Trujillo, Peru to Ayacucho, Peru

Before starting this blog we would like to recognize my good friend Brian Swimme who created this incredible piece of art from the photos of our trip. The piece has been accepted for display at the 3rd Annual Independence Artist Week exhibition, Celebrating Contemporary Bay Area Artists. The exhibition will take place on Friday, September 10th, 2010 from 6:00pm – 11:30 in the Jazz Heritage Center at 1320 Fillmore Street.  So if you are in the Bay Area check it out and give B some support.  

As with all Casa de Ciclistas we stayed longer and had a harder time leaving than was expected. The infamous Lucho and his 2^nd house full of cyclists was everything that legend had foretold and more. We arrived early in the day after our little encounter with the Thieves of Paijan and found a full house with no available rooms. Never refusing a cyclist, Lucho cleared some space for us in the storage room where we pitched our tents and settled in. We introduced ourselves to the other riders as they trickled in from around the city after completing various tasks on the never ending list of chores that occupy the time of a cyclist on a “day off.” There were two guys from Argentina that had started in Buenos Aires, a Spaniard who started in Tierra Del Fuego, a Canadian and Kiwi couple that started in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, a Colombian that was just starting his trip, a Canadian that started somewhere in Canada and two American girls that had just purchased the the worst looking bikes anyone had ever seen . 

 We ended up sharing a room with the New Zealander, Belinda, and her husband, Roland as soon as our old friend Byron took off the following day. We quickly became good friends with Belinda and Roland and we all decided that it would be fun to do the next stretch together through Canon Del Pato. 

 Of course this was easier said than done as they were waiting for Lucho to repair their broken wheel and we were waiting for a package that was stuck in customs in Lima.

I would be lying if I said that everything worked out and we all headed South, us with our package and them with a brand new wheel. By the time we left our package was still stuck in customs and they had a wheel that had not been new for many thousand miles, but we did leave together. 

 Seth and I were very excited about the stretch ahead as we had been hearing stories about it since Mexico and could not wait to see the 36 tunnels that characterise a section that has been rated as one of the top five best road trips in the world. 

 Within one day we hit the private highway that would lead us to Canon Del Pato. This highway, owned and maintained by an American power company, is only open to company vehicles and cyclists which meant the road was all but deserted. 

 The road stretches through some amazing landscapes and eventually settles against the side of a strong flowing river that powers a number of hydro electric power stations. We found a beautiful camp spot our very first night and could not be happier to back on a river in a secluded and beautiful canyon. 

 For the next 4 days we followed this amazing river through the canyon alongside the remnants of an old railway system that cut directly through the sides of enormous solid rock walls creating pitch black tunnels, some which stretched for hundreds of meters long one directly after the other.

It was very nice to be riding with another two people and even more fun sharing the excellent camping and crystal clear star filled nights with our new friends. As Roland likes to wake up at about 5AM and be on the road at about 6:30, it was usually close to lunch by the time we would catch up with them. 

 One day we caught up the Roland and Belinda just after a long curving tunnel where they were stopped next to a tall concrete tower. The tower was the landing platform for a small pulley cart that spanned across the canyon hundreds of feet above the river. We could see immediately that Belinda wanted to keep moving and at first we thought that she must have gotten tired of traveling with us. Later that day we learned that she was absolutely terrified that one of us would attempt what Roland had done just minutes before we arrived. He had climbed the platform and loaded himself into the small equipment trolley and pulled himself across the entire canyon supported only by the narrow steel cable.

Belinda made him swear that he would not tell us what he had just done as she knew we would follow his lead (how right she was). When she saw me start to climb the platform she insisted on leaving and it worked as we all obliged and continued cycling instead of attempting anymore death defying stunts.

The riding was not too difficult other than the poor condition of the road and we were very sad to leave the comfort of the secluded canyon and reenter the traffic filled roads leading to Huaraz. 

 The night before arriving in Huaraz we stayed in a very cool little town called Caraz which we all ended up liking more than Huaraz itself. It had a very nice and very spacious market which was a welcome change from the maze-like and claustrophobic feeling markets of Chiclayo and Trujillo. We were even lucky enough to catch one of the presidential candidate's campaigning rallies which was quite a unique experience. 

