#anyway why are you playing your music out loud on the bus at 6am

[love-everlasting]

Whoever decided to start riding my bus when it used to just be me and the driver im actually going to kill it with my mind

[juggydunes]

Would it be a sin? Chapter 3

This is becoming a habit, where I try to write and all I do is staring at a blank page.

Anyhow, this is part 1 of this chapter. I decided to cut it into two smaller ones because the time jump that happened made it weird (at least for me) to put them together... I dunno. Part 2 tomorrow-ish I suppose. Writing it as I post this. 

Hope you guys like it anyways. You have all been nothing but amazing about this fic, I’m sorry I’m not able to update as much as I’d like to. *hug*

Unbeta’d. Any mistakes are mine. 

AO3 

They arrive to the parking lot 15 minutes early to the time they were told to be there, partially due to Jughead’s excitement… okay totally because Jughead was an impatient little shit that may or may not have lied to Archie about the departure time so his chronically unpunctual friend would be ready on time.

“I told you we would get here early.” Archie says, huffing on his way out of the UBER.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather we arrived just before the bus is bound to go like you usually do?” Jughead replies, adjusting his sunglasses and giving his friend the finger. “Besides, the bus is already there. We can put our luggage in and chill while everyone freaks out around us. Hell yeah.”

Jughead doesn’t wait for Archie to follow him as he makes his way to the buses, barely managing to carry his instruments and his luggage. He’s so excited he can practically feel his skin buzzing, his heart beating quickly inside his chest. The air smells vaguely like gasoline and metal, the dull grey of the parking lot clashes against the bright red lines decorating the bus but Jughead can’t help but think that this is what happy looks like to him.

There’s nothing like the first day of the tour, spirits are high, everyone is getting along nicely.  Later on, issues always appear but for now he relishes the first day of tour and the fact that he’s going to be two months on his favorite place… the road and the stages. Jughead sighs, nodding to a couple of roadies on the parking lot.

“Pops!” He yells, calling out to the driver leaning on the huge vehicle. The man looks at him with a smile on his face and warm brown eyes. “We meet again! You’re going to be our driver?”

“Looks like it. How is fame treating you, kid?” Pop asks, gently squeezing his shoulder when Jughead finishes leaving his things on the side.

“Having to tolerate Archie is keeping my feet on the ground.”

“I heard that, asshole!” Pop and Jughead chuckle at Archie’s words, his friend stopping to carefully leave his things on the side of the bus. “Hey Pops.”

“Hello Archie. You’re both looking all grown up.”

“Thanks, apparently going to the gym is good for you.” Jughead says, smirking at Pops.

“And it makes the young ladies look at you more, too.” Pop jokes, wiggling his eyebrows before he moves to open the storage compartment for them to put their luggage.

“I’m in a serious relationship with music, Pops, you know this.” Jughead teases. “It’s the love of my life.”

“I’m sure she’d understand if you got a real-life girl who is actually corporeal.” Pop replies, winking at him.

“For corporeal stuff we have Archie, who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“At least I’m getting some, buddy. You should try it.” Archie tells him, punching him softly on the shoulder.

“Why are we having this conversation?” Jughead mutters, rolling his eyes.

They continue catching up while they load all their stuff into the bus, people arriving shortly after. Valerie arrives first, punctual as usual, Betty and Kevin quickly following.

“Hi, guys!” Betty looks super awake and refreshed to be 6am in the morning. It’s not fair because he’s aware his bedhead is horrible and the bags under his eyes are even more terrible from being too excited to sleep much last night. At one point in the night he’d decided he wouldn’t be falling asleep so he re-arranged everything once more until it was time to go.

“Hey Betty.” Archie says, smiling at her. “Kevin. How are you feeling?”

“Hello! Is it legal to be awake this early?” He asks, smiling at them. Jughead smiles back, knowing the sentiment.  

“Oh no, but we musicians must always live in revolution, it fuels the artistic angst. Also, pro tip… the busses have coffee.” Jughead tells him, getting closer to help them get their stuff on their separated bus.

He’s silently grateful they’re travelling in separated buses, travelling while restraining himself would’ve been torture. They’ve never really been friends with their supporting act, not as they’re becoming with them anyway. All of the had become a pro at composing and playing on the road while also not letting anyone know Jughead was the main writer. They had a strategy and all, but Jughead couldn’t help but think that this newly found friendship would make it a little bit more difficult to hide.  

“I’m usually awake at this hour.” Betty says, frowning at them. Jughead can see it, the way her clothes are wrinkle free and carefully chosen to be both comfortable and nice while Jughead has a grey hoodie and some black track pants.  

“That’s because you’re insane and go on runs early in the morning.” Kevin tells her, glaring.

“Wow, Betty… I didn’t know you were a masochist.” He teases, narrowing his eyes at her as he lifts her -huge- luggage to the bus.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Betty glares at him but the small smile on her face defeats the effect. “I like to be healthy, so what? I can’t sing and walk around the stage otherwise.”

“We’re joking, Betts.” The nickname falls from his lips easily and the smaller suitcase in his hands slips a little in shock, but he covers it by lifting it and putting it on the bus. Betty has a small smile on her lips.

“I’m aware, Juggie.” Betty says, intentionally pausing before the nickname. He rolls his eyes good naturedly at her, secretly reassured he didn’t step over some invisible line. He thinks of how Jellybean used to call him like that when she was little and the corner of his lips tick up.

“I know what you mean, Betty. It’s easier to stay in shape than not be able to move around the stage, I’ve had to drag this one to the gym as of late.” Archie joins the conversation, pointing to Jughead.

“Yeah, but I already get a good workout in by carrying your ego around, pal.” Jughead says, making all of them laugh.

