A (somewhat) average morning...

I realized too much time has past since my last blog post. I don't have any grand adventures to share, so I figured I'd start a few part series documenting my average day in the Ecuadorian Amazon.

02H15: The dog, Bebé, next door starts barking. I’ve learned to sleep through it, but I’m sleeping light tonight. Sometimes he stops. I give him a few minutes.

Not the case this morning.

 He’s decided that some mysterious figure deserves his prolonged attention. I pull myself out of bed.

“Chhh. Bebé! Bebé!!! Callaté!” “Shut up!”

No response. He just starts looking around more frantically. I start searching the second floor balcony for something to throw at him. Anything to throw at him. I spot an un-opened can of tuna left over from my Sumaco camping trip.

Perfect.

I lob the can down on my unsuspecting foe only to hit two feet away. It sends him into yelping fits, so much worse than before.

That was dumb.

I resign to the fact Bebé can’t be quieted, and my neighbors don’t seem to mind. I put in my earplugs and wait for exhaustion to drift me away.

04H00: The roosters start. I wake up first to the first few crows and quickly fall back to sleep, well adjusted to the neighborhood chorus.

06H00: My phone rings.

                Are the técnicos already calling me? They usually wait until at least 6H30.

                Nope. It’s Anna. She’s my housemate and our Social Communications Director. She’s in Quito to catch a flight to Costa Rica.

                “They won’t let me on the plane! They say I have to have a yellow fever vaccination to leave the country, so they won’t let me on the plane! I don’t know what to do.”

                “Really? I know I’ve left the country before without showing them proof of a yellow fever vaccination.”

                “I’ve tried everything. I even offered to pay them, but they said even if they let me on the plane, Costa Rica won’t let me come back.”

                “Let me hop on line and check. I’ll get back to you in a sec.”

                I hop on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention website. Sure enough, Costa Rica requires a yellow fever vaccination if you are flying from Ecuador. Bummer. Really bummer. I call her back and give her the news. There is a clause that says if you’re pregnant, you don’t have to get the vaccine. I suggest telling the officials she’s expecting. It can’t be too hard to buy a doctor’s word once she gets to Costa Rica. I don’t know if she’s going to give it a go, but unfortunately I can’t offer much more.

06H30: It’s still early enough to get my run in. I strap on my faithful Brooks running shoes, the bright green ones. I wake up Nell, our house dog, and we head out the door. I decide to head across the river and run towards some communities along nearby cow pastures. Best way to avoid hills and some not-so-neighborly dogs.

06H35:  “Buenos dias.”

                I say hello to a group of school kids walking to town.

                “Buenos dias.”

                I say hello to a group of day laborers heading to a job in a nearby community. And so it continues, saying hello to every child, student, mother, and father I pass. Some respond pleasantly. Others can’t decide what to do. I always need to say hello though. Never hurts to be friendly. Some of them have begun to recognize me and give me encouraging fist pumps.

06H37: Phheeew.

                I pass the dairy farm. The children outside run alongside me for 20 yards before deciding they’d had enough.

06H40:  I reach a crossroads.

                I’m feeling strong today. Guess I’ll take the longer loop. That means dogs though. Do I really want to deal with them today? Hell yeah… I’m feeling great.

07H03: Shit, here come the dogs. Where’s Nell?

                Nell’s 20 yards back. She’s not too keen on running for more than 10 minutes, so she ends up trotting lethargically behind. At first, my foe’s not interested in me. He’s content to stare. His buddy starts barking, and suddenly his temperament changes. He’s after me. He gets one quick nip, nearly catching backside.

                “Carajo! Sal! Váyate”

                I shoo the dog, being sure to land a firm kick. My efforts do little to deter him. I take another approach, picking up a palm sized rock. Suddenly he backs off. Gotta love the Quichua women for training their dogs to respond to rocks. It’s too bad my neighbor’s dog isn’t the same. I run on only to hear the dogs barking again 20 yards later. They’ve found Nell. She’s a tough girl though. She’s not one to put up with other dogs. She gives them a few hard nips and the dogs sulk back to their homes.

                Home free. No more dogs. Nothing but downhill.

                I open up my stride as the sun crests above the horizon. A cool mist dissipates from the lower fruit bearing trees into the looming palm trees.