Caraz is at about 2200 meters and surrounded by snow peaked mountains but we still had another 800-900 meters to climb before reaching Huaraz, one of the world's premiere climbing destinations.

Late that night or early the next morning, it was hard to tell which, we heard Roland and Belinda heading out for another incredibly early start while Seth and I followed about 5 hours later. We arrived in Huaraz early in the afternoon and Seth and I found a spot that was recommended to us by some other cyclists called, “Jo's Place,” an English owned climbing hostal. The rooms were pretty expensive and luxurious so the owner let us pitch our tents in the lawn for just a few soles so we were content. This still allowed us full access to the steaming hot showers and we even got to watch a few flicks in their small theatre. Roland and Belinda stayed with a Belgian family who were part of a traveling organization they belong to. We met up at the end of our “day off” which we spent shopping and once again dealing with our package that was still stuck in customs. By this time they had requested that we once again redo and resend a form that had already been redone and resent over 10 times. We had already had to change the address once from the original destination in Trujillo to this hostal in Huaraz and it now looked as though we were going to have to change it again to somewhere further down the road. This time we chose an address of a hostal in Huancayo which would take us over 13 days to reach. This, we were sure, would give FedEx MORE than enough time to get their heads out of their asses and deliver our package with days to spare.

The Belgian family that Roland and Belinda were staying with had two small children and instead heading south the following day as planned, we decided to accompany them to their school and give a short presentation. The kids loved our bikes and Roland took them all one by one for a ride on the back of the tandem. 

 The highlight of the day was when my tent was pulled out and the entire class crammed in my tiny home. MSR rates the capacity of this tent as 1 man and/or 10 small children. 

Seth could not take enough photos of the kids picking their noses and wiping it on my tent.

 The school was conveniently located directly next to some hot springs so we spent the rest of the day relaxing in the warm natural baths then headed back to the Belgians house for a home cooked meal. Unfortunately I was unable to enjoy the meal for long as I became very sick shortly after dinner and spent the entire night throwing up in their garden. By morning I shook it off and refilled my stomach with Belinda's delicious crepes which she made from scratch. With our stomachs filled we geared up and headed out for a full day of climbing.

Roland was also getting over being ill just a few days earlier so the pace was pretty slow for the majority of the day. At one point both Roland and I needed to make an emergency stop and destroy a gas station bathroom that could hardly take any additional abuse. As we were exiting the premises we walked up on a pickup truck gassing up full of men that were nonchalantly cleaning and loading automatic handguns in full view with their windows down. One of the men got out and started headed towards the bathroom so we all decided it was time to get out of there as soon as possible before he got any bright ideas about wanting one of us to clean up the situation in there. For a few minutes my stomach felt a little better as we put some distance between us and that station.

By that afternoon we had reached Huascaran National Park which is home to the beautiful yet very challenging Cordillera Blanca Mountain Range. We turned off the paved highway and back onto another remote and motor-free dirt road which we have come to love so much. As soon as we hit the bumps my stomach took a serious turn for the worse and we only completed another couple miles before I physically could ride no further. 

 Everyone was nice enough to call it a day on my behalf and we found an abandoned native cattle herding village that appeared to be vacant for the dry season. 

 It had started to rain so we took shelter in one of the small traditional looking mud huts that had a straw bed covered in soft sheep skins. 

 The four of us waited out the rain in the small hut but decided to head out and pitch our tents before things started getting weird and the natives showed up for a little “Deliverance” action. As you can see things had already started headed in the wrong direction.

With a good but VERY cold night of sleep we were all feeling a little better and we crept out of our tents not a minute before the sun came out. At over 3500 meters in the Cordillera Blancas not even Roland was messin around with any early starts. You rise with the sun or you freeze your ass off. We knew we had a huge day ahead of us with two passes over 4700 and 4800 meters (16,000 feet!) so we packed on the layers and started heading up. 

Although the riding was tough the scenery was indescribable and these mountains are unquestionably one of the highlights of the trip. In many ways we felt like we had been riding for over a year just for the experience of these 2 days through this amazing mountain range. As you can see from these pics we were not let down from our high expectations.