“Isn’t Cheryl coming?” Kevin asks them, frowning.

“No, she has other businesses. We mostly talk on the phone and skype daily.” Valerie answers. “She’s developed this whole organization system for us, but she’s been in the game for a long, long time.”

“Yeah, she’s kickass.” Archie tells them. “Scarily so.”

“Hello losers.” Veronica’s voice says suddenly, they turn to look at her walking towards them with two matching purple suitcases and a black dress that doesn’t look like it was made for traveling comfortably.  

“Veronica, hey!” Archie says, smiling wide at her. This time, he’s the one that comes to help her with her luggage. Jughead moves to the side and raises his eyebrows at Valerie, who rolls her eyes at him playfully.  

“Thank you, Archiekins. Such a gentleman.”  

“Here to serve, ma’am.” He replies. Jughead bites his bottom lip hard to keep from laughing. Betty is looking at them with a slight frown on her face but there’s a glint of amusement.  

Jughead ignores the weird feeling in his gut at her look, it’s confusing and he’s not letting anything ruin his amazing mood this evening. Luckily for him, his phone vibrates on his pocket. He takes it out and smiles.  

“Hey Peanut.” He says. Archie lifts his head up at the name and waves towards him before pointing to the phone. Jughead moves to find somewhere it isn’t so noisy.  “Archie says hi, by the way.”

“Hey Jug. Tell Archie hello too!” Jellybean’s voice comes through the phone. “How’s tour life?”

“Haven’t left the parking lot yet, actually. We’re leaving in five.” He tells her, leaning on the side of the bus. “How’s college life?”

“A pain in my fucking ass.” Jellybean sighs and he can imagine her picking at her nail polish with a frown on her forehead.  

“Nothing out of the ordinary, then.” He teases.  

“Not that you would know any of my struggle, Mr. I’m-in-a-band.”

“You wound me, peanut.” Jughead laughs at her response, suddenly missing her a lot.  They haven’t seen each other in months and It’s beginning to annoy him, but they were both very busy.

They talk about nothing in particular until he hears his name being called, Archie telling him they’re ready to get moving.

“Oh, hey, I gotta go. We’re about to go. I’ll see you soon, okay?” Jughead is a little ashamed of the wistfulness in his tone.

“You better take a day off in New York, you jerkface.” She threatens him. “I love you, big bro.”

“Love you too, peanut.” He hangs up, pocketing his phone in his back pocket, coming closer to the group. “JB wishes us good luck…We leaving soon?”  

“Yeah, let’s go.” Valerie says, already walking to their bus.  

“I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours.” Jughead tells the group, stopping on Betty, who is looking at him with a weird expression in her eyes. “Enjoy the first ride on it and cherish it for when you’re homesick and tired of people being around your personal space.”  

With that, he turns around to his bus. This was going to be a great tour, he can already feel it in his bones. Jughead enter the bus, high-fiving Pop on his way in, his band-mates already waiting for him. They get up as soon as he enters and they gather in the middle of what would be the living room area.  

After all these years of friendship and of making music, they had started a tradition every time they enter a tour bus and are about to leave for a tour. They are standing in a circle, watching each other for a second before coming closer, putting their arms around each other.

“Okay, another tour, guys.” Archie begins, voice only loud enough for them to hear him. “I’m incredibly proud of how much we’ve accomplished, how far we’ve come from playing in my garage, how much we’ve grown as humans and bandmates. No matter what, we stick together. We are the priority, always.”

“Let the music we make flow through our soul, making us stronger and happier. Let’s not stress over mistakes or problems, we can fix them and overcome anything as long as we are together” Jughead continues. “We know the truth in our hearts and how much we love what we do, let’s share a little bit of it with other humans and hopefully make someone’s day, shall we?”

“Onwards and upwards.” Melody and Valerie say at the same time, making all of them chuckle.  

They break apart but Jughead comes and hugs each of them separately, lingering a little with Melody who gives the best hugs in his opinion and who often needs them most. A few moments later, he lets himself fall on the couch, grabbing a joystick from the PlayStation and giving it to Archie before grabbing one for himself.  

“Now, let’s get this show on the road, Pops!”

[castawxayaway]

One Sided: A Twitter Series, Part Four

Much longer part today, story is developing now so I’m excited. Thank you for the love and asks- enjoy!

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

masterlist 

6:55am, 26.7.16

Waking up after having less than two hours of sleep is never easy, especially when you commit to do something that requires leaving the house at 8am. Forcing the heavy duvet that consumes me and calls my name that mutters sweet nothings into my ears in attempt to convince me to stay I sit upright, instantly regretting it. The usual dragging feeling spreads through my body, the heaviness from lack of sleep returns and the lamps still being visible through the blinds never makes me feel happy. 

Placing my feet against the bitty carpet goosebumps become visible as they wrap themselves around my bare legs, the cold air attacking my exposed skin with all it had and the urge to be warm under the duvet was irresistible. I hold onto the duvet, the constant battle I have with myself everyday, regardless of having commitments or not. 

It’s been too long now, yet no one gets it really- I’m not tired, I’m exhausted and done. Taking my phone off of charge I slip on my Dad’s old fleece I sort of permanently borrowed, despite how ugly it is you can’t beat the comfort and thickness of it. Heading downstairs for breakfast I scroll past notifications, see if anyone has answered my messages- not that I’m expecting to see Ashton on my feed, as if. 

Clicking on my messages I see three new messages, all from Maddie. Maddie had a bit of a habit of rant texting or ensuring I know of all the plans and details for the day ahead. 

6am: So I will see you on the bus at 8:10 as I’m getting on a different stop. 

6:02am: Why aren’t you answering? You are always on your phone. Ugh, the others know so just meet them at the stop. 

6:09am: How are you anyway? 

