Pisco (Pes' Co)

A final word about Lima KTM.  I know there are different experiences people have with services and a lot has to do with expectations and communication.  We didn’t know what to expect when we went to Lima KTM having read about experiences from several different sources.  All I can say is that I am glad that Lima KTM, and in particular, Jesus didn’t charge us for every hour they actually spent helping us, first with the service on the KTM’s and then trying to find a decent hotel  in the area. 

I highly recommend stopping in at the KTM dealership in Lima if there is anything you need done while on your adventure.  Here is Jesus with my “Pretty”, clean and good as new Dakar. 

After leaving the hotel and having a small adventure on it’s own with the Taxi cab driver, we arrived at the KTM shop.  The Taxi cab driver didn’t seem to want to take directions from the two gringo’s in the back seat and we got to see some parts of Lima we did not expect to see. 

When we got into the KTM shop, the bikes were ready, the bill was ready, we made payment, got our stuff packed and we were on our way, in about an hour.  Leaving Lima wasn’t that big of a hassle either.  Drove down the main road in front of the shop, made a right onto the freeway, dodging taxi’s, trucks and motorbikes and out of town we went.  I am still struck by the desert sense from riding down the coastal highway. 

There does also seem to be these places where for random reasons something has broken down.  I don’t know what happened here, but it seems the trailer just lost a set of trucks.  I worry sometimes that this will happen right in front of me.

We are in Pisco now, and made arrangements to see the Nazca Lines tomorrow from the air.  Some of you may be aware that you really can’t get a sense of what these lines are unless you view them from the air.  There are also theories about aliens visiting earth in ancient times and leaving these lines for others to follow.  We will see them tomorrow, and will “phone home” if we are abducted.   

Lima

The next morning we woke and Max was in front to help us with breakfast.  We must of misunderstood about breakfast because we thought it was included, however as we left the clerk came out to ask for payment for Daysenuno.  12 Sol or about $5.  No big deal.

The ride to Lima was uneventful, except to say, it was surprisingly cold, it was about 65 F.  For being on or near sea level, near the equator, we ended up having to put on more layers to ward off the cold.

People here work very hard and are tolerate of conditions that we in the US probably would not understand.  Here is a taxi that pulled up as we were sitting having a coke.  The person in red just got out of the back, paid the driver and one of the others is actually climbing back in.  There had to be 5 or 6 people packed into the back of this very small vehicle.

Lima is a very large city, I was told there are 20 million people in the metropolitan city.  There are no real freeways like we know.  There are roads with lights and intersections but it doesn’t flow like our freeways.  There are also toll booths.  Motorcycles get through free but you have to be in the right hand lane; which usually meant we had to cross four or five lanes of traffic, mostly trucks, bumper to bumper.  We would weave at walking pace in front of cars, trucks, whatever to get right then have to get back across traffic to get left again. 

When you came to a light, it is apparently ok to turn from any lane.   You must watch out if you were going straight, anyone could turn in front of you.  We had put the location of the KTM dealer in the GPS and followed the direction.  The location that KTM lists in their web site is wrong,  it shows it in the 2600 block of Av. Separadora Industrial where the location is actually closer to the city in the 600 block.(gps S12’ 4.300” and W76’ 59.125”).  We don’t have a cell phone so we couldn’t call.  Eventually we stopped and talked to a woman who looked like she might speak English.  She was so helpful, even though she was having an open house for her business.  She called KTM, got the address, gave us maps, and directions to lights to cross the freeway. 

We finally made it to KTM, and met Jesus Parades Cantreras manager of marketing at the KTM shop. 

The building is huge, bigger than anything I have seen in the states for any dealer.  He gave us a quick rundown of what was needed asked us if there was anything else then began helping us find a hotel.  It turned out that there were no available rooms for the evening so Jesus took us around to look at Hostels, which we picked from and then helped us the following day to find a better hotel.  Thanks Jesus for your real southern Hospitality.

I just got a note from Jesus who said it was 631 Sols for repair or about $233 per bike.  I am pretty sure we could not have had seals replaced with parts and labor in the US for that price.

Now we plan for our escape from Lima tomorrow.

Nuevo Chimbote (Chim' bow tee)

The road leading from Cajamarca was excellent asphalt, as good as any in the US.  Folks who ride sports bikes would just love the accent and decent from Cajamarca.  Nothing is straight, miles and miles of up, down, left and right.  It was fun.  Probably 30 or 40 miles of roads as crooked as the Dragon in Tennessee.  Unfortunately I was having so much fun I forgot to take pictures.

However, when we finally reached the Panamerican highway along the coast it was windy, straight and pretty boring except for watching trucks and cars jockeying for position.