After exiting the national park we were once again on paved road and a short decent before spending the better part of a day climbing back up to 4800 meters. We were all starting to feel a bit strange due to the altitude.  It affected everyone differently as I had an almost euphoric feeling for some time while Seth just had a pounding headache.  From here we enjoyed a massive decent that took us an entire afternoon giving up thousands of feet while I took some video to give you a little experience of riding in Peru. This was about the nicest and smoothest road we have seen in Peru so I was able to ride with one hand while filming with the other. As you can see from the shaky video we spend most of our days just trying to stay on the road while avoiding crazy taxi drivers, rabid dogs, screaming locals, and maniac truck drivers. Good times! (Internet connection too slow to upload video, maybe next blog)

We ran out of light before we ran out of downhill so we found a safe looking spot behind a small school to pitch our tents. Unfortunately, once again my stomach decided that I needed to spend another night throwing up a horrible meal we had found at some dive restaurant just hours earlier. The flock of chickens walking out of the kitchen I could handle but I really started questioning the cleanliness of the establishment when a heard of cattle walked right past our table while we were eating. Eating out in this country is like playing Russian Roulette with all but one chamber empty of live rounds. Top it off with the signature attempt of the owner trying to overcharge any person with white skin and you have yourself the average Peruvian dining experience. But hey, for a 2 course meal including a drink for only $1 what should we expect? At least this time I had some company in the bushes as Seth had a bad case of diarrhea. Probably too much information but what the hell, we lived it and if your still reading this blog then you must like a little poop humor. Don't worry there is much more to follow.

For those of you counting this was my third night of oral nocturnal emissions so I was pretty tired in the morning and everyone agreed to take a short day of riding and stay at a hostel in Huanuco. We had to meet Roland and Belinda there as they were up and out by what seemed like 3AM and I waved at them from the bushes as they left. When we got to the city we found Belinda waiting with the bike in the central plaza while Roland was charging around town on foot with his huge beard and bike helmet looking like a modern day cycling Viking. I could not have been more thankful that he had already priced everything out and we could just cruise into the cheapest nicest hotel. The hotel was great and at first glance so was our room. We unpacked and headed to the market to get some food as both our stomachs were running below empty and in Peru one does not have much choice but to get back on that horse and prepare for another round of roulette (we have realized that one of us will get sick once out of every four meals here). After restocking on groceries and filling up on an enormous local specialty called Panchamanca we headed out to use the internet, do some laundry and then get some much needed rest. Maybe it was the Panchamanca, maybe it was the ice cream, bag of cookies, muffins, pastries and liter of chocolate milk or maybe it was just that the plumbing lacked pea stoppers causing the entire room to smell of raw sewage, but it was not long before I was once again throwing up yet another hard days work of stuffing myself with bad Peruvian food. I endured another sleepless night and was ready to cycle again in the morning. 

 The going was slow but steady and I was feeling surprisingly good all things considered. We were able to put in a full day and ended up camping next to a large trout farm on big open field next to a river. We had picked up a kilo of lamb at a local tienda and cooked a large dinner that went down well enough. However, once again it was only a few hours before I was back in the bushes enjoying my food once again on the way up. After a week of this routine I was in pretty bad shape and had serious trouble getting out of my tent the next morning. Seth had to inform Roland and Belinda that we would not be continuing with them. At about noon Seth decided to pack up my gear and push my bike up the hill and back onto the road as I was pretty much useless. We coasted back downhill a few kms to the nearest town where we checked into a hostal to get some rest until my health improved. After a day of rest and some antibiotics Seth found at a local boutique I was ready to try another day of climbing. We thought it was only a 20 mile push to Cerro Del Pasco but it ended up being over 30 and I don't think I have ever been in so much pain in my life. At one point Seth was actually riding next to me and pushing me up the hill. It did not help matters that Cerro Del Pasco is the highest city in the world at over 14,500 feet. 

When we finally arrived I was not good for much more than passing out as soon as I hit my bed. The following day was not much better but I was able to put in about 46 miles before having to find some lodging. Lucky for us there was only one hostal that had only one single room that had only one single bed that was smaller than the bed from my college dorm room but for some reason was not nearly as fun to share. Things pretty much went the same for the next few days until we arrived in Huancayo where Roland and Belinda had decided to wait for us.