Laughing to myself I shake my head at Maddie’s messages, always as frantic as ever before, but that’s friends for you. Slowly I got ready for the day ahead, knowing it would be a long one and the wait for brunch would be excruciating considering the rumbling of my stomach now and it’s only 7:10. 

Groaning I pick up my phone and aimlessly scroll through social media as I sip at my tea before heading upstairs, phone still in hand and the same four apps to rotate between. Putting my phone down I quickly get ready knowing how early Emma will be and Spencer will shortly follow. 

7:18am: Hey guys, don’t worry I won’t be late- I’ll see you at the bus stop at 7:50?

Following my message to the group they all reply within minutes, consisting of ‘sure you will’ and ‘hurry up.’ I roll my eyes and pick up the pace, knowing they are as eager as me to eat something. Just as I finish getting ready and grab my bag I run down the stairs, grab my boots and slip them on and yell a goodbye to my parents. 

As I close the front door behind me I sigh, seeing the sky still laced with the remainder of the night as it begins to fade away and be replaced with the colours of joy and new beginnings. Wishing I had opted to wear jeans over a skirt I wrap my jacket tighter around myself and plug my earphones in, shutting the world out. 

The short walk to the bus stop allows me to think about a few things, different things than the thoughts that occur when I can’t sleep. I play over what happened last night and pause, did that actually happen? Feeling for my phone in my pocket I pull it out and click on the app, praying it was just a dream, but what if I actually said that to him? Why would I think he’d care? 

My fingertips tremble as I press the small envelope and see at the top of my messages; 

You and ASHTON IRWIN. 

“What?” I mutter to myself as I stand on the edge of the curb, completely confused and slightly proud of myself for managing this, pulling something off so unlike myself. “Right, right.” Nodding I continue walking and daydream about what I could write to him, should I even write to him? Is that weird? 

Shaking the thoughts away I near the bus stop and see no other figures hanging around. For once I’m the early bird outside of her nest. I lean against the frame of the small shelter patiently waiting for them to turn up to join me, glancing up I see the glowing orange writing on the screen, ‘TEN MINUTES.’ 

Debating in my mind what to say I look either side of me, I mean, no one is here to judge me so why not? 

7:52am: Hi Ashton, morning I guess. 

7:52am: Actually I have no idea what time it is for you right now, but if it’s night time as I’m presuming I hope you’re sleeping or just relaxing. 

7:52am: Thank you for well, nevermind. 

“Woah, you’re here before us?” Emma laughed as I slipped my phone back into my pocket and turned to face her. Shifting my focus from her I saw a car park opposite and Spencer climbed out, talking to Adam- her boyfriend since we were kids. 

Shrugging my shoulders we both sat down on the awkwardly thin bench angled to ensure discomfort whilst we waited for the bus and Spencer, both betting which would arrive first. 

8:01am: Hey, you almost here? 

8:01am: We’re just a few minutes away, upstairs towards the back of the bus Maddie :)

8:01am: Good as I’m cold and got a lot to tell you. 

As always Maddie has a story, I show the message to the others and we all share a knowing look. “Why am I not surprised?” Spencer speaks up and laughs lightly to herself. 

Once Maddie gets on and clocks onto where we are sat I move along to the window seat. She sits down next to me exhaling loudly, less than 2 seconds and she’s already irritated by something, I think this is her personal best. “Everything alright Mads?” I speak up and look to the others who shake their heads and turn to have their own conversation, meaning it’s up to me to take the weight of her troubles yet again. 

“Ugh it’s just this bus and how it was late and it’s raining.” I could see her lips moving and the faint sound of her whines but my ears wouldn’t tune in to the drabble she spoke. 

No matter how hard I tried to tell myself to listen I couldn’t help but zone out, not that Maddie would notice as she is too wrapped up in her eventful morning, all two hours of it. “-and then he finally let me on.” Lifting her hands up in annoyance she just scoffed, I assumed she finished and I shook my head, trying to act as if I knew all she said. 

“Awful.” Trying to mimic her tone she nodded in agreement. 

Problem with being the one who doesn’t sleep means when others can’t sleep I’m usually the first person they turn to, and the one they confide in. Yet most of the time I can barely focus on their written words, what bothers them about petty things. Instead all I can think about is the bigger matters, life, death, the future, the inevitable, anything else. 

Maddie turned to talk to Spencer and I happily observed life outside of the bus window. Dotted in rain droplets it altered my vision and perception of how everything was that we passed by in a hurry, from Mums with push chairs to teenagers listening to music and elders hand in hand; just life. 

8:26am: Ever think about life on the road? What you see outside and how you can’t interfere or be apart of it, no matter how badly you want to? 

Sending the short message I lock my phone again, unsure why of all people to talk to I opt to a dead end rather than Maddie, Emma, Spencer, Anna even. Zoning out entirely as my eyes fixate on the droplets of rain and how they have clung to the window like cement Maddie taps my shoulder as she stands up, getting off of the bus. 

Once we get outside we walk down the road to the cafe which is unexpectedly bigger as you go up the narrow creaky staircase and past the old movie posters and local acts performing in the theatre. The smell of pastries and coffee beans brings a smile to my face as we find a table quickly, relaxing into the comfy wooden back and plump cushion I sit on. 

“Chocolate tea or plain tea?” Emma asks as she is intrigued by the idea of chocolate tea, something so unheard of her green eyes glisten with pure fascination.  

Maddie rests her head in her hands, “Be adventurous.” 

Emma and Maddie go first to order, leaving me and Spencer to wait a little bit longer. “How many hours last night?” She spoke up as I rubbed my eyes. 

