Day 28... Where I am supposed to be

Day 28... The universe has a way of leading you to the place you are supposed to be at the very moment you are supposed to be there....

This morning I was thwarted once again as my guide contacted me to say that more protests were planned for today and he even if we got out of the city, we may not be able to get back... which would be a problem.  My flight seemed to still be going ahead and I decided to fall back on Plan C.

There were once again no taxis but Plan C was within walking distance. I headed out of the hotel and took a slightly longer way round to avoid the centre, where all the trouble had been yesterday. I passed some broken glass and some general damage but nothing significant. As I walked, I contemplated how my big plans had been reduced to ashes as sure as if Cotopaxi had erupted. Civil unrest hadn't really been on my radar of things that could really trouble me.

As I walked, I went through a poorer section of an already poor city, workers heading out, buses now seemingly running.  Yet the city had a feel to it this morning, like it was suffering a giant hangover from yesterday. Still absent were the multitude of yellow cabs.

I followed the road round and looked up to a hill in the middle (ish) of the city. Atop the hill was a giant statue of the virgin Mary on top of the world.

I had chosen this place to fly the flags, because it required some effort to get there and could be reached easily by foot. It was within the confines of the city and overlooked everything.  It was the highest place I could find that I could get to today.

The effort required was pretty immense... the steps at the bottom of the hill stretching up and up... and up...
There were in fact  a total of... wait for it...

966 steps

That's a lot of steps at an altitude of around 9800ft!!

As I climbed up, often stopping and turning around to 'look at the view', I passed houses that looked like they for the well off, next to houses with a tin roof and only one room.  I passed houses with a multitude of dogs, whilst stepping over the multitude of dog crap, only to suddenly smell Eucalyptus and be propelled back into the mountains once again, a world away from this city.

As I went up further, the city became more beautiful, away from the detail, one could only see the colonial buildings, the old churches and the plazas. I could still see the yellow vests of the police and the security forces, but they were far away and didn't disturb the peaceful scene from up high.

Finally I reached the angel and then climbed the stairs inside up to the balcony overlooking the city. As I looked out over the large metropolis, a conflicting mix of emotions washed over me.
Relief... sadness... joy....disappointment, homesickness.

The relief stems from the fact that the journey was done. Despite all not going to plan, I had carried the flags and the names of loved ones to the top of somewhere.

Sadness because the journey was ended..

Joy at what I had managed to accomplish despite the setbacks...

Disappointment because it hadn't worked out as planned ...

Homesickness... a month is a long time to be away from friends and family.

I feel it to be a huge honour that people trust me with the names of those they care about to carry with and I feel a responsibility to those people that I honour their names with the very best efforts that I can put forward. I hope that I did that.

Standing overlooking the city, despite the disappointment of not scaling Cotopaxi, in the end I felt that this was a fitting place for this journey to end. Here I could see the whole city, the capital of a country that I had come to love, not despite the harshness of the terrain that I had encountered, but possibly because of it. I could see the mountains that had made me struggle for all I am, and made me a stronger person.. I could a country where the people were very poor but generous with it. And I stood there and breathed, feeling that I had ended up in the place I was supposed to be.


I walked back to my hotel, through the centre of the city, quiet now, but with the scars from the protests visible, in the hordes of police with batons and body armour, in the barriers around the square, in the dark smudges from the fires lit.

Fast forward to the evening and I was getting nervous about getting to the airport. The protests had once again kicked off and right outside my hotel the police were revving their motorbike engines and gunning for the protesters. Tear gas tainted the air, leaving my eyes watering... at least that's what I told myself. In actuality, I was sad for this beautiful country and the violence I had witnessed. It felt like it was tearing apart, yet I had found beauty and peace, both in the mountains and in the jungle. As often happens when I witness the heart of a country by bike, it had got into my soul and left an impression. But it was time to go home, even if it was just because my clothes were now so objectionable, I wasn't sure I would be let on the plane if I left it any longer. Fortunately the protests settled just in time for the roads to open to the airport and for me to get safely onto my plane. The journey home was long, made longer by the resurrection of Cotopaxi's revenge... difficult when stuck on a plane for 9 hours!!

This journey was done...

I have sweated up cobbled climbs, I have pushed my bike over arduous terrain, I have rattled downhill until my kit bag broke, I have suffered with Cotopaxi's revenge, I have been surrounded by vicious dogs, bitten by even more vicious mosquitos, scared shitless when a cow bumped into my tent. I have frozen at 12000ft, seen the sun rise and set over mountains, I have been welcomed by the poor, seen how the other half lives, I have walked up a mountain gasping in the thin air, I have smelt tear gas and burning rubber, I have kayaked on the Napa River, seen dolphins play and monkeys swing through trees. I have burnt hands. I spotted a snake, then watched him leave, I have searched for the great anaconda and walked miles in the jungle. None of it has been easy. None of it I would change.
All these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain....

I do this to raise money for Love Hope Strength Foundation and I make no apologies for sending out a last begging message.

So many people are dying because a stem cell match cannot be found. Love Hope Strength Foundation is giving people who are waiting for a match, a greater hope that one can be found. We are all volunteers, giving up our time to register people to the bone marrow donors list at gigs, festivals and other events.

Love Hope Strength (LHS) was founded by Mike Peters (of The Alarm) and James Chippendale. Here in the UK, Mike and his wife Jules provide inspiration, dedication and energy which transmits to us all. They are why the volunteers dedicate their time to this great cause.

All the money I raise goes to LHS along with any money raised from the sale of my books on Amazon, tales of previous adventures. (Just put in Lydia Franklin to Amazon search!!)

If you have enjoyed the blogs, appreciated the struggle, know someone with Cancer, or simply think that I am CraZy, please go to

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/lydia-franklin1

Together we can make a difference!!








Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Day 5... It's all downhill from here...

Day 17.. Blessings in the wind

Day 3... Hard hits