在厄瓜多尔和厄瓜多尔州某处的泥泞的山路之后，我们慢慢地开始意识到我们不会到达任何地方。它过去的下午七，黑暗的黑暗，臭名昭着的Andean Fog是如此厚，可见性几乎为零;下一个更大的村庄仅仅距离距离酒店仅有四英里，但是，在第二档中爬行，它将需要数小时。Already fatigued, soaking wet, and freezing, we push on regardless: having emerged from the dense, verdant green cloud forest with its narrow, washed-out dirt trails, we’ve come across a town we hoped we’d find a place to stay.

我们错了;Facunco Vela是一个小村庄而不是一个小镇，依靠甘蔗 - 而不是其他 - 为了生存。这里没有酒店或地方留在这里，我们认为我们试图将它达到萨利纳斯de Guaranda，这是一个靠近Chimborazo山附近的村庄，在那里有热的食物和庇护所。

My friend Jurga, Lennart, and I have gloriously miscalculated the distance vs terrain ratio. Having been on the road for the better part of the last seven years, I tell myself I know better than to disregard terrain – and yet, here we are. The off-road trails on the Western slopes of the Andes are ridiculously awesome, winding through the lush green forest, climbing higher and higher, twisting around the mountain face, and revealing secluded little valleys, gorges, and tiny indigenous villages and settlements along the way.

虽然，我们有一些不好的运气，泥泞和雨水减慢了我们;在中间的某个地方，我们遇到了一个巨大的滑坡，我们花了一段时间来获得一堆岩石和新鲜地球阻挡踪迹的自行车。我们的目的地只有四千英里，我们可以，如果真实的压力，可以进入下一个村庄，即使在我骑盲旁 - 但最终，我们认为它更好，然后转回Facundo Vela。The fog is getting thicker and colder, and we don’t know whether there may be more landslides ahead, or whether we’re even on the right track: out here, Google Maps are useless, and we only have general direction, not the route.

在我们的泥浆溅自行车上滚回Facundo Vela，我们再次尝试运气。有一个女人在路边烧烤;她似乎跑着一位餐馆，里面有几个塑料椅子和桌子，街上的小煤炭燃烧器。我问她是否有酒店，一个主人，一家宾馆，什么......她咯咯地笑了。村庄太小了;she tells us to knock on the door of the green house across the square – the owner may have a room he’d be willing to rent – but when we locate the proprietor of the Green House, it turns out the gentleman in question is already somewhat tipsy on local sugarcane aguardiente, and he’s not much interested in renting anything to anyone, let alone three weird gringos on motorbikes.

Fair enough. Having rented the bikes and planned a week-long ride, nothing more, we don’t have our camping gear; so far, we’ve had no trouble finding places to stay.

到现在。

羞怯地，我们回到了女人和她的烤鸡肉。我们问她是否知道什么或其他任何人;她没有，但她似乎怜悯我们。她和另一个女人在厨房后面召集，她告诉我们，她可能会发现一些床垫，她可以在隔壁的大楼铺设我们。该建筑只有半成品，窗户仍然等待玻璃窗，以及我们提供的房间没有锁定或床，此事;这只是裸露的水泥地板，由我们的存在完全不受干扰的大型蟑螂和两个骨瘦如柴的床垫。我们感激地接受 - 它是在黑暗中或在黑暗中进行四十英里的近距离。

我们把我们的mud-covered luggage in our suite, huddle the bikes together on the curbside, peel our wet gear off, and head back out into the street. Facundo Vela is quiet at night; gigantic moths flock to the village’s only street lamp, kids play football in the square, and our landlady is still busy with her grilled chicken. We order some; Jurga fishes a bottle of rum out of her duffel bag, we find some Coca Cola, and before we know it, it’s a feast of chicken and improvised Cuba Libres by candlelight. Our landlady brings us a shot of the local sugarcane liquor; it burns, but she tells us it keeps “La Corona” away. Facundo Vela hasn’t seen any COVID cases because of it, she ensures us. Picking at the chicken bones and sipping our drinks, we watch the kids kick the half-deflated ball around the square, the moths congregate at the street lamp, and the deep, thick, velvety darkness engulfing the village, almost swallowing it out of existence.

这是新年后的夜晚2021年。

Despite our spectacular route miscalculations, our wet gear, and our six-legged roommates, I feel like this year is starting with serious promise.