Spencer has known me since we were 2, our Mums went to the same Doctor and somehow met there. I’d always known her but was never close until we were around 10, from then on in we’ve been inseparable- except when she’s with Adam. And since she has known me for years she knows me inside and out, being one of the few to know about my sleep problem. 

Sighing I cross my arms on the table and bury my head in the soft darkness for a little while, drown out the chatter of the early morning. I simply raise two fingers up and hear a loud sigh. “You need to tell someone about it, it’s gone on too long.” I ignore her comment as always, what good will telling someone do? Last time I tried to tell someone it didn’t go so well as they didn’t believe a word I said and blamed it on lack of exercise. 

Lifting my head up I gave her a small smile, she knew I wouldn’t talk about it unless it was in a jokey manner. Truth is it hurts too much. 

Maddie and Emma come over laughing and sit back down, “Bless him must be his first day on the job.” Emma chuckled. 

“What happened?” I spoke up wanting to find a way to feel more energised, if anyone could make me feel jolly and distract me it would be these guys. 

Emma nodded to Maddie who struggled to hold back her laughs, “We think there’s a new barista there and we ordered chocolate tea and he, he picked up a carton of milk and didn’t know the lid wasn’t on and he spun it around and-” I could see her cheeks tinting red, the luminous colour of the raspberry sauce displayed next to the menus on our table. “it went all over the counter, the coffee machine, partly on him and.” 

“and the cashiers back.” Emma finished as Maddie hid her face only showing her shoulders going up and down. “Oh, the look on the cashier’s face just said it all.” Emma shook her head and pulled a very fed up and pissed off expression, I glanced over to Spencer and she shrugged her shoulders whilst the other two were unable to control themselves. 

“Well,” Spencer stood up and looked my way, “we better go order something to eat, I can hear your stomach from here.” She motioned for me to join her and we headed down the creaky stairs in silence towards the chatter of plates and whirring of the coffee machine. 

As we queue up I glance up to see the enlarged menu above the coffee machine splattered in milk and can’t help but nudge Spencer to see. Both of us share a mischievous smile until I’m called to the counter, unaware of being next in line. “Hi, how are you today?” I speak up, fighting back the tiredness that is lacing around my eyes and trickling through my body, making it feel heavier than it is. Talking like this, small talk can help, fight the urge to close my eyes and embrace a positive conversation- no matter how short it may be. 

“Oh.” I hear him speak up and as I look up I smile to him. Hair the colour of a strongly brewed cup of tea and eyes as bright as the green grass I wish to see in the summer along with a shy smile he wears. “It’s erm, it’s been good- well besides spilling milk everywhere.” He lets out a nervous laugh and I do the whole smiling to myself and look at my feet then back at him thing, something I do to break eye contact before it gets awkward. 

“You’re the milk person then, guess the cashier went to change?” I joked and he laughed in response and leant over the till. 

His face was close to mine and up close I could see the flecks of amber running around those green eyes, it was unusual, but I liked it. “He was trying to impress the girl he was serving and I sort of screwed up his plan when she burst out laughing at him.” I chuckled in response as he smiled brightly at my laugh. “You have a great laugh.” He beamed to me and I moved away from the counter, leaning my hands against it as I focused on the menu board above. 

“Can I get the summer berry pancakes and a breakfast tea please?” I moved the conversation on as a wave of sleep smacked me square on, the desire for food and caffeine increased and I felt someone touch my arm. Turning I saw Spencer look at me with concern, I merely shook my head and she took her hand away. 

The milk guy told the others my order and then focused back on me with a bright smile, one that wasn’t there two minutes ago. “Do you have a stamp card?” I raised an eyebrow to him and he picked one up. “Here, let me just stamp this and basically if you come back you collect stamps yada yada yada free brunch.” My eyes went wide with excitement at the thought of free brunch, I knew I must’ve looked like a kid in Disneyland but one can never say no to free food. 

“I’m always up for free food.” I cannot hide my smile as he passed me my stamp card and I slipped it into my purse. Looking back to him his smile was gone and replaced by a disheartened expression. 

“I’ll erm, your food will be brought up to you. Enjoy.” He waved me off with less enthusiasm and I wondered what happened in that split second, shrugging it off I headed back upstairs and was quickly followed by Spencer. 

“You know,” She spoke up as I kept on walking up towards the window on the landing before the next flight of stairs. “you’ve never been good at knowing when a guy flirts have you?” I can feel my cheeks burning up and shrug it off. 

“He wasn’t flirting Spencer, not everyone is instantly a flirt just because you are.” I joke and continue walking on up towards the others. 

“Oh come on, you didn’t see the smile he had, how he complimented your laugh or how he looked at your eyes with a similar look Adam has at doughnuts. 

Stopping I turn back to face her, “You’re comparing my face to doughnuts?” Sighing I continue walking towards our table as she apologises profusely, realising the poor example she used. 

Everyone continues to chatter whilst I check my phone quickly and type a short message, needing to get it off my chest. 

8:47am: Ever been compared to something less than complimentary, degrading even? 

8:47am: As I was just compared to a doughnut, morning off to a good start. 

Smiling to the message I lock my phone and see all eyes focused on me. “What?” I ask and they still keep their eyes fixated on mine, an element of curiosity about them. 

“Why are you smiling to your phone, you normally get annoyed by it.” Emma speaks up and I place it face down on the table. 

“It’s nothing really.” I say but Maddie and Spencer raise an eyebrow, then all three of them move closer, clearly not buying it. “Fine.” Sighing I move my hair out of my face and rest my head in my hand. “I am messaging Ashton Irwin.” I state it as if it were nothing exciting, so bluntly it could not even cut butter. 

They don’t respond immediately like I expected them to, instead they stay quiet and wear similar perplexed looks. “You know, Ashton the drummer?” I try yet they still seem non responsive. “From 5 Seconds of Summer?” Then they let out a small ‘O’ and then nothing. 

