Peru

Riding into Peru at La Balsa

nancy — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 18:40:05 +0000

We are now in Peru. Another country! This is the 11th country we have entered with our bikes. With something like 11,800 miles (19,000 kilometers) we crossed the Ecuador border into Peru at La Balsa. This was the quietest and most rural border crossing we have done to date. As the immigration officer stamped our paperwork, a chicken roamed the room pecking at crumbs, a herd of cows passed out front and the money changers sat on the bridge enjoying beer on this late Saturday. No one came up to us asking if we wanted to change our money from dollars (which they use in Ecuador) to Soles (Peru's currency). That was a first.

From the border we started off following a river and actually had a flat road for 7 kilometers. Yes flat. We heard that Peru is flatter then Ecuador but we could not believe it. Of course, we found out otherwise in the morning, as the road rose above the village of Namballe. The people were so friendly on our ride from Namballe to San Ignacio! We feel like rock stars once again. Everyone waves and beeps and everyone says hello and "welcome to Peru". We even got filmed by a couple passing by on motorcycles. He explained it is for marketing material promoting tourism in the town of San Ignacio. Along the route a young boy ran after us with two papayas in his hands to give us as a present. His name was Carlos and he had no shoes but he had a wonderful smile to go with his kindness. We have found the people much more outgoing and less intimidated than the reserved folks of the highlands of Ecuador. We like it when people think we are special. We make more contacts and find out more about the people we see along the way.

The roads so far are dirt and very rough, no smooth grading like in Ecuador. However, our first road was more gentle in slope - we were able to ride all of it, with no pushing. All the culverts seemed to have been washed away or never existed. As a result we find ourselves riding through huge mud holes. One spot seemed about 50 feet long and the whole width of the road and no way around, so we were forced to ride through it. The coffee-colored mud was consistency of thick yogurt. In some places it may have been 6 inches thick. I know I could not see where I was steering. I just rode blindly, holding tight to my handle bar. I just hoped I would not slip and fall into the slop. The final section offered two deep ponds of mud. Randy told me the left hole was the better one and I should ride through it. At last, I did not have the courage or the skill to maneuver through it. I dismounted my steed and waded through the mud and around the ponds, adding to the collections of mud I had been accumulating all day. When I got to the other side, I looked back and saw I had an audience watching us with our fully loaded bikes making our way through the river of mud. I wonder if they had made bets if we would make it through or wipe out.

We stopped for lunch on top of a hill and watched the local Sunday afternoon football games. People came from all over dressed in their Sunday best for the afternoon festivities. As I we sat down on top of the hill to prepare lunch the papaya slipped out of my grip and rolled down the embankment, and came to rest against a parked motorcycle. Everyone waited to see my reaction. I started laughing seeing the fruit down near the foot ball field. Everyone else joined me laughing. I climbed down the embankment and retrieved it. It still tasted wonderful and just a little bit smashed. We had it with peanut butter on our bread - a great combination. I fed the peel to the chickens, the dogs and the donkey who seemed to enjoy it the best.

That day we rode only 44 kilometers (about 28 miles) and climbed 4300 feet (1300 meters). I was tired because of the technical riding, the bad surface and many muddy areas. I slipped off my bike just once and ended up upside down with my bike. Yes, my bike ended upside down resting on its handlebars and seat with me lying next to it on my back, laughing away. Randy wanted to take a picture of me but he thought it would be better to make sure I was OK. I did appreciate his kindness and consideration but I was really fine and was again amused at the silliness of the situation.

We where concerned at the end of the day we would not make it to our destination and started to look for camping spots. It turned out we had a great downhill stretch and made it before dark to San Ignacio. After looking at 3 hotels, we found a room in a house for $8. The owners seemed to have a party until 3am so we did not rest well and moved to the Hotel Dorado the next day where we paid $10 for a night, which seems normal so far. Meals (all basically the same) cost between $1 and $1.50. Breakfast looks like lunch and like dinner: Rice with chicken with yuca.

Tomorrow we will follow the river south for a day or two. We had been told the road is flat and paved. We since found out it is not paved, but more dirt like before. This is ok and I can live with this. But I do hope it is not as steep as some of the roads we've ridden recently. I really want to ride some more flat before we have to climb the giants of the Peruvian Andes. I hope it is flat, I hope it is, I hope….

Up the Utcubamba River Valley to the land of the Chachas

rfay — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 23:03:40 +0000

From San Ignacio we descended rapidly into a completely different kind of country - rice paddies everywhere. Neither of us had ever seen the cultivation of rice before, so we were amazed to see the effort required to work with the plants at the various parts of their life cycle. It was beautiful, too, but like we had left the high mountains and landed in a south-east Asian area!

After about 50 kilometers of dirt (formerly paved, but long since decayed) we hit beautiful new pavement for the first time in days. And it was downhill, too. But we soon turned off for a shortcut that we read about in Peter Berechree's incredible blog of his Andes-by-bike adventure. We took a dirt-road turnoff to the town of Bellavista and found our way to the banks of the Rio Marañon, a major river headed to the Amazon. Hoping that we'd gotten to the right place, we waved and yelled to a fellow cleaning his boat on the other side, he eventually came for us. We loaded the bikes up a 2x4 ramp and crossed over in a jiffy, then road a few miles to catch the highway again. We got a pleasant little diversion from the highway and probably eliminated 50 kilometers from our route.

Soon we were starting up the beautiful valley of the Utcubamba River, which we would follow for something like 130 kilometers (75 miles). For the first section it climbed rapidly and we looked at the rapids of the river below wondering whether they were runnable in a kayak, remembering our favorite sections of rivers in Colorado, but feeling simply fear looking at these rapids.

At Pedro Ruiz we hit a stretch of highway construction which closed the highway during the day, so we loaded the bikes on an evening microbus for the quick trip to Chachapoyas, the former capital of the Chacha people, who were conquered by the Incas in about 1500. We were headed for their most impressive fortress city, Kuelap. Riding further along the Rio Utcubamba, we got to a little place called El Tingo, where we hoped to organize a ride up to the ruin, but it turned out that there is almost no reliable transport. (It is a 10 kilometer, 1300 meter, 3-4 hour walk up to the ruins on a trail, but we wanted to take a rest day.) We weren't able to organize anything in El Tingo, but Nancy insisted that we call some agencies back in Chachapoyas, and we succeeded in getting one of the tours out of Chachapoyas to pick us up the next day. But Kuelap was an amazing site, built apparently as a fortress high on top of a mountain, much like Macchu Picchu was for the Inca. When the Incas conquered the Chacha people, they forced everyone out of the fortress, so it was hardly a factor when the Spanish conquerors came just a few years later.