We eventually reached our destination of Nuevo Chimbote (Chim’ bo tee).  I had located a well referenced hotel there, that we put in the GPS.  We turned off the Panamerican where the GPS indicated and drove through what seemed to be a very desperate neighborhood.  We stopped at the Hotel Buenos Aires not knowing what to expect.  There was a guard that opened the door and let us in on the bikes. What we found was much nicer than you could ever expect. 

The rooms were great, the owner (Max) met us and we parked the bikes in the garage.  Didn’t have to take everything off, which was very nice.  The owner’s son (Maximilian) checked us in and ordered a pizza. 

They had some beer in the back room.  Max, Chuck and I talked for hours about everything.  If anyone is looking for a place to stay on the way north from Lima or about a days ride to Lima, I highly recommend the Hotel Buenos Aires in Nuevo Chimbote.

Cajamarca (ka' ha mar ca)

The road from Balza to Celendin (See len din) was supposed to be more of the same that we had encountered from coming down into Balza.  However, other than the climb and switchbacks it was not bad.  However a number of kilometers before we reached Celendin the road turned really rough.  Because of road construction, I think they had just let the road go.  It looked like it had been made with large rocks as a base covered with gravel then sand.  The sand and gravel had long disappeared and what was left was the ends of the large rocks sticking out of the mud.  No way to avoid the rocks.  It was rough. 

By the time we reached Celendin we had decided to stop and clean the bikes.  Mud had lodged into the radiator decreasing the ability to cool.  The fans seemed to run all the time.  We found a car wash and while there someone in the group looking on, noticed that Chuck had a leak from one of his front forks.  We checked the others and all four forks were leaking, two on each bike.  We did some quick checking on the internet and found the nearest KTM dealer with new seals was in Lima.  We changed our plans and decided to spend the night in Cajamarca, and go from there to Lima. 

We had heard the road from Celendin to Cajamarca was asphalt.  That was mostly a lie.  We beat more crap out of the bikes and the clean bikes we started with in Celendin was now again packed in mud.   We stayed in a nice hotel on the square in Cajamarca and left the next day for Lima.

Balza

The road from Chachapoysa to Leymebamba is actually a very nice ride.  First pavement, then turning onto the road to Leymebamba it is dirt, but fairly smooth, no big ruts or rocks.  Easily navigable, at a good pace and very scenic.  It reminded me of a number of roads and scenes in Colorado.  At this point it really was enjoyable and yes fun.

As we left Leymebamba, and climbed again to the top of the pass it began to rain. 

This seems to be the theme.  Nice in the morning, rain in the afternoon.  We were stopped briefly for construction in the rain then on down the hill until we left the rain.  The road was a bit muddy, but not bad.  It was a little eerie though, the road wasn’t much wider then a single normal vehicle.  And almost vertical up the hill and absolutely vertical down the mountain for 1000 feet or more.  If you even just stepped off, you were going for a long way.  You could see this at first, then the fog came.  When the fog came it just filled in the valley so you couldn’t see anything below.  It was like a giant bowl of fog.  It was comforting not seeing this huge drop off, but by the same token a little weird knowing it was there only full of fog.

We rode out of the rain and the road got nicer again.  Then we came to another construction stoppage.  We were stopped for at least 3 and half hours.  It went from sunny and warm to rainy and cold.  While there we ran into Larry, a resident of Lima on vacation with his wife and 6 other friends.  They had never traveled this road before and told us the girls were all screaming on the turns.  He helped translate some of the conversations with the flag person.

Eventually we got moving again.  This time because we had waited long enough the road had turned to mud.  We could have easily made it to Cajamarca or at least Celendin had it not been for the construction, instead we were faced with riding mud all the way to the bottom of this mountain in dark AGAIN!

Larry and his crew were ahead of us in his van, but they stopped when we reached Balza to help us find a place to stay.  We landed this place where it was only a single room and no bathroom (which was about 2 blocks away and was basically a hole in the ground).  We had no choice; we could not go on in the dark. 

We made our arrangements, pack the bikes in the room, and found Larry and his group having dinner a local restaurant.  We joined them and had a really fun time.  Even managing to crack a few jokes at different peoples expense.

Here’s a picture of the group.  Notice the Los Gigantes in the back, on the right!  That’s Larry next to me.  I remember some of the names but forgive me my failing memory.  Left to right; George, his wife Shiwa?, ?, Azul Blue (the only words he new in English J), Gina, Walter, Chuck, Joe, Larry, Larry’s wife Marisa.

The next morning, we were up early.  Had breakfast of scrambled eggs, instant coffee and pan (bread).   Packed and headed for Cajamarca. 