“How the hell did you get to message him of all people?” Maddie asked completely shocked and almost in a state of disbelief. 

I began to explain a condensed version of last night, missing out on the insomnia aspect and more that I just couldn’t get to sleep and by the time I was finished it seemed as if no one believed it. “That sort of thing doesn’t just happen, come on.” Maddie looked away awkwardly and I glanced to the others but they too avoided eye contact. 

“Well I’ll show you.” Just as I went onto Twitter our food and drinks came. “I’ll show you later.” I piped up as my mouth began to water at the sight of fluffy pancakes drizzled in a berry compote and fresh berries between stacks. 

As we headed down the stairs of the cafe we thanked the staff and headed on out. “Miss? Erm berry pancake person?” Someone apprehensively called out and the four of us turned around, slightly confused as to why we were being summoned. “You.” He pointed to me and I felt insecure and worried as to why I was being pinpointed. 

“Did I do something wrong? I did pay!” I exclaim as I begin to search through my purse for my receipt, Spencer agreeing with me stating how she saw me pay. 

“No no Miss, it’s nothing to do with that!” He faffed in front of my purse and I held it to my side, letting out a sigh of relief. “Just, just check your stamp card, you’ll thank us later.” He smiled and wished us a good day and headed back inside the cafe. 

We all looked at each other with confused expressions, “Well that was weird.” I joked and continued walking yet the others remained stationary. “What?” Lifting my arms up they all focused on my purse, not saying anything. “Yeah like there’s something on my card out of everyone’s.” I mumbled under my breath as I pulled my stamp card out and saw the small tea shaped stamp, the others quickly huddled around. “See? Nothing.” I passed it to them and continued walking with not a single care as I was awake, wide awake. 

“Call me, Daniel?!” Spencer yelled and I turned on my heels and saw the shocked expressions on their faces. Titling my head she held it up and I took the few steps towards it and saw a name and a number scribbled down. “The milk guy do you think?” She beamed and I shrugged my shoulders taking it in my grasp. 

“I, I don’t know.” I mumbled and put the card in my pocket next to my phone, “guess I’ll find out later.” Smiling to them we walked on, hoping to enjoy this short burst of sunshine before the clouds form again. 

[judeonthemove]

Livin' La Vida Locomotive

I'm not sure why I expected Ecuador to be a bit less developed than Peru, but I did and it isn't. The niceness of Baños wasn't an anomaly, which has been handy considering we'd discussed treating this month as more of a holiday. For our wedding anniversary we treated each other to some time apart and I went off to investigate the eponymous thermal baths of Baños. I jest of course, but the longest we've been out of each other's sight in nine months was just under four hours when I climbed Sydney Harbour Bridge. This is not natural by anyone's standards.

For those of you who've had the pleasure of visiting the Thermae Spa in Bath, you need to clear your mind of that image. Baños baths are an altogether more basic proposition of four outdoor pools: one clear and cold, and three murky ones at the Goldiloocks temperatures of tepid, hot and cauldron. The hot water comes courtesy of the nearby volcano Tungurahua, while the cold water arrives direct from the waterfall above. $3 gets you an entry ticket and compulsory natty pink swim hat, but no instructions. I stared cluelessly at the watery chaos for a minute, a symphony of concrete cancer and trip hazards, before throwing my things in a crate and finding what seemed to be the right place to leave them. I also stared at the hole on the lower level, empty save for a woman with a broom. One of the pools was closed, but which one? Getting to work with the remaining three I soon rejected the tepid pool as it was essentially children soup. I'd been looking forward to the challenge of the cauldron, but of course it was that one that was closed. That left me with cold and hot, so I concentrated on maximising the difference. In addition to the cold pool were a set of cascade showers fed from a pipe inserted into the waterfall. Most of the locals were avoiding the cold water completely, or tricking each other into standing under it and laughing at the screams. As the only gringo woman in the place I was pretty conspicuous as the person who actually seemed to enjoy the freezing inundation. After a couple of hours I was fully pruned up and couldn't justify waiting another two hours for the super hot pool to fill. I squelched back in the drizzle to make myself presentable.

We had a look at the museum attached to the cathedral, which featured a great display of pre-Colombian pieces, some unbrilliant art, the extensive wardrobe of the local Virgen figurine, and a hilariously creepy room full of taxidermy, religious art, toy vehicles and typewriters. I never need to see the stations of the cross juxtaposed with poorly stuffed pumas ever again. In keeping with the Alpine flavour of the area, we went for dinner at a Swiss restaurant, where I promptly mixed up stroganoff and goulash and ordered the wrong dinner. What a numpty.

Another emerging feature of Ecuador has been the predictable and efficient bus system. Everything's clearly marked and they leave on time. Most of the long distance buses, regardless of the operator, cost about $1-1.5 per hour so you can have a reasonable guess as to when you're going to arrive. With Ecuador being a compact gem of a country, there weren't going to be any arduous legs. Two or three hours up the road was Riobamba. We were due to stay a couple of nights in order to play on the restored train line. What our guidebook failed to mention was that since it was published, they've changed the schedules and the daily train now runs from a town two hours further away. Whoops. We had no trouble entertaining ourselves in Riobamba and had a well timed visit to the city museum and gallery, while an orchestra rehearsed below. Having not heard any orchestral music since Australia, the sound brought a grin to my face and a tear to my eye. The snowy peak of volcano Chimborazo emerged from its cloud shrouds to loom in proprietary fashion over the city. Back at our hostal, the owners' confident small daughter assailed us with an incomprehensible monologue and barrage of questions and/or instructions that we were incapable of responding to. Bored of rearranging piles of unread Gideon bibles among the pot plants and fed up with my refusal to biro in them on command, she hid our room key and hit us both on the head with a stick. Highly entertaining but nevertheless a great reminder of why we don't have kids.

Alausi is a little town with a big claim to railway fame. Halfway down the newly restored Quito to Guayaquil line, it sits above La Nariz del Diablo (The Devil's Nose). I'm very partial to an epic train journey, and what this lacked in length it certainly made up for in engineering and sheer bloody-mindedness. Around two thousand men died to create 12kms of switchback track, descending an 800m rock face. We arrived in town and were most joyful to find that the train tracks ran up the middle of the street we were staying on. A couple of hours later and we were ensconced in a classic wooden carriage, slowly making our way down a cliff. My camera chose this moment to start malfunctioning with a blank screen, leaving me pressing the button and hoping for the best. As this is basically the extent of my photographic skill anyway, it didn't make a great deal of difference to the results. At the bottom was a little station with retail opportunities and a couple of horses and llamas to be used as photo props. The horses looked very much over it, but the llamas had some spirit left and concentrated on being noncompliant. We hid from the souvenir frenzy, but I got drawn in when the traditional dance display took a turn for the interactive. James stayed safely on the side-lines, in charge of incriminating pictures. Back in Alausi we checked into our lodgings and discovered that even the glowing reviews had not prepared us for how nice a hostal it was. Brand new contemporary styling, spotlessly clean, delicious breakfast, and with a massive comfy bed. I immediately declared that I was to be transported around Ecuador in said bed from then on, and it was with some regret that we moved on after one night. Rough calculations told us we had time to get to everywhere we wanted to see, but only if we kept rolling.

The route to the city of Cuenca assailed us with more handsome scenery than is seemly, scrolling down in scale through Alpine, Scottish Highlands, and Lake District. In a clear contrast to previous countries we've visited, there don't seem to be Inca-style terraces here. No matter how steep, the fields follow the line of the hills and are separated by shrubs or trees. The result is a verdant cornucopia of produce and a very different look to the countryside. The southern city of Cuenca was elegant and cultured, and we'd hoped our hostal with integral bar-restaurant would make for a lively weekend base. The hitch in this otherwise sound plan was the profoundly intrusive noise bleeding into all the bedrooms. We were prepared for the late night music, and indeed made good use of happy hour and the tasty menu on offer. What was less manageable was the 6am pounding rock wake up call. I shambled, incredulous, into the restaurant area to find the source was actually next door. A staff member told me with a shrug that their neighbour did it every day. And he did. Clearly there was some beef going on, resulting in the hostal guests being tortured with a sleep deprivation spit roasting. On the second night we coped by playing our own loud music which worked really well and still couldn’t be heard by the other guests over the general din. There is music everywhere in Ecuador, but the ‘80's and ‘90's pop and rock fetish of the rest of South America is not such a thing here. As such I have had withdrawal symptoms from the tracks we've heard most days since May, and James kindly downloaded Alphaville’s ‘Big In Japan’ to help with my DTs. I invite you to join me in my obsessive earworm: https://youtu.be/tl6u2NASUzU. Five hour sleep window notwithstanding, Cuenca itself lived up to its Unesco hype with beautiful colonial architecture, galleries and museums. A riverside walk took us further out to the suburbs. Cuenca was clearly one of the wealthiest places we'd been in months, as suggested by the number of aesthetic dentists, gyms and plush interior design studios. Strikingly as we left, our bus drove for miles before we saw anything like the simple breeze block and wood homes we've been accustomed to seeing.

Our flying visit to Ecuador's second city, Guayaquil, was achieved thanks to a stunning bus trip up and over the Parque Nacional Cajas. Sat on the continental divide with roads winding up over 4300m the first couple of hours was textbook glaciated landscapes of u-shaped valleys and interconnected lakes. My geography teachers might have despaired at my sixth-form attendance rate, but they did instil an absolute love of this stuff. Pine trees and eucalypts gave way to a tight, spongy carpet of mosses and tough grasses as we ascended into the clouds. With ears popping, our water filter bottles leaking under the pressure strain, and the inevitable altitude cough, I tried to make a mental note to be ginger with my deodorant. Every time we do this I forget, and end up with an unfortunate looking cream explosion in my armpit the first time I dislodge the roller ball. I forgot yet again of course, because travelling turns you into an in-the-moment goldfish brain. A brief stop at the top with the mists rolling and burning off in the ravines below allowed the poor bus a bit of a breather. Heading off again, we must have passed through some magic geography portal as we were straight into lush cloud forest. A great deal of down was followed quite suddenly by dead flat as we proceeded across to the coast. Acre upon acre of cacao, banana and pineapple plantations baked in the sun.

Guayaquil itself was a thriving, sprawling port city and we had one and a half days to get acquainted. We focused our efforts on a park full of iguanas, the expansive riverside promenade, the excellent free museums and galleries, and a pretty hillside neighbourhood topped with a stripy lighthouse. Our cheap as chips flophouse next to a main road was still quieter than the aesthetically pleasing but acoustically offensive hostal we'd had in Cuenca. The modern art gallery had an extensive ethnographic section and we became mesmerised by a documentary about a group of men who sailed from Ecuador to Australia on traditional balsa wood rafts. We sat there for over an hour, prompting a security guard to come looking for their missing in action visitors. When you essentially don't have anywhere to live, there's a risk of being in constant motion. Just sitting in a quiet place, and getting immersed in something can be a real treat. Guayaquil was our gateway to the beach, so off we went again. The scenery may have been unprepossessing barren-looking sand and gravel, but it showcased the quality of the highway. Uniquely among the South American countries we've visited, across Ecuador there are subtle hints of coherent government planning and investment. From the ubiquitous rainbow branding onwards, there is a feeling of continuity despite the radically different terrains of the forest, mountains and coast. The excellent road and bridge system is one of the most obvious indicators of massive infrastructure spending, but it's also there in the schools, healthcare facilities, emergency services provision, free museums and public spaces. It seems to connect the country without homogenising. It feels lovely to visit, and I hope that translates into the experience of actually living here as Ecuador recovers from the financial troubles of the recent past.

