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!

War Eagle!!!

I was walking down to the "tienda" (something of a mini convenient store), and you'll never guess what I saw...

That's right. War Damn Eagle! Well, kinda. He didn't actually know what the emblem on his shirt stood for. He found it in a local market. Regardless, it's a sign. Watch out Ducks... The Tigers are everywhere.

Baby Photoshoot!!!

Somehow, I was roped into the group called "artistas" (those of you that know me also know I don't have near the patience to ever be considered an artist!). So when one of our volunteers (who had a bit of photography experience) ran out of time to do a photoshoot for our architect, the responsibility was naturally passed on to me.

Thank goodness for digital cameras and Apples Iphoto. Watch out Runa! I might have found another calling!

 If you click on the slideshow, you can see all the photos, which tell a nice little story, as well as a few photos from a nursery construction.

And it begins

A mischeduled flight, the Amtrack, a Greyhound, three flights, a midnight bus; a wind turbine mechanic, a heroine addict, a renowned spine specialist, a pill popping pharmecist- that's all it took to get me from Durango, Colorado to Archidona Ecuador, my new home. And, the first thing I hear upon arriving to Ecuador?

Hotel California
Total Eclipse of My Heart
Take My Breath Away

I'm pretty sure I could have walked down to any local karaoke bar to be blessed with such a playlist. But only in Ecuador do they play such music without nostalgia of the past. They proudly crank the volumn on these overplayed ballads as if they were released yesterday.

Social commentary aside, it feels great to back in Archidona. Any hesitancy about returning quickly dissappeared upon reuniting with the Runa team, which has accepted me back with more fervor than before. Even the neighbors have at least feigned excitement at my return. As for the job, I will have the opportunity to work with three different organizations geared towards social development: USAID, DED (the German equivalent), and the Fairtrade Labelling Organization. Not to mention, I am working with a incredibly talented and innovative team with Runa. I would never have imagined such an opportunity armed with an undergraduate degree and a year of experience as a vagabond.

It's already a whirlwind of activity in the five days I've been here. There is no shortage of work between the shipment of gift baskets, the construction of plant nursuries, and the familiarization of new forms and processes. Not to mention I am still reaquainting myself with members of the team and my role within them. Don't worry though. I still find time for a run each morning with the house dog, Penelope, and a good jam with the other volunteers in the evening.

This time around, I am going to try and wrap up every few blog entries comparing and contrasting my experiences with my sister's experiences. For those of you that don't know, my sister, Ryne, is handling dogs for an elite mushing kennel oustide of Fairbanks, AK (www.amindofmush.blogspot.com). My Aunt threw out the idea of relating our experiences, and the past week has already offered a few opportunities. Let's start with the obvious:

Ryne is rapidly approaching her first -50 degree day. I anxiously await my first 50 degree night that is unlikely to ever arrive.

Ryne's diet consists of meat only eaten in a Gary Paulsen novel, and fresh fruit can be a luxury. My diet consists of fresh fruit only eaten in a Dr. Suess book, and any meat readily recognizable other than chicken is a luxury.

Ryne established her rookie status by promptly frost-nipping her nose. I established my rookie status by promptly getting 10+ blisters tilling a new nursery. We both need some work be considered veterans.

And finally, before either one of us really fit in our respective communities, Ryne can look forward to a pasty white complexion, while I must work towards a tan envied by the cast of Jersey Shore.

Hasta pronto!