Since I last posted all was rosie and well, Kev and I were off to ride some serious dirt roads all the way to Cuzco...
So off we set in the morning riding up some steep mountains on tarmac with tight turns. Every so often, with me at the front I was looking in my mirrors to see if all was well, then after one corner I look and see nothing behind me. Clearly there was nowhere to go so the answer to Kev's disappearance was obvious. With slight panic I spin the bike round and ride back to the last corner. Thankfully for Kev, and for my bloody pressure I see him standing up walking out of the verge. Yes, Kev crashed, and crashed quite hard at (we recon) around 50 mph! We really were in the back of beyond so it is SO SO fortunate that he was not seriously hurt. The last thing I needed was wounded Irishman slumped over the back of my bike for 2 hrs while I ride to the nearest witch doctor (my suspension really couldn't have handled it!)
Apart from a few cuts and bruises he was walking. This, however is more than can be said for the BMW. It was looking pretty trashed, with the front end taking most of the force. After a few hours of duck-taping bits together we haul the bike out of the ditch but it doesn't start. This is a serious problem as BMWs are stupidly complicated. It ends up that they have some sensor at the front, that if it takes a hard knock, it stops the bike from working what so ever. So we are stuck.
After much Sat. phone use (lucky I have it hey) we get absolutely nowhere. BMW are useless, but we work out there is no dealership for a very long way. In fact another country! And this particular BMW prob. needs of course a special touch from only a BMW dealership. I hate to say it, eeer actually no I don't, KLR wins over once again. Simple is good.
After a lot of head scratching and fiddling and a total lack of luck in trying to stop the odd passing truck Kev gets the bike started! Incredible I cry, as we promptly leave to head back towards civilization (hence why I have not done the dirt tracks I intended)
After about 100 plus miles we need fuel so we stop at a station. Fill up I start up, off I roll, and Kev, well he stays put. Bugger, I turn back round to find out the bike is totally dead. After a lot of waiting and thinking I finally head off in the dark to the next hamlet where the local patriarch has a Toyota Hilux. After much begging I manage to get half the village out to help. They load the bike up and drive it to the local main town Jaen. This is where me and Kev must part company. I make sure he gets the bike on a truck to Lima the next day, from there who knows but it looks like Quito is the nearest place with a dealership (500 miles away at least, plus international border) So without the time to spare off I head, solo once again.
With my route totally changed I have some thinking to do. I am forced to ride to the coastal road where I decide I shall go and visit Huaraz in the high Andes. That night I am forced to stay in some nasty little town, so I check in to a Hostel and sleep. In the morning I have one of those moments of realization inspired by a flea sitting on my arm looking at me. Yes would you believe it! I splash out $10 for a nice bed, and am woken up by a big brown flea checking if its safe to plunge his fangs into me. Urgh! This however was an important stage to get me back to camping alone after the money no kill incident. Why, I ask myself should I pay $10 to become infested when I can pay nothing and be without parasites in my tent? Exactly, back to camping it is.
That same night I'm sitting on my flea pit when I first think my guts are grumbling at the thought of another chicken foot soup. Then I realize not even my guys are that powerful... Instead its a bloody earthquake! Honestly do I have bad luck or what, first a flea then an earthquake! By the time Ive run around the room 3 times deciding what to do the tremor has stopped. It was about then that I realized I probably should have got out of the building 1 minute ago.
The next day I shower the fleas off me in the super modern electric shower, which happens to electrocute me every time I try to turn it off (so I left it running) and off I go. I reach the main road to Huarez from the North. By a main road I mean it consists of a faint line on my map. This road is awful, but at the same time great. The riding is tough but great fun and the scenery was amazing. There was me riding on a single lane dirt track with deep ruts, 1 foot to the right of me is a 600 meter sheer drop. This is all well and good until a car comes tearing along the other way. You just have to hope it happens when there is a passing spot.
After 4 hours (about 50 miles) I finally reach Huarez where I intent to treat myself to a spot of rock climbing. On the way down this dirt track I have never until now met so many suicidal dogs. I must have counted around 60 dogs attempting to throw themselves in front of the bike. In fact I lie slightly, as I think their aim was to bite a chunk out of my leg, but every time they miss and end up getting clobbered by the bike or if they are really lucky my boot. To top this off the locals were nothing shy of plain nasty. Some horrid little girl had the cheek to chuck a papaya at me. Personally I would have preferred it if she gave it to me as I was hungry, but instead it flew past my left ear and hit the grass. Apart from that there were lots of locals shouting `gringo´at me. Although I wanted to, I decided it really want worth the hassle of trying to explain the origin of the term Gringo, and explain that I am English not American. And in any case if I had stopped I only would have been pelted by more papayas.