Downtown Balza

The bridge across the river (Rio Maranon) leaving Balza.  The night before there was a bar blocking the crossing, but it was lifted when we decided to leave.

Chachapoyas (cha cha poi as)

It’s a new day, no rain, clear, there is a promise.  I make a pilgrimage to find an ATM for some Peruvian Sols.  I gather this is pretty normal, first town get some local money.  We were going to meet the Germans but for some reason the timing wasn’t right.  We pack and by the time we get going the Germans have already left.

The roads out of San Ignacio where not bad, not the mud we had experienced the night before.  But still dirt and winding back and forth.  We had ridden about 15k when we saw some bikes stopped up ahead.  It was the Germans.  And they had stopped with the French guy in the RV.  We visited for a while and then we took off.  The Germans followed and we road with them until Jaen or about 50k, where they stopped for lunch.

From Jaen to Chachapoyas the road is paved.  Not a lot of difficulty so there was some time to relax and enjoy the scenery.  In Chachapoyas we went to the town square.  There were several Hostels on the square and as we circled to pick on, I saw a couple who were obviously not Hispanic.  I stopped and asked if they had advice for a place to stay.  They said they were German, Stephan and Emma and driving a range rover.  They had just arrived themselves.  So we said we would keep looking but meet up with them later somewhere for a beer.  They did ask if we had seen three German motorcycle riders on the road … small world eh?

We drove around some more and stopped off the square.  Chuck said he would go look for a hostel if I would stay with the bikes.  Everywhere we go we get people coming up to us, asking about the bikes, we try to explain the best we can with our limited vocabulary.  This time, I think Chuck left me with the local drug dealers.  There was a lot of money changing hands for what reason, I don’t know.  At the same time they were trying to get information from me; size of bikes, how much they cost, where we were going, lots of laughing and hand slapping.  Eventually Chuck returned from a hostel where he had booked a room, so we left, unloaded and parked the bikes. 

As we were parking the bikes in a secure parking lot, Stephan came up.  They were staying in the Range Rover in the same parking lot.  We agreed to meet later for a beer and we went and finished unpacking.  We got out and walked to a restaurant the owner of the Hostel had recommended.  It didn’t open until 7p.  As we walked around we ran into Stephan and Emma.  We invited them to come along with us, back to the restaurant.  We had a great meal, some beer and good conversation.  We agreed to buy pastries if they made some GOOD coffee the next morning.  We met them at the Range Rover where they had the coffee on.

After a while they came and used our shower, with the electric heater (death heater) in the head.  It actually worked.  We packed the bikes and left for Cajamarca (Ka ha mark a).  Before we left, Emma mentioned she had heard from other friends that there was some road construction that had the road shut down all day between Chachapoyas and Cajamarca.  Oh great!

San Ignacio

We left Valladoid and traveled through the small city of Palanda and as we approached Zumba we were stopped by the police at a road block.  They were all quite young and none spoke English.  He asked where we were going and we told him Peru.  He looked over the bikes and motioned towards my cases.  I said; “no habla espanol!”  He motioned more aggressively and said something in spanish.  “no hable espanol” shaking my head.  Then he knocked on my cases, motioning to open them up.  “no habla espanol”.  Finally in frustration he just motioned my on.  That’s all it took, I was out of there and Chuck right behind.  The next checkpoint before the border, the guard was much more friendly, asked where we were going, how long we had been on the road, took our passport information and finally told us which way to go. We were only about 8 kilometers from the border but it took us the best part of an hour to reach the border.

By the time we reached the border it was around 11:30a.  We had done well; we had traveled about 90 kilometers in about three hours.  We found the border agent at a small café eating lunch.  We followed him back to his “office”, he stamped our passports and we thought we were out of Ecuador.  Back to the bike, and waiting for someone to lift the gate.  The agent came out and said “Adunas” or bike check.  So we got off and went back to the Adunas agent.  Here is where it got a little difficult.

Apparently, we needed to have the paperwork for the bikes when we entered Ecuador, where the VIN’s had been checked and bike import authorized.  Now, we had asked about this when we came into Ecuador from Colombia.  We were both told that it was unnecessary.  Well, don’t ever believe them!  We should of gotten our bike authorization and the Adunas agent at the Peru border was not going to let us leave without them.  He said we needed to return to Loja (Low’ ha) to get the proper credentials.  It had started to rain hard and the roads were turning to mud.  To return to Loja meant about a two day ride.  There had to be another way. 

The border agent came by and seemed to be advocating for us.  We asked if the Adunas agent could call someone for special permission; “no!”.  We asked if there were a “fine we could pay there?”; “no!” with an emphasis of cutting ones throat.  Chuck, in his best Spanish whine asked “por favor, special excepcion!”  “No” again with the throat cutting.  Finally the border agent got him to call “el hefe” and there was a long, long conversation with the outcome of el hefe telling the Adunas agent to let Peru deal with it J!  We were through without having to go back to Loja.  But it had been raining hard now for an hour.