Ironically, the things we'll probably remember most about this stretch of the trip will not be the impressive fortress, but the joys of bike touring. On the way up the river we were yelled at by two workers from across the river - their cable car, the only way they had of getting across, was on the wrong side of the river. So they coached me on how to get in and take it across to them, and then we all came back across together. And in Tingo, we had time to do what the few other residents did. We just sat on the bench by the police station or in front of the little restaurant and watched the few people go by. A burro-load here, a microbus there. Perhaps an old woman carrying a load of firewood. Seeing the police lift the gate for a truck passing through. Just watching the little parade was all there was to do. And we stayed at the delightful and quaint little Hospedaje Casa León that looked like something from another century, but still had hot water in one of the bathrooms.

From El Tingo we rode still farther up the road until Nancy happened to spot a sign announcing the turnoff to another famous archaeological site of the Chacha people, Revash. We rode up a canyon about 5km and then hiked high up the canyon wall to see the ancient burial site. It certainly reminded us of an Anasazi site from the American southwest, but in miniature, as it was a burial site, instead of a place to live.

Despite the significant detour, we did get to Leymebamba that night just at dusk, ready to arrange transportation across the huge valley ahead to Celendín.

Mountains and People: Perceptions of Northern Peru

nancy — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 02:25:49 +0000

Peru has some of the biggest mountains and deepest valleys we have encountered so far. We find it very interesting to ride the high mountains of Peru because the sierras are inhabited by indigenous people who live in the traditional ways they have maintained for centuries. Not much has changed in hundreds of years. In some areas we have been riding through there is no electricity, no running water, no paved road, lots of sheep, cows, chickens, donkeys which carry cargoes of milk, wood, heavy loads of vegetables like potatoes, corn and cabbage. The people themselves carry huge loads on their backs. The women wear the same traditional clothes they have for ages including special hats which identify the area they come from. Around Cajamarca the women wear short skirts with ballooning petticoats, tall, wide-brimmed hand-woven hats made of fine strands of straw. They all have wraps and ponchos to either keep warm or carry a load. They're even shorter than me. From the distance they sometimes remind me of the profile of Halloween witch The women in Northern Peru can be seen herding donkeys loaded with metal containers of milk, babies on their backs and walking along a high mountain road while spinning wool on a stick, preparing the wool for knitting or weaving. The women always have busy hands. Always. Where we are right now the women knit afghans of multiple colors, ponchos, and sweaters. If they don't have a baby on their backs they're carrying a load of firewood, twigs, or huge bunches of herbs and greens.

The men work hard in the high fields growing the family's food. We see the men toiling on the sides of mountains, leaning over for hours planting, weeding and harvesting. At other times times we see them leading teams of oxen plowing the fields. We also see groups of men herding horses or donkeys heavily loaded from the harvested fields. Once we saw a train of burros carrying massive white bags full of cabbage. When one of the animals finally descended to the road, it refused to go any further. We watched with terror as one young man tried to drag the animal up the last slope to the unloading place. It tried to kick but missed. His handler kicked and whipped him but the poor donkey would go no further. It just lay down in the middle of the road, along a dangerous curve. The young man was furious. He unloaded the cargo and dragged the animal to its feet with the help of another man. The poor thing still could not go any further. The did manage to get it to the side of the road behind the guardrail. They just left the animal there and carried the load up the mountain the rest of the way on their own backs. The horse was lame and hardly stand on any its own legs. It changed its weight from one leg to the other, obviously in pain and didn't even mosey the few yards remaining to the unloading area. It twitched and sweated trying to recover. I felt helpless, a bystander watching a hard fact of life in this area. The animals work as hard as the people themselves.

I am always amazed to see cultivation of fields which barely cling to the slope. Occasional we see collapsed slopes and the result. In one area we rode through a whole village was wiped out by a landslide. In some areas the only crop they grow for sale was coffee and in other areas they grow fruits, potatoes, rice, cabbage, wheat, beans, corn and various other legumes for exporting to other areas. Near Leymebamba it is the time of the year for cutting the corn, and we saw flocks of wild parrots who have emigrated here for this special harvest. Wild flocks of dozens green parrots flying up and down the canyon above the Utcubamba Rivers. The racket they make is an unforgettable sound. They are immigrants without papers.

Peru Route: July 13 to October 9, 2008

rfay — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 14:17:57 +0000

Explore in Google Earth

Here is our route in Peru.

Each day has elevation profile, map, and GPS information.

Other recommended information sources::

We used the trip notes from 2bike.be,(at the bottom of the page) which are quite detailed and very useful. They include total elevation and what shops and hospedajes are found along the way.
PDFs of daily route notes from Florian and Rebekkah are gems of information. These are rehashes of a set that has been carried by many cyclists.
- Anna Wittert's notes from Leymebamba to Celendin in northern Peru and Cajamarca to Trujillo on the back roads
- Trujillo to Huancayo
- Huancayo to Cuzco
- Cuzco to La Paz
Also, Pius and Stefan of panamerica.ch have done a great job with more consolidated elevation profiles than we show here. Take a look at their Peru map page and study their route profiles in PDF format. They took our same route from Trujillo to Bolivia.
Maps: We used the Rough Guide Map of Peru most of the time, and thought it was pretty decent. ITMB also has a map, and Lima2000 has a pretty decent map that you can get within the country.
GPS: The free routeable GPS maps at perut.org have been recommended highly. Also, Guiacalles.com in Lima has a full GPS map for sale.

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Ecuador to Cajamarca
Trujillo to Huancayo
Huancayo to Bolivia

Ecuador border to Cajamarca

The route we took is difficult and opened only in 2000 or so, so most cycle tourists seem to go the Panamerican Highway from Loja, Ecuador to Trujillo, Peru. This is fairly fast, but they all hate it. On the contrary, we really loved the mountainous way we went, even though it's challenging.

From the border there is a gentle but long climb of 1300 meters and then a descent into San Ignacio. It's mostly downhill then to the valley of the Rio Marañon at just 400 meters of elevation. We took a turnoff and went through Bella Vista instead of staying on the main road through Jaen. This saved many kilometers and was a pretty pleasant (dirt) road cutoff. We took a small ferry across the river just beyond Bella Vista.

After returning to the highway and getting to Bagua Grande, we started the beautiful climb up the Rio Utcubamba to Pedro Ruiz. Because of road construction we had to take a combi from the intersection there to Chachapoyas. Then lovely dirt road to El Tingo (Kuelap) and Leymebamba. From Leymebamba to Celendín is a huge climb and drop to the Rio Marañon again; we did it in a potato truck. Then from Celendín to Cajamarca is one pass - there is pavement on the Cajamarca side. We took a bus from Cajamarca to Trujillo.

