.18,Av16.88, Max62, Tot 12136, 1893
The day back in Manta was spent just pottering about, prawns and squid were bought at the beach as was cerviche for breakfast.
The girl filling in for Javier gave me a few Spanish tips, she was twenty and had a 6 month child, her husband lived in El Carmen, sadly the outcome here is fairly predictable. This situation exists, especially in Nicaragua, many guys show no responsibility towards these kind of commitments.
Things were methodically packed and a divine feed of prawns, calamari and salad was enjoyed.
Manta had been a great base, it was a place I enjoyed, Xavier was a good host.
Getting up early, like at 0500, a good coffee was made and my gear was trundled down three floors, luckily this only had to be done once. Xavier was up and about to say goodbye.
Leaving town took me along the coast on the E15 again. I passed Manta Tennis club, here a Davis Cup play off is held.
The terrain was going to be ideal for someone who hadn’t ridden for the best part of three weeks. The humidity well, that remains to be seen.
Once again today and every day the sea was like a mill pond.
It was great to be riding again. The euphoric feeling of freedom was overwhelming.
Just thinking about this aspect, it occurred to me how free one really is without having to own or use something that is powered by an internal combustion engine. By this I mean cars, lawn mowers, boats, etc. and whipper snippers, especially these small engine nightmares that have the ability to bring the coolest of people undone when they won’t start.
These inventions of ours, though most people and all countries can’t live without them, are often so painful.
They are installed in all manner of equipment that has so many moving parts. In reality the only things they do, other than work, is break down and cost a fortune to feed, garage, maintain and repair. All the while depreciating.
When was the last time you had one of these things break down when you were not using it!
The average person, when it comes to cars, rarely buys what they can afford to pay for, with cash. Or is it the fear of seeing so little for such a big pile of notes? One of credits many "c'mons". Oh, what some people will do to reward themselves. I know, we used to do it!
This time for me, without using or requiring one of these items, is like a breath of fresh air on a daily basis.
Life without reliance on the internal combustion engine comes highly recommended, at least at some stage in your life. Pre divers license years not allowed or later life!!
At least it works for me at present.
Back to proceedings.
The ride south became more picturesque as the kilometres mounted. Ecuador continues to amaze me, this small country, has it all, mountains, islands, quiet beaches, rainforest, stunning wildlife and a wide cultural diversity all on the equator.
Arriving back on the coast at San Lorenzo, the local police station had sweeping views north along the coast and the pueblo. It was all fairly newly constructed.
They had a viewing area, a guy and his girl were appreciating the vista, as was myself, we had a good chat, he was a policeman, he lived on site. All the while there was a borracho that could be heard in the lock up throwing up for half an hour, it was classic.
It never ceases to amaze me how flat the ocean is day after day.
A few km on, arriving at a small fishing pueblo right on the coast, Santa Rosa was rustic postcard material.
Boats returning from the night at sea, men walking the beach with nets over their shoulders, casting a keen eye, and their net on the shallows in the lazy surf, frigate birds soaring with no effort, kids playing football, people just relaxing anywhere there was shade. All hands were available to help the fishing skiffs journeys up the beach on log rollers.
All this was the foreground in a vista otherwise dominated by the Pacific ocean, oh so peaceful and inviting in its calmness.
Brunch was enjoyed here, fish soup. It is so interesting talking to these people in these coastal pueblos,and other small pueblos, their lives are blessed in many respects. Without the relentless need for money, they are very time rich and with this time comes a special ambience in their presence, an ambience that is becoming contagious.
Every headland with an updraft, had its skies above hosting untold Frigates, they are masters of lazy flight. They are also masters of opportunity, more on that later.
The plan was to spend the night at Puerto de Cayo. Arriving here about 1300, a cruise along the Malecón was taken, things were a bit run down. Anyway with time to spare and energy levels still respectable, water for the night was bought.
Without rain about it was a good opportunity to camp. The Machalilla National Park was just ahead, here camping would be no problems, it was hoped.
A coco helado was enjoyed at Salaite, the milk was drunk and the soft white flesh eaten, all were deliciously cold. The owners were lovely people, he made wooden models from locals timbers. Stopping here, we talked about heaps of stuff for some time.
Time, I had, as camping too early allows the chance of being spotted, to arise.
The road, still the E15, through the park was some distance from the sea. Both sides were heavily vegetated with what certainly looked like some introduced aggressive small shrubby tree. It was indeed dominant.
Coming to a bend about 1630 , a small track was spotted on the left, no vehicles were heard, a hasty exit was made, perfect, undetected.
The place was knee deep in vegetation. “Beggars can’t be choosers”, a spot further in was found, so if someone fronted they would have to have a good scan to see me.
The tent went erected easily on a perfect slope, allowing for sleep with my head elevated.
That bike stand purchased, continues to be so practical, here in long grass on a slope, the bike was easily held slightly off upright whilst unloaded, though a plastic cup restricted the foot of the stand from digging deep into the soft soils at the site.
The weeds in the area had seeds and leaves that stuck to anything they touched, like shit on a blanket. At one time my long nylons pants from the knee down became polka dotted. That of green and black. I had heaps to do other than cook and relax!
This kind of camping holds its own special appeal, it really cements the emotion of freedom. It is a home for one night in its purist form. Though I will admit, deep inside it is nice to know one has a real home.
Camping puts a spell on me, a spell that induces deep sleep, though always at its deepest with the bike loosely strapped to the tent frame, any attempt of removal will most certainly alert me.