I awoke to Capuchin monkeys seemingly performing floor gymnastic exercises on the roof of the hostal. I gathered up the computer and went to the dining area as Kathleen continued to sleep. I walked by the Suzuki DR650 tucked in a corner of the quart yard. The motorcycle had seen some miles and indeed the odometer showed 71,964 kilometers – nearly 45,000 miles.
As I pecked away at the laptop, a gentleman sat down at the next table. T-shirt with torn-off sleeves, cargo-pant shorts, flip-flops, and a Woody Woodpecker hairdo accessorized with a ponytail. “Are you the owner of the DR” I asked. He looked at me a second, and replied he was. For the next 2, maybe 3 hours, we, Kathleen joined later, chatted about motorcycling in South America.
Gary had been storing his DR for the last few years in South America, and would come over from Germany every September to ride the bike around for about 5-months. So far, he had put about 25,000 miles on the bike he bought used, and had nary a problem. I asked why a German was riding a Suzuki about South America and not a BMW motorcycle. “I’m doing the sensible thing” was Gary’s wry answer.Gary had quite the common sense perspective about riding motorcycles all over South America. A biggy, was never ride at night. Kathleen and I learned a number of things that we’ll apply in the future. However, Gary’s choice of helmet was not something Kathleen and I will consider. Kathleen is modeling the hardened yarmulke.
We saw Gary off to continue his trip before Kathleen and I set out to walk the roads near Misahualli. 
We spent most of the day walking along one road, then another, simply because they were the only routes to hike. Critters were lying quite low as observations were few. We did see some striking butterflies. 
Kathleen and I tried nearly every setting and photography technique we knew to capture what our eyes were seeing. 
Go walk along the road just after the bridge crossing the Rio Misahualli, near the village of Misahualli. 
The butterflies were on the left side of the dirt road. Don’t worry about not speaking the language. Just go have a look.
As breakfast had worn off, we hiked back to Misahualli. The frog pictured here was sitting in the middle of the road. The frogs’ about the size of a shot glass. 
We heard a car coming and I was about to pick the amphibian up out of harm’s way when Kathleen reminded me that some South American frogs can kill animals, which include people, because their skin is coated with extremely toxic enzymes. I nudged this guy with my sandal and the blighter hopped off the road. After lunch of beef, scrambled eggs, mixed vegetables, French fries, and limon-aide, we aimlessly walked about Misahualli before heading off on down a road yet travelled. Again, birds and critters we hard to find. The day was still hot and humid. By late afternoon we returned to Hostal El Paisano, and our room, to relax away the rest of the day. I know, I gotta stop writing in corn-ball rhyme.
Tomorrow we move on to San Isidro Lodge.
No comments:
Post a Comment