Part 12

Bogota, Colombia to Ecuador
March 5 / 1999 (Huanchaco, Peru)

We left the Kancun Hotel (in Bogota) before seven to avoid paying another hour for the room. Being near a major city, the roads were clogged with trucks, busses and people driving in a hurry. One phenomena that we have noticed is that the closer you get to a large centre, the more aggressive and careless the drivers become. After driving for more than twenty thousand kilometres in Latino countries, the best description of the driver mentality is that each person believes that they have all rights to the road. There seems to be no consideration for anyone else on the road or sometimes any forethought for their own safety.

A classic example is that they will stop anywhere.... on a corner, crest of a hill, without pulling off the road even though there is ample room to move off of the travelled surface. They will unload people or cargo or just stop to chat with someone... while all other traffic has to safely avoid the hazard they created! Again, I reiterate that the only rule is that the bravest one, with the most beat up vehicle has the right of way! If you want to drive down the wrong side of the highway or the wrong way on a one way street, just do it!

The highway soon carried us away from the city and into steep, lush, green mountains dotted with banana groves and haciendas (some big, beautiful homes such as you would see on the outskirts of Calgary). The area was lined with resorts with pools and restaurants, a cool retreat for the harried city dwellers. We also passed many nurseries displaying all manner of tropical flowers and plants. The culinary specialty of this region was roasted pork and we saw many whole carcasses displayed beside the road, heads and all.

Along the road were numerous small landslides giving us an indication how fragile the land was. In a rocky canyon we saw one poor home that a larger boulder the size of our van, had crashed through their wall and now sat in their front room. The people who live in this area have a very tough life and must be in extraordinary condition to farm the almost vertical sides of the mountain. We could not imagine how they even managed to get their harvest of bananas back to the road. We surmised that perhaps they hauled them up or down with ropes.

Going down the other side of the mountain was again a precipitous drop through thick fog following foul smelling trucks. We emerged at the bottom to a beautiful, luxuriant valley that unfortunately had just recently suffered a major earthquake. We chose to bypass the main town of Armenia as there was a good road around and apparently the town had suffered tremendous damage. The military had checkpoints in the area, which we were pleased to see, as everywhere alongside the road there was rubble from collapsed buildings. Many structures were still standing but showed massive cracks or sags which indicated that they too would have to be rebuilt.

Our hearts went out to these poor people, some who had lost everything they had worked for... surely they did not have any insurance for such events as these. Many houses that seemed unaffected had their yards filled with tents, welcoming those that were not so fortunate. Any public, open area such as soccer fields or church plazas were filled with tent camps. But through all this, life carried on, markets and stores were open, children played everywhere and we saw many smiling faces.

The countryside was a mix of plantations, haciendas and rolling, green hills. We get up a steady pace, our progress monitored by the number of toll booths we encountered, until we decided to call it a day and found a guarded hotel parking lot that we were able to stay in. The night was pleasantly quiet and without too many bugs but we were urged out of bed by a large truck starting up beside us. This gave us an opportunity for an early start. It appeared that this was the common practice as few vehicles travelled at night, so the road was very busy even before six in the morning.

As we approached Cali, the second largest city in Colombia, we decided to take another bypass route to avoid the confusion of the metropolis. We couldn't find the highway we wanted to be on because of the lack of signs and the complexity of the towns, but we finally ended up on an alternate route through sugar cane plantations. At first the road seemed fairly major and had sufficient traffic but as it passed through smaller and smaller communities the traffic petered out and the route more difficult to follow.

We began to feel uncomfortable, knowing that the whole area was labelled as 'active' politically. Our hearts leaped into our throats when we rounded a corner and suddenly found ourselves coming into a checkpoint. It was very strategically laid out, each end had two soldiers placed several hundred yards from the main checkpoint area which had five men with motorcycles (we presumed for pursuit purposes). You quickly were into the checkpoint area and could not get out easily without passing the guards on either end who had ample time to react. Most disconcerting was the lack of insignias on the camouflage uniforms. Who were these guys?

Fortunately for us, the soldiers were busy checking out a truck they had stopped and we quickly speeded through before they took too much notice of us. It definitely got our adrenaline flowing though as we were not sure how to proceed... go back or carry on. At the previous town we had asked directions from a National Guardsman and queried him about the guerrilla situation and he indicated that it was not a big problem so we assumed that this checkpoint was staffed by the paramilitary (pro-government) forces and decided to continue.