07H17: I pull into home. Nell comes trotting up 30 seconds later.

                What a great run this morning!

It’s not always the case. The dogs and surly folks sometimes put me in a funk, sometimes they keep me from running at all. But not every morning. Not this morning.

Now how about that fresh cup of guayusa…

Anybody heard of Dale Correa?

First, I must apologize for my lack of recent updates. The jungle had my number this past week (that number being 105- my temperature a week ago), and a blog post wasn't on my priority list to get caught up. Nevertheless, I'm not running low on stories.

Before I go any further, I'll explain the title of my blogpost (its much better if you know spanish, but I'll do my best). Ecuador is littered with grafitti. Some of its sponsored (even if it doesn't look like it), a lot of it isn't. Almost all of it is political. Something that you will inevitably find across the country is "Dale Correa."

Spend five minutes in front of a Ecuadorian TV, and you will quickly figure out that these people are referring to President Correa. My new friend and Peace Corp volunteer, Aaron, did just that. He also figured Ecuador's President must be named Dale. Kind of an odd spanish name, right? Yes, but it's not so odd once you realize that Ecuadorians are fond of English names (especially the names of old American presidents). 

Well, following a few months and a lot of spanish practice, Aaron realized that the President's name wasn't Dale at all. It was Rafael. Who was this Dale Correa, then? I'm sure you spanish speakers have it by now. "Dale" isn't a name at all. It's a common phrase translating to something like "Get it" or "Do it."

R.I.P Dale Correa.

As for the rest of the stories, the past two weekends offered some serious excitement. Two weekends ago, I had the opportunity to participate in my first jungle hunt.

"What do you hunt in the jungle?" you may ask.

Anything and everything. Rabbits, boars, monkeys, armadillos, deer, and rodents you've never heard of.

"What do you hunt with?"

I wish I could say we used spears, blow darts, or knives, but 16 gauge shotguns accompanied us this time. We did get some practice with blow darts for the future though.

"Did you get anything?"

Well, let me tell you about it. We arrived a bit late to Santa Domingo, the community we were staying in for the evening, so we didn't head into the jungle until about 9 pm. We were seven all together- three ecuadorians, equipped with machetes and shotguns, and four gringos, equipped with two small knives. Let's just say that they didn't put much trust in us bringing back breakfast.

Not 5 minutes outside the house, one member of the party, David, started screaming, "Catuches! Catuches!" (Cartridges! Cartridges). You'd think he just spotted a massive bull elk from the urgency in his voice. I scurried to get a few shells out of my camera case, which he quickly took and bolted into the trees. Patricio calmly stood and scanned the vegetation with his flashlight. Occasional Quichua interjections fought through the trees. Next thing I knew, Patricio raised his rifle, took aim at something invisible to me, and fired.

Sure enough, I heard whatever it was tumbling from above. Thirty seconds later, David emerged from the jungle holding a larger-than-life rat by the tail. Not the elk-size boar I hoped for, but we had our first kill.

Our first kill

And nearly our last.

The next 5 hours we spent ducking branches, climbing logs, and keeping our headlamps pointed up in the trees. David heard some boars and we saw one nocturnal monkey, which somehow managed to escape three trigger-happy Quichua men. (At $2.25 a shot, it was hard not to hear ka-ching instead of ka-boom with each miss). Other than that, the most excitement came during a 15 minute period when we were "lost" in jungle. Thankfully Patricio was able to reoriente himself before daybreak, or else that rat might have started to look tasty.

We rolled back towards the community about 2 o'clock in the morning, only to find our third member, Ángel, had managed to get a rabbit along the way. Not an overwhelming kill, but at least the 5 hours stomping through the jungle weren't for nothing.

mmmm. Breakfast.

The crew minus Patricio

And for your last question, "Did you eat those?"

No, we didn't. We intended to, but we missed the 4 am wake-up call for breakfast. Maybe next time.

Now for the next tale from this past weekend. I've been fortunate enough to key in with some Peace Corp volunteers that are gung ho for the mountains. As always I have to ask, "Guayusa good to me?" The Peace Corp volunteers, Joe (works with Runa) and Aaron (from earlier in this post), put together a trip to summit Sumaco, the tallest mountain in my home province of Napo. While its not the most glamourous mountain, it overlooks my town and is one of the most remote mountains in Ecuador, so it's a must-do in my book.