Next came the other side, Peru!  We stopped at the Peru side of the border bridge.  We walked to the Adunas building on the Peru side and the agent said we must go to the Passport check primary.  So down the sidewalk we go.  No agent.  We wait, and wait, sit more, walk across to the restaurant ask for a coke where they say “si” then sit down and watch television.  We sit there for thirty minutes and finally leave for another restaurant, where we finally get a coke.  Still no passport agent. 

Another person, of unknown authority tells me the passport agent is a home, points out his house and tells me to go knock on the door.  I didn’t know who this person was, so I didn’t go.  Turns out this is apparently very acceptable behavior, that many times people at this crossing go find the agent.  Mean time the Adunas agent takes pity on us and starts filling out the motorcycle import paperwork.  About the time he is done, someone has finally gotten the Passport agent out of bed an up to the office.  He fills out my passport paperwork but there is one more step.  I must be checked out by the police. 

Down the hill with my paperwork I go, to the police building.  Huh?  No one in the office!  No one in the back room, no one in the kitchen, so around the corner to the sleeping quarters I go.  Ah, there he is, asleep in the cot.  Clear my throat, nothing!  Perdon! Nothing!  Hola!!  Hola!  Hola! Finally, some movement.  “Una momento!”  “Si!” and back to the office I go.  He finally comes into the office with his uniform half on and fills out my paperwork.  Back to the Border agent and he stamps my passport.  All in all about 2 ½ hours.  Did I mention it had been raining!

After Chuck completed the same cycle we returned to the bikes, this unknown person I mentioned, unlocked the gate and let us into Peru.  Finally!  It’s about 2:30p, it had taken only about 3 hours but it seemed like an eternity.

Only 25 kilometers to San Ignacio, as the crow flies.  We are quickly learning though that 25 kilometers as the crow flies here in the mountains is probably more like 75 kilometers.  And, had I mentioned it had been raining.  Now everything was mud.  Not a real deep mud, but a very slimy, slippery mud. 

This is, in my opinion, the worst conditions to ride in.  Worse than snow, rain, sand or anything else.  The back end will just not stay behind you.  Your brakes work marginally but sometimes when they do they cause the front or back end to slip out.  We struggle, we push on in the rain and then we come to stopped traffic.  Apparently, due to the rain, there had been a mudslide that blocked the road. 

An hour and a half later they finally let us through, but the road was an absolute mud pit. 

Now it was getting dark.  We still had about 15 kilometers to go.  Chuck wanted to pitch a tent, I didn’t.  It was muddy and the only place was on the side of the road to pitch it, which, in my opinion would not have been safe.  We decided that we would just take it easy, work slowly towards San Ignacio.  But the mud was bad, it had been worked over by all the traffic including large trucks.  It was now dark and I watched in my headlight as a large 2 ½ ton truck tried to make it up a small incline.  Two spotters, one on each side, pushed against the truck frame to keep it from sliding sideways, but it still did.  But he eventually made it.  Now my turn, feet down, light on the gas, keep the back wheel behind me, slowly, clutch, gas, adjust and eventually success.

At the top of that hill, a French guy in an RV came out and waved me down.  We talked a little of the road and the mud, but he said he had had it and was stopping there for the night.  He could, he had an RV.  Chuck and I pressed on.  More and more mud, slow, slow in the turns, a little speed in the straight aways.  Eventually, we made it to San Ignacio around 8:30p.  We had started in Valladolid around 8:30a, so 12 hours to go about 150 kilometers or about 100 miles. 

In San Ignacio we started our pattern of looking for a place to stay.  We had asked on the road and had been told the best place was the Gran Hotel.  Asking for directions to this hotel just got the RCA dog look.  Eventually I asked a police man who took us to a hostel.  I tried to get them to tell me where we could park our bikes and they told me we could put them in the restaurant next door, but that didn’t close until 10p.  About this time, a German pops his head up from a computer there in the lobby, there are three of them there.  He says they are staying in a hostel down the road, but there is a big hotel just down from them.  Chuck and I have a long chat with the Germans, they are riding a couple older K100R’s and an Africa Twin.  Finally they help us find the Gran Hotel.

We check in, drag mud across everywhere, the lobby, the stairs into our room, then order some dinner, but they are closing and the only thing they still have available is Carne Seca, or dry meat (think beef jerky).  I was hungry but more tired.  I eat a little but it upsets my stomach so I go upstairs and go to bed.  A very long day!