Within a half and hour the road gradually deteriorated into a bad gravel road that seemed to be heading closer to the mountains and we were regretting our earlier decision to push ahead! We said a little prayer and agreed to go two kilometres farther before turning back. A moment later, a bus magically appeared over a rise, the first vehicle we had seen since the checkpoint, (who says prayer does not work). I flagged him down and asked if this was the right road, was it all gravel, and were guerrillas a problem today? With a smile he told us yes, this was the right road, only a few more miles of gravel and no, there were no problems with the guerrillas today! With a huge sigh of relief we effusively thanked him and carried on.

Within a few hours we found ourselves entering Popoyan, a colonial town that had been almost totally destroyed by and earthquake in 1983 but which had been rebuilt with money donated by a drug cartel. Because of this it was a well laid out and modern community compared to what we had experienced so far. It was here that we decided to take time out to do our laundry and a few other chores (and were I began Part 11 of the journal).

After wandering around town a few times looking for a nice place to stay we had narrowed it down to two options... a hotel with parking outside for $58 or a commercial parking lot beside the bus depot for $1. I was not impressed with the parquedaro but Diane wanted to stay there so I grudgingly agreed, muttering about the ecological disaster area it was (the ground was black and stank from the numerous bus and truck oil changes that had been done there) and how noisy it was going to be! It turned out to be relatively quiet, we were not bothered at all, and we enjoyed watching the evening action as bus and trucks filled the lot with the attendants noisily giving them directions. Before we dozed off, the two acre lot was full... another indication that even the locals did not drive at night. The rain continued throughout the night, a pleasing symphony on our roof.

Another early start with everyone else, the road very good but filled with trucks that passed whenever they wanted. We had our closest call this morning, being run off the road by two trucks. Most of the trucks were painted with colourful designs making them look like circus trucks. The busses were more kaleidoscopic here with no windows and effigies of Jesus hanging everywhere. They were always overflowing with people and freight and spewed out great black clouds of sickening exhaust (the quality of diesel in Colombia must be atrocious).

Besides the busses, local transport was by jeeps that crammed heavy loads on... sometimes the front wheels were barely on the ground. On one particularly steep and curvy section of road we passed a loaded down jeep that had four men clinging onto the roof (without any handholds) while the driver careened around the corners! I think I would have walked!

Around every corner our eyes were filled with something new and interesting... peanuts being harvested and dried, mules carrying giant wooden crates of green tomatoes, basket weavers sitting beside the road, and the endless mountain vistas, truly majestic. The rain gradually lessened and soon the road and rooftops were steaming in the sun.

We reached Ipiales, the border town with Ecuador, got the van washed off and settled into a nice parking lot of a convention centre that was situated just before the frontier. We got in a nice walk around the grounds before the rains returned and breathed a sigh of relief that we had made it through Colombia safely. We both loved the terrain and people of Colombia and would return in a minute if the drug and political problems ever resolved themselves. It was sad that so many of the people were afraid to live or travel in their own country... My allegory on travelling in Colombia is this... it is like walking barefoot in the desert... you can walk for days without seeing or stepping on a rattlesnake but somewhere, sometime you will be at the wrong place at the wrong time and end up stepping on one...= and then you will get bit... hard.

We crossed into Ecuador early in the morning without any trouble at all. They saw the libretta and that was all we needed for the vehicle. Again, everyone was friendly and courteous, they did not even look inside the van after checking the stamps in our passports! I was a little concerned about the condition of our brakes after all the long descents so we pulled into a brake shop just across the border and had them checked and cleaned. We had about 30% wear left so that made us feel better.

We passed through a few obligatory checkpoints without trouble and began to enjoy the new country. Ecuador seems much poorer than Colombia. Traffic was minimal, with few private vehicles. The roads were by far the worst we had seen in South America but not as bad as Costa Rica.

The country changed quickly to a high mountain plateau that seemed drier and steeper (if that were possible). Water was at a premium and we saw farmers washing giant piles of carrots wherever there was water in a ditch. Descending down into one village we passed a municipal tanker truck that was stopped beside the road and doling out water to hundreds of people lined up with every conceivable type of container. It seemed like a logical solution, everyone walked up the hill with empty containers and it was easier to go down when they were full.

