    With the help of a policeman at the tollbooth on the Panamericana, we were able to get on a bus headed to Rio Bamba within 10 minutes. Unfortunately, all the seats were occupied and I had to sit in the aisle suffering through the exhaustion that was catching up with me.  I hadn´t slept since I got up to climb Cotopaxi, and the night before that, I could count the hours of sleep I got with one hand.  In Rio Bamba we got some almuerzo, then resupplied our food at a small tienda (stoked to find some tiny Nutella Packets) and hopped on a bus potentially headed to Chimborazo.
      In our search to find the correct bus; the conversations we had at the terminal (including with the driver of the bus that we chose to take), left us unsure there was a bus headed to the mountain, but a short ways into our bus ride Goat pointed out the window and said, “I think we´re on the right one.�  Filling the window was the profile of a tremendous mountain (once thought to be the tallest in the world) and a wave of nervousness rushed through me. “This mountain looks a bit more serious than Cotopaxi,� I thought.
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