Ride	date	miles/km	Elev ft/mt
Namballe, Peru to San Ignacio, Peru	2008-07-13	28/45	4300/1327
San Ignacio to Tamborada	2008-07-16	45/73	1650/509
Tamborada to Bagua Grande via Bella Vista	2008-07-17	43/69	2034/628
Bagua Grande to Pedro Ruiz and by combi to Chachapoyas	2008-07-18	42/68	3600/1111
Chachapoyas to El Tingo	2008-07-19	23/37	518/160
El Tingo to Kuélap by car	2008-07-20	1/2	4000/1235
El Tingo to Leymebamba via Revash	2008-07-21	35/56	2332/720
Leymebamba to Celendín by potato truck	2008-07-22	89/144	/0
Celendín to Cruz Conga	2008-07-23	21/34	2539/784
Cruz Conga to Cajamarca, Peru	2008-07-24	47/76	2122/655

Trujillo to Huancayo

The route from Trujillo to Huancayo is pretty standard (and fairly difficult) for bike tourists. You ride a little ways south on the Pan American Highway to 15km south of Chao, then turn into a private road, climb up to the Cañon del Pato, up to Huaraz, then either through the national park or around the paved road and over a 4700 meter pass, then through several ups and downs until Huánuco. From Huanuco it's pavement up and over Cerro de Pasco then to Huancayo. There´s an excellent elevation profile on panamerica.ch showing this stretch.

Ride	date	miles/km	Elev ft/mt
Cajamarca to Trujillo (by bus)	2008-07-26	1/2	/0
Trujillo to Chao, Peru	2008-08-16	42/68	1456/449
Chao to Chuquicara	2008-08-17	46/74	2500/772
Chuquicara to Camp 8km before Yuracmarca	2008-08-18	30/48	2063/637
Camp near Yuracmarca to Huallanca, Peru	2008-08-19	13/21	1794/554
Huallanca to Caraz, Peru	2008-08-20	25/40	2700/833
Caraz to Huaraz, Peru	2008-08-22	43/69	3600/1111
Huaraz to Cátac, Peru	2008-08-24	23/37	1800/556
Catac to Conococha	2008-08-25	29/47	2237/690
Conococha to Pachapaqui	2008-08-26	25/40	1978/610
Pachapaqui to Huallanca, Huánuco, Peru	2008-08-27	30/48	2405/742
Huallanca (Huánuco) to La Unión	2008-08-28	13/21	190/59
La Unión to Tingo Chico	2008-08-30	20/32	1204/372
Tingo Chico to Chavinillo	2008-08-31	23/37	2270/701
Chavinillo to Huánuco, Peru	2008-09-01	45/73	1787/552
Huánuco to Huariaca	2008-09-04	43/69	3667/1132
Huariaca to Huancayo by car and bus	2008-09-05	1/2	/0

Huancayo to Lake Titicaca and the Bolivian Border

From Huancayo we took the dirt road through the canyon (Rio Mantaro) for 5 days to Ayacucho. Many people take the partly paved route over a high pass to Huancavelica instead. From Ayacucho we took a bus to Cusco - the dirt road from Ayacucho to Abancay is very difficult, and we were tired. From Cuzco there's just one pass and it's easy, then mostly things are flat to the Bolivian border. All paved, sometimes smooth and sometimes not.

Take a look at the excellent elevation profiles for this section on panamerica.ch (only to cusco).

Ride	date	miles/km	Elev ft/mt
Huancayo to Mariscal Cáceres	2008-09-13	49/79	2700/833
Mariscal Cáceres to Camp before Anco	2008-09-14	41/66	2083/643
Camp near Anco to Mayocc	2008-09-15	27/44	1456/449
Mayocc to Huanta, Peru	2008-09-16	20/32	2047/632
Huanta to Ayacucho, Peru	2008-09-17	30/48	2381/735
Ayacucho to Andahualas by bus	2008-09-21	1/2	/0
Andahuaylas to Cuzco by bus	2008-09-22	1/2	/0
Cuzco to Quiquijana	2008-09-29	44/71	485/150
Quiquijana to Sicuani	2008-09-30	44/71	1824/563
Sicuani to Santa Rosa	2008-10-01	42/68	2677/826
Santa Rosa to Calapuja	2008-10-02	71/115	593/183
Calapuja to Puno, Peru	2008-10-03	44/71	869/268
Puno to Ilave	2008-10-07	35/56	1410/435
Ilave to Yunguyo	2008-10-08	49/79	2033/627
Yunguyo, Peru to Copacabana, Bolivia	2008-10-09	7/11	528/163

Lucho and the Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo, Peru

rfay — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 23:00:45 +0000

When we came down from the mountains of Peru to the coast we stayed at the fabled Casa de Ciclistas (House of Cyclists) in Trujillo, Peru. Lucho Ramirez started offering his simple house to passing touring cyclists clear back in 1984, and is on the edge of crossing the one thousand mark. One thousand groups of cyclists have signed his journal and stayed there over almost 25 years! One cyclist stayed a year! Many stay far longer than they expect to, often for a week or more. It's a delight to browse through the journals and see famous cyclists that we've either met or heard of who passed this way. Our friends Dick and Els, from Holland, signed the book about 5 years ago. Our friend Andrew signed it just a month or so ago. Our friends Pat and Cat also passed through about 3 years ago.

Many of you have asked us if we're setting some kind of a record or something, and the answer is no, we're really slow, and lots and lots of people have gone farther. Although not all the cyclists who have stopped at Lucho's house were doing rides as big as ours, many were doing rides much bigger. One fellow, Hans Stuecke, has been cycling for 46 years!

Anyway, Lucho provides a tremendously friendly place for cyclists stop, recharge, get their equipment worked on, and generally have a wonderful memory. We left our bikes safely there for our trip home, and came back to find them waiting for us. Lucho also worked all night to get our bikes maintained and in tip-top shape (he's a professional bike mechanic). And he has info on all the routes, and knows what places to avoid due to criminal attacks on cyclists.

Lucho is also an incredible promoter of cycling in his town. He organizes bike races for kids and adults (we helped with one) and is also a racer himself - he used to be the champion of the area. His young son is named Lance, if that gives you a clue.

Thank you Lucho! You're famous, and your fame is well-deserved.

Note: Lucho has the original Casa de Ciclistas in Latin America, but he has also inspired others. We stayed at one in Cali, Colombia.

Here are some links:

Lucho's website about the Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo
The list of Casas de Ciclistas in Latin America
Our visit to the Casa in Cali, Colombia
Don't forget about Warmshowers.org, the hospitality site of which Randy is webmaster. People all over the world offer hospitality to touring cyclists through Warm Showers.

Cyclists before us at the Casa de Ciclistas

rfay — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 23:39:25 +0000

People often ask us "Has anyone ever done this before?" or "Are you setting a new Guinness Record?". The answer, of course, is an authoritative NO! We know this, of course, but stopping at the Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo and looking through the logs makes us really feel humble. We were the 998th entry over 24 years. Plenty of people have been through here! There are slow people and fast, many rides as long as ours, but many much longer. Here are a few links and a few details about some of the folks who have signed their names in the logs at Trujillo.

