Palm Sunday Weekend

As a special treat, I won't have much to say this time...

Cuenca is a beautiful city best appreciated from the top of one of its surrounding hills.

Yesterday, our friend Dora and her Rotary exchange student daughter took us up to Turi and

then out for a little lite lunch.

Today is Palm Sunday and the accompanying pictures tell that story.

Then, we finish it all off with some desert.

la Paz,
T & J

Las Cajas National Park

"The Andean highlands (Paramos) and cloud forests are unique bioclimatic zones of the Tropical Andes. Paramos act like living sponges that absorb, purify and supply vast quantities of water to the cloud and rain forests below, which are considered some of the most biologically diverse ecosystems on earth. The survival of most living creatures (including man) within these and adjoining regions is dependent on the conservation of the Paramos."

Joella was going stir crazy with little or nothing to do, so she started volunteering. Above is the opening paragraph from a press release she wrote for the "Cordillera Tropical Fundacion", an environmental group concerned with saving, among other things, Andean poison dart frogs believed extinct since 1995. But, that's another story...and, no, the next picture is NOT one of those frogs.

We're living in Cuenca at 8000' and when you go up another 1000' to the Cajas National Park one of the first things you notice is the stark absence of trees. This is a wierd moonscape and, yet, it's only an hour out of town. Jo even rode her bike up there, but now she hates dogs which is another story wherein a man cleaning out a ditch saved her ankles from being mauled by throwing rocks at the attacking, feral, Paramos puppies.

So, these are the "Paramos" that Joella was refering to in her Press Release. In Spanish, "Cajas" means many things: Boxes, a safe or even a cashier's counter. From the air, this outlandish landscape was first described as being littered with silver strong boxes or safes. More likely, the name comes from "caxas", the Quichua word for cold. Actually, theses boxes are hundreds of small, clear, trout-filled, mountain-top lakes which hold the atmosphere-released-water until it's needed down below in the lower elevations. Hiking in the Paramos is at times like walking on a giant squishing sponge.

While hiking here, you're quite literally in amongst the clouds. All the water hanging inside of these suspended, gas cotton balls surrounding you is continually leaking out onto the treeless hills, down the creeks of their many ravines and,finally, into the numerous, waiting collection pool "cajas".

When we first got out of our vehicle it was surprisingly cold because of the cloud cover, elevation and wind. However, there were times later on during our hike when the sun came out and the wind died that we had to take off our layers of clothing because it had now become too hot.

What I had to keep reminding myself there was a direct relationship between all this peculiar scenery and the lofty elevation where I was standing . Washington Pass, which I often traverse going to Mazama in Eastern Washington, is around 5400' and I used to think that it as a naked height. This is almost twice that elevation and the Cajas topography makes the Cascade Peaks look like a green jungle by comparison. Yes, the Cajas is barren, but its beauty also takes your breath away at the same time like a ugly old man with a soul of gold sitting alone in a doorway on a deserted street.

Here is our neighbor, Becca, who came on the hike with us. In the recent past, she was a social worker from the Bay Area; but now Becca is on an extended honeymoon, volunteering at an orphange and trying to figure out what's wrong with Joella's husband.

Perhaps, if you blow these pictures up you'll be able to better appreciate how they are Not all the same, but in fact very, very different from each other. Everytime I turned around I felt I was looking at something I had never in my life seen before, an unsettling sensation.

Every once in a while, tucked in hollows and natural depressions, we would come across small forests of very wierd trees called Polylepis. If you look them up you'll see that these little tress grow at the highest altitudes of any wood in the world and wandering into one of these dense, dwarf forests is like entering a Brothers Grimm fairytale. Even in broad daylight you realize the deeper into the silva's underbrush you go, the darker everything becomes which all serves to make creepy experience even more scary and terrifying.

I don't know that I'd ever seen it celebrated in the US, but here and other third world countries International Women's Day is a BIG deal. There had been several major parades back in the city along with a street fair where men were kept from entering by the police. Even up here on top of these mountains we encountered a spiritual group which had gathered to pray for and thank all women. They built a mandala out of flower petals and colorful patches of cloth, then placed a small bowl of pure water in its middle. A tiny urn filled with incense was lit on the upwind side of the manadal's top center and they began softly, slowly chanting in unison from deep within a natural clearing found in the heart of darkness made by the Polylepis forest. Time faded away.

At first, it seems as if you are the first person to ever walk these hills because there are no trails.

Although, it's when you stop trying to see everything that more is revealed. There are footpaths and trails everywhere. New tracks made by mice and snakes alongside thousand year old footprints from Inca soldiers marching up from Peru to conquer the Canari of Ecuador's Andean Highlands.

The quiet stillness of these many aquatic hand-mirrors reflect the past back into the present.

It's all there to see by closing your eyes and opening your heart.

What a long, strange trip it's been............................................................................................................. gratefull to not be dead.

Time to make like a tree and leaf,

T & J

Silver Island

Here's a little more from our earlier beach vacation........................................

Now you might think because we are so close to the Galapagos Islands that it'd be affordable to visit them, but you'd be wrong. The Galapagos are over 600 miles off the coast and a trip out there is neither short nor inexpensive. Plus, because people come from all over the world to visit the islands Charles Darwin made famous the tour companies can charge whatever the market will bear and in this case world wide demand equals high prices.

So, the Ecuadorians (and minimum wage Gringos) go instead to the poor man's Galapagos, Silver Island, which is only an hour away and costs just $35. Besides being economical, the Silver Island trip includes lunch and a stop to dive on the reefs with snorkles.