We took a much needed day off in Huancayo which once again was spent dealing with FedEx and our package that we were starting to doubt even existed. By this point the clowns at FedEx Lima were claiming that the package had been cleared from customs but had been held up because of an invalid address. Of course they had every single word in the entire address spelled incorrectly and it took a good 5-10 phone calls over two days to correct the matter. Once the address issue was solved another problem materialized which they claimed to be an “operational error”. When pressed to explain exactly what this meant the agent calmly admitted that a number of items had been stolen out of the box. So after all of the bullshit forms, incorrect addresses, and “operational errors”, they were just stalling for time to track down the items that some of their agents had cherry picked from our package. Once the cat was out of the bag they agreed to deliver the package the following day minus the stolen items and we finally got what was left of the F&%^ING package that had been consuming our lives for the last month.

The following is a list of people that we would like to thank for assisting us in receiving this package. All of these people made at least one call to FedEx (and some many more) over the last month on our behalf:

Barbara Berling (100+ calls)

David Monk

Chris O'Brien

Eliza Veal

Sean Breuner

Marco Chavira

John Wright

Lucho (Huancayo)

Lucho (Trujillo)

Chris from Roaring Mouse

Brian Brown

Adrian Andrews

Thank you so very much for your efforts in helping us achieve what we thought had become an impossible task.

The following person I would like to recognize as one of the most despicable human beings on the face of the Earth: FedEx Asesor3538

Also a special F U goes out to FedEx Asesor3546 for your role in this debacle. We did not forget your 10+ requests for us to re-send the same form after confirming that you received it each time.

After installing all of the new parts that were not stolen from our package we could finally continue and put this ordeal behind us. I was at last feeling normal again without throwing up every night and we were sporting all new drive trains while once again cycling with our friends Roland and Belinda. Things were looking up which was good as we were entering what many cyclists would agree to be the most demanding and difficult two weeks of the entire trip. Every day we faced summits ranging from 3500-5000+ meters. 

Honestly it is tough to remember what happened where and it seemed that we were always heading towards a town that started with “H”. There was Huanuco, Huancayo, Huayucachi, Huando, Huancavelica and many more. 

Even though the traffic was light through these remote stretches we could always count on the presence of a few Kamakazi truck drivers. 

We also got treated to a few beers by some extremely drunk Peruvians at one of these towns as we were riding through on a Sunday. 

It was during this stretch that we conquered the highest drivable pass in the world at 5,059 meters!

After taking a number of photos and some video at the highest point of the entire trip we got back on the bikes as quickly as possible as the weather was looked to be changing for the worse. Within an hour it was snowing on us and we all quickly realized how ill prepared we were for such cold weather. We continued the decent as quickly as possible with the only goal of getting as low as possible as fast as possible. We finally got low enough to escape the snow and decided to splurge on a hotel room in the small town of Santa Ines. This turned out to be a very good move as we were barely able to stay warm enough under the 5 wool blankets provided by the hostal. Sleeping in the tents would have been miserable.

The next day we were once again rewarded with a long and beautiful decent then punished with another 31KM climb. Seth and I made it over the 4800 meter pass before the weather changed but Roland and Belinda got slammed with rain and snow and arrived to meet us 20km below the pass barely able to get off of their bikes. After an hour of ingesting and embracing some very hot beverages they were able to regain the use of their limbs and we all descended for another hour before finding a much warmer spot to camp in an abandoned quarry next to a river. We all got a good night sleep and powered through the next day of climbing to a very welcome day off in Ayacucho. From here we have another week or so with over 1000 meters of daily climbing before reaching Cusco and seeing the famous ruins of Machu Pichu. Health is good, spirits are high, and we are ready to make the final push through the relentless Andes of Peru.           

Brief Update from Huancayo, Peru

Early in the planning of this adventure I spent many sleepless nights visualizing myself inside the dark tunnels of the Cañon del Pato and catching my breath at the top of one of the 16,000 foot passes in the Parque National Huascaran. I feel so lucky that we got the oppotunity to turn these dreams into reality. The trip from Trujillo to Huancayo will undoubtedly go down as one of my favorites.


