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?


One section of the steeply channeled trail rut that we followed for most of the third day's descent. Not designed to handle the heavy hooves of cattle and horses...

Ruins above the Huayquichuma area. This was a wall of sorts but the area was too overgrown to really tell what it was supposed to have been in centuries past.

As the altitude dropped the temperature most certainly did NOT. Sweating and stinking, we picked our way farther and farther out of the arid highlands and into the moist lush slopes below. Stopping to fix some clothes and get a drink, I noticed a fat hairy tarantula resting on the side of the trail's "wall." Wonder how many of them we passed without even noticing...

Above Huertas now, we were spit out of the world of the trail onto a road that apparently didn't exist when the map was made, so after some confusion and extra uphill hiking, we were on our way to some free sodas and ice cream. (The people of Zaruma are the best!)


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