Because of the dryness of the area, buildings were made of adobe or mud and everything appeared very dirty. When it did rain (as it had done recently), there were many mudslides and washouts along the road. The route climbed up into the cooler and wetter zone where 50% of the population were indigenous people, the men in long black braids and the woman wearing small hats and both wearing traditional wool sweaters and jackets. Many handicrafts were displayed along the road, mostly carvings and sculptures out of wood or ceramics but also large rolls of woven bamboo mats (which we later found out were for wall partitions).

As we gradually gained altitude, the forests turned to pastures where cow, goat and sheep herders tended their flocks, most in bare feet and a plastic poncho over their wool outfits. As we approached Quito, a great profusion of greenhouses that covered whole hillsides, began to appear. These were full of flowers, a new industry that was now second only to bananas for export revenue.

We had not expected to arrive at Quito that day so quickly decided to go to the airport (which was on the end of town we were coming into) and find secure parking. As expected it was not the quietest spot to stay, and it was quite expensive ($10), but cities are always hard to come into... so we mixed with international travellers, bought postcards and Diane purchased a nice necklace.

In a large supermarket in a previous town that we had stopped at to resupply we had found a wonderful pocket map and guide to Ecuador in English, it even had a city map of Quito. Our primary destination in the city was the South American Explorers Club (SAEC) to get some current info, buy some supplies and relax in an English speaking environment. We found our way there without too much difficulty but arrived before they were open so we headed off for a stroll around town.

We had our first encounter with the criminal element here. It was 9:00 in the morning, in a new modern area with people around, just across from the American embassy. A guy just walked up to Diane, pointed a pistol at her (it was under a jacket he had over his arm) and ripped her purse off of her, breaking the strap, and walking quickly away . Several people saw the whole thing but it all happened so fast nothing could be done. Hers was the 'dummy purse' that she never carried more than $20, some make up, pen and minor personal items in, so nothing really was lost, but it was quite a shock. Diane took it well, and we both looked at the experience as a cheap warning that we had to use caution at all times. Now we had something to shop for... a new purse and make up!

The SAEC was another oasis in the Latino sea, they recommended a nice posada (B&B) down the street that had secure parking so we signed in there for a couple of nights. It had a very homey atmosphere and our room was very large (we sure appreciated the space after the van). We taxied around to various malls, did lots of walking and relaxed at the posada (journalizing and working on the van) until noon the next day.

Two of the malls we visited had unique designs which brought the engineer out in me... They were a spiral design, twelve stories high, four of which were underground parking. There was a gradual, ramped walkway on the interior that wound its way to the top, passing small, identically sized stores on the way up. They were all numbered, so you could find the store of your choice easily from the directory (160 stores). The whole design used space so efficiently, with an elevator and open area at the centre. We also had a chance to visit with other travellers at the posada and it was interesting to hear of their experiences.

Well rested, we headed south from Quito, climbing out of the valley and onto the plateau. The weather was fairly clear so we began to see our first glimpses of the snow covered peaks alongside the road. They did not look that high because the highway itself was over 3300m but it sure seemed an anomaly to see snow so close to the equator!

Ecuador has the highest population density per square kilometre of any country in South America and this had been very obvious from the time we had crossed the border. There was seldom any spot beside the road that was not cultivated or that was not dotted with huts and, unfortunately, covered with garbage. Here in the mountains, most of the people we saw were indigenous in traditional dress. The outfits were just solid colours (bright blues, reds, or pinks) rather than the multicolored designs of the Guatemalans.

The road conditions steadily deteriorated and the altitude drained the power from the van so our progress was slow. Also, the whole country was suffering from a fuel shortage. Apparently, politics and fiscal mismanagement had caused the pipelines (mostly from Venezuela) to be turned off. We had been extremely lucky that we had managed to get gas in the north. Now, going south, most stations were closed and the few that were open were very obvious because of the long line-ups. However, they only had leaded fuel of low octane so we gambled (because we still had five gallons in reserve in the roof box) and carried on.

We spent a quiet night at an isolated station in the mountains that had no gas but was still staffed with security guards. It was pleasant to walk in the countryside, hear the birds singing, and enjoy the spectacular views of the volcanoes surrounding us.