Sumaco from near the start of the trail

The trip would take a minimum of three days. The trail starts in the village of Pacto Sumaco at 1,538 m (5,045 ft.) and ends on Volcán Sumaco's summit at 3,732 m (12,244 ft.). In between lies one of the most biodiverse places on the planet. You literally start in the rainforest and finish in something resembling alpine tundra. Sounds incredible, right?

Well, Joe, Aaron, Tyler (one of Runa's founders), and I thought so. We woke up at 4:15 Saturday morning and hopped the bus to Pacto Sumaco hoping to get an early start on the trail. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. As soon as we arrived, people asked what we were up to.

"Climbing Volcán Sumaco!" we mistakenly replied. One minute later, our aspiring guide was by our side charging us $38/day. That's a bit steep for a group that didn't even want a guide! We spent the next hour wrangling with him to let us leave without him, but he kept insisting that we have to have a guide. He said we would get lost; the trail is hard to follow; there aren't any signs. He even sited a treaty the association of guides had with the government- the town would stop harvesting traditional hardwoods and the Ministerio would support the association by requiring guides in the park. Not a bad deal except that mounds of fresh-cut wood still littered the town. With that bit of evidence, Tyler quickly weasled out a confession from the fellow that they hadn't signed the deal yet. Gringos: 1 point. We assured him that we had a trip report, GPS, and ample experience to get us up the mountain.

Aaron and Joe reviewing the trip report.

Finally, at about 9 o'clock we made it out of the town...without a guide. By noon, we were lost. Ecuadorian guide: 1 point. We weren't really lost. We just didn't know where we were going. We spent the next four hours hacking our way through the jungle and exploring anything that could resemble a trail- all in hopes of reaching some magical GPS waypoint that we weren't even sure was correct.

                                                        The start- a cut-log trail.

Doesn't look like they've stopped cutting hardwoods to me. 

                                           Ducking our way through part of the jungle.

Cool flower

Checking our progress through one of the pastures. 

The "trail" was suppose to go up this creek for 0.5 km. Of course, we didn't figure that one out until we came back down the mountain.

Thanks to the eventual help from a  farmer, we ended up on the right path at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Two hours later we found the first camp and the edge of the Sumaco National Reserve just in time for night fall. 

The second day didn't present the navigational challenges the first day did, but it did present the challenges of knee deep mud pits, overgrown bamboo, and 3,300 vertical feet. Not to mention, we hiked the entire thing in botas, a must in any rainforest expedition. Here are some photos from the day.

Botas

                                                                      Huge tree.

Awesome monkey tail.

Laguna at the second refugio

Joe and Tyler marking our waypoint

Clouds lifting a little bit

We pulled into the final camp about 3 o'clock. We debated making the final push to the summit, but 3.3 km and 3,300 vertical feet didn't sound like the most fun after the morning slog. Instead, we opted to get an alpine start the next morning, hit the peak at sunrise, and make the 7,200 foot decent back to Pacto Sumaco the next day.

2 am wake-up call

Still in the jungle...but not for long

The peak!

Laguna in the crater

Cool flora near the peak

Somewhere down there is the rainforest

An exhausted, but stoked, crew after an 18 hour day. Sumaco is in the background.

SP Kennels (http://www.amindofmush.blogspot.com/ or http://www.spkenneldoglog.blogspot.com/) represented in the Amazon. Congrats on the Yukon Quest 300 Ryne and happy 22nd birthday!!

The mountain may have whooped us physically, but we made it safe and sound. We couldn't have been luckier either. As you saw, we caught one of the most beautiful sunrises I've witnessed to date. To our west loomed two huge snow capped volcanoes peeking out from the clouds. Beneath us lay the Napo river and the Amazon Jungle. Not a shabby weekend, eh?

Until the next time!

Is that a ZIT????

(WARNING: NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART)

First, it resembled any other facial irritation. Zit? Ingrown hair? Bug bite? Hard to tell. But a few passing days left one of our volunteers, Ben, worried his face might be home to something more.

