The Long Muddy Road

Instead of riding to Ecuador we decided to head to the Jungle town of Tarapoto instead.  Mapping a route seemed a little difficult since we didn't have a proper map.  It is almost impossible to find a decent road map in Huaraz it seems.  So after looking on google maps and a small map of the region that I found we just went for it.  Our plan was to go over the Cordillera Blanca and head north inbetween there and the Cordillera Azul until we could got to the pass.  From there on it would just be easy riding to the jungle we naively thought.

We rode to Yungay north of here and turned off a dirt road the headed into the park.  The road was horrible.  For some reason I though it would get better once we got into the Park.  I was having fun speeding up to the mountains dodging potholes and ripping through the mud, but was ready to pick up some speed as well.  When we got to the Park there was a gate and a park ranger who had us pay 5 soles each.  He gave us our first of many pieces contradicting routing advice and told us to ride to the road to San Luis to the southeast first, then go north, as the road we were going to take was bad.  

We headed up into the Park and the road remained to be dirt and full of potholes, but improved in the absence of mud.  Fog seemed to envelope the mountains above us, I could tell that the scenery that surrounded us was epic, but the cloud we were in blocked our view.  Nonetheless we were excited to be on the road.  One thing that baffled me was all the cows that were grazing on the grass the whole way to the pass.  How and why were there cows this far away from  

As soon as we to the first set of switchbacks I could feel my bike start to choke on the thin air.  I had opted out on changing the jets for altitude because I didn't want it to be running lean on the coast and in the jungle.  That and the mechanic ordered all Japanese part, instead of Brazilian, which increased the price quite a bit.  The pass was 4900 meters (16,000 ft) and the road was filled with rocks on the straight sections and then mud on the switch backs.  Whenever I had to slow down for the muddy hairpin turns on the switch backs my bike would start to bog down quite a bit.  If a I had to slow down for a truck or bus coming down the one lane road then I could barely get going again. When we reached the top of the pass, I was more then excited to finally not have to climb the switch backs going 20kmh.

As soon as we reached the boundary of the park the road turned from rocky to muddy.  The center of the road was about 6 inches of built up mud from the trucks and buses that pass through.  it was about 20k until the town of Yanama, in which I once again expected the road to get better and the travelling to speed up.  We had about two hours of sunlight left by the time we got there.  We filled up on gas and noticed that just about everyone was staring at us.  Kids and adults a like would well gringo as we passed.  This would be pretty regular for every town we would pass.  I was having a lot of trouble understanding the accents of the locals as well.  Many of them seemed to speak with a timid and shy voice.  They probably hardly ever see gringos around here.

We left Yanama and continued on back to an even muddier road covered in potholes.  At points we were literally driving through mud filled streams and other points we had to cross running streams.  I realized at this point that we were going to be on dirt roads for days.  We figured we would just ride till it sundown and then find a place to camp.  Once the sun went down I remembered how hard it is to find a camping spot in the dark, especially in the Andean highlands where all the mountains seem to rise straight out of the valleys bellow leaving no flat spots to set up a tent. So we decided to keep on riding in the dark until we got to Piscobamba, which consisted of one paved road that stretched on for about six blocks.

The hostel we stayed at costed s/8.00 ($3.00) a night.  I remember talking to the boy who couldn't have been older then 14 outside when he paused talking and just blankly stared past me staring up at the night sky.  After a minute I realized he was looking at something and turned around.  He pointed up and in excitement said "airplane".  Afterwards we got some chicken that tasted as if it was days old from the resturuant next door.  There were two men with beards sitting and eating across from us.  Beards are very uncommon here, I didn't even think they could grow them.  I've heard its common for narcos to them.  We are right in the middle of a popular narco-trafficking route.  As soon as I hit the bed I fell asleep.  We had been riding for about twelve hours, and hour in a half had been in the dark.

I awoke and we immediately started to load the bikes up.  It took probably about 15 minutes before we were out the door.  More mud and more rain... this is going to get old fast.  I am so excited to put in as many k's as we can that I don't even want to stop for breakfast.  Justin sped off ahead as usual on his 250 and I hurried along as fast as possible trying to keep up.  A small village appears and so does Justin, sitting on his bike in the middle of the road eating an avacado.  I guess that's what I get for buying such a cheap bike.