Back to the potholed road and the open country, we carried on in the cold morning. The landscape became quite dry and cacti lined the hillsides and still the road became worse, gradually transitioning into one seemingly continuous pothole with numerous long detours around slides and washouts. To increase the challenge, heavy fog rolled in and we had to nimbly dodge trucks (without headlights) that appeared out of the mist. Up here it was cool enough that the farm animals had adapted and we chuckled as we passed by furry pigs and donkeys with long hair!

In the city of Cuenca we managed to find a gas station that had our kind of fuel (even though this crisis had inflated the prices considerably) so we had enough to make the frontier now... whew. The road system is usually a good indicator of how well managed the country is and by this indicator Ecuador has room for improvement. In this area they had been constructing a giant freeway system that was not needed, decaying before it was even finished, while main highways were left to disintegrate. Directional signs were almost non-existent and roads sometimes just ended with no warning or indication of where to bypass them! Thank goodness our Spanish is getting better, especially when it comes to interpreting directions!

We did see some sun for a while before plunging down into the clouds and rain on the descent to the coast. We doggedly puttered along through the washouts, dodging rocks on the road until dusk, where we pulled off on a sideroad and stopped for the night. By now we had entered the lush tropical zone but were still high enough for it to be cool enough to sleep comfortably. All night the rain made music on our roof but it cleared slightly in the morning to give us a chance to enjoy the beautiful, cultivated valley we were perched over.

Within a few hours, we reached what we call the 'green' zone, that is the color on our topographical maps that show elevations up to 1000m. What it meant to us was humid, hot weather where we began to sweat profusely.

We rounded a corner to find a large line up of stopped vehicles in front of us, so we stopped and walked down the hill to see what the hold up was. A bridge had been partially washed out and where a temporary crossing had been filled in a truck loaded with bananas had broken through and was lodged sideways, blocking all traffic. It was an interesting scene, with hundreds of people milling around, a winch truck on one side and a grader on the other, both trying to extricate the truck (which was being unloaded onto the river bank) while each being directed by several dozen shouting men!

We settled in for a long wait (it looked like the truck had been there for the night) but within an hour they had managed to extricate him and get the way open for small vehicles such as us. This area had been hit particularly badly by La Nina, which was evident by the hundreds of mudslides along the road. They did have heavy equipment working and the road was now passable even though we plowed through many stretches of mud that was almost a foot deep. Diane learned (the hard way) to roll up her window when we approached these areas!

Looking for the route out of the next town (there was a detour constructed of bricks and old TV's, with no signs showing where to go) we happened upon a truck delivering purified water so we flagged him down and filled everything up. Potable water had been hard to find in large quantities so we were relieved to be stocked up again.

The highway improved as we sped through banana plantations situated on the coastal plain and made our way towards the Peruvian frontier. Some of the sights that caught our attention were beans drying on asphalt, vendors sitting on the highway selling snakes, bananas, bananas, all sizes and types, and gas stations and businesses that had fabricated guard towers on their roofs, usually just out of tarps and bamboo.

Before heading to the crossing we managed to fill up with gas again (we didn't know if Peru had unleaded fuel available) and went to a car washing place that blasted all of the mud from our vehicle. They did a great job, taking well over an hour and taking special care on the undercarriage. We had read that this mud became like concrete if left too long to cure and had to be chiselled off after a while!

We were now set to tackle the border, and surprisingly, three kilometres before the border was the first aduanas where we had to fill out cards and get our passports stamped then onto the actual frontier which was incredibly congested with vendors. It was all very confusing, with guides and money changers vying for our business while we had to negotiate narrow congested streets. In fact, the vendors had closed up the main streets so much that vehicular traffic had to circumvent them by a series of narrow alleys that which were so tight I had to fold my mirrors in

We found out that there is a tremendous amount of daily shoppers who come over for Peru as the prices are better here. We changed money, catching them several times trying to rip us off (one finally did manage to pinch one of our pens), before making it to the Peru side. The libretta is definitely a worthwhile document to have as that is all they asked for and when it was presented it was very quick to get through. These countries have definitely cleaned up their act, as we were treated courteously and professionally on both sides with no moneys changing hands or asked for with the exception of a fumigation charge which a receipt was given for. Compared to Central America, the crossings here are quick and easy. For me, this was the thirtieth Latin American border crossing so I guess you could call me 'seasoned.'