When I arrived in Huarez feeling rather despondent about the local population, I thought to myself, well at least I have the climbing to look forward to. I went into a shop to sort it out. They told me it was too wet, come back in 4 months when it stops raining. Enough said, I leave Huarez by the main road.
As it got dark I rode up a track to find a place to camp (without fleas) I ride into someones field at the front of a mud hut, met by of course 4 more suicidal dogs throwing themselves at the bike. After they tire the owner comes out. What a great guy. He gladly lets me camp outside his house, and even offers me to sleep inside, although I decline. To top it off he invites me in for supper and for breakfast the next day into his mud and poo hut along with the whole family. Now that is what I call a real local experience. This man re-instilled my faith in the locals and I left really glad I had asked to camp there.
The next day was a real pain in the arse. I was forced to ride some of the infamous coastal road towards Nasca and finally the junction to Cuzco. Now I had heard tales of the cops being bad but that is an understatement. They were terrible, the worst I have ever experienced. Firstly I must note the sods didn't get a penny out of me. They can sense a tight arse when they see one. I was prepared to do jail time rather than leaf over a dollar!
So in about 1 hour I get stopped 4 times. Each time they try to accuse you of speeding even though they don't have speed guns and are in fact normally reading the paper when you appear round the corner. So the first two times was OK. After I told them I knew the speed limits (stupidly slow at 35 kph on empty straights) The first one only wanted to chat and get a photo together. The second one tried to get me on my paperwork but the false license worked a treat for the first of a few times that day. (I have lost my IDP and my real driving licence) The third one was a joke. He pulled me over even though I knew I was doing 35. He then acted all nice and introduced himself as Franko (self modeled on the dictator I think) He then checked all my paperwork, then after 20 mins began pointed to my speedo saying how easy it was to speed but i needed to pay. The weaselly piggy eyed Franko then calls his pal over who tells me to give him money. I bluntly refuse then telling him I was not speeding. After another 15 mins of this he knows it wont stick so he starts saying give me money for food, as he sups on a coke and chews on a chicken claw. No chance is my reply, but I say I have something for him. His face lights up as I reach into my tank bag and pull out a sticker. At this point he realizes he is getting nothing and lets me go.
Ten mins later and the last one trys it on. He pulls me over saying I was speeding. I tell him I wasn't and I know the speed limit, he then goes, no not here, my colleague was on the radio saying I was speeding earlier in a eeeerrr, he pauses while he looks at the bike, the begins again.... a eeer red bike. Thats it I have enough by this stage, I get off my bike and began telling the policeman off for being corrupt and a bad person. Never in my life did I think I would get the chance to reprimand a cop. To top it off he then apologizes for being corrupt, says I can go, and before I ride off I tell him I'm sick of being stopped, and he tells me he will radio ahead and tell them to leave me alone! Would you believe it, and I didn't get stopped by a single once the whole rest of the way. Victory to the tourist!
After I negotiated Lima which looked like a hell hole I got far enough out to camp. The whole of the coast line in North and central Peru is just desert. Almost a Martian feel to it. Initially its quite cool, but after you get sick of sand, straight roads and the immensely strong wind you really have had enough. I ended up riding off into the dunes by the coast and camped in an amazing spot right by the cliff edge down to the pacific. Really amazing, and no one robbed me for the second night running.
Yesterday I rode hard all day towards Cuzco. I went passed the Nasca lines so gave them a look. Still a bit suss that the government have paid an old man with a rake to doodle in the sand, but I was assured by the locals they were real. In fact they do look quite cool, but I could only afford to see them from a tower by the road instead of by plane, but it suited me fine. At the same time I also met another rider going North on an Africa Twin. Nice guy, hope you make it to Colombia if you're reading this. I also had one very scary moment where I missed hitting a llama thing buy the skin of my teeth at 65mph. The stupid thing ran straight out in front of me. It was pure luck that I dont have to add the llama and myself to the road kill count!
In the evening I had yet another great night camping, this time at 4100 meters. By god its cold that high up but the scenery was really great. I'm defo getting back into camping and adjusting to life on my own once again.Not too much else to report apart from loads of suicidal dogs. I am now in Cuzco which is full of tourists! I'm off to see what this waffle about ruins on a hill are all about in a few days (Machu Pichu or something like that) I assure you all that I shall be riding or walking as far as humanly possible as the prices are truly extortionate to get up there. In the mean time more bike service is needed as it seems to be burning a bit too much oil right now.
Sorry it was a dull report but I cant be robbed, fall off or be disappointed at something every time I write... Or can I?
Oh and Kev. I hope you get the beast repaired. All will be good, just be thankful I'm not practicing my sowing techniques to put your leg back on.... Luck of the Irish my arse!
Oh and finally Mr Briggs, you too have earned yourself a free mystery gift for your dontaion. Im leaning towards a cursed goats bladder, or something along those lines. Brace yourself.
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