Paradise Lost

South of Mancora, far off the Pan-American highway, I was too nervous to get car sick as the mototaxi bumped along down the dirt road notorious for its history of armed robbery against surfers.  This former oasis of wealth in the dry, Peruvian desert was once a major oil town in the early 1900s where wealthy Peruvians, Americans and British came for business, gambling and five star beachfront hotels.  The first cinema in the entire South American continent was actually built here to entertain oil tycoons and diplomats alike but you'd never know that today. Following a military coup in 1968, the oil companies were nationalized driving out the town's wealth, a military base was built and abandoned, and the remaining buildings were left to fall into ruins.  Today, all that remains are hollow shells of grandiose buildings, crumbling in the unforgiving heat and constant winds that batter the coast; a few rusted oil wells, clanking along towards a slow death, oil pipes leaking whatever toxic sludge passes through them; and a mechanical left hand point break that draws intrepid surfers to the few surf camps that dot the hills above.

Nacho and his family run a great, no-frills, surf camp on the hill overlooking the point and serve incredible homemade pizza every night.  If hot showers, soft pillows and daily fresh linens are your thing, you're at the wrong hostel and probably wrong town all together. This is a surf town in its purest form: eat, sleep and surf- no bars, no nightclubs, and no surf schools.  Below, a surf shop sits behind a row of abandoned buildings.

Every morning, the wind starts light out of the south east, making for perfect, groomed offshore waves that bend around a long headland at the end of the bay. By mid-day, the winds switch further to the south and pick up, creating white caps on the sea but still grooming the waves in the cove into perfect, clean runners.  A good wave peels a couple hundred yards along the sand bank before closing out on the inside.  For comparison, a good wave at home might break for 50 yards.  The long paddles back to the outside and journey here are well worth it.  Sunset over the point as a couple of surfers try for a few more before dark.

Nacho, his wife and me.  Welcoming hosts and awesome people!

It was tough leaving the camp after eight awesome days of surf, sun and seafood but the lure of better swell and more adventure further south draws me onward.

Bienvenidos a Peru

I've never flown first class before, so when the chance to spend $8 extra for a premium bus ticket came up, I figured the high life couldn't get much cheaper than that. We crawled out of Guayaquil's dense traffic on our two-story bus headed south for the Peruvian border through the land of "oro verde" or green gold, better known as bananas. Large plantations lined the sides of the road for hours on end until darkness set upon us and we arrived at the border. I was the only passenger to get off in Mancora after 9 hours onboard, the rest were headed for Lima, another 18 long hours away.

My Australian seatmate, sporting a much better beard than I'll ever have, and me. 12 first class seats downstairs, 40 something regular seats upstairs. We were served dinner and drinks onboard; I doubt Greyhound does that!

Hostal Misfit in Mancora was an awesome relief from the hotels I'd spent the last few nights in. I mean, check out the lobby, reception and dining room...

The entire place was four bungalows right in the sand owned by two young, gracious European expats. Below is the view from behind looking towards the ocean.

Mancora, Peru is a small, touristy beach town that hasn't lost any of its charm catering to the gringos passing through. Small restaurants line the beach and main drag, there was even a Mexican restaurant though I didn't try it for fear their California burrito couldn't come close to my hometown favorites.

The south end of town is still an active fishing port but it doesn't look like anyone was working this day.

In front of town is a nice left point break that was so clogged with beginners and so lacking in etiquette, I have to say it was the worst surfing circus I have ever seen in all my years of riding waves.

After a few days in Mancora, I decided to pack up and head further south where foam boards and surf schools have yet to venture.

Ecuador's Biggest City You've Never Heard Of

Yesterday, I arrived in Guayaquil, Ecuador's largest and mostly unheard of city. Most people only stop here as all flights to the Galapagos Islands leave from international airport and I, like everyone else, am only here cause it's the quickest major bus teminal to Peru. Arriving late yesterday with nowhere to stay, I lucked into a hotel room on the most popular shopping street in this urban sprawl of over three million people, Blvd 9 de Octubre (9th of October for non-Spanish speakers). Named after the street, the hotel is an eight story high rise with no internet and no hot water but at $15 with A/C and a KFC next door with killer WiFi signal, so needless to say I've been eating a lot of fried chicken.

I have found that the city actually has several noteworthy sites and have enjoyed my stay. In a major revitalization project, the city has created a two mile long gated park along the waterfront of the Guayas River complete with a botanic garden, Imax theater and shopping mall called the Malecon.

Welcome to the Malecon, Seaport Village without the cheesy tourist shops...

At the far east end, Las Penas is a long staircase amongst Mediterranean colored buildings leading to a light house and sweeping views of the city. Each step is numbered and 444 agonizing, sweaty stairs later, you're at the top.

They don't tell you it's another 50 to the top of the light house... But the view is worth it!

At the west end of the Malecon are blocks and blocks of crowded, chaotic shops that sell anything and everything.

And if you wind your way through the maze to a far-away street on the other side, you're greeted by hundreds of iguanas roaming Parque la Catedral. 

Feeding frenzy!! (They're herbivores, don't worry!)

As I left the park, I came across Banda Blanca, Ecuador's army band putting on a free show. Unlike your stereotypical military band, this group had seven singers out front taking turns leading songs, all dancing and pumping up the crowd. At one point, they even grabbed random spectators to dance with!

Another interesting observation is that traffic is so thick, police direct people through stop lights rather than let the lights control car flow. Between this and pedestrians playing real-life Frogger, taking their lives into their hands crossing the street between moving cars, one would need nerves of steel to drive here. Not to mention, first rate parallel parking skills- on many streets cars are parked so tight that drivers leave them in neutral so that others can push them around to make room to come or go!

An awesome city and well worth the day layover, but my stopover ends tomorrow as I head further south to cross into Peru.

Head South, Young Man

Heeding my brother's blunt summary of my travels so far, "you're not surfing very much for a surf trip," I packed my bags and left my previous location in search of greener pastures. Getting to my new locale required several hours of transit, a few busses ranging from empty with plush seats and A/C to standing room only, crying babies and no air movement whatsoever. As I stumbled off the crowded bus, gear in tow, I walked in the direction that seemed most likely to have a beach only to arrive on an eerily deserted waterfront, restaurants all closed for whatever reason. This town has no TripAdvisor reviews to lean on, no guide books to point you toward a hotel, just ghostly unfinished high rises and an occasional car, obviously destined for somewhere else, passing through. Eventually I settled on a hotel with cable TV and a great air conditioner, though oddly the bed frame is concrete, the furniture is plastic, and the shower head is a PVC pipe coming from the wall in case you feel like getting hosed off. As the drunk "assistant" led me to my room, I wondered what the hell I was doing here.

Well, these last few days of surf have proved worth the uneasiness I feel in this place.

One thing that has really impressed me with the locals here is the hardworking fishermen that head in and out all day. Their pangas are beached in thick sand far above the high side line and to get them to the water, five or more guys place round logs on the ground and roll the boat over them, each time placing the log that was behind the boat back in front so that they can move it another ten feet.

These boats go many miles out and at night, you can see the glow from many boats' single light as two-man crews work in the dark sea far from the safety of shore.

A stray cat catches the sunset atop his colorful perch.

The seafood has been good in all of coastal Ecuador and here is probably as fresh as anywhere in the country with hundreds of boats on the sand.

Some fishermen even use these traditional balsa rafts powered only by a single long paddle, pulling in their haul of shrimp from nets cast over the side.

"We're Up All Night to Got Lucky"

So the lyrics weren't perfect but the local band's great vocals, raw enthusiasm and reggae spin on American pop songs actually gave the reinterpreted lyrics an endearing twist. It was some local's last night in town and the Montanita Brewing Company that had been so quiet the previous five nights was packed with people grooving to everything from Bob Marley to Daft Punk to Red Hot Chili Peppers' covers. I'm not one to dance but even I might have bobbed my head along to "Get Down On It" by Kool and the Gang. This was the second microbrewery of the trip and they actually made a great IPA and killer sushi about 50 feet from my hostel so I ended up eating there every single night.