The highway was excellent, even though there were many minor detours around bridges that had been washed out in last years El Nino events. Peru had been hit especially hard and on the northern section of the Peruvian PanAmerican more than eighty bridges had been lost so they had done a remarkable job of getting the road open again. The terrain quickly became drier and the abodes humbler.

As soon as we crossed into Peru it was apparent that it was a poorer country than Ecuador. There were very few private vehicles and most of these were ancient and struggling to survive. People were so poor here that everything appeared to be done by hand and there were even few bicycles. The towns were little more than mud and woven straw huts and garbage lined the road. They did not have much to work with as most of the land was desert except for a few oasis beside the rivers where we saw vast rice paddies. Really the only modern, recognizable things we saw were gas stations. There had been recent construction by Shell, Texaco and a few national companies of impressive stations (all of which had some type of unleaded gas). The price of fuel ($3.20/US gal) was obviously high enough to finance all of these!

With the wonderful roads we could easily travel at 80 km/hr so we racked up a few miles before spotting a restaurant alongside a beach were we stopped and asked the owner if we could park there. He was very friendly, and for a nominal fee of $2 we had a secure spot to camp within walking distance of the beach. We had been in the mountains for a while by now and it was great to hear the surf and feel the hot sand on our feet again. It was a wonderful setting, with fishing boats bobbing in the bay and an orange sunset created by the desert dust.

Onward the next day, racing through the desert, marvelling at the dryness and harshness of the country. Random visions... taxis were motorcycle tricycles, mud and stick shacks, rolls of bamboo matting weighing down donkeys, soldiers in sand and gray coloured camouflage uniforms that blended in with the surroundings, dusty streets, garbage, garbage, stink of dead animals, stick and plastic shacks lining beaches, motorcycles with 4 people and luggage, bicycles carrying 20' long bundles of firewood, watermelon stands beside the road, highway police hiding in every small town, toll booths (only a $1 each), trucks with plywood and handmade sheet metal cabs, crashing surf, piles of brick rubble everywhere, muddy streams full of bathing people, giant sand dunes, reforestation projects, concrete billboards advertising what else but beer and Coke, large flat expanses of desert with only the occasional shack offering either to repair tires or to cook a meal.

That day we covered almost 500 kilometres before settling in to a gas station parking lot for the night. It had been such a joy to drive on decent roads with little traffic. Another plus was being near sea level and having quality gas again... the van just purred and seemed to have so much more power! Unfortunately, at the gas station were a group of young kids selling edibles to whomever stopped for gas and they were intensely curious about us so we didn't get any privacy until finally one of attendants chased them away after several hours. After that, the attendants turned the radio up to listen to a soccer game (they had giant speakers mounted by the pumps) and when that finally ended and we settled to sleep the night security guard woke us up to move closer to the pumps so he could keep a better eye on us. Noises continued throughout the night, and when the truck beside us started up at 4:30 with his diesel fumes filling the van we blearily decided we might as well get up! The only neat thing we saw there was a group of four young fox or coyote pups playing in the gravel beside the van for over an hour... they were so cute to watch.

It was a good thing we got an early start as at the first large town we arrived at, and lost our way in, turned out to be the starting off place for a detour of a couple of hours to circumvent a major bridge that had not been rebuilt yet. Of course there were no signs of where to go so we continuously had to stop and ask directions before getting to a dirt road that was obviously the bypass as it had a constant flow of trucks and busses on it. So much for our clean van... but the scenery was great, reminiscent of Palm Desert country.

Back on the highway, more desert with fewer people, many of the same images as the day before but sand dunes now as big as mountains. Towns were the same and could be seen from a distance by their TV antennas sticking up. The whole country reminded us a bit of Mexico. All the buildings were either being built or falling apart, abandoned. It was hard to decipher which was which!

It was another country of walls, the first thing anybody did with a piece of property was to build a wall... everyone lived behind walls. Another interesting site was the cemeteries which had concrete walls with cubicles for the ashes or bones to be placed in and then walled in. They were highly decorated and added color to the otherwise drab surroundings. The word we used to describe this country is 'bizarre'.

That afternoon we settled into a parking spot at a beach hotel along the coast, a spot that had been recommended in our book. It was very secure, had a swimming pool large enough to do laps, showers, restaurant, wonderful gardens and best of all was by a beach in a 'resort' community just outside of a larger city (Trujillo). We finally had a quiet night and we slept well, helped no doubt by the hours of walking on the beach.