Hans Stuecke: Hans has been bike touring for 46 years, and has visited at least 193 countries. He really HAS set a Guinness record. I don't think we're going to touch his record anytime soon!
Dominic Gill: Dominic started his ride about the same time as we did, and we actually met him for a few moments in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. But Dominic just finished riding a tandem (most of the time by himself, alone) with gear for himself and a guest, all the way from Alaska to Patagonia. His gear weight was incredible, but his idea was "Take a Seat". He invited anybody who wanted to to come along for a ride for as long as they wanted. He had incredible experiences.
The Ciclonautas: We met Andrei and Dulce (and not Fernando), the "Ciclonautas" in Queretaro, Mexico, but they passed through the Casa de Ciclistas several years ago. As young Mexicans with very limited resources, they set off on a journey all the way from their home city to the bottom of South America, Ushuaia, where we're going too, and they made it. They worked along the way, getting a tiny sponsorship in Honduras, but mostly just working at their trades in each city until they had enough to continue. And they made it all the way, on no money.
Andrew Morgan: We met Andrew on our yacht trip from Panama to Colombia. (There were 5 of us cyclists on that boat! Pius and Stefan were on it too). Andrew is teaching everywhere he goes, and working with teachers and students around the world via his website.
Pius and Stefan: Pius and Stefan are the blazing fast guys on the recumbent bikes WAY ahead of us. They're young and full of vim and vigor. They race each other between cities and go farther in a day than we go in three. And they're great people.
Pat and Cat Patterson: Pat and Cat hosted us when we were going south through California and they had just gotten home from four years riding around the world (North America, Europe, Africa, and South America back up to California). They're even older than we are, if you can believe that! And they have yet another adventure planned for this year. Pat is 68 and Cat is 55 and they're going strong!
Florian and Rebekka (and Chan): Florian and Rebekka and Chan are three of our favorites. We met them in Oregon and spent several delightful nights in the same campgrounds. Florian and Rebekka were young people riding across Canada and planning to ride down to South America about 5 years ago when she discovered she was pregnant. They got jobs in Vancouver, got stable, had Chan, and waited for him to be old enough to continue, and that's what they did. When we met them in 2006 they were pulling Chan (then 3) in a kid-trailer, with all the gear for the three of them. They have now made it all the way to Argentina and plan to get to Patagonia sometime in the next 6-9 months. They are heroes!

And of course these amazing people are just a drop in the bucket. 998 parties (including us) have signed the log to date at Lucho's Casa de Ciclistas.

Randy switches to a BOB trailer... Advantages and Disadvantages

rfay — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 00:20:35 +0000

When we came back to Peru I started riding with a Ibex BOB trailer trailer again instead of using panniers as I have for the last few years. It was kind of a return to my roots, since I used a BOB for our first several rides in 2001-2005. So far, I'm happy to be pulling my old friend Bob again. It feels good on the bike.

You may not know it, but since the BOB was introduced, US touring cyclists have often raged at each other about its advantages and disadvantages. As one who has used both the pannier system (front and back racks with saddlebags attached to them) and the BOB, a single-wheeled bike trailer, I thought I could weigh in on advantages and disadvantages.

I think when you ride with the BOB it's more like riding a bike and less like driving a truck, which is how I feel when riding with panniers.
The BOB is a bit easier on the bike, since there's one more wheel to spread out the load. The frame of the bike gets almost no strain (and it can get quite a bit going over bumps with the panniers). The rear axle still gets about half the load, but the frame itself gets almost nothing.
My kickstand doesn't work any more! In general, it's just harder to manage the bike+bob configuration when you're off the bike. I think it's easier to manage when you're riding, but harder when you're off. For example, you can't easily back up (just like with a car and a trailer.)
It's significantly more difficult to organize your stuff in the BOB, because it's in one big bag, instead of 4 panniers. The separate panniers give you a good start on organization.
The Bob may add up to more total weight - BOB + bag may weigh more than racks + panniers. They're not far apart though.
The BOB is MUCH faster on downhills and into the wind, because it has so much less wind resistance.
When cycle touring in any situation you have to take care because of the added weight. The BOB, however, is a special challenge. It's important not to make sudden moves as the BOB trailer "talks back". If you make a sudden move, it will give you a counter-action. If you're not careful it could throw you.
The BOB relieves all the weight from your front wheel. This may mean that at times the front wheel could be unloaded and perhaps you could have steering issues you wouldn't have with front panniers loaded. On the other hand, it's much easier to steer because the front is unloaded.
You can do some things with a Bob that are really hard with racks. Getting a load of firewood, for example. It worked great for that up in Canada.
One other nice thing about the Bob: It's made of steel, and any old welder can fix it up. When a baggage handler in Copper canyon threw it down and broke it a few years ago, I just took it to a welder in Creel and he made it as good as new.

Anyway, the BOB is working well and I'm hoping I'll be even fonder of it in 9 months!

Update September 20, 2008: The BOB is great. I'm really pleased that I changed. It seems easier and more fun to ride, even though I have a bit more weight than I did before (we're carrying more warm clothes and heavier sleeping bags now, and the BOB weighs a bit more than the equivalent racks and panniers.) The way I see it, it's much easier to steer with the BOB, making it more like a fighter plane, and less like a truck. This does mean that you can mess up quicker by not maintaining control. I also notice that the front, with less weight on it, does not hold the road quite as well on a difficult dirt road downhill. When riding up the side of a ridge in the road, for example, it has a tendency to fall back down. So it requires a little more care.

Back on the road, Climbing up into the mountains

nancy — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 00:50:50 +0000

Click here for all of our favorite photos from this section
After more than three weeks of not riding we are back on the road once again in Peru. We made a two-week trip back to the United States to see all our family members and are glad to report all are well. It was good to see the family as well it was a delight to see all our wonderful friends.

We returned to Trujillo, Peru and stayed once again at the Casa de Ciclistas where Lucho and his family have offered free hospitality to cyclist for 23 years. Randy and I were visitor 998. While staying there, we meet 7 different cyclists from all over the world.

We have now been on the road for 5 days and are taking a rest day in Caraz. The ride from the coast up to Caraz has been amazing, spectacular, a hard ride on mostly dirt road, some good and some awful. The best part is the lack of traffic which permitted us to enjoy the majestic views of the mountains and the river valley we pedalled through.

We rode for one day on the Panamerican highway south to Chao. The road had a good shoulder, big trucks and a landscape which brought to mind the sand dunes of Saudi Arabia. Huge hills, not really mountains, of nothing but sand dunes. Nothing lived in this region, no houses, no people, no business thrived, no birds chirped, no butterfly fluttered by. Nada!The road followed the shoreline that stayed to our right some mile or two away. Only big trucks and buses whizzed by coming or going along this void coastal highway.

