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.