The following day found us wandering about the nearby city looking for the Automovil Club de Peru who supposedly had some maps available (up until now we had no current map of the country and were just following books). They had some (which I purchased at a discount because Diane was a member of the BCAA... I had to say my name was Diane... which they believed) but not the most important ones, an overall map of Peru, and a city map of Lima. They did direct us to a libreria downtown where we did manage to purchase one for the horrendous price of $22... but to us maps are like gold, especially maps of the large cities.

Found a place to change the oil in the van but were unhappy to discover that whomever had last changed the oil had used the wrong wrench on the oil plug and had rounded it off so bad we were unable to get it off without major trouble. I didn't want to take any risks out there so I decided to wait until we got to Lima to see if I could find a replacement before we totally ruined this one by removing it. We finished off the day with more swimming and walking, had another nice night and after relaxing a bit in the morning we headed off towards Lima. Our goal was get within striking distance of Lima so that we could be there the next day (Sunday) to get oriented while traffic was at a minimum.

Peru is a large country, being 2200 km long and so even after three days of driving we were only half way down. It was a harsh countryside and the population had little to work with for resources and that explained the poverty. We were astounded by the magnificent scenes we rolled across and stopped often to take pictures of sand dunes, crashing waves and desolate mountains. Some of the mountains had their valleys and leeward side of the ridges filled with sand looking very similar to glaciers in our country. If only there were machines that could travel the sand like snowmobiles... this would be a great place to play in.

The wind blew strongly across the road creating small sand dunes creeping into the road that we had to dodge. The way the sand moved across the asphalt was similar to the blowing snow we see in our country. The highway at one point was built up and over a giant sand dune that must have been over 500m high! Here, highways crews used loaders to move sand just as we use them to clear snow.

Several times in the distance we saw 'dust devils', sand whirlwinds several hundred feet tall marching across the desert. We were thankful that we did not run into any of the blinding sandstorms we had read about as they would be a little hard on the vehicle. A curiosity we noticed was that most of the trucks had large branches lashed to the back of their loads. We presumed these were to act as safety markers in the event they broke down as out there, no bushes were to be found.

We saw other trucks that had loads of cane or bamboo leaves that were piled twice as high as the truck! They looked like porcupines creeping along the road. Another weird site was seeing fleets of new trucks (without cabs) being delivered to some plant up the road. Only the frame and drive components were there, the driver had a seat lashed on, had a piece of cardboard to protect him in the front and wore a motorcycle helmet for the sand and wind. What a site they presented... I only wish I could have got them on film.

The small settlements we passed were usually clustered beside a river and we learned to take a deep breath and hold it until we were through and out the other side. Small shrines and crosses dotted the shoulder, indicating were many accidents had occurred, most of them just at the crest of a small hill or on corners. We had seen several ruins along the way, giant walls stretching out into the desert, and fortresses built in the shape of pyramids and as dusk came upon us and the dust filled sky turned everything to wonderful colours we found ourselves settling into a new Texaco station which offered us another home for the night. They had a nice restaurant and as we both wanted a little time to ourselves, I went out for supper and sampled an array of local dishes some of which didn't look great but tasted good.

Lima was only two hundred kilometres away, so we took our time before setting out. It was a hazy day and as we approached the city, traffic increased, visibility decreased and the stench of auto fumes reached choking proportions. The city was reasonably easy to manoeuver through and by noon we found ourselves driving along the cliff edge of the more modern part of the city, enjoying seeing all the local families out at the many parks, beaches and walkways.

We checked out a few of the recommended hostels but were unable to find anything that had suitable parking and didn't cost a fortune so we negotiated a good rate ($7.50) with a large parking lot near the touristy area of town and settled in. It is always so nice, once we have found a good spot to leave the van, to take off on walking tours. As usual, we found everything we needed within a short radius. We had quiet (hard to believe in the centre of a metropolis of eight million) and private night and as I write this we are at a VW dealer getting the oil changed and trying to get a new drain plug that will fit. The service manager says this is the first Vanagon he has ever seen... hope we don't need any other parts!

Our next stop is to be the SAEC in the downtown area and then we expect to retreat to the same parking lot as last night before heading south tomorrow (March 9).

Part 13

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Copyright © 1999-2001 Ron Lussier. All rights reserved.
This page last updated January 16, 2000.