Slowly a small crowd gathers on the side of the road.  More people staring at us.  I wonder if that kid has ever seen white skin.  I don't know if I should feel good about being the first pale skinned person he's seen if I am.  A lady walks up and we hand her a banana.  I greet her in Quechua.  She speaks and I can't understand a word she says.  She hands us both warm potatoes and continues speaking unintelligibly.  I'm confused, my spanish is not good, but I can't get one word.  Finally, I realize she is talking to me in Quechua.  "no hablo quechua, solomente englis y espanol".  She smiles and walks away.  I guess she only speaks Quechua.  We chuckle and continue to eat as the crowds stare.  Biggest news of the week: two gringos ride through on motorcycles".  I look over and wave at two farmer looking men staring at us and wave and smile at them.  They took it as an invitation and came over.  We sat talking for a little while, mostly about the weather and farming.  Evidently they didn't know if it was hot or cold in Lima.  I realized at this point then I have seen more of Peru then probably then this weathered looking man.

Popobamba was the next town we road through.  Something about this town made me uneasy.  The people at the gas station were nice enough though.  One guy started spraying off our bikes and just gave me a strange look when I tried to give him a few soles and waved it away.  We told the gas station attendant that we were going to Tarapoto and he told us we were crazy.  That we had to to the coast and head up to Trujillo and then pass through the mountains via Cajamarca.  We looked at the map and realized it was dirt road all the way to Tarapoto with few towns in between.  Riding through jungle back roads seemed like it was a little much, so we changed course to Trujillo.  It looks like we will be there in time for Oscu and Nina's party... back to Huanchaco again.  A decent map would really come in handy.

Riding through we got to a bunch of unmarked forks in the road and just decided to stick to the ones that seemed more traveled.  There was a point where it seemed like we were just crossing stream after stream.  It is a little uneasy riding into the middle of nowhere with virtually ability to navigate due to poorly marked roads and the unavailability of a decent map, not to mention sub par Spanish abilities.

We stopped through a small group of houses and asked a crowd if we were on the right road.  They didn't seem to like us very much.  At one point just looked over at me and asked if we were about to get lynched.  We just decided to pretend we understood what they said and continue on.

After about 10k we spotted the town that we were expecting to drive through.  Unfortunately, we also spotted a landslide right in front of us that had completely taken out the road.  We sat there for a minute when father and son walked up and started asking us questions.  We had the map out and I asked him if there was a way around.  I couldn't understand a word he said in response.  He came over and looked at the map, which at this point was soaked and looked confused.  "Ahhh" I see Cordillera Blanca y Cordillera Negra" he exclaimed, stuttering as he struggled to read the words.  His son just sat there at a distance from us looking somewhat scared.  I don't think this man has ever seen a map, and I am not sure he knows how to read.  Now I know to never trust one of these Andean highlanders for directions.

The rain was beginning to get heavier and heavier so we decided to turn around and just go back to Popabamba for the night and figure everything out from there.  The streams that we had to cross before had began to run more like rivers.  I was adapting to riding in all this mud at this point so I rode as fast as I could, taking much less caution to the road condition.  We were about 15 minutes from Popabamba when I spotted a hairpin turn that had a stream running through it.  I remembered it being high when we crossed the last time, but this time the stream had swelled even higher.  I saw a point that looked like it was lower and hit the throttle and went right through.  I made it to the bank on the other side and and realized my choice of a crossing didn't leave me much space to turn.  I hit the brakes and tried to cut it, but to no avail.  I dropped the bike right before a ditch.  After I managed to get my foot unpinned and the bike up, I lifted my pant leg to see what seemed to be a small bullet hole in my shin.  The knee on my other leg seemed to take most of the force of the fall.  First crash ever on a motorcycle.  I hobbled back onto the bike and rode on.

Popabamba was even stranger this time around.  I noticed a lot of mansions above the town overlooking the shanty town.  Hmm.. I wonder where their money comes from.  Many of the people in the town were on fancy looking cell phones and they were all of course staring at us.  The hostel we found was a complete hole.  My room smelled like urine and there were a bunch of sketchy people out front that kept calling me primo (cousin).  The food we ate from the store next door was just as sketchy, but the lady who served was nice.  I lifted my pantleg to check to see how badly I was bleeding and she lectured me about riding so fast in the rain, then I think I recall her prescribing me a treatment plan.  Justin went and passed out and I ventured out to find a chain to lock the bikes up, which I had no luck in doing, but I will take any excuse to practice my Spanish. I began to get annoyed with all the people yelling Gringo and staring so I put my hood up hoping to look a little more discreet.

