01.10.: La Zumba - 1,300 m -

01.10:

Today is Sunday, Loja is unusually empty and quiet, but even my fruit lady is off today. I'll find another place for breakfast, which provides hot milk for the coffee powder, but I'll skip the rest. I'm just spoiled by yesterday's breakfast.

The rain from yesterday afternoon is forgotten. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the temperatures are pleasant, the perfect weather to continue driving.

I can't stop exclaiming in awe, constantly changing competing landscapes.
The traffic is bearable, and the Vespa takes the mountains as if it's nothing.
Only once on the way there is a traffic jam. Not for me - I squeeze my way through the vehicles and continue. The reason: a village that the road passes through is celebrating today. And when there's a celebration, people are in a shopping mood. The road is no longer usable for traffic - there are tents and stalls everywhere. The festivities take place in the center.
No detour signs. The facts are set, now it's up to the imagination or patience of the drivers. I find that quite presumptuous. There are families sitting in cars who may be invited for lunch and can't proceed. Only a German would think like that...
But just like in Tumbes - you face this situation with stoic calmness, no honking or wild yelling - you wait.
I'm soon back out in nature and have my back free. There is real vegetation here. This is also because I follow a river for a while. Dragonflies and lemon butterflies in their bright yellow color are present almost throughout the entire journey.

I decide to take a mandarin break because I just want to recharge in absolute peace and quiet.

The road has been heavily damaged by heavy rains. Whole mountainsides became independent and buried the road. At least one lane was cleared for the drivers.

Yes - so far, I have been the only troublemaker. Now there is simply nothing to hear, except for the wind in the trees, insects, and rustling in the bushes.

I reluctantly continue and wait for the sand track announced by Rolf. Apart from the debris, potholes, and patched cracks and depressions, the driving is very pleasant.

Now the comfortable driving comes to an end. There is no more asphalt, only gravel with sharp stones sticking out of the road, rainwater channels that give the 12-inch wheels a hard time, potholes - and it all starts again. I'm making very slow progress. Plus, there are steep inclines that the Vespa could not handle or only with great effort with its old drive rollers. But I'm still waiting for the firmly packed sand track, which I imagine to be easier than this bumpy ride here.
And all this in over 30° temperature in full gear.

The Vespa decides to turn on the fan for the water cooling - a sign for me that the engine needs a break. I'm still on a state road and not on a cozy forest path, although it is like that.
I still stop because mandarins and bananas are offered here by the residents. Homemade. Only two low houses stand here, and their residents - after a short wait or probing who is stopping and what they want - come out and ask questions. At this moment, a bus arrives, making a huge noise and letting passengers off. So, the peace for a nice chat is gone, but I still get enough information to be recommended to only drive to La Zumba. That's still an hour and a half away.
And that's how it is. If I were to continue driving to La Balsa at the border with these road conditions, it would be too risky. My navigation system has been in 'recalculating route' mode for half an hour now and doesn't tell me how many kilometers are left to La Balza.

La Zumba is a mountain village that grows up the slope of the mountain, steep streets, only two hotels that can't offer parking for the Vespa. Finally, I ask a lady sitting outside enjoying life - she asks her husband to guide me there since he's passing by anyway. It's located across from two sports fields where the village youth enjoys playing volleyball. The hotel owner also has a small convenience store, which is frequented by children for ice cream and other treats.

I negotiate with the owner and sit down on a bench in front of his store with a cola, watching life go by. I'm not alone, there are village beauties sitting on one bench, observing their athletes, and on another bench, there's an elderly man with whom I quickly start a conversation. Here too, one of the first questions is about the price of the Vespa. And here too, I receive a respectful and sympathetic look.