Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?


On the streambashing climb to Paila Del Diablo.

The Paila from the approach hike across scorched potrero (pasture). Hard to make out, but Romel the guide is standing next to the middle palm in the foreground, just to the left of the trunk.

More sunset goodness from up on Cerro El Calvario. Roadster and I were up here sketching and reading and chattering away a few hours before I got her to the 12:30 am bus back to Cuenca. Hopefully we can hang out again once this chapter of my life book has come to an end.

The eastern hill of Zaruma as the sun ever so gently sets the clouds of El Oro aflame. Early man must have come up with the notion of magic while sitting back and watching a spectacle like this. 'Cept early man didn't have the benefit of a box of Clos Cabernet Sauvignon to grease the wheels of the imagination.

Moon. Fountain. Palm. Tower of FUNK. Zaruma beacons you, world-weary traveler. Come and soak up the welcoming aroma of mountain coffee and tigrillo as it weaves among the orchid-dripping trees of the Parque de la Independencia a misty half hour after sunset.


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