The next day we took off for Piscobamba and decided to take the quickest possible route back to pavement.  On the way to Piscobamba I felt my bag getting loose on the bike so I stopped to tighten it.  As I was redoing the knots I saw a truck approaching.  It was full of men in fancy looking leather jackets and in the back there was another guy in nice clothing.  I waved at them and the barely even acknowledged my presence.  The different reactions I get from people back here is baffling.  Some look scared, some just glare, and others seem so fascinated that they almost become a nuisance.

We ate breakfast in Piscobamba and looked at the map.  It looked like it would be quicker to just backtrack and take the pavement back to Chimbote.   We couldn't decide on a route, so we decided to split up and go different ways.  It was nice travelling alone.  I could stop wherever I wanted and didn't feel the need to go so fast to keep pace with him.  And when I did stop I could stop for longer and just hang out.      

When I got to Llunca to fill up on gas before the park, the same boy was working at the gas station.  He told me Justin has passed through half an hour before.  Ha.. so he decided to take my route after all.

The trip back was fairly uneventful aside from the amazing weather and beautiful view on top of the pass.  I seemed to be actually making better time without the pressure of having to keep up with a bike that had double the size engine in it.  When I got to the highway to Huaraz it began to rain.  I ended up staying in a hotel that night to be insured of having hot water.  When I walked into reception I noticed how muddy I was.  I was leaving tracks all over the place and everything I touched had a mud print on it.  I hadn't ate anything since breakfast, and I was so hungry and cold that I actually ate a bag of trail mix in the shower.

The next day was beautiful in Huaraz, perfect for traveling.  The only thing was my wound from two days ago was still bleeding and everything I had was soaked.  I was sitting on facebook starting this post when Justin Msged me from near the coast saying he made it there in one day and he would see me there that night.  I looked at my watch and decided to prove to him that my route was faster.  If I leave now then I have just enough time to pack and get there.

I was on the road within and hour and made awesome time getting up to the pass.  I noticed that as long as I kept it at high rpm's the altitude didn't affect it as much.  I got to the top and began cruising down towards the desert.  I was excited to get to that desert heat to dry off all my wet stuff.  Before I knew it I was at the last town before the Pan-American.  I stopped to fill up my tires at some little shop.  The front filled up fine, but I could't fit the extension in between the spokes on the back.  I thought about unloading the pump from the bag, but I was making to good of time for that.  I decided to just wait for when I stop for gas in Chimbote.

When I got to the Pan-Am the wind was strong.  Gusts would blow and my skin was left stinging from getting pelted with sand.  A track would pass me and block the wind for a moment and then it would continue and push me to the side of the road.  My bike seemed like it was at a 45 degree angle from the road.

I was about 5k away from Chimbote going 80kmh when I felt my back tire blow.  I started to fishtail from side to side.  I looked behind me to make sure there wasn't a vehicle close and slowed it down as much as I could.  It started to get to the point where I was fishtailing to hard and just got it off the road and down I went.  When I got up I remember thinking... "that's it".  A taxi driver stopped on the other side of the street and helped me pick the bike up.  I put it down on the same knee that I had crashed on before.  He pointed to my clutch lever and I noticed it was broke.  Then he made sure I could move everything and pointed me to a mechanic a few blocks down.

I pushed he bike up to the mechanic and we took the wheel off and then went to get a new lever.  His family was nice and seemed to be quite entertained by me.  I had to leave all my stuff and the bike there.  In the taxi as we were driving away I just accepted that I may return and find that all my stuff would be gone.  When we returned all my stuff was exactly as I had left it.  I was expecting him to charge me hardly anything as had happened before in Huanchaco and figured I would give him 100 soles as a tip.  He ended up charging me 50 soles so I just gave him fifty soles.  

I was an hour and a half away from Huanchaco, but only had half an hour of sunlight left.  Chimbote has a reputation for being dangerous, I figured it was best to just get to Huanchaco.  Driving on the Pan-am at night was horrible, but I made it in one piece.  As I pulled into the driveway of Meri, where the party was happening I went to put my leg down to support the bike and down I went.  I forgot I couldn't put any weight on that knee.. and crushed it again.

