Pedaling Panther : October 2017

Cycling Peru was probably the most relentless drawn out and sole destroying experience of my life....which I hope to never ever repeat no matter how much money someone is willing to pay me!...

My reasons for saying this will soon become clear, but let’s kick off at the start with the border crossing. Unlike other South American borders, Ecuador and Peru had a combined entry and exit building where you only queued once to get both exit and entry stamps. In theory this was a good idea, however, the authorities had decided to employ enough security staff to safeguard a prison, 3 members of staff for the desk to leave Ecuador and just one to enter Peru! The enormous queue, which spilled outside the building had doubled in my 4 hour wait to get my passport stamped! On the positive side there were no complications and I was on my way into my 3rd country into South America.

The greenery and mountains of Ecuador were now long gone and the land was mostly very flat, arid and dry with a head-on wind that was not too overpowering. This was something I had half expected, when I cycled from Lima to Buenos Aires 5 years earlier I had experienced insanely strong daily head on winds. At the time I thought I had just been unlikely, though after studying a wind map a few days prior to arriving in Peru I learnt that southerly winds blasted up the coast of Peru year round. A wind chart of the Americas will show that in the northern hemisphere winds are northerly (which made cycling the US coast a breeze!) Where as in the southern hemisphere the wind direction would be from west to east at the tip of South America before blowing a gale up the coast through Chile and Peru – known as the Peruvian current. I had hoped that I wouldn’t have experienced them quite this early on in Peru, yet after a couple of days riding they were in full flow!

Something else which was in full flow was those Pesky Peruvian dogs snapping at my heels chasing me every day! South America is notorious for its dogs, though in Peru they seemed especially bad. In the past I would always try to outrun them, though a pack of 5 at full tilt chasing you down into a head wind is hard to get away from! Being bitten would be a disaster, although I had had rabies jabs before leaving, that just buys you an extra day to get to hospital, which on this remote coastline would probably mean a bus trip to Lima. Luckily, despite their best efforts that hasn’t happened yet. Since dogs were mesmerized by the pedaling motion, I had learnt the best tactic was to dismount and put the bike between myself and the dogs at right angles making a barrier, and if they still came, pick up rocks to launch at them. Although not wanting to hurt the dogs, this was particularly effective! I would often catch a Peruvian lorry pass with the driver grinning like a Cheshire cat as he watched me take on the pack of dogs!

The road was initially flat for the most part hugging the coastline and sometimes sitting high on cliff tops, from where I smelt the most horrific stench! I’m not sure if this was the reason, or it was just dead fish or sewage...but the beach was littered with the corpses of dead seals. I was later told that the Fishermen poisoned them to prevent them from eating so many fish. Not groovy! Apart from a few attractive fishing villages the landscape became more and more baron and desert like the further I headed south towards Lima until there was nothing but sand dunes as far as the eye could see with winds getting stronger by the day. One thing I can’t fail to mention is the beeping!! That bloody beeping!! I probably get beeped at at least 300 times a day! No matter how tired I am I always wave back at an enthusiastic beