I arrived in Trujillo quite late at night and managed with
the assistance of a local to get into a hostel. I was starving so decided that
I’d try and get into the bar restaurant next door and grab a bite to eat. I
asked the doorman if I could that would be possible. “Una momentito” and he
returned with someone who may have been the owner. This guy was drunk out of
his mind and unable to speak or stand. I tried to say thanks but no thanks, but
he insisted on talking to me in slurred English. I explained I was cycling
through South America. He said “you must stay with Lucho.” “Have you hear of
Lucho? He is famous for assisting cyclists, providing accommodation and fixing
bikes etc.” I explained that I’d booked into the hostel next door and that it
was late, however, I may search for him the next day. I went back to the hostel
and tried to back up some photos, but for some reason, the pictures wouldn’t
back up! I tried again the next morning, without success. So when I get this
BLOG posted, I’ll be looking for techy advice on what might be wrong.
After a decent breakfast I was off to Huanchaco, a famous
spot for surfing and to view Chan Chan famous remains of an adobe city. Got to
say that Chan Chan, whilst large and imposing, didn’t inspire me as much as the
Inca buildings did, however, I left intending to cycle along the coastline. As
I got to the back of Chan Chan, this guy came out and said...”no
possible”....costa muy peligrosa...mucha robbaros”. So I followed his advice
and returned to the main road and followed it straight to Huanchaco. T sky the
great news in this part of the coastline is that the permanent grey skies
disappear and there is spectacular sunlight
I found a nice little hostel, Los Esperos, for about £5 and
booked into a room. Ten minutes after checking in I had gone down to a local
surf shop to hire a board. Well! It’s been a few years since I was on a surf
board.... and that seemed obvious. I managed to stand for a total of 10
seconds. Whilst out surfing I met this couple; a Danish girl, Angela and Chris
from America, but who both now live in London and we agreed to meet for a bite
to eat that night.
I got back to the Hostel and decided a beer was in order.
All this cycling and surfing is hard work! I stopped at a local cafe bar and
sat down. I was joined by a couple, Martin and Amy also from London, who had
given up their work to a do a year’s travelling. Turns out Martin had his
leaving do in The Bedford, where Rikki is manager! Six degrees of
separation...or small world!
Next day I was off on what was to become a gruelling trip
through desert to Pacsamayo, though the hard bit, or so I was told... the route
to Piura, was still to come.
I arrived to Pucasmayo again quite late and as I approached
it really looked as if this was an industrial city. There is a huge cement
works at the entrance which is the only view you get of Pacasmayo, yet another
famous surfing spot, until you make your way to the coast. There I managed to
find a basic alojiamente, but it was clean, albeit noisy. Unfortunately there
was no place to charge any of my gear, which is becoming a problem. I now had
no charge in my watch!
I passed a Mexican
restaurant on the way to hostel and so decided to return in the hope that I
might get wi-fi. Not possible, nor could I charge my laptop! I met an
Australian couple Tim and Cassie and we started chatting. Cassie must be about
the fifth occupational therapist I have met whilst travelling. They presumably
have an inbuilt travel bug. Tim was a sports photographer and...you guessed it,
a top surfer! He invited me to go out to the point the next day, but I
gracefully declined, explaining that I’d need to be on my way early as I had to
reach Chiclayo. At that he said, “how many miles are you travelling a day?” I
explained that I was trying to do about 130 kilometres, though it is not as
easy as that. He said, that’s nuts! I agreed, but said that I had to make up
for lost time. They both said that I shouldn’t miss Mancora. They had been
there surfing for two weeks. A great place he said. Though I wasn’t intending
to stop in Mancora, I now had to do so. The next day, I was off early to
Chiclayo, which is famous for providing some of the best food in Peru.
About a couple of hours after I left Pucasmayo, I passed
through a little village called Chepen. As I passed through the other side, the
Carretera police were positioned at the side of the road slowing down the
traffic. One of the cops clocked me approaching them and waved me down. So far,
other than Abancay, Peruvian police had generally waved me through and in some
cases even stopped traffic to let me through some difficult crossings. This guy
had a menacing look about him. He asked “ żdonde va?” I said Colombia. He must
have thought I was trying to be smart and shouted out “ żoi?” I said
Pucasmayo.He said “Esparar...es muy
peligroso!” He then went to his colleague and started talking. He came back and
said “no passaje”. Esparar, and then from what I could work out something about
going to eat and then they would return to provide security! I explained that I
have been through many areas in Bolivia Argentina Chile and Peru and nobody has
said that the road is dangerous ( which was, of course, a lie...Abancaybeing one of the worst). I did so in my best
Spanish, which clearly wasn’t good enough. Now in a more animated mode, he
pulled his gun out of his holster held it to his head and made and one of those
child-like explosion sounds. I said “ Si, intiendo, pero, por que aqui?”( I understand, but why here?) He threw his
hands in the air as if to say “this idiot isn’t listening”. I by this time was
thinking....scam!
Anyway, as he and his colleague were going for something to
eat, I agreed to stay still for 20 minutes, but no more as I had to be in
Chiclayo before dark. I also bought a snack from a local shop and ate whilst
staying out of the very strong sun. Consciously following the time, twenty
minutes had passed and they didn’t return. I thought, well I’ve met my side of
the bargain and went for it, also realising that they would catch me easily and
that the road was generally deserted, meaning that any future encounter would
most likely be me and them!