The highway wasted no time delivering us to tiny Oloncito. Unlike most of the Pacific coast of South America, Ecuador is blessed with inviting sandy beaches so this was the first opportunity for a sea swim in four months. I say swim, but the water was really more suited to surfers, so jumping around trying not to get knocked flat by waves is probably a more apt description. Our hostal was one of those quirky labours of love, set in a tropical garden with lots of knick-knacks, hammocks, great carpentry, and inventive use of concrete. Unusually, the building we were staying in was complete, but more typically one of the others was a work in progress and another had been left with the classic concrete uprights and sprouting steel reinforcements look. Imagined but never realised upper floors are the quintessential South American building practice. We were the sole guests, which suited us just fine. Down with another cold, I took the opportunity of spending a day with nothing more pressing to do but nap. Suitably rested, we spent the next day walking on the beach, chaperoned by the resident dog Dixie. Like most of the numerous dogs in these parts, Dixie was nominally owned but free to do as he pleased. What pleased Dixie was accompanying guests wherever they went, so he'd been for lunch at a beach cabaña, showed us round Olon, and now came miles up the beach. Dixie busied himself inspecting all the corpses of huge sea birds, puffer fish, and a big turtle. Nervy orange crabs scattered as we approached, flitting into holes in the sand. We turned round as the tide reached the top of the beach, and Dixie spent the return journey accelerating wildly into the surf chasing birds. I don't spend much time with dogs and am not generally a fan, but it was a great pleasure and entertainment to be in Dixie's company. Fully in holiday mode we committed the evening to good food and sangria.

Our nine month travelling anniversary saw us reluctantly crowbarring ourselves out of Oloncito and moving a not too challenging hour up the road to Puerto Lopez. Having found our brick and bamboo hut at the northern end of the tourist town, we alighted upon a seafood restaurant for lunch. Said restaurant had a resident floofy cat and we required little persuasion (read none) to share our laps and food. I have no poker face when it comes to cats anyway, but my desperation for mog company is utterly shameless now. Puerto Lopez was well stocked with felines so there was plenty of chances for a fuss. The sea off Puerto Lopez was well stocked with whales, another fluky bit of timing on our part. The obligatory boaty day trip took us out to sea and for a visit to Isla de la Plata. We'd been given a 100% guarantee of seeing whales, which boded well, but we tried to manage our expectations. An hour off the coast and there were humpback whales everywhere. The helm did a great job of manoeuvring into good positions so we could watch these magnificent creatures sliding through the water. I'm not sure you'd ever tire of whale tail salutes. Moving on, we visited the island for a couple of hours hiking and bird watching for nesting blue-footed boobies and frigate birds. I'm not sure you'd ever tire of the amusement of hearing the word ‘boobies' repeatedly. The birds were entirely unfazed by the visitors admiring their big turquoise feet and fluffy chicks. Turtles had surrounded the boat when we arrived, and afterwards we went round to a bay for snorkelling and general coral and fish wonderment.

Much as it would have been nice to tarry by the sea, we bid our final farewell to the Pacific and embarked on a ten hour, three bus slog into the mountains. Although a long day, it all went very smoothly and we had the entertainment of passing through the marvellously named Jipijapa on the way. It was only over the last couple of hours that we gained altitude, but once the climb began it did not muck about. Sunset found us above the clouds, like a duvet of pink candy floss, before the bus picked its way across to Zumbahua in the dark. Chucked off on the highway, we zig-zagged down into the almost deserted town and found a bed for the night on the square. Finding any tea was a little tricky as the only clearly advertised restaurant wasn't serving. Next door, in what looked like someone's tiny front room were four tables and a lady serving a great value set menu. Starving, we gratefully dug into the soup, chicken and refreshing chicha morada (purple corn drink) before heading to bed. Morning revealed Zumbahua to be no more busy by day, but we found a corner cafe where another lovely indigenous lady conjured up everything she had on offer for breakfast: pastries, chicken and rice, boiled eggs, juice, tea and coffee. It was a good job she did, as it would be twelve hours before we had anything else.

Zumbahua sits on what is known as the Quilotoa Loop, a multi-day Andean hiking route. Quilotoa itself is a volcano and while we were too time strapped for the full loop, we were keen to visit there. Waddling away from breakfast we caught a lift up the road. Quilotoa village appeared to have had a very recent and very comprehensive redevelopment, resulting in something of a The Prisoner does Middle Earth vibe. There was little going on, which served to heighten the undeniable presence of the rim. Picking our way in slightly the wrong direction through a stony car park and building site, we found the main viewing area. It was, exactly as advertised yet still difficult to believe, a ruddy great volcano crater lake. So we stood there admiring it, both starting to wonder what else we were going to do with our day. Well there was a path...and maybe we could walk round the rim for a bit...and well we're at least a third of the way round now and that high bit over there looks just about manageable...