Not too many places you can drink beer straight from the source with your feet in the sand...

The beach gets pretty hectic here, especially on the weekends. You can rent pre-set chairs and umbrellas for a couple bucks while ceviche carts come by to serve fresh seafood, sandwiches and cold beer. I'll bet some of those miserable looking parents at La Jolla Shores dragging 5 chairs, a huge cooler, and a wagon full of toys, kids whining behind them would really go for this...

Even the birds come into town for the weekend...

During my stay, a Swiss guy I became friends with wrote an unfavorable review of the hostel (and continued to stay there after we told him to delete it, which he didn't) so the owners were on edge the last couple days, confronting everyone. As I checked out, they had me sit down behind their open computer to read the review while interrogating me about who wrote it and if I agreed with it. I did my best not to laugh and shrugged on my way out.

A damn good view, semi-constant hot water, one power outage and two ceiling fans... Not the Ritz but I'll take it!

Change for a $20?

Rather than ramble on about the so-far mediocre surf conditions, I figured I'd do a post about money here in Ecuador. Following an economic collapse in 1999, Ecuador's president abandoned the Sucre, with its terrible international exchange rate and declared the US dollar their official currency in a widely unpopular move. Protests over the dollarization of the economy led to his ouster a few days later but the new president remained committed to the change. Now, Ecuador mints their own coins for denominations of $1 and less. It has actually been a bit confusing getting used to their coins cause they are the same size and shape as US coins.

One of the biggest dilemmas I've run into so far has been that not many businesses carry much money or change on hand so paying with anything larger than a $5 bill is typically met with confusion and annoyance. Any chance I get at a hostel or larger store, I try to break a $20.

Dollar coins are very common and really weigh down your pockets!

Having been here only a little over two weeks, I want to avoid sweeping generalizations but another observation I've had confirmed by other travelers is the clustering of like businesses around one another. If there's one sandwich cart, there's another four in a row right next to it. Knowing that just a few bucks can really help somebody's business and family, it literally becomes a paralyzing decision just where to get lunch!

Hmmm, which $3 cocktail stand should I visit?? Life is rough...

From Paradise to Party

After visiting Island de la Plata, the next day it seemed I should check out the rest of Machalilla National Park on the mainland. After a seven mile uphill bike ride, I arrived at Los Frailles Beach covered in sweat and ready for a dip in the secluded bay with tropical dry forest growing right up to the sand. The photos didn't come out well, so you're stuck looking at me in front of the sign.

I only brought four t-shirts on this trip, so in case you've noticed, yes, I have been wearing the same clothes in every photo.

Upon leaving the beach and getting back to my bike, I realized I had a flat tire. Fortunately, this mototaxi was around to drive back into town. We tied the  mountain bike to the back, glad he had a bunch of rope!

After the quasi-successful ride, I hopped a bus ride to Montanita, renowned surf destination and even more renowned party town. Along the winding rode, the bus driver was literally leaning into corners, dramatic cliffs and certain death on along the road's edge. Luckily we stopped three times to add brake fluid or perform an oil change or whatever else might require stopping the bus and popping the engine. Two fateful hours later, long-dreaded Rastafarians, aggressive street vendors and skimpy bikinis roamed the streets and filled the beach as I caught my first glimpse of Sin City, Ecuador. This is what I picture Rosarito must have looked like back in its 80s heyday. (As usual photos don't quite do it justice).

The best surf is a right point break about 1/4 mile north of the chaos. Having heard that music blaring till sunrise makes sleep impossible, I opted to stay up near the point, right on the sand. There are some other Americans and Europeans here with the same idea.

Most of the surfers in town seem to be beginners, so the town felt it fitting to build their very own enormous Cardiff Kook on the highway.