After spending the night in the dusty town of Chao we headed south for 15 kilometers and turned left onto a private road. The entrance to road was gated and guarded but we were permitted to proceed. The road was built as a service road for an irrigation plant. Cyclists are permitted to travel this road for free. The first part of this 36 kilometer road was eerie. The flat valley changed from sand dunes to lava beds of differing colors. As in a special Japanese garden, small purple rocks covered miles of this spreading valley, and then grey beds of grey rocks and other of green rocks stretched out in separate areas. Sand dunes morphed into mountains of flaming colors.

Almost daily, we stop and take a rest. We lay out our space blanket and lay down to stretch. As soon as we laid down, Randy fell asleep. As I lay there I noticed the silence. Except for Randy's steady breathing, I heard nothing. No wind, no birds, no insects, no cars, or planes or sounds of water moving. I had never heard complete silence before. I was scared. It was creepy to hear nothing. All this was to strange for me so I put on my headphones to listen to my music, to block out the silence. After two minutes of music, I thought how nuts this was and I put away my fears and music and listened to the silences. I soon noticed I smelled nothing. The air around was void of smell. Where there is not life there is not smell. So I sat and enjoyed the silence and the lack of smell of this strange and enchanting place.

The second day out of Trujillo was another day of eye candy. Mountains with morphing colors and molted formation surrounded this magic valley. We saw less than a dozen vehicles all day. We rode with our mouths wide open as we gawked at the wondrous landscape we slowly pedaled through. We rode through 12 tunnels cut right into the rocks. Some were short enough not to require a light, but the longer tunnels were pitch black. Using our headlamps we rode through the tunnels on the rutted surface with just enough light to crawl through and not wipe out. I worked hard to keep my line straight and not curve too much up and back in the rutted banks.

We stopped for lunch in the shade of an abandoned building. While I made tuna sandwiches, Randy slept again. We could not get our energy going so after our lunch and naps. So as Randy fixed some coffee on our little stove, I napped. This helped the slows but not enough so I looked for the Coca leaves I bought at the local market in Trijullo. I could not find it. But right next to our bikes, we spotted a different bag of coca leaves. Roadkill. I am always amazed on how we are provided for in our time of need. I tried a pinch and it was coca but was fresher and better than the coca I bought in the market. We both took a little wade and stuck it in our checks and continued on. Just the perfect remedy for the slows.

Here in Peru, coca leaves are chewed by many people. In the developed world, when you need a pick-me up, you may get a cup of coffee, tea, cola or chocolate. Here in South America they chew coca leaves or have a cup of coca tea for a legal pick-me up. To help us with the high elevation and to fight altitude sickness we decided to try this traditional medicine used by South Americans for thousands of years. What chewing coca leaves or having coca tea does is increase the oxygen in the blood, fight off fatigue, thirst and hunger. We will be living and riding for several months at elevations between 10,000 ft and 16,000 feet. I get elevation sickness at 8500ft, so I hope it gives me the natural assist to make living at those elevation more comfortable. By the way coca tea can be purchase in the United States. (No, don't worry about us. Although cocaine is made out of a highly refined paste made from coca leaves, chewing the coca leaf has nothing to do with cocaine.)

For the next two days we rode through the canyons and through the tunnels. We camped two nights, one at a gas station in a town of 100 people and another night at a mango orchard by an irrigation ditch. It was the first time I ever bathed in irrigation water and it felt wonderful. We rode our bikes through the famous Cañon del Pato and through 35 more tunnels. I will let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

On the fifth day we rested in the quiet town of Caraz, nestled beneath the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. We started the morning with a trip around the plaza to view the surrounding mountains in hope to see Huascaran, the highest mountain in Peru at 22,000ft (6,768 m).. Like a knife it slices the heavens with its diamond-sharp snow-covered peaks. We followed our grumbling stomachs to the best pastry store. The town is known as the town of sweets, Caraz Dulzura. It was both delightful and decadent to share a caramel custard, two apple-filled strudels and a pastry rolled in coconut and manjar, a milk and honey like substance. The coffee they make here is called Essencia, a thick brewed coffee poured into a large glass of steaming milk. We then proceeded to the local archaeological site, Tumshukaiko, a partially excavated 3000-year old ruin. Not very exciting. The dogs barking at us as we where leaving was the most exciting part. Randy headed to the internet cafe and I headed to the market to buy some food. I roamed the market studying people. I stopped and talked to the lady who makes hand-braided ropes. She learned this from her parents and her daughter learned it from her. The price of 6 feet of hand-braided rope about 60 cents for 6 feet. As she worked, her daughter and grandchild joined her at the street stall. In Peruvian style her daughter asked me dozens of questions about where I came from and our trip. Her 10 month son just stared at me with the biggest blackest almond eye. He did not blink, just sat and stared not moving for the ten minutes during my whole visit with the family. Those eyes are burnt into my sole for ever.

The people of Peru are friendly, generous and curious people. They are not afraid and are not self absorbed. It feels good to be here.

Our highest point yet: 15,400 feet (4700 meters)

rfay — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 01:56:14 +0000

Today we crossed the highest point of our journey so far, and perhaps the highest of the trip. After climbing back up into the Andes (the Cordillera Blanca) for more than a week, we crossed over 15,400 foot (4700 meter) Abra Yana Shalla. We had been working our way up to this, climbing no more than 1000 meters per day as we got into the really high places. Nancy really felt the altitude in a number of ways, so we were trying to be as careful as possible. But we made the last push this morning up into the barren peaks. We saw lots of beautiful scenery in the last few days and will try to get the pictures uploaded within a few days.

Nancy's Poem: Climbing over the top

nancy — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 01:31:29 +0000

Crawling my way up the highest peak,
I wonder if I can do this.
Can I ride my bike up to the heavens?
Or will I die, will my heart give out,
Will I fall off the edge from the lack of oxygen?

I adjust my height of seat
I mount my metal steed
I pedal up the gentle grade,
I take a breath, I gulp another
I want more but the air resists
I chew some coca, I spit out the spines
Round the pedals turn, ever so slowly
My eyes start to burn, my lungs fight
Focusing on the ground ahead,
Listening to my music
Progress is being made,
My vision becomes smaller
My focus sharpens
Making it to the top is my only thought

I miss the sheep dogs attacking,
Three come from nowhere,
The charge shocks me back to reality
I dismount rapidly in fright
My bike protects me from the circling dogs
I throw a rock at the alpha dog
They back away, they retreat
A 4-year-old child chases them
With a bigger rock then mine,
Gracias, niño,

I crawl my way up to the top,
I fight, I want to cry
No, too much energy
My nose is running wild,
Drule pores from my mouth
As I gasp for another breath,
I leave it, to much energy to fix.

