I arrived in Cuenca and made for the historic heart. After spotting a big bore bike i stopped and talked with the owner. A friend was called and accomodation found in a hostel not yet officially opened, overlooking the main square and cathedral at 10 dollars a night and the only one staying there. The light switch was something else touch two wires together and i had light. A ride was organised for the night by their motorcycle club all brands welcome but more Harleys than anything else. We all met up at a bottle shop and free drinks were bought out. After we were all assembled we headed for a lookout of the city, at varying speeds. All the bikes seem to have no baffles and they seemed to enjoy setting car alarms off as they rode by. From the hilltop lookout it was off to a bikers cafe where all manner of bikes assembled. The local journalist materialised and i was interviewed and photographed for the local paper. Then all i wanted to do was go to bed but they insisted we go to an all night bar where drinks were on the house, so off we went setting off alarms as we rode through the streets of Quenca.
The bar was a route 66 replica, more drinks were bought out and then the partying started, lots of noise alchohol and music. At 2am an armoured car approached and out jumped police in full riot gear, machine guns, the works. They made us disband nicely, they must of had complaints. 3am i had to wake the hotel owner to come and open the doors for me to get Herbert back into the restaurant. Another amazing day with lots of new friends made and fun had. The next day was spent recovering, i did view the glorious return of Ecuadors only Olympic medal winner. Saturday morning i left town, tentative plans had been made for a ride out but at this stage i preferred to get away on my own. Lo and behold they tracked me down at a roadblock 50 kms away. What roadblock they just rode through it. It looked like i was getting the ride out if i liked it or not and boy did they have my last day and night in Ecuador planned out for me.
One Harley stopped with a puncture, then another just stopped with fuel problems, then another with a flat battery. Then the peice de resistance the Ducatic blasted into a pot hole and destroyed his rim and wheel bearing. Amazingly a backcountry mechanic got him going again at reduced speed, well for a minute the guy was a demon, wheelies, stoppies, burnouts. The scenery along the way was amazing as the road cut through mountains, with high walls either side and lots of rock falls making the riding interesting as well as scenic.
We eventually got to our destination Santa Rosa where we made a huge impact on the town, with hundreds of people milling around admiring the bikes. We took over a hotel and then the drinking started. We eventually ended up at a disco in town. In the morning lots of hungover heads broke the early Sunday quiete, revving bikes and lots of laughing, with the Ducati loaded onto a ute for the trip home we made our way to a seaside restaurant. So much for an early border crossing. After a long lunch i was made an official member of the Cuenca Black Riders Motorcycle Club and presented with a plaque, which they stuck dead centre of my top box, i didnt really want it there but once a Black rider always a Black Rider. Finally a 1.30 i was released at the border turnoff. Another amazing bunch of people all by chance meeting. I made my way to the border singing Bad to the Bone, as all us Black Riders are.