We have spent the last couple of weeks riding the in the company of Roland and Belinda. An amazing couple on a tandem who have amazed us with their fortitude and positivity. They have made these recent experiences even more enjoyable. As a bonus, Roland continually ammuses us with his ability to make small children cry at the sight of his overly impressive beard. Check out their website.. http://www.cyclingwithsally.com/

Below...nearing 16,000 feet and focusing very hard on breathing.

Quito, Ecuador to Trujillo, Peru

It was difficult to leave Santiago's house and our new group of friends at the Casa De Ciclistas but we were anxious to get back on the road and excited to reunite with our friend Danny in Cotopaxi National Park. We had not heard from Danny for months and received an email from him informing us that he had taken up temporary employment at a lodge in Cotopaxi. As you may remember from our blog from Baja, Danny is driving his Jeep from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to Tierre Del Feugo and we have been fortunate enough to have crossed paths with him twice now. Visit his website at (http://www.dangrec.com/)

We departed Quito in the mid afternoon preparing for a short, easy cruise to the northern entrance of Cotopaxi National Park. Nearly three hours into the ride we passed an old man in a pickup truck and I rolled up to his passanger window hoping to confirm that we were headed in the right direction. Immediately the old man started shaking his head in disbelief and proceeded to climb out of the truck, walk over to us and tell me that we were never going to make it.

“The roads are too steep, there are too many turns, the nights are too cold and it's too far to make it there tonight!”

I assured him that we were more than prepared for these hardships and that we liked climbing and the cold and so he reluctantly got down on his hands and knees and drew a HUGE map for us in the dirt with no less than 15 turns.

Two hours later we arrived at our predetermined destination only to find that there was no where to buy food and thanks to our poor planning we were only carrying a small bag of rice. Frustrated and loosing daylight quickly we decided to carry on. A few kilometers down the road we passed a small farm and Parker came up with the ingenious idea to pull over and buy some eggs to accompany our handful of rice. As we were remounting our bikes a Landcruiser pulled over and the gentleman driving told us that he owned a lodge just ten minutes down the road with food and hot showers. He told us that he was headed into Quito but that he had a gatekeeper that would take care of us upon our arrival. Overwhelmed by a sense of relief and thankful for our good fortune we remounted our bikes and stared down the cobblestone road towards the lodge.

An hour later and in total darkness we were no longer praising the kind lodge owner. Two hours later we began a climb that would end up taking us nearly a half hour..the rough roads dimly lit by our small headlamps. We finally called it quits, set up camp in the middle of the road and settled down to cook our rice and eggs only to realize that we were out of cooking fuel (aka gasoline). Through some miracle we were able to use the remaining fumes in the bottle to cook the rice and eggs...the stove sputtering and finally dying just as the rice became edible. We fell asleep hungry, saving half of the small pot for our breakfast.

We were not prepared for the view we awoke to the next morning. Because we arrived in total darkness we had no idea that we were camped adjacent to such a magical landscape.

The ride from our campsite to the Danny's lodge was one of the most scenic rides of the trip. We arrived at the lodge in the mid morning and were warmly greeted by Danny his staff and the fellow guests. We set up our tents just outside of the lodge dinning room and despite the fact that we felt slightly out of place in these plush surroundings it did not take us long to settle in. Danny treated us like kings at the lodge and we are so grateful for his hospitality. It was wonderful to reunite and we are already making plans to do so again in Argentina.

After two days we reluctantly said goodbye to Danny and left the comforts of the lodge for our life on the road. We followed rough dirt tracks into Cotopaxi National Park, climbing to nearly 13,000 feet and enjoying some of the most beautiful scenery that we had experienced in Ecuador.

Another two rather uneventful days on the road found us in Cajabamba where we received word that Parker's passport had finally arrived at the US Embassy in Quito. I am still not clear on the whole story as Parker is still to frustrated to discuss it but I know that it took him nine buses and two taxi rides to get back to Quito and retrieve his passport.

As we left Cajabamba we once again crossed paths with Sean, Igrid and 9 year old Kate. We have been leap frogging with this family since Medellin, Colombia and actually crossed paths with them the first time all the way back in Canada.

From Cajabamba we followed the Panamerican to Cuenca, a beautiful colonial town set in a high valley. Cuenca is a remarkably clean city, has a great vibe, good food and a skyline punctuated by massively georgous church steeples.