Our bags were packed, chains lubed, tires checked, and we were actually leaving.  It was hard to believe.  We had been stuck in this Peruvian time vortex for so long.  Finally we had gotten to the point where we get to use the bikes for what we had bought them for.  And off we went.  I was slightly sad to leave Huanchaco.  I had began to feel like a local, but I knew I didn't belong there.  Boredom comes easily to me, and I always have had a thirst travelling, which has become the foundation of my life.  So the we rode to the Pan-American highway and I left this small, strange town behind.

The Pan-American wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  It was actually quite easy.  If cars got backed up in the chaos of the road, it was easy to hit the shoulder of the road and leave them behind.  We passed many tourist busses and I realized began to realize how much faster and better motorcycle travel through Peru is.  It actually seems safer then in a car.  If needed the shoulder of the road was always there.  And the scenery was incredible.

As soon as we left the outskirts of Trujillo behind it turned into a barren, and seemingly lifeless (though I know better then that) dessert.  There was nothing but sand, rocks, small mountains made of sand, and dunes.  Occasionally, when we would rise up in elevation, I could see the ocean off in the distance.  The beaches looked desolate and incredible.  There will be a time in the not to distant future we will be camping on beaches like these, but know we must head to the thin air in cold and rainy mountains.

Before I knew it, I was feeling at one with the bike.  It's interesting looking at your how much mileage is on your bike and knowing exactly how much experience you have riding.  Evidently it only takes 1000k of riding in the sand and pavement until it becomes an extension of your body.  I've had enough risk-management training to know that this can also be a bad thing so I remained cautious.  Although on the straight portions of road my mind began to wonder away with the roar of the engine.  "I wonder what kind of projects I'll be on at work this coming season..." Then my mind refocuses on the road as a turn approaches.  "I wonder if that girl has been thinking about me as much as I have been thinking about her..."  I guess I should pass this bus.  "Will we ever make it out of Peru..." I better get some speed up for this hill.  "I can't seem to remember how much water expands when it freezes..." Wow the scenery is changing drastically.

As soon as we turned of onto the road to Huaraz, things became barren.  The landscape reminded me of Death Valley in California.  Eventually we went over our first pass with switchbacks.  It was a blast weaving through this paved piece of civilization, which was the only sign of human altercation around. I was slightly afraid that we had taken the wrong road and were going to have to back track, but as soon as we got to the foothills we stopped at a fruit stand and got some food.  For 2 soles (80 cents) we got two mangos, two strange giant bean pods which had this ice cream tasting fleshy stuff inside, and two avacados.  We were eating right next to the stand when the lady working sent a man over to hand us two more avacodos and two more mangos.  For 80 cents it was hard to believe that she was giving us even more food.

We started to climb in altitude and the mountains and green was relieving me of the blandness of the dessert,  This is what I needed, and this is where I belong.  I love the dessert, but I can only spend so long there until I crave the mountains or forests again. The beauty of the mountains comes with a price though, especially on a motorclycle.

Eventually I started to notice that my bike was starting to choke on the thin air.  I stopped a couple times as we rose to make the appropriate adjustments, but my experience with this type of thing is pretty limited.  I got it to where it still had some power, but once we got high enough it just started to put up the mountain.  It also started to rain and get cold.  I had no gloves, since I was coming from a desert town that was 70 degrees year round.  My hands were damn near frost bitten towards then top of the pass.  I stopped multiple times to try to warm them up, but I could only thaw them out so much, just about enough to adjust the carb on my bike.

After about seven hours of riding we got to the top of the pass and could see Huaraz below.  We had almost made it.  Now we just had to coast down from the pass and get to town.  Which with frozen hands we managed to do.  As soon as we got to Huaraz we stopped at Cali Cafe and got some breakfast, at six at night, neither of us had ate anything but fruit all day.

At the Way Inn, I was put back to work, which I had been aching to do something productive.  Me and a fellow from Boston have been building a stone pathway.  It feels good to shake that beach induced laziness that had come over me.

It was raining and I was riding down from the Way Inn.  The road feels more like a rocky river bed then a road.  At points is goes straight down then hairpins along the side of a cliff.  As I ride down the switchbacks I think of the potential dangers (Mom you may want to skip this part):
1. Dogs: At any point a dog is likely to come out of nowhere and try to herd me to the side of the road.  They are herding dogs.  I guess they are just doing their job.  Some people I know just kick them.  I don't have that in me, so I just hit the throttle and out run them.
2. Herds of stock coming off the trails:  Just make sure I watch the side of the road  for cattle, pigs, donkeys, or sheep jumping into the road to cross.
3.Potholes and cliffs:  Don't look behind when outrunning dogs or I may fall into or off of one of these.
There was one thing I hadn't anticipated.

