Hello all! Its been a little while since we´ve been in touch. Tom and I are on a quick stopover in a small town in Peru called Santa, which lies about 100 miles south of Trujillo along the Pacific coast. This charming hamlet is only 15 miles from the largest fish processing plant in the world (the holder of this distinction is determined not by size, but by smell). Luckily, the trucks and buses that cruise the road adjacent to the city contribute enough dust and pollution to overpower any fish stink that may stray this direction. The centerpiece of this little slice of heaven seems to be the gas station, as those were the only lights that didn´t go black when the power went down several hours ago. We were forced to park our bikes by candlelight in a huge empty garage that is fit to be used as the setting for a hollywood slasher flick. The halls of the adjoining hotel are decorated with posters of a variety of topless models, although their purchaser seems to have a taste for short brunettes. As we left the hotel to find dinner, the hotel´s operator (and probable decorator) warned us that the area was a little dangerous. Luckily for us I brought my trusty Kyrgyz switchblade along, although I must admit that the number of "fight-until-someone-is-bleeding-to-death" type battles that I have been involved in during my life is less than 20. Okay, maybe less than 10. But don´t tell that to the guy at the next computer who has that evil look in his eye...
In Panama last week we finally managed to load the bikes onto a plane bound for Ecuador. AND THEY DID IT FOR FREE!! Hah. Not even close. Tom and I beat the bikes to Ecuador by a couple days, so we spent our free time getting a haircut. The salon offered cuts for $1, so we splurged and each got one. In addition to the normal sample haircut photos they usually have at salons, this one also provided sample photos of Jean Claude Van Dam circa Bloodsport, pop superstar Christina Aguilera, Governor Schwartzennegar in his Oscar-nominated performance from 1985´s "Commando", and crucified Jesus. I love Van Dam.
We knew the bikes were to make it to Quito last Wednesday, although beyond that we had no idea how we were to go about getting our steeds back between our loving legs. After finding the office of the airline (camoflauged as a house), we realized that we would be forced to hire a broker to get our bikes released from the black hole of Ecuadorian customs. I won´t chronicle the ensuing eight-hour orgy of paperwork that devoured the rest of our Wednesday. Suffice it say that, even though he may be in this staunchly Catholic country and armed with every stamp and signature that man or deity can obtain, Jesus Christ himself would have a hell of a time getting his healing hands on his Holy Harley without the aid of a broker. So we sat back .... waited .... waited some more .... paid a small bribe ... and rode off into the Ecuadorian sunset.
The road from Quito went south through a stretch known as "Volcano Alley". Along this route, snow-capped peaks punctuated a landscape of steep hills and harvest-awaiting crops. We spent a day driving along winding roads through this spectacular setting, stopping at a local market and cruising through indigenous communities. The local children were adorable, dressed in little shawls, hats and boots, and we had a great time indulging both their and our photographic desires. That evening we arrived late into the city of Ambota. After criss-crossing the downtown in search of lodging, we learned that there were only three hotels in the "centro", which was probably responsible for the ridiculously high prices we had found. I may pay $25 to fill up my tank for a day of riding (sometimes fill it twice), but I for damn sure will not pay $12 to be unconscious, especilly in Ecuador. Tom and I got some directions and headed to the cheap(skate?) part of town. From the main road, a sign for the Hotel Mary beckoned to us. We obeyed.
A knock on the steel-gated window of the Hotel Mary was promptly answered by a middle-aged man. "Sir, do you have a room available? Yes, for the whole night. You have to check? Okay." Five minutes later we hear a click-click coming from inside the window. "Is that a walker?" Indeed it was. Was this the hotel´s namesake? Tom again requests a room. Ancient Mary gives Tom the staredown, then offers me the same treatment. "They´re all occupied." Hmmmm. I didn´t see any people. But it was clear we were supposed to leave. A few minutes later Tom and I are conversing with a nearby welder, who has let me use his hacksaw to cut down my bent brake lever. He laughs when we mention the episode at the Hotel Mary. The welder informs us that Mary is a place where you rent rooms by the hour. The old lady must have come down, had a look at the size of the two of us, and figured there was no way her antiquated bedframe could survive an hour-long romatic tryst between the two of us behemoths, much less a night-long binge session. And honestly Mary, I think I would be tempted to agree with you.
The next morning we set out for the town of Baños, where a neighboring volcano had erupted two weeks earlier. We had heard tales of ash piled two feet high in the steets and an air clogged with volcanic gasses. So of course we had to check it out. Although not quite the apolcalyptic scene that I had been expecting, it still was interesting to see a stretch of road completely destroyed by a lava flow. The citizens of the town were just beginning to return, and the shovels were in action making piles of ash along the street. We had a quick dip in the hot springs and headed toward Peru.
The next day was a miserable blur, as I was sacked with a 24-hour bug that brought a little bit of everything and a whole lot of somethings. I stumbled along through what would have been a beautiful drive through the southern Ecuadorian highlands. Tom said it was his favorite ride of the trip. I would have preferred to have been dead. Luckily my affliction dispersed as quicly as it had arrived, and by the time we reached Peru I was able to undertake my document chasing duties. As I was filling out some form or another, Tom was watching the bikes and chatting with passers-by. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a guilty countenance slinking away. He looked more closely, and saw his Camelback backpack strolling away as well. A few seconds later the middle-aged thief headed down an alley and Tom gave chase. As he reached the alley, Tom bellowed in his most threatening "I´m-6-foot-3-and-you-sure-are-not" voice "SEÑOR!!!" The thief made the correct decision: dropping the pack and running. And its not as if the pack was any sort of treasure trove. What would the guy have done with a liter of stale backwashed water, hand sanitizer, a russian novel, and a South American guidebook? Enjoy.
We´ve spent the last two days crossing a giant desert in northern Peru. In some places the sand stretches as flat as the ocean for as far as the eye can see. In others, 30-foot dunes tower over the road. Waves of sand trickle down onto the pavement, forcing you to keep a watchful eye at all times. For the first time in a long time, the roads are long and straight. I´ve become so relaxed on the bike that unless there is something to swerve around, my attention wanes. Yesterday I almost fell asleep on the bike, and not for the first time. I don´t think I have to delve into the afteraffects of taking a brief nap at 75 miles per hour.
Tomorrow we head east; away from the coast and into the mountains. We are taking a partially-paved backroad for two days that meanders between Peru´s Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Negra ranges. The views should be fantastic, as the road spends the majority of its time above 15,000 feet. The summit of Huascaron (the highest in Peru at some 6700 meters) will be constantly in view. We´ve readied our electric fleeces that plug into our motorcycle batteries and put every liner we have into its proper place. Its going to be brisk. The altitude will push the limits of these KLRs, but the drive should be amazing. After we get back to sea level, we will skirt Lima and make a two day drive into the mountains again to get to the old Incan capital of Cuzco. Here we will meet our friends Nick and Jason who are now trekking in the region, and together we will explore the ruins at Macchu Picchu. And that night, good times will be had by all.
-Nate
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| Manifest - 9/4/06 |
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