I didn't set out to go around Imbabura, but I'd had my eye on the route. I'd followed these orange arrows that say "vi," which is either "I saw" or the Roman numeral six, neither of which really make sense. Turns out they're markers for a bike race around the Imbabura Volcano that runs in October called Vuelta Imbabura (or VI for short). The entire circuit is around 50K. The highest pass is around 3000m.
From Otavalo, it does not take long to get into the high country. Roads run the contour, or the run up to other roads that run along the contours. So the ride is out and up, and out and up, etc. Each time I'd followed the arrows, I'd gone a bit further, until finally I'd ended up on the opposite side of the volcano from Otavalo, with several hundred feet of climbing before I could make it through the pass.
On the other side of the pass, there is a 1000m descent into the regional capital of Ibarra, 30 full minutes of tooth-rattling, forearm-busting dirt and cobble.
But I wasn't setting out to do that. I was on a leisure cruise on a beautiful day. My supplies consisted of three granola bars and 1.5L of water.
After just over an hour of riding, I was making a final climb through a little village. Kids ran out yelling, "bicicletas!" and "a donde va?" I always say "arriba" (up) or "no se" (I don't know), which amuses the kids.
As I passed a man on the side of the road, he said, "sus compañeros pasó por aquí" (your friends passed through here). Friends? Assuming he meant other cyclistas, I asked how long ago they'd come through. Ten minutes ahead of me. Now I had something to do. A mission.
I'd been looking for other cyclists, but since most of my time, and thus long rides are on the weekdays, I hadn't run into many, or any other dirt-warriors. Now I knew they were around. There were at least 4 or 5 sets of bike tracks, which I also figured was in my favor. The bigger the group, the bigger the chance that the fast guys were waiting for the slow guys.
So I ate a granola bar and dug in for the chase. It took twenty minutes or so to catch them on a grueling climb, where two of spandex-clad wheel-jockeys were walking. These guys had nice bikes, really nice bikes -- 29'ers, the first I'd seen in Ecuador. One of them was a carbon Orbea; another guy was on a BMC. Bikes like these cost a couple to several thousand bucks in the states, and three times that here in Ecuador. So these guys were serious or rich. Or both.
I was short of breath from the chase, so I just continued the climb. Sure enough, the fast guys were waiting for their friends on a flat traverse. They said they'd come from the other side of Ibarra, by way of Otavalo, which meant they were well over 30K into their ride. No wonder some were walking hills. I asked if they were headed up through the pass to Ibarra by way of Esperanza (a beautiful little mountain town above Ibarra) -- they were indeed. And they did mind a gringo hanging on.
When he found out I could hang on the climbs, Anibal -- the apparent leader -- was more friendly. We chatted, I wheezed. Thank the good Buddha, I'd had five months to acclimate to the elevation. I asked if they were a club.
"No, solo amigos." Just friends out for a ride, just like back home. In fact, this crew reminded me a lot of the FOGs in VT (fast old guys). I've noticed before, there are sometimes analogues or dopplegangers, Ecuadorian versions of people I've known from the US. They were training for a big multi-day multi-sport endurance event that includes mountain biking, along with trekking, kayaking, repelling, and orienteering. My kind of psychos -- Cool!
We made it to the pass, and waited for the others. I snapped a few photos. They chatted, occasionally asking me questions, more or less accepted in this gang having passed the initiation climb.
Finally, it was time to descend into Ibarra -- at least a full 30 minutes of descent, minus a few stops. Thanks to a bit more DH experience, I was able to get out in front of them and take pictures. The descent was awesome -- I had to hoot and holler.
Finally, we reached Ibarra and cruised the streets like we owned the road. When we got to the Pana (Pan-American Highway), we slapped a few fives and they were off to someone's house. I waited on the bus back to Otavalo instead of riding another 20K on a busy highway in the hottest part of the day. Before I did, I snapped one more photo of the Cayambe Volcano, on its rare appearance in the afternoon. (Usually, it's only visible in the morning before getting cloud-cover rising up from the Amazon basin.) It's cool to see palm trees and flowers in the foreground with a 20,000' glaciated volcano in the distance.
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