Catch me they did, or rather, pass me they did. I felt
fortunate that they were in a queue of traffic and though they waved their
hands in disgust out of the window, they kept going.I knew, however that I was going to meet them
at some stage so I tried to think through what I was going to say for leaving
on time, whilst stopping to move some cash from my wallet to the rest of my
back-up cash in my boot!
I spotted the 4x4 sitting in a side road some way in the
distance and was delighted to find that a generally deserted road had become
busy. I decided to carry on cycling and he waved me down. He explained that
they would be following me for the next forty kilometres for security, which
they did. What went through my mind was the possibility that they organise the
robberies and therefore I was very uncomfortable. As it happens, I needn’t have
been. They did as they said they would do and followed me and passed me, waited
and so on and so forth for forty kilometres. Then they waved me goodbye.
Shows that my distrusting nature wasn’t necessary on this
occasion, but you cannot stop thinking about the worst. It also didn’t appear
to be a very dangerous area, bearing in mind the places I’ve walked and cycled
through.
I arrived in Chiclayo just as it was turning dark and booked
into the Gran hotel in the hope that I could get some stuff charged and get a
decent night’s sleep, particularly as I had a few difficult and long days of
cycling ahead of me. I tried again in vain to back up photos, but without
success.I wasn’t disappointed with my
meal that night, but it certainly wasn’t the best I’d tasted. I was pleased I’d
had a comfortable nights sleep in a decent room, knowing that the next two or
three days to Mancora were going to be difficult, and spent in a tent. I
decided that I would miss Piura, or rather cycle through it and camp either
about twenty kilometres north or find some place in Sullana of their so that I
could reach Mancora in three days.
All was going well through the desert, as I was well stocked
up with water, though I was especially grateful for Walter’s restaurant, which
sits in the middle of nowhere between Chicalyo and Piura! I received warm
food....though can’t be sure when the rice was first cooked!
After a reasonably comfortable night in Sullana, I reached
the so called slight hills before the “flat coastline”! The old tarpits! Here
the climbs were as hard as any I’d faced, the winds unrelenting and buses less
tolerant as they tried to pass! I wasn’t going to reach Mancora in three days,
that was certain!
It’s also clear that I am getting into peak cycling season
as I have passed many cyclists on route heading downwards, clearly trying to do
it the easy way, though many were cursing, as I was, the Peruvian winds and
sand. I passed a group of cyclist on an expedition to make another America
possible (an otre America es possible) You can google search and find out about
it. They were all from Colombia and as with so many Colombians, without a
minute’s hesitation offered their home for me to stay in. I also met Andreas from
Austria, Andrew from Minnesota and Andrias from Buenos Aires. ( what is it with
the Andrew?) All were doing pretty amazing stuff, but Andrias had cycled right
around the whole of the continent of South America, which was quite amazing.
He’d been cycling for two years. It is often a bit of a custom that you
exchange email details whilst getting honked at by passing buses and trucks!
There’s no doubt about it there are more people starting the journey from north
to south now, in the hope that they will miss the worst weather in Patagonia.
If only..........
I eventually reached Mancora, the surfers paradise! It was
obvious I’d reached the surfer’s paradise. Why? Not because of all the
surfboards, but rather the Mr and Mrs wonderfuls, all bleach blond hair, darks
tans and pectorals pumped up ( the men that is!) .The women just lay on the
beach and bared their cheeks! I booked into the sol hostel for £4. However it
was a bit like the room from Khaosan road in the Beach. You heard everything in
all the rooms adjoining...and further afield. Next to me was a guy called Lex
ferguson. He won’t mind me saying that he is the archetypal American gigolo. He
talked proudly of last night’s conquest and couldn’t promise a quiet night
tonight either! Though originally from North Carolina, he had lived in Hawai
for 6 years, which means he must have left home at 17, as he was only 23. He
owns a couple of businesses, one which installs ATMs! He takes a cut the fee
from each transaction. I couldn’t understand how he met the capital outlay,
which he said was zero!! However, he and his mate, Ryan, also from Hawai and a
Physician invited me to join them that night. We were to be joined later by
Pucca, an Italian guy who is the life and soul of Mancora and who promised
these guys “a good night”. After our meal, I joined them for one drink.
However, as I returned from the loo to a shot in front of me, it was clear that
this night was going only one way if I stayed out with them. I decided to down
the drink and bid them farewell, explaining that I had to be off early the next
morning. When I got back to the Hostel, I bought a beer and sat next to me was
another guy Zak from Hawai. Less of a party animal and a surf teacher, he said
that he would check out my technique the next day. I said I needed to be off
early. He said, “what’s early?” I said well, not really early, but around 9am.
He said, “fine, I’ll see you down on the waves at 6am!
At about 3am, I could hear Lex returning. For that matter,
so did everyone in the hostel. It went something like this.....”Aw dude! Man,
its still only 3.00 am Its still early. Ryan...I think I’m gonna go back to
that bird’s room. Can’t have a situation where I ain’t gonna get laid tonight!”
This went on for about ten minutes. I put my Ipod in my ear and managed to get
to sleep, as did he eventually.
So next day I was up and on the beach for 6am. I was in for
a proper surf lesson, and it was worth it. Managed to get the knee and feet
positioning just right and he showed me how to milk a wave for all it was worth!
Managed to stay upright for 45 seconds, which was a definite result. I was back
to the room by 8.30, had breakfast and was off by 9.30.