I was riding down and a kid ran across the road behind me.  I went around a switchback and he appears again, but this time puts his hand out in front of me.  I stop and he looks soaked and cold.  He comes over and asks for a ride.  On he hops and I notice he can hardly even touch the foot pegs.  "listo" I ask.  "Si" he responds off we go.  I give him a ride about ten minutes down the road to his adobe house and he hops off.  "They must think us gringos are damn strange" I remember thinking.

On the way back up I came across a small lamb in the middle of the road.  Without even thinking about it I rode behind it.  It ran to the opposite side of the road and I suddenly noticed a rope rise across the dirt and rock filled road.  I didn't even have a chance to hit the breaks.   Luckily though, it was a lamb not a donkey or pig, and the rope that it was tied to was thin.  The rope got caught underneath my handle bars and broke.  I guess I will add this one to the list of hazards.

Lately I have just been hanging out in the mountains working and getting goofy at the Hoff and the Way.  In a week me and Justin are planning on making a trip to Ecuador and stopping in Huanchaco.  I promise myself that no matter what I will only be in Huanchaco for a night or two.   

 

Murphy's Law (from about two weeks ago)

If it can go wrong, it will.... and it will take a long time after for it to go (at all).

So after my last flat I have been a little less keen on riding way out in the middle of the dessert alone with out the necessary tools to fix a flat if I get one.  I was lucky last time that my tire went flat right on the edge of town before my friends hostel, instead of in the middle of nowhere.  Many of my rides have been with friends just a little ways out or just around town.

Last weekend there was a big salsa party here in Huanchaco that I went to with a bunch of Peruvian and Gringo friends.  As it turned out we were the only gringos there and had front and center stage.  Most of the locals were getting a kick out of us, but some didn't seem to like our presence as much.  Anyways, the next day I was feeling quite the hangover and pretty out of it when Ronato, the surf instructor here, came and told me someone from the Honda dealership was here.  It was Jose the salesman who sold us our bikes.  He looked down and saw I wasn't wearing shoes and said something to the affect of me needing shoes and get my bike and Justin and lets go.  Damn, this is just what I need right now I thought.  Reluctantly, I grabbed Justin and some shoes and got on my bike and followed him, he had said something about wanting to go for a ride a few days ago but I didn't take him very seriously.  We drove a few blocks down the road and there was the rest of the people from Honda and a few others.  They handed us Honda t-shirts told us to put them on and said we we road took some photos with us and  then we road out to the edge of town.  I have to admit I felt a little dorky and thought that this looked pretty ridiculous.  Once we got out of town a little ways I felt my front tire going flat.  Not even 250ks and my I've had two flat tires already.  Luckily there was a truck with us so we loaded it into the back of to the truck and I rode back with them.  They took it back to the dealership and then said our plates and SOAT would be in by Tuesday.  Finally we will be free from this place.

Tuesday I got up early and headed out to the dealership to get my bike and all the other things we have been waiting forever for.  The bus ride took forever because there was a street that was closed.  By the time I got there it had started to rain.  I hadn't really seen any real rain here yet.  Of all the days for it to rain it had to pick the day for I had to ride back to Huanchaco.  We got to the dealership and I finagled my way into having him fix my tire, which he said would be done until later.  This is the moment I realized you have to be firm in Peru if you want something to get done on time.  They closed down in the middle of the day and said we had to come back later for Justin to get his first maintenance and for us to receive everything else.

When we returned after lunch it had started raining even harder and some of the streets were flooded.  I didn't even bring any rain gear.  The finished the maintenance on Justin's bike and then said we could go now.  What about the plates and SOAT I asked.  They said that will take eight more days.  I'm not sure I understand how they though it would be better if they lied and told us it would be sooner.

Okay... so I will ride back through the city, in the rain, illegally, with no rain gear, and no clue where I am going.   I got on the bike and, due to the street being closed, I instantly became lost, and soaked.  This is really a steep learning curve.  I ended up in the Plaza de Armas (city center) and just found myself randomly taking turns.  It didn't take long for me to get the hang of driving around in traffic, although some of the streets were pretty flooded, which made the whole experience even more interesting.  After probably about a half an hour of riding around aimlessly, I saw a Huanchaco bus heading in the opposite direction.  I whipped a U-turn and began to follow it.  Good thing it was a fast bus driver otherwise this would be painfully slow ride.  I managed to keep up with him until we got to the road to Huanchaco and At one point I followed him down a one-way road.  Finally, I followed him to the mall, which was on the road to Huanchaco, and then passed him and continued on.