From Cuenca we traveled onto Loja, the city of enormous food portions. The riding continually difficult but equally rewarding with magnificent views from every vista.

Ecuador is know for its climbs and notoriously steep gradients. Many of the climbs, especially in southern Ecuador will range between 20 to 60 kilometers (12 to 36 miles) in length and last hours if not a full day. Fortunately, after every uphill you are rewarded with an insane downhill were we generally reach speeds of 80+ Kilometers per hour (48+ mph).

A short ride from Loja we entered Vilcabamba, a town known for it's abundance of residence over 100 years of age and more recently a huge influx of Expats and hippies. Despite the gringo vibe of this town, Parker and I fell in love with the climate, the scenery and the ultra laid back atmosphere. We camped on the lawn of a local hostal and met a fellow traveler named Scott who abandoned his life in the states as a Landscaper to start a full time life on the road. Scott has a website and did a feature story on our mission and travels.

Opting for the more remote, more challenging route through Southern Ecuador Parker and I headed due south from Vilcabamba. The pavement ended shortly after Vilcabamba in Yangana and the real climbing and adventure began. We had remarked in days prior that the road seemed to follow a very straight line despite the abundance of mountains. As it turns out the road does in fact cut over some very, very steep mountains but what the map failed to show were all the tight switchbacks which make the ascents possible.

Parker and I realized early on that this trip is absolutely about the journey and not about the intermediate destinations. We opt for the road less traveled because it almost always provides us with better scenery, friendlier people and the adventures that the pavement seems to blanket.

On our first night south of Vilcabamba in Podocarpus National Park, despite our typical reluctance to do so, we had chosen a campspot that was visible from the road. The remoteness of the road and the infrequency of passing cars reassured us of our decision. Just as I was settling into my sleeping bag, I heard an approaching car. I strained my ears to listen to make sure it continued past and I was startled by the sound of tires skidding to a stop on gravel. I waited and there was nothing. I knew the car was no more than thirty feet from our tents. I sat up in my sleeping bag and grabbed my knife from the side pocket of my tent. Suddenly someone from the car screamed.....

“HEY!”

I readied myself for a confrontation and crawled out of my tent in my long johns.

“HEY!” I yelled back. Noticing that the car was filled with people.

“Where are you from?” The man asked with hostility.

“The United States.” I replied.

“How many of you are there.”

“Three of us.” I lied. Wishing I could say more but realizing that we only had two tents.

A long pause.....

“You better be careful. Careful.” The man said and then the car peeled away down the road.

Needless to say we did not sleep that much after that. I kept imaging the car showing back up with even more people and a huge confrontation ensuing. But alas, nothing happened. We woke early made some coffee and set out once again on the beautiful road through Southern Ecuador.

As we got closer to the border the riding continued to get more challenging as the grades became nearly unridable in spots.

As we neared the Peruvian border we arrived at a military checkpoint with two guards no more than 18 years old working the post. They checked over our passports and told us that we were free to continue. The road forked immediately after the station so I asked them which way to Peru? They both pointed different directions! I started to laugh and realized they were not kidding. They got into a small argument and then both agreed that it was to the right. Nervously, we took there advice and took a right

Two hours later we arrived at the Ecuadorian/Peruvian border. The whole town consisted of an Ecuadorian Immigration Station and one restaurant. When we arrived on the Ecuadorian side the office was completely empty. We went and ate lunch and return to find the border official sleeping on a cot. We woke him up; he stamped our passports and sent us off across the river to Peru. We crossed the river into Peru and realized that the immigration office was closed! As we started to turn around and walk away someone yelled to us that we should go to the officer’s house just down the block. We did and when we arrive at the house a young girl told us that the officer was swimming in the river. We walked down to the river and yelled to the officer, holding up our passports. She was in a bikini, holding a beer in an inner tube and she yelled back to us that she would not be reopening the office for another 3 hours. We decided to cut our losses and we joined the rest of the town in the river for a couple of hours.

As you can see security at the border was not too tight...

As we began to doze beneath the shade of a tree she yelled over to us that she was ready to open the office and that we should bring our documents right away. I got ready first and headed over to the office ahead of parker. When I arrived the Immigration officer was wearing bright red lipstick and a tube top and way too much perfume. She was blaring Riana..from the American Top 20s Music Charts. She asked me where I learned Spanish. I told her I learned it in the street. At this point I realize she has absolutely no interest in looking at my passport. She smiles and asks if I can do her a favor. My mind was spinning and I immediately think that she is going to ask me for a bribe. No, she wants me to translate the lyrics of Riana onto the back of my tourist visa. I laugh and tell her that I can't even understand the lyrics and I speak English somewhat fluently. She does not laugh and hands me a pencil. So I sit there with Riana on repeat until I've scribbled down what I'm half sure were half of the lyrics from the chorus of the song. When I finish she took the sheet from me, restarted the song and I do my best not to laugh as she tries to read off my lyrics. Just as she is belting out the chorus, Parker walked in and looks at me in complete confusion.

As we start out into Peru from the border it was almost as someone flipped a light switch on the gradients. The climbs are much more manageable but the roads are in even worse condition. Another noticeable difference is that we are no longer the opening set we are the MAIN ATTRACTION. People are absolutely fascinated with us.

The first night in Peru we arrived in a small mountain town. After parking our bikes next to the community center, I walked into town to purchase two beers and when I returned a 13 year old boy was peppering Parker with questions. After 20 minutes he bid us farewell and just as we are settling in to our nightly routine he showed back up with over 20 people. At one point the crowed swelled to over 35 people. The people were not interested in asking us any questions they just wanted to stare at us. Men, women and children crowded us as we cooked, ate and set up our tents. I was glad when the crowd finally dispersed and I was able to collapse from the exhaustion of the attention and the days riding.
The following morning I awoke early to the sound of voices outside of my tent. I laid there for a minute trying to figure out how many people were talking. As I started the zipper, all noise ceased and as I poked my head out of the hole I found a group of youngsters under blankets literally waiting for me to wake up.

The dirt roads of northern Peru were remarkably bad and in need of maintenance. The size and frequency of potholes meant that even going downhill we could rarely exceed 12kph. The density of people and towns dramatically decreased from Ecuador and our Gringo nickname returned in full force. All walks of life love yelling Gringo to us like they have spotted an endangered species and want to alert everyone around that they saw it first. Kids will spot us from hundreds of meters away and will chant Gringo in unison as we approach. Their cries remain audible even as they disappear in our rearview mirrors. Despite this, the people are painfully friendly and eager to help or assist us in whatever way they can.

Including calling us over to the side of the road to offer us fresh papayas from their farm...
Just before Jean, Peru we returned to the asphalt and let the sweet buzz of the pavement message out our aching muscles. Just as soon as we arrived, we left the comforts of the asphalt for a side road that would take us around the city. When we first exited the highway, the gravel road was in remarkably good condition. We congratulated ourselves on a great decision to divert Jean. As we rode further, the dirt road turned to a rough jeep track and then into a single track and eventually into a goat track.

Literally the only traffic we were passing was goats. We hit a series of forks in the road and each time we would look at each other and then start down one not sure if it would take us in the right direction.

At one point we actually ended up having to traverse through a fisherman's yard.
Eventually we could just make out car traffic on the horizon and we knew we were headed in the right direction. So we pushed on, despite the fact that the path was becoming worse and worse. The path dead ended into a barbwire fence and we found a gate and crossed into the private property. The path fizzled to nothing and we stopped our bikes and noticed a lone man farming the hillside. He looked up at us, startled by our presence and immediately approached us.

We told the man that we were trying to get to the highway and he began to laugh and pointed at the massive river that stood between us and the asphalt. We asked if there was a bridge close by and he said no that the only way across was in his uncle’s canoe. All three of us looked up at the sun and realizing that we were loosing daylight he offered to take us immediately. As we pushed our bikes towards his uncle’s property Parker and I realized that all four of our tires had fallen victim to the infamous Goathead (a small spine that kills bike tires). We had four flat tires! Realizing we had no time to mess with replacements we pushed on and followed Javier to his uncle’s boat.

We arrived at the side of the river and we realized why Javier was carrying an innertube over his shoulder. He had to swim to the other side to retrieve the boat.

Javier performed all of this with such enthusiasm that we were sad that we had to part ways with him on the other side. His positivity would be a great asset on the road. All that he wanted as payment for his services was my water logged Timex watch which I had found on the side of the road in British Colombia. I happily handed it over, although I must admit now the date function was pretty handy. I no longer know what month or day of the week it is.