Around here Sea Lions are called "Lobos del Mar" or Sea Wolves and from up here on the cliff edges you can see the Bulls below on the rocks, each with his own harem of 4 or 5 naked females. I've been told by older, wiser men (Glen DJ) that this was God's original plan for all the male species here on Earth, but most women seem not to have gotten the message other than a few tribes in Africa and the Mormons.

Next , is one of Jo's photos showing the famous Blue-Footed Boobie you may have heard of before and as you can see his feet are indeed quite blue. What you will see next after the aforementioned, back scratching bird is how barren this treeless rock of an island is; but, what you won't feel is how hot the hiking was going up and down the numerous hills looking for birds. Beauty has many Pros, here now are the Cons of reality.

Zoom in on the next shot for a look at the zig-zagging trail to the top of a hill where a roofed shack without walls awaits the hikers who don't wilt from the oppresive heat. I have never in my life desired a man-made construction so sincerely and in my delerium began to relate with all lizards who were also looking for shade to hide under till nightfall. You could feel each degree of the temperature climb as you climbed. Step by step by step it became viscerally hotter and hotter. What are you laughing at Masked Boobie? (Next picture).

The first explorers called it Silver Island because of how pretty it appeared from a distance. The name stuck even though now it is associated with the color of the devil's horns. It was hot as hell out there and I didn't have white feathers to absorb the equatorial sun's heat like all the noisy %$#^&* stupid birds. So, I had to roll up my shorts and continue slogging along which made me look like a senior citizen from St. Pete, Fla going out to the beach wearing his "Depends" . Of course, this sight of a ridiculous human only made the Masked Boobies and friggin Frigates laugh louder all of which only made me hotter and madder and hotter.

Before you go crediting Joella with being smarter than me for wearing a long sleeve "wicking" shirt (and please note it is not blue), she forgot to put sunblock on the top of her ears and they got burned. Whereas, because I literally bathed in #80 sunscreen and zinc oxide my fair skin remained undamaged. Even though, I will admit, later in the delicious cold shower I did look something like a white-footed boobie.

Joella has additional images of these same birds hatching eggs and babysitting chicks that she captured on our trip across the river Styx to Hades. However, I believe she is saving those for a gallery opening in the future. So, I'll leave you with my favorite bird who reminded me of Robert DeNiro in The Taxi Driver asking "You talking ta me? Hey, you talking ta me?"

Anchovie,

Anton

The beach's No-Tell Motel

The 7 hour bus ride (there are no air routes) from the top of the world to the Western edge of Latin America is best made with eyes closed and a vomit bag nearby. All local drivers are taught from an early age to save their passing of other vehicles for blind corners and 2000' cliff edges.

Night was approaching as we finally arrived at our vacation destination, Puerto Lopez, a working fishing village on the Pacific Ocean about 10 degrees south of the equator. Nobody we asked was sure where the Mandala, our reserved accomodation, was or, even, what is was and their hmmms were beginning to sound more and more like ohhmmms in a creepy and mystical way. The last bit of advice had been a finger pointing north out of town along the beach and, so, we continued 'schlepping' (someone check the Yiddish spelling please, as this is one of Joella's favorite new words) our far-too-heavy backbacks off into the darkening night.

When, gradually, we came upon this entrance motif of three psychedelic whale tails diving back into a flower-power garden. Right then, we knew after all these working class-hero, conservative decades we were back home in the early 1970's. Spreading out before us and welcoming us into its arms was the extravagant, $40 @ night Mandala of Peace, Love and Happiness.

Before you is the footpath to our bung-a-low situated in the middle of a Garden of Eden. Like all the Mandala's other loving abodes, our's had a name which was Flying Fish as you might be able to tell from the leaping carvings all around the crab shell doorknob. For a fuller appreciation of this place's 'cuteness' you may want to zoom in on the next picture at this point.







The builder/owner walked around in a T-shirt that simply said, "Everyone Loves the Swiss", which he was, and the 'Love' part pretty much explains where he had been coming from for the past twenty years of construction. His artistic touches were everywhere from the restaurant's menu covers to the hotel provided, hammock-ready beach cabanas. He had several dogs, which Jo loved, and the food was the best in town. Of course; we, unfortunately, couldn't be sure of its dining excellence until after we had tried and been disappointed several times at other less inviting venues.

Exotic flowers were festooned everywhere you looked and we had no idea what many of them were. I insisted Jo take pictures of some of the Mandala's flora in the hope one of you might be able to identify of them and she did this even though it is not her want. They do, however, paint a more accurate picture for you, dear reader, of our motel's colorful ambiance than my words ever could.

This little (fine, Swiss construction) roadside marker outside the motel tells how far away every major city in the world is from the Mandala. Jo has asked me to point out that it is just a coincidence
she is always wearing a sleeveless blue shirt and that she does in fact have others.

There are no extra points for knowing the name of this 'bird-like' flower, as even I do.

In July the great Gray whales (from the Southern Ocean of Antarctica, not the Arctic Ocean)
come to the waters near here to calve. A few years back, one of them beached itself and died at a neighboring fishing village and was going to cause a number of health problems. So, our Nature-loving Swiss proprietor enlisted government permission and corporate help to remove it, bone it and preserve it. Here it now sits in front of the motel surrounded with informational, factoid, reader boards on Whale trivia, as a free "Save-The-Whale" open air museum for public beach combers.

The strange beauty of many of these flowers speak for themselves.

And, as a matter of fact, so does the whale.

Nuff said!

I believe Jonah could easily have been swallowed by a whale; but, I'm sure it wouldn't have, despite what the "Old Testament" might say, because all God's creatures know humans leave a bad taste in your mouth and, anyway, an hour later they're still hungry.

Chowder...

T & J