A few Kilometers down the way I saw a police officer sitting on the side of the road.  This is going to be fun.  Sure enough he pulled me over.  "Documentos" was the first thing the he said.  I handed him over everything and told him I only speak a little Spanish and that plates and SOAT were in processing.  After about five minutes of him saying "no SOAT", they got bored and moved on to a different subject.  They were trying to get me to buy them gas.  Half because I was sure I was misunderstanding him, I told him "no voy a compar ti tu gasolina", which I am pretty sure means I am not going to buy your gasoline.  Then I think he said lets go to the police station and he drove away.  Down the road at the security checkpoint there were even more police stopping just about everyone.  I handed him my documents and then he asked what I do for work.  I told him I worked for the United States Government and he handed me my papers back started whistling and waved me on.  I rode about 10 meters through the gate and immediately got waved to the side of the road again.  "Documents"  he said, I handed them over again and then another cop called him over where there was a scooter pulled over.  He ran over said something to him, came back handed me my documents, and then hopped on the back of the guys scooter and left.  His friend then told me to put on my helmet and then I left.  Okay Peru, I see how this works.

 

The Break In.

As soon as I hopped on the bike in front of the store in Trujillo my hands began to shake a little bit.  I admit I was a little nervous about riding a bike in a country that has a completely different driving style then I had ever driven in.  It must have been obvious to the salesmen and mechanics, who were all out front watching the two crazy gringos in excitement.   Off we went.  After about three blocks I realized that it wasn't really all that bad, well at least its wasn't that bad yet.  Following Justin's bike, who had the salesman with him was certainally adding some confidence, and weaving in and out of traffic added to the confidence quickly.  It's amazing what a little confidence does as I was completely comfortable with it within about five minutes, crazy traffic circles (round-a-bouts) and all.

 Now I was getting nervous about something else: el policia.  No queiro problemas con la policia!  We had no license plates and had to pass through a security check point on the way to Huanchaco, which is why the salesman came with us.  We had money for a bribe, which is the common practice in Peru if pulled over, and were also pretty sure that it was legal to ride them right now, but we weren't sure as our Spanish skills and Google translate we used at the dealership wasn't good enough to quite figure that part out.  We passed one group of police randomly waving people on in the road and the didn't seem to care much.  Well okay, lets see what happens at the checkpoint a few kilometers down the road.  We got closer and and began to slow down through it we went and..... they didn't even look twice at it.  No tuvimos problemas con la policia!  In the states we wouldn't have made it four blocks without plates.  Here they don't even care it seems, which explains the way they drive here.  So we pulled up to the hostel right as the sun was setting both in disbelief that we had just purchased motorcycles in Peru.

Now our second problem is how we are going to break them in.  We need to put 500k on them so we can take them in for there first service.  Without plates yet this is a little nerve-wracking.  After talking to some locals we found out to just put cardboard on the back of the bike saying placas en tramite, which means plates in processing.  And after talking to a friend who toured around on one he said to just ask if you can pay the "fine" now and flash a 20 soles bill in front of him.  In the US you would go to jail for that, but here in Peru that is the way, I mean they do make police pay for their own gas.

Still I am a little nervous about riding so we have been taking rides to down a desolate desert road that follows the beach.  I have to say it is pretty zen riding through a barren desert wasteland with the ocean right there, especially as the sun sets.  After the road veers away from abandoned adobe buildings and the beach.  It suddenly becomes fields of sugarcane (I think) and veers away from the ocean.  Eventually, I started to see more and more mototaxi's and was suspecting that we were getting closer to a town and we were which consisted of a traffic circle and some adobe slums.

Another thing about Peruvian small towns is a one-way street is just a suggestion.  We passed policia while going up one (without plates), and he did nothing at all but give us that "what are these crazy gringos doing here look".  We also saw three utility workers two on bike and one on horse right after.  I am very excited to see more of this side of Peru that most travelers don't get to see.

