We headed of in the Spark, exiting Tulcan and heading westward to La costa de Ecuador, there was almost half a tank of fuel in the carro so we had previously decided to fill at the gas station that had refused to exchange our larger bills a few days earlier. Approaching the filling stop noticed quite a long line up and, being from North America where there's gasoline available at almost every street corner decided to forge westward.
Hit the toll booth (peaje), this time armed with a 1.00 coin passed through with no problem. We finally has overcome the obstacle that thwarted us a few day earlier, the Spark railed onward. Soon entering a small Pueblo that had the required fuel and drove up to the pumps. The agent, shaking his head ignored us and turned to the vehicle behind. What the hey? Finally, and armed police officer walked over, told us we can't buy fuel this close to the border and with hand on holster sent us onward. Uh oh.
Driving to the next town, we received similar treatment and were advised to try the next town. How far did they expect us to go? The tank continued to drop until finally a police officer advised turning at the next intersection and head west. Off the spark went, climbing higher and railing through the narrow secondary road, Great for motocycleta's by the bye. Ears clogging, scenery changing and no gasoline in sight. Climbing ever higher we stopped at a byway, ate a small snack and rehydrated. Beautiful, mountains, with cattle, few trees and absolutely no humans. Hmmmm.
Continuing onward we summited a huge mountain, by now the fuel gauge was well into the last quarter, still no respite... I was becoming somewhat concerned, hoping Lulu had not noticed our dwindling resources and wishing for a cure. I decided coasting down this massive mountain was the answer, for the next 10.6 kms we free ran the little car, tires protesting, attempting to maintain speed on near hairpin curves and running ever slower on the few straight sections. The gauge, nearing empty found us as the bottom of aforementioned mountain, the roadsign, the first sighted since the police official sent us on this backroad, had us turning onto a dirt road. Looking at my seatside companion, confessing we had, at best, 20 to 30 clicks remaining in the tank. She mentioned there was a small village down the hill from our turnoff, it was decided to try the locals in search of the elusive fuel.
OMG, it was tiny, a few dilapidated shacks, populated by obviously dirt poor Negritos. I want to point out, calling black people negritos is not a slander by any stretch, I am a blanco and other people in South America are called by names we might find offensive in Canada but certainly not here. Approaching a group of young men, Lulu asked: por favor, gasolina? They pointed to a light green house, obviously a home not a business but desperate, we stopped by the front door. "Tres dolares" was the reply from an older gentleman with a gold star adorning one of his from teeth. Gladly reaching to my pocket for money Lulu motioned for me to wait "espero, mi amor" and wait I did. The man entered his abode and returned with three containers filled with a blue liquid, they make gas that colour? Anyway a deal struck, he filled our tank with the 3 gallons of precious fluid, advising it was the only fuel in the entire village and that we were fortunate to receive any as the authorities frowned on the reselling of gasolina, particularly to Colombianos'.
Colombian plated Spark in foreground and our savior (literally) on his stoop. He is a man of obvious wealth in the village, notice the sattelite mounted on his roof. I don't know his name, only tipped him one dollar, but he helped us avert a serious problem, thank you, sir!
Later, many kilometers on and still without a fueling station, we needed to duplicate the request at an outdoor juice stand, once again, the locals helped us out, the people of Ecuador are amazing and so helpful, without them lulu and I would still stuck in the Andies, kind of hungry...
The picture below are the group of youths who assisted us finding fuel, thank you.
Shortly after purchasing gasoline from our second "fueling station" we entered La costa, found a
Pics of our first stop in Sua, the beach where we were staying for a day or two. That's out amiga Paulas' bar, named Rider after her son. Me enjoying a cervesa... wots new?
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