Done with Peru

I left Huanchaco on what would turn out to be about an eight and a half hour ride through some of the most boring country that has ever been discovered by man.  If it hadn’t been for the abundant garbage along side the road to distract me, I think I would have gone mad in the never ending sand dune landscape.  Plus, much of the countryside seemed to be on fire.  The only things of interest to me along the entire trip from Huanchaco to Mancora were the little villages that sold homemade honey.  But, honey does not travel well on a motorcycle, so that didn’t really help.  Truth be told, I didn’t take many pictures because I was so sick of the place all I wanted to do was get to Mancora.  Peru, it turns out, is a pretty big country and it takes a long time to cross.  For other travelers, I’d recommend a jet.  Or something much faster than a KLR.

Along the way, I pulled into a gas station to fill up.  When done, I pushed the KLR off to the side to check my chain.  I sprayed a bit of the crappy general purpose spray lubricant on the chain (the best stuff I could find in Bolivia or Peru) and was wiping it down when to my horror, I found that the master link clip was missing missing.  To those of you unfamiliar with motorcycles, this was a very bad thing.  The master link clip holds the chain together  and had the chain come apart on the highway, the result could have been quite bad.  I was able to put on a spare that I was fortunately carrying, fixing the problem.  When done, I shook my head a bit, said a quick prayer and hoped that this would not happen again.  Plus, I stopped about five times in the next hundred miles to check the chain.

Later, I stopped at the larger town of Chiclayo because I was running a bit short on Soles.  I spied an ATM machine and pulled over amid a sea of miniature taxis.  I got my cash and spent a bit of time answering the standard moto questions for a local businessman.  How many cylinders?  How many cc’s is the engine.  Where are you going?  Where are you coming from?  You are going all the way to California?  How much did your motorcycle cost?  Is that a GPS?  Are you traveling solo?  Etc.  After I finished answering all these questions, a seemingly friendly gaggle of about 20 people formed around me and the motorcycle.  Fortunately, my new Peruvian friend took great pleasure in explaining to the crowd all the aforementioned questions.  With so many people around me, many of whom where poking at my stuff, I was a bit thrilled and nervous at the same time.  So, I shook the hand of everyone nearby and was on my way with a horn honk, which was much appreciated by the locals (given my super loud aftermarket horn).  It was a very odd experience to be surrounded by a mob of people, like some sort of celebrity.  Flattering, but overwhelming.

I stopped about an hour later to fill up the tank and met two Argentinian motorcycle riders.  One was on a new BMW 1200 GS and the other was on a Honda Goldwing.  They had flown to Florida, bought the motorcycles, ridden to Alaska and were on their way back to Argentina.  The somewhat heavier guy riding the Goldwing was sitting in the grass, with a very sad look on his face.  His friend pointed to a puddle below the front forks and told me that his fork seals had gone out.  Having something like this happening in northern Peru would be a disaster.  There just aren’t any stores selling parts for big motorcycles, much less a Goldwing.  Plus, shipping parts there could be a lengthy process, with high import duties and no certainty of arrival.  I felt awful for the guy and hope they got the mess sorted out.

As I had pulled up to the gas station, I noticed that my chain was making more noise than normal.  At this point, I had about 12,000 miles on the chain and wasn’t feeling overly confident about its future life expectancy.  The chain’s tension was uneven and some of the links were not rolling as smoothly as they should.  Also, I was having to adjust it every couple days, to take out the excess slack.  Even more, I was fairly convinced that the spray I had been using was too light, really not appropriate for a motorcycle chain and was making things worse instead of better.  So, I tossed it in the bin and put a good amount of motor oil on a rag and wiped the chain down.  This seemed to help quite a bit and the chain was much quieter for the rest of the day.  At this point, I was keeping my fingers crossed that the chain would make it to Cali, Columbia where I planned to get it replaced.

After dealing with the chain, I settled into auto pilot mode and ground out the remaining miles to Mancora.  I was a little confused as I pulled into town.  I found a long row of restaurants, shops and dingy lodging, but couldn’t get a view of the beach.  Also, I couldn’t remember the name of the place my friends Holly and Mark were staying.  So, I found an internet cafe, got the name of the hostel and pretty quickly found my way to the hostel.  Wow, what a nice change.  It was warm, not foggy and the beach was only a stones throw away.

Ten years ago, Mancora was a fishing village of 2,000.  Now, on account of its fantastic beach, warm water, great weather and good surf, it has become a bit of a tourist town and party mecca for (wealthy) Peruvians and the international backpacker set.  Mancora has a good amount of lodging, loads of restaurants and during the day, the beach is fantastic.  But, given the poverty in the area, the crime level is pretty high.  While I was there, I heard of three girls who were relieved of their iPods while running on the beach, in the morning.  At night, it is recommended that one stay clear of the beach and take one of the plentiful three wheeled moto taxis to and from destinations.

I really enjoyed being on the nice beach and loved the warm water.  Even better, I enjoyed being around familiar faces.  I’ve now met up with my friend Holly in Mancora, as well as Las Grutas, Ushuaia, and Mendoza, Argentina.  Plus, I ran into a friend named Sam, that I had met a while back in Mendoza.  I also saw Ruth and Giles, two people I had hiked with in Torres del Paine at a restaurant in town.  The next day, I rented the biggest long board I could find, on account of the small waves and had a great time in the warm water.  That night, a bunch of us got together, put a good dent in the town’s beer supply and watched the sun rise.  I spent my next day scratching mosquito bites, eating tons of good food, swimming in the ocean and lounging around.  It was a good town to spend a couple of days in and I was sad to leave.  But, as the story of my life currently goes, I was a bit short on time.

The next day, I left fairly early in the morning for Ecuador.  It was warm and increasingly scenic as I made my way north.  I passed a number of small fishing villages, a very odd accident and a number of simple little villages.  I made my way through the border without any issues, aside from the suffocating heat.  I was happy to be on my way north.  As for the picture of the crashed truck below, I included this because it is a standard roadside sight in Peru.  Somehow, this poor fellow managed to crash into some type of steel works that was erected above the highway.   Please note that the road was of good condition, flat and very straight in this area.  Drivers operate these overloaded, poorly maintained trucks like maniacs and this is unfortunately what happens from time to time.  Choose your bus wisely in Peru.