When we left Javier it was already dark so we only made it a few kilometers down the road to a small town. When we arrived a local police officer offered up the abandoned police station as nightly accommodations for us. We thanked him and took up residency in one of the most scary buildings we have slept in during our travels.

From Chamaya we traveled towards the coast along a series of rivers which offered up some very flat riding. It was a welcome change from our last couple months of relentless climbs. After one last 7,000 foot climb, we enjoyed a sweet downhill into the coastal desert of Peru. We hit the coast at Chiclayo where we took one day off, which turned into two after I suffered some food poisoning. Chiclayo is a great town, with phenomenal ceviches, and a massively intense market, where you can buy everything from magic potions to shark fins.
It was just two days of riding from Chiclayo to Trujillo through the Peruvian coastal desert. The trip would have been easy if not for two small setbacks. One, the relentless headwind and the other a little town known as Paijan just north of Trujillo. Just the word “Paijan” will send shivers down the spine of any touring cyclist familiar with South America. This is a town that we were warned about all the way back in Alaska. A town that is infamous for hundreds of armed robberies of touring cyclists. A town that is known for a gun point incident that left a French couple with nothing but their spandex and more recently an incident where our friend Ed was robbed of everything and was forced to watch as his bicycle was thrown off a bridge. And a town, that after much discussion, we decided to ride through.
We left Picasmayo at just before 6am, in hopes of crossing through Paijan before any ¨bad guys¨ would be awake. The early hours of our ride clicked by without incident. As we rolled through Paijan, we received many unwelcoming looks and someone actually yelled at us that we were crazy. Upon exiting the town I was keeping a keen watch in my rear view mirror and just like so many other people have described a mototaxi materialized about 200 yard behind us. I called attention to it and we crossed the road so that we had the two lanes separating us and the approaching vehicle. As the mototaxi got closer I saw that there was a young man driving and 3 masked men packed into the back seat. The driver smiled to me and blew me a kiss. He turned around to the other three...unsure about what to do.
The mototaxi sped ahead and then pulled a u turn so that they were headed straight for us. They started flashing their lights and motioning for us to stop our bikes. Obviously there was no f´ing way we were going to stop. Just before we collided with the taxi they swung out into the roadway and then peeled back so they were headed straight the sides of us. I narrowly avoided having my back wheel clipped out and Parker veered way out onto the shoulder.
At this point the mototaxi sped up along Parker and put two wheels over the side of the road to try and push parker into the ditch below. I was riding along the other side of the taxi to jump to Parkers aid, preparing for the inevitable crash. Just when I thought Parker was gone for sure he slammed on his brakes and the mototaxi flew ahead. I was still next to the taxi and both of us were headed into the oncoming traffic. I started to swerve in and out of both lanes in order to slow the traffic going both directions. No one would stop for us and semis narrowly missed us as they came barreling down blasting their air horns. I positioned my bike at a diagonal over both lanes and started enough of a commotion that the mototaxi called it quits and turned off the highway and disappeared into the corn fields.
I am providing this detailed info in hopes of helping anyone who is approached with a similar situation and to urge everyone not to ride through this town. We narrowly, narrowly avoided being robbed of everything and it left both of us with a sour taste.
A few hours after this incident we arrived at Lucho's Casa De Ciclistas in Trujillo were we received a warm welcome from no less than eight other touring cyclists. We will stay here, gain our composure and wait until our package or resupplies arrives...namely new drivetrains and shoes. From here we will head back into the mountains via a famous route known as the Canon Del Pato, which will take us to Huraz, the mountaineering capital of Peru. Despite these recent happenings we are both very excited about the next leg of the journey. We would like to give a very special thanks to our new sponsor Xtracylce for providing us with new freeloaders and top decks and to Chris at Roaring Mouse Cycles in San Francisco for keeping our bikes fully equipped and running with the best components available, to Keen for keeping our feet warm, dry and comfortable, and to our parents for their continued support and coordinating our packages.
On a side note I keep feeling like my seatbelt is unfastened. If anyone knows what that is about please let me know. I have actually reached to fasten it more than once.