It started with the unusual swelling and was followed with colorful discharge. Eventually the swelling went down, but sharp sporadic pain continued. No amount of South American-grade antibiotics seem to take any effect.

Any guesses?

I wouldn't have known either- at least not until Ben went to wipe his face one morning and discovered dead black larvae.

Still no guesses?

A BOTFLY! There were two to be exact. The first expelled, a small black larva, was the dead twin of a very large, very alive botfly larva still at home in Ben's face.

For a quick lesson, botfly's are fairly common insects slightly larger than mosquitos. They use this size to pin down mosquitos and lay their eggs on them. The mosquitos then deposit the eggs in their next meal. The larvae grow inside the animal, or human, until they have cocooned themselves. (Not to fret, they excreet antibiotics that keep their environment immaculate and healthy). After cocooning, they expel themselves and eventually become an adult botfly.

So for the next two days we tried vaseline, tape, tobacco, and more to asphyxiate and lure the beast out of its den in Ben's face. (Check the videos out). Ben and I spent the better part of 3 hours playing something resembling Whack-a-Mole as the larva poked its backside in and out in search air, but the creature was too fast.

Look closely, you'll see it peeking out.

Sofía trying to smoke it out

Finally, at the suggestion of our secretary, Katya, we gave some veterinary substance a go. Sure enough, the now-lethargic larva was peaking out in 30 minutes after applying the magical substance. One quick pinch with the tweezers, and the creature below was unearthed from Ben's face.

Victorious!! (Sorry I missed the actual removal, I was in the middle of a call)

  

The little brown rings? Those are spikes. The black things up top? Teeth.

The Magic Potion

Recently single and happy.

And the sunset of the month!!

WAR EAGLEEE!!!!!

Awesome game. War Damn Eagle! Even the bartender at the Araña seemed to appreciate the win (although that might have been due to the unusual Monday night business).

Still, WAR EAGLE!!!



Happy New Years

Before I go into the New Years celebration, I have one comment. Alabama´s influence in Ecuador has either a.) grown since the last time I was here, or b.) I've become more observant. "b" might be a bit of a stretch...

ANYWAYS, I spotted yet another great shirt from good ole dixieland.



And, for all you Camp Mac alumni, do you remember "Movie Call"? That song that sounded like someone trying to imitate popcorn on the keyboard?  Well, it's in Ecuador. Some fellow had it popping right out of his phone (quick side note: many Ecuadorians AREN'T fans of headphones, instead opting to share their music with everyone in the vicinity). So, like I said, Alabama has some pull in Ecuadorian culture, intended or not.

Now onto the New Year's celebration.

In order to celebrate the new year and the passing of the old year, Ecuadorians make life-size and bigger paper maché or stuffed manikins called monigotes or años viejos (old years). These años viejos wear masks representing people who have done something bad, good, funny, or just about anything else over the year.

At midnight, they burn the años viejos to usher in the new year. All the while, las viudas (the widows) of the años viejos are represented by men running around in drag. They often string rope across roads, demanding a small toll from any vehicle wishing to pass. I've added some pics of the festivities below.

Not sure who the centaur represents, just thought it was pretty awesome.

 Below are two años viejos of President Rafeal Correa, a common choice to burn because of the dramatic "attempted coup" a few months back. These were two of my favorite

KILL ME MY FRIENDS!!!

One of the "viudas"

Don't worry, it stopped.

This was only half the supply at one store, and it was ALL EMPTY at 7:00 PM 

Some of the años viejos on my street.

Miner (?) heading towards an unhappy ending.

One of the burnings.



At the stroke of midnight, the años viejos were burned, people hugged (sorry guys, New Years kiss isn't tradition down here), and dancing proceded until the wee hours of the morning. Not a bad way to usher in the New Year.

My resolutions? I have a couple. 1. No more soda (except the occasional mixed drink- it's tougher than you'd think in this heat). 2. Do a better job of letting people know what they mean to me. Easy enough, right? Nothing that guayusa and guayusa ceremonies can't help me achieve.

To wrap up this entry, a compare and contrast with my sis' life.

Ryne has fires to warm the spirit and ward off -40 degree (farenheit or celsius) temps. We have fires to burn off old spirits and, honestly, they don´t change the temp that much.

Happy 2011 to everyone!