The surf has been fun so I haven't had much opportunity to take more photos, though I hope to add more soon.

Isla de la Plata

Isla de la Plata, named for the silver that Sir Francis Drake supposedly hid there centuries ago, is now better known as the poor man's Galapagos for its abundance of bird and marine life without the expense that go along with a trip to its more famous counterparts. Our group of ten tourists boarded a 30 foot passenger boat, Yuberta, and off we went on the one and a half hour voyage out of Puerto Lopez. Shrouded in low hanging clouds, the island revealed itself to be a dry, rocky desolate place covered in head high shrubbery and thousands of birds. The most famous bird that inhabits the island is the blue footed booby.

This fearless pair allowed us to within five feet as our group was down to four people including our guide (I chose to go with the Spanish speakers only).

The bird in back was so confident she couldn't even be bothered to wake up...

Our guide on the right, getting us up close with nature...

The island also had a huge Magnificent Frigatebird colony, with groups of 20-30 sharing a single tree perch.

Honestly, these thing were pretty mean looking...

After our three mile hike around half the island, it was time for snorkeling a brain coral reef with hundreds of colorful fish of all sizes and day glow blue and green starfish everywhere. Then finally, lunch back on the boat before we set towards shore.

Some Beach, Somewhere

Ecuadorian radio blasting, our bus chugged out of Manta leaving the highway behind for a zig-zagging single-lane route along the coast. I had spent last night in the coastal city looking for a replacement phone that decided to work again after three days off. Urban beaches don't get me too excited so I was up early to leave, woken up by the sounds of the busy bus station 100 yards outside my hotel window.

As we pulled out of yet another indistinguishable, dusty beach town somewhere along the Ruta del Sol, I had a feeling the local drunk ambling down the aisle would choose to sit next to the only gringo on board despite the bus only being one quarter full. We shook hands at least 15 times over the next 10 minutes as I repeatedly told him "no hablo espanol." Finally, I put in my ear buds, which weren't connected to anything, opened the window as wide as it would get, and watched as we crossed from arid desert into coastal tropical dry forest, the drunk still rambling on about something.

All smiles after the drunk got off!

Not too much later we pulled into Puerto Lopez, where I'll be hanging out the next few days. It took about 20 minutes slow walk along the beach to get from one end of town to the other.

My hostel, Hostal Itapoa, from the road and pictured below, my private cabana, 20 feet from the sand!

And my beach view from where I'm writing this blog... Not bad for $18 a night with breakfast!

At the south end of town, there is a long pier in the naturally occurring bay that houses several hundred fishing boats.

Tomorrow, I plan on taking one to an island offshore for bird watching and snorkeling. Till then, I think I'll have another beer...

Peace and Quiet in Canoa

The sleepy surf town of Canoa is about 40 minutes north of Bahia de Caracuez by bus.  My first night here, I was the only guest in my entire hostel, Hostal Baloo, which is a cluster of bamboo walled and thatch roof huts encircling a large courtyard right on the beach.  The owner, Phil, an expatriate that left the UK 43 years ago and never looked back, has been my only company as I have spent the last few days jogging and reading a couple books on the beach.  While the slower pace and beach life has been a welcome relief from the dirty city, unfortunately, the surf has been small and windy since I arrived only allowing for one surf in the last 3 days.

Hostal Baloo looking back from the road alng the beach front.

With no surf to keep me busy, I decided to do some bird watching at Isla de Corazon, named for its heart shape as seen from above.  The island is home to over 35 different species of birds, including the White Ibis and Magnificent Frigatebird.  The sight of several thousand Frigatebirds with their bright red underbellies and four foot wingspans was pretty impressive.

All went well till we tried to return back to shore and the boat engine decided not to work.  Not a problem as I was ready to repel all mosquitoes with my bitchin long sleeve shirt and stylish water shoes!

The forecast calls for more surf in a few days at which point I hope to be further south to capitalize on conditions.