Seven hours later we were chasing the sunset back into Quilotoa, James just about still with a spring in his step, and I with legs of jelly and lead. Sometimes you really question your own sanity. Our circumnavigation had been quite a scramble round the narrow ridge, on a path primarily featuring powdered granite. Asthma plus my latest cold did me no favours whatever, and we realised part way round that this was the highest elevation yet that we’d done vigorous exercise at. The high bit reliably informed us it was 3930m, which I appreciated from my position sprawled on the ground under the sign. You certainly value your views when you've worked for them. Vast rolling mountain landscape surrounded us, striped with fields and rent with canyons. Vibrant flowers, grasses and heather-like shrubs softened the vertiginous drops on both sides. Intermittent clouds behaved themselves but painted the lake a steely emerald. Pine and the woody scent of burned stubble filled the air around the crunchy path. Given that my dodgy knees make me less mountain goat and more Professor Yaffle on slopes, it wasn't the most elegant or proficient descent. Content that we had done the volcano justice, we negotiated a lift back to Zumbahua, squished in the front seat of a pickup. Evidently, Tuesday nights in Zumbahua are even quieter than Mondays, so we had to content ourselves with a beer, then crisps and chocolate for dinner, from one of the very local local shops.

A chilly, sunny day greeted us as we exited our guesthouse the next morning. A sheep trotted across the deserted square. We eschewed the chance of fried fish for breakfast and went straight up to the highway to wait for the bus. The bus was already there so it all proved mightily efficient. A couple more hours of gorgeous mountain scenes, with occasional llama spottings and a good workout for the brakes, and we were down in Latacunga. There was no particular reason for us to visit this city near Cotapaxi volcano, but it seemed like a sensible stop on route to the north. We found somewhere to stay and were pleasantly surprised to be overlooking the main square. The rest of the day involved eating and TV, which was just what was required. Evening entertainment came courtesy of an aerobics flashmob in the square, and the sight of a group of nuns enjoying a night out at the pizzeria, sitting below a large poster of the Vatican.

We bid farewell to Latacunga and set off for Mindo, a journey involving a bus to Quito, traversing the length of the capital from southern to northern bus terminals, and then another bus. Cloud cover blocked the potential view of Cotapaxi as we sped through the self-explanatory Volcano Alley. Quito snuck up quickly, but due to it's position in a twisty valley, there was no big reveal moment. The southern bus terminal was all gleaming airport-style modernity as we transited through to one of the cross-city bendy buses. Warnings about crowding and theft risk came to naught and we made it two thirds of the way up town before being turfed off and directed to another stop on a different line. Arriving at the northern terminal we needed, we were feeling pretty smug about being in time for the one o'clock bus to Mindo. The lady selling tickets, however, was not so confident. Our transactional Spanish has developed to the point where we can ask for things, which is fine as long as those things are available and the person doesn't really have to say anything to us in response. This was not one of those times. The one o'clock wasn't going to happen, but we had no idea why. Baffled by my blank face, the woman borrowed my phrasebook and managed “the way is closed”. This wasn't particularly enlightening so I gave up and had a grumpy, helpless sit down. James successfully procured tickets for the four o'clock and we sat for three and a half hours, contemplating the meaning of her gnomic proclamation. Later, sitting in traffic so bad that the driver turned off the engine and got out of the bus, we had some idea of what she might have referred to. As we were just five hundred metres short of the equator, James posited that there had probably been a pile-up caused as all the vehicles turned the right way up for the northern hemisphere. We never did figure it out, but the road cleared, we took our latitude screenshots and the bus clambered off into the cloud forest in the failing light. It would have been a beautiful journey...on the one o'clock bus. Four hours later than expected, and after James narrowly avoided starting a barney with a nun as we tried to get off the bus, a nice cold beer was the only way to say hello to Mindo.

The morning brought hummingbirds and a large group of young Americans to our hostal. There's nothing like vocal fry grating around a hammock attic to cut through a lie-in. The hummingbirds however, were delightful, flitting and chirruping around. In the light of day, Mindo was revealed as a pretty little hippy town sitting in a bowl of forested hills. With only one road out, all other paved thoroughfares ended abruptly in trees, and were liberally decorated with snoozing dogs. We had a nice lazy day pottering around and avoiding the inevitable cloud forest rain. When choosing our accommodation we’d narrowed it down to two, both the same sort of price, and both with resident cats mentioned in the reviews (I told you it was bad), but plumped for the one with the great chill out area. The cat, a spirited little ginger, appeared when it rained and stood on my shoulders for a few minutes when I picked it up. The hostal owners didn't know what its name was or even if it had one, so we really weren't sure who had adopted who. We had vowed to be more active the next day, so set off in a cab up the mountain to the tarabita cable car. The cable car involved an open cage powered by a car engine. This led into a series of gorges full of prehistoric-looking plants, and waterfalls where you were encouraged to swim. An hour of steep forest paths later and we were at the top of a flight of waterfalls. James waited patiently as I insisted in swimming in each one on the way down. I became more soggy, dishevelled and excitable, until we ran out of waterfalls and hiked up to the cable car and back down the mountain. Needing to secure bus tickets for the next day, we went back via the high street, which involved passing the other hostal we'd considered. Surely we wouldn't happen upon Felipe, cat of Booking.com review fame. Of course we would! Felipe turned out to be a super-sociable ginger who fairly demanded a through belly rub. Mindo was full of cats, including at one of the general stores where we spied one nestled among the bananas. After a thorough shower, Saturday night proceeded in pizza and cocktails fashion.

Despite the excellent distracting cat action, we had managed to procure bus tickets, so it was off to Otavalo via the bus stations of northern Quito. Sunday traffic made this pleasingly straightforward and we were quickly through the city and heading north across the equator again. The seemingly brand new highway entered a huge, complicated valley which had been carved up and sprayed with more concrete than I've ever seen. The engineering involved was both shocking and impressive. We wound through the crumbly, cactus strewn mountains, chased by angry clouds and beat the rain to Otavalo. And here we are, in a third floor corner room with full on volcano panorama view. We've seen and done so much in Ecuador that it's exhausting just trying to remember it all. Only two weeks left now. We've gotta keep on keepin’ on!