Today we went to Trujillo to drop some stuff of at the Honda dealership and pick-up some supplies, such as spare tubes, tire levers and what not.  My poor Spanish speaking abilities were getting pushed to the limits and I was getting pretty mentally burned-out.  In frustration I returned to Huanchaco to fine that two friends had showed up from Huaraz and just happened to be at the hostel.  I talked to them for a bit and then decided it was time for a ride.  So off I went and as soon as I was getting towards the end of town I felt my back end getting squirrelly.  Sure enough, I already got a flat.  I got off the bike and began to push it towards the the other side of town where I knew there was a mechanic.  In the mid day heat this was the last thing I wanted to do, well second to last, being forced into another Spanish conversation that was probably the last.  After making it a few blocks a few Peruvians sitting out front of a restaurant one asked "que paso".  I had no idea how to explain so I turned the back of the bike towards them and pointed.  This must look ridiculous  Travelling has its humbling moments for sure.  He tried to explain directions to me, but my lacking knowledge of prepositions left me lost.  So he just ended up walking me up to the place.  There was some construction going on and kids playing out front but no mechanic in sight.  Okay, so if he was going to rob me he wouldn't do it in front of all these kids... I hope.  He ran into a building and came out and said a bunch of stuff really fast that I couldn't understand and then left.  So I was left standing there with my bike.  Finally this shady looking old man stepped out and silently began gathering tools.  He began taking the wheel off and I started to help the guy building cut rebar.  If he is going to be using a grinder right next to us I might as well help.

Eventually he finished patching it and put the tire back on the wheel.  When he was finished assembling the tensioners  he quickly took the wheel back of then threw it in the mototaxi, looked at me and smiled and then hopped in.  I jumped in front of him and stopped him.  "Que pasa, que pasa!"  He got out angrily and put the wheel on his table and said something about frio frio blancha aire, which means cold and air and something else.  I made him take the tube off and leave with just that.  He came back in about ten minutes with a inflated tube and quickly reassembled everything.  Gringo paranoia and inept Spanish, two big problems.  "Cuanto es" I asked, he grinned and said cinco soles.  That whole thing just cost me two dollars when he could of charged me whatever and this whole time I was worried about getting robbed.

I rode back home and scheduled Spanish lessons.

Today I took a Finnish friend for a ride down the road and then explored some slums and climbed up a little hill for a view of Huanchaco.  We passed a checkpoint on the way.  I guess they close the gate and keep it on lock down at night time.  These pictures are from the ride today.  I am getting damn bored sitting around here waiting for these plates.  Excited for the surf competition to end that is being held here so I can get back in the water.

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Finding First Gear

So I bought a bike... and started a blog!

I guess I should start with saying I have met plenty of people who have done this, which is where the inspiration to do this came from.  So before you say I'm crazy, know that I am crazy, but safe.  Believe me my driving is much more safe then the typical Peruvian bus driver.  So that's my disclaimer.

So up in Huaraz when I was staying up at The Way I started to ride moto's (being trucks or bikes) and realized that riding a motorcycle would be the ideal way of travelling through South America.  Justin, my crazy Aussie friend, thought the same thing.  We talked about potentially buying bikes and riding up to Colombia, but I figured it would never actually happen.  So I left Huaraz with the possibility of meeting Justin in Huanchaco.  After meeting a girl in Lima telling her this plan and her asking me why I didn't think it was going to happen I responded "oh, I come up with these crazy ideas all the time, they never happen".  She told me I had to do it, I had to make one of these crazy ideas work and this is the perfect opportunity to do so.  After thinking about it, I realized she was right, I have to do this.

So to Huanchaco I went and spent the days surfing and lounging around dreaming about life on a bike and then bam... Justin randomly showed up one morning from Huaraz and we made plans to go to Trujillo the next day and look for bikes.  If it wasn't for this crazy Aussie I probably would of never been able to pull this off and it certainally isn't because of his bad Spanish speaking skills, but more because of having someone to laugh at the ridiculousness of trying to buy a bike in a foreign language that you can hardly say you speak.

So we took a combi to Trujillo and got off as soon as wee saw a Honda dealership.  I walked in and saw a xr125 pointed and asked, "caunto es?"  Justin walked up and saw a xr 250 and did the same.  Then it took about four hours of using google translate going back and forth trying to figure out what each other were saying and we had bikes, but no plates.  Off to Huanchaco we went.  I have to admit I was a little nervous riding back, but soon found out that one learns how to ride in Peru quickly.

We are currently waiting for our plates in Huanchaco, which should take ten days since we talked the manager into it.  I am pretty sure he is just going to offer a bribe to speed up the process.  When we went back today they said they wanted to take a picture of us with our bike when we bring them in to hang on the wall.