I stop for a rest I have resisted,
The air all seems blue,
Sounds and space is distorted
I wonder if I know
Can I count?
What is my birthday?

What is 4 plus 4
It all comes so slowly
I have to go on.
I yell to myself
Pay attention
No crying,
Get on with it
Obediently I pedal on

The top is in sight
I see a truck broach the top
I will make it,
my ribs hurt,
my lung burns
my heart misses it´s beats
I chew some more coca
I drink more water
Anything to get me there

I stop for a second
Lungs grab for the elusive air
Managing to ride for 10 meters
I am forced to rest again,
The top is near
I crawl my way forward
The top is here,
Is it really here
Yes, the sign tells me so.
Abra Yanashalla

My Relief and joy are mixed
I have conquered my fears
I have ridden my loaded bicycle
To the top of the 15400 foot pass.
The Peruvian beast is mine.
Mine for life, I can live again.

Riding down to Huánuco, A rough day

nancy — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 04:31:12 +0000

Note: We've posted our favorite pictures from northern Peru here or as a slideshow.

Yesterday we rode about 45 miles up to 4000 meters (13,120 feet) and then down to 1900 meters (6232 feet) on a nasty, loose, difficult dirt road. Randy crashed on the downhill. He scraped up his arm and hip and bruised a rib. I was behind him and when I came up to him he was down on the ground holding his hip, right on an edge of the road 5 feet from a big, big drop. He was bruised up yesterday but feeling better today. Seeing him lying there scared me. By his position, I thought he broke a hip or a leg. All the rest of the day I was upset.

And Randy got his favorite bike tool (a Topeak Alien multi-tool) taken or lost, probably in the midst of a crowd at a fiesta in a little tiny pueblo at the top of the pass. Everybody was pressing around us. We don't know for sure that somebody took it then, but it was gone right then. He had used it earlier that morning. We have to find a replacement for some of those tools now.

And Randy lost his sunglasses somewhere, so was riding all day with no protection against the immense dust of the road.

The dogs, who are always very protective of their territory, seem much more aggressive then usual. Every small grouping of houses we rode by, two or three dogs would come chasing us. I got bitten by a dog in Ecuador so I am a bit dog-shy. Yesterday three came at me at one time from nowhere, absolutely no warning. It seemed they where lying in the bushes waiting for me. They jumped up from behind a dirt bank so fast, I reacted by dropping my bike, picked up a handful of rocks, threw them as hard as I could, meanwhile yelling and swearing at the beasts. I did manage to sort of hit one of the dogs in his feet. He stumbled down the bank. I am so frustrated at the dogs here. The people do not control their dogs in any way and they attack anything that goes by the property they guard. We know it's the dogs' job to defend their homes, but we sure wish they wouldn't waste their time on us. The roads are too bad to try evasive actions so I usually stop, talk to the perros and if this does not work I throw rocks or squirt water from my water bottle.

I recently read a journal entry where a cyclist killed a dog with his bare hands. I do understand the intense anger that can bubble up after attack after attack, day after day. I spent the rest of the day fantasizing about how I could use different methods to protect myself. Some I can not even mention in this writing. I wonder if a whistle that lets out a high pitch would stop a dog from attacking. What do you think? Maybe I could order one and have it sent to Cusco, Peru.

But it wasn't all so bad! When we got to the top of the pass we came to a little village that was having a great fiesta, with dancing and the Inca maidens in costume and just a very friendly group (except perhaps for the quick-finger that got Randy's tool). They begged us to stay and dance, but we knew we had a long way to go. We loved their music and their friendliness. And they pressed a bit of "Peruvian Beer", the chicha they love on Randy. It was another delightful village.

Here is a movie from the fiesta, and a few more pictures from the day.

Celebrations and Ruins in Huánuco Pampa

nancy — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 23:44:53 +0000

Visiting wonderful archaeological sites along the way has been one of the many joys of traveling through the Americas. Occasionally it requires a good hard hike to get there. We had no intention of visiting the Peruvian ruins of Huánuco Pampa (also known as Huánuco Viejo) but while we were riding through La Unión, the local pride in this beloved site got our curiosity going. We could have taken a 5am bus up to the 3700 meter plateau but we didn't want to get up that early, we needed some exercise on our day off from riding, and it's far more direct to walk, so we headed up the narrow canyon to visit old Inca Ruin, Huánuco Pampa.

I was very impressed on how treacherous this route was but it was a major walking thoroughfare for the local people. Slippery rubble lined the route the first first few hundred meters. It seemed not to bother the locals as they knew this was the shortest route from the high pampa flat plateau down to the town of La Unión 700 meters below. It was a beautiful sunny morning and just the right temperature for this adventure. We greeting everyone as we passed by. "buenos dias!" to the shepherds and the cowboys leading the horses and donkeys laden with recent harvested goods. "Hola" to the school children riding donkeys or hiking down with plastic backpacks on their tiny backs. "Como esta" to the woman riding the horse 6 hours from her farm high in the mountains. The most amazing was the very ancient woman who trekked this arduous route with her cane. It took her an hour to make her way down this steep, steep trail with the beautiful woven shawl she used as a backpack to haul her goods up and down. I stopped to talk to her for a few minutes (and catch my breath). Looking into her face, I saw an Inca women of tremendous age, eyes worn from years of living off the land, a few brittle teeth stubbornly stuck inside her withering jaw, leathered skin, and hair as bristled as an old discarded brillo pad. When we parted, she looked up into my face, took my hand and gently pulled me toward her as she gave me the most memorable hug I have ever received. She was Mother Earth, and I was touched by her forever. She smiled and told me to have good travels.

When we reached the flat pampa after an hour of what seemed like straight up, the landscape was completely different because we were up on the plateau above the valley. Adobe houses and stone walls divided the dry, high tundra. Sheep, cows, horses, goats wandered in groups followed by the shepherd. I wondered how such an overgrazed land could support so many animals. There was signs stating a project or two was working in the area to save the environment and the soil. I think they have a lot of work to do to revive this hard-packed land. After another hour of walking the Inca-like trail, we reached the entrance of the ruins of Huánuco Pampa, also known as Huánuco Viejo or Huánuco Marca.

In the wide open field in front of the 800-year-old Inca site was a huge gathering of local people. Some kind of festival was going on. We stood to the side, watched the goings on and soon many kind people came up shook our hands and welcomed us to the Potato Festival. This was the time of year villages in the area celebrate the planting of the most important crop of Peru, the potato.

We stayed all day and watched the festivities. Most of the day was filled with competitions between people representing their village or neighborhood. First was the turning of the soil. Two teams of three men raced each other down a 100-meter row preparing the earth of planting. Two men would break the soil with special shovels while another man would turn the huge clump of earth. Barefooted and in unison the teams worked as they sliced the into the ground, pushed the tool two feet deeper, turn the clump to the side, remove the shovel, back up and start again. In 15 minutes the two teams completed their 100 meter row. One team was faster but the other team had dug a prefect trench void of clumps. The competitors dropped down to the ground with exhaustion. The crowd cheered, clamped and jumped around with jubilation. The judges inspected the rows. They both won, one team for speed and the other for perfect work.

The second competition was slingshot accuracy. A special hand-woven sling which held a colored rock was twirled around clockwise and the rock was released toward a distant target. The crowd roared with each attempt. Peruvian shepherds use this technique to either herd wayward animals or to scare off approaching predators. The target was missed by everyone during the first round so the target was moved 10 meters closer. One man won in the third round, eventually hitting the target. The third competition was similar but was based on distance. There was even a woman who competed in this. She was great but not good enough to win the furthest throw.

We took a break from the competitions and visited the ruins. These ruins seemed to be a huge hotel for travelers between Cuzco, Peru and Quito, Ecuador, the South and North capitals of the ancient Inca empire. The most impressive part was the perfectly cut rocks which fit together like a puzzle without any cement or grout. Some of the rocks had 12 perfect angles as they were cut in a "L" shape. How they got these huge stones to this site from distant quarries is one feat. The other is how they cut these without metal, without modern tools. The huge dormitory structure had different stone work which was the first we have seen. It uses a rosary design to build the walls. A large round boulder is set surrounded by smaller boulders forming a rose like design in the wall.

After touring the site we headed back to the center of the local village to watch the rest of the days event: Potato peeling, wool spinning, rope braiding and tug-of-war competitions. (the archaeologists did an awesome job against the strong hard working farmers but came in second) Then the local band marched in, followed by several magical characters and young women in traditional costumes dancing and singing traditional songs. After invitations and prodding Randy and I joined the center dance which was the opening ceremony for the 3 day festival of Potato Planting.

I am amazed at how so many events in Latin America are public events and open to all. The people of Peru are such generous, open people who share in their culture and riches with complete strangers like us. They seemed honored that we would stay all day and join in with the festivities.

Here are some videos of the wonderful events:

If you're reading this on hobobiker.com, you can click on any of the pictures below for a full-size view and a slideshow, with captions.

Riding the dusty Rio Mantaro from Huancayo to Ayacucho

nancy — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 18:33:55 +0000

We have been riding in the low desert river valley lands at about 7000 feet elevations. The last 4 days have been been very, very hot, dusty, remote, and buggy. We are very dirty. We are taking time out of today's ride to clean the grit out of our teeth, escape form the high temps. and enjoy the pleasures of civilizations for half of a day in Huanta. A bed, a shower, Internet and food other then pollo frito (fried chicken) and arroz (rice).

It is an amazing land. We dropped down 3000 feet and everything changed from cold to hell. It reminds me of some of the landscape near Tucson, Arizona where various cacti adorn the barren landscape. I am amazed how people can eek a living out of land so barren, devoid of resources and forgotten by everyone including the government. This land once was terrorized by a group of rebels called the Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso) but they have long ago abandoned this place and left it to the vultures. Very few buses, cars or trucks passed by us in this rugged, dusty, forsaken place. The land is too dry to support sheep but we did encounter shepherds herding goats along with pigs, a few cows, and donkeys. It is so strange to see women in skirts, blouses, fancy hats, a babies slung on their backs tending to their herds and knitting some kind of clothing or such. The women all through Peru knit. They stand or sit and just knit. Women in other places in Latin America weave but in Peru they hands are very busy knitting away.

The people here in the middle of the Peruvian highlands are very friendly, very friendly. Hundreds of times a day a day I hear "Hola, Mami" or "Buenos dias, gringita. ¿A donde Vas?" translated as "hello, mommy" or "Good day, where are you going friend Gringa?" . I respond that we're going to Cusco (an unthinkable distance for them) and then to Bolvia and Argentina (which either blows their mind or bores them, depending on how well they studied geography in school). As we climbed out of one river valley, a woman and her 14-year-old daughter walking down the dirt mountain road kindly inquired about our trip. "A donde van? " The mother had such a strength but gentleness to her. Her laugh was one of the most beautiful laughs I have ever heard. After telling her "A Cusco, despues, Bolvia y Argentina" and answering dozens of other questions, she wanted to know how hard it was to go the the United States to live and work. She is the kind of person I would want to sponsor and bring back to the USA. Perhaps someday I will. She had one last question. Her daughter had been holding a cloth up to her mouth with a grimace on her face the whole time we talked. I thought she might have been shy but no I was wrong. Her daughter had a hole in her mouth, actually in her teeth and she wanted to know what she could do for her. The girls upper lips and gums where swollen like she had been stung by bees and developed a reaction. We told her that she needed a dentist. I really think she did not know that a dentist helps with problems with the teeth. Or perhaps she couldn't even imagine the amount of money that would be required to visit one. She might have come from a remote village where there is no dentist and she herself appeared as she had never visited a dentist. Most of the mother's bottom teeth were black and rotting in place and it was obvious she never had the resources to visit a dentist.

I saw the pain in the girls face as I closely examined her problem. The swelling was obvious and she needed treatment. I gave her two baby aspirins, some water which she drank with gusto and some teeth-numbing paste I have carried in the bottom of my first aid kit for two years. I showed her how to apply it to the affected area which she mimicked but applied it to all her gums. No harm. We suggested she seek the help from a dentist. I hoped there was a dentist in the tiny village a few kilometers below. I never thought I would be a traveling medicine women but I was glad we where able to give a little help to the delightful woman and her daughter. All day I thought of the bewilderment of the two as what to do about the pain and perhaps infection.

We ended up camping several nights along our trip from Huancayo to Ayacucho. Once was in front of an abandoned adobe complex. As it was to late in the day and we where not going to make it 10 kilometers to Anco, we stopped to ask the old couple sitting on the stairs of one of the unoccupied house. We asked if we could camp here which the old man responded by showing a place behind half destroyed wall. It was perfect. It would protect us from the dust kicked up by the occasional passing vehicle. After we set up camp, we prepared a meal of instant mashed potatoes, instant noodles, tuna fish, curry and a touch of olive oil. I finally realized that this old couple who had not moved far from the steps, also did not live here. They laid out a couple of blankets on the hard ground and settled in as night creeped in. There was not lights here, and a creek flowed through the property. We learned they lived up the mountain, an hour and one half walk from this campsite. They were resting here also. I realized they had not eaten so I gave them some of our dinner. I wondered what they thought of the improvised meal. If they did not like it, which was very possible, then the two skinny dogs and cat that hung around would finally get to eat. In the morning, I saw the old man feed some chickens and never saw them again.

Another night we stayed in Mayocc, a small town that has next to nothing. Indeed a very poor town. They had three small hospedajes (cheap hotels). One was up stairs in a rough concrete structure with no paint. The dust from the unpaved road below billowed dust into every nook and cranny of the rooms. The other hostel had no bathroom and everyone went out to the back field with the billions of nasty gnats to take care of their private needs. Nope not for me. The third was full but Carlos let us camp in back. (Big thanks to Carlos and his sister) The best part of this place was it was not a dust bowl and it had a bathroom and a place to shower. Well sort of. It was more like a concrete outhouse with three stalls and a flimsy vinyl sheet covering each of the door entries. It was perfect except it had no water. The town had no water most of the time except for maybe a half hour in the late afternoon and another half hour in the early morning. Somehow the town worked around this and manages to get by. We hung around in the late afternoon in the shade and avoided getting eaten by the nasty little bugs. Using what precious water they had stored we took a shower using our 10 liter water-bag with a shower head attachment in the privacy of the concrete outhouse. I was in heaven as the dust poured off me down into the floor drain. And later when the water came on, I managed to hand wash our grimy clothes. A room with a single bed and a single light became available. Instead of setting up our tent we slept in one small bed for for a cost of three dollars. The young employee who worked at the hotel/restaurant slept outside our door on the concrete floor near the stairs. He must have given up his bed to us.

A little later I wandered the town purchasing the food for the next day's ride: Yogurt, bread, tuna, crackers, peach juice. Returning back to the hotel, under the light of a street lamp, a volleyball came flying my way. I love volleyball and so do the Peruvians. I think it is the biggest sport in the country. I put my bag down and joined in a game with 5 young children. We played in the middle of the dusty road, with an imaginary net. The girls against the boys. Every time the girls scored a point against the boys, the my two little teammates run up to me and gave me a bear hug as they jumped up and down yelling "Point for Peru". Many people stopped and watched us playing. One of the girls told me to use my "Arma" which I guess is a technical move in Volleyball. But as far as I understood in Spanish arma is a word for weapons. I told her I did not understand because I do not have any weapons. "Yo no tengo Arma" The towns people laughed with delight. It was a really funny moment which I thoroughly enjoyed. All was good with life: Simple moments makes for simple joys. No complicated lives with cable TV, Internet, telephone, lights, bills, etc. Just a genuine moment playing volleyball in a dusty forgotten part of Peru with some new little friends.

If you're reading this on hobobiker.com you can click on any of the pictures and see a full-size view and a slideshow.

You can see all the photos from this stretch of road on flickr.

Working with Kiva and Microfinanzas Prisma in Huancayo

rfay — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 18:11:47 +0000

One of the objectives of our trip was to spend some time volunteering for various organizations, and getting to know the area and meeting the people that way. We volunteered with Friendship Bridge and Kiva.org in Guatemala last year, and Kiva was kind enough to set up a task in Huancayo and Tarma, Peru. Our job was to visit loan recipients, interview them so that we could write update their profiles on Kiva, and verify that the loan data were all correct.

Two marvellous young women hauled us all over the back country of Peru searching out the selected Kiva borrowers. In Huancayo we took more buses in one day than we could have imagined, visiting what seemed like dozens of little villages outside the city. In Tarma they arranged a 4-wheel-drive and a driver to haul us all over creation to find the clients. In one case we spent about an hour and a half climbing one incredible road up to a remote village... and then found that the woman was not home! However, we eventually found her husband and he was delightful.

We found out a few things in our few days of volunteering:

Microfinance is helping lots of tiny businesses in Peru.
People like you are providing lots of capital for these tiny businesses through Kiva.org
The microfinance provider Microfinanzas Prisma is handing its clients well - we found a few discrepancies, but they were tiny, and all the clients we visited were real people, not any kind of fraud.
Some links you'd like to find out more about microfinance:
- A hobobiker article about Microfinance
- Try out Kiva.org
- Read our other articles about Kiva, Friendship Bridge, and Microfinance

FAQ: Don't you get tired?

rfay — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 19:31:40 +0000

This is an attempt to answer a Frequently-Asked-Question, both at home and on the road: Don't you get tired?

I think there are two different questions being asked. The first is, "Don't you get physically tired riding all that way?". The short answer to that one is: Yes, we get physically tired, and we rest and that solves it.

But the other question people are asking us is, "Don't you get tired of it? or bored?". And that one has a more complicated answer.

Yes, we sometimes do get tired of it. Sometimes the road is the same for a few days. Or the scenery and challenges seem to remain the same. Or the challenge seems a bit too much for a while.

Our standard prescription for a bike tourist that gets discouraged is easy: Rest for some time, and it won't seem so overwhelming. We know of one cyclist who, after riding all the way across Europe in record time, suddenly started feeling like all the people in the country where he was riding were looking at him wrong, like they were out to get him. We think he was tired, and should have slowed the pace, or stopped to rest a few days. But he was on a flight home within a couple of days, having aborted his trip. Cyclists often don't know how tired they really are.

Another thing that's important is to avoid dwelling on the ultimate destination. Our ultimate destination is Ushuaia, in Tierra del Fuego, at the bottom of South America. That's still a long way away. We have to keep focused on our short term goals, because looking that far down the line will make it all seem impossible. (We're having a bit of trouble with this right now, after all this time on the road. We're thinking about the destination.)

And it's terribly important to seek out good routes to ride. The fast ones are often killers. We could go down to the coast of Peru and Chile and ride as much as 60 miles (100 kilometers) per day, I think. But when you just ride on a fast highway and the scenery doesn't change, you end up riding like a zombie, and the enthusiasm leaves. Too much flat road, with unchanging scenery, or difficult traffic, will wear you out for sure.

We do take vitamins in an effort to keep up our attitude, and we do listen to books from audible.com on our MP3 player along the way, if traffic permits. This makes the hours go faster.

But right now, despite all this, we're struggling with where we're at and how far we have to go. And we've had a terribly interesting and rewarding time in Peru. It's perhaps the most stimulating and interesting and friendly place we've been. But some of the roads have been the hardest too, with more dirt in this part than we had experienced in any other country. I'm thinking about how far it is to Ushuaia (the bottom point in South America). And I'm thinking about the fact that we probably can't make it there before their winter sets in in April of next year unless we start taking more buses than we have.

Tomorrow we're going to take a bus that will get us over one of the most difficult dirt-road sections of the entire trip. It's 15 hours (and about 150 miles!) from Ayacucho to the pavement that will lead us to Cuzco. I'm always reluctant to get on a bus, being a bit of a purist, but we decided to do it. (We took a bus from south of Huanuco to Huancayo also... Nancy wasn't feeling well and it was just good to get that stretch over with.)

So we have lots of advice for other people, but we're hoping that we can manage this tiredness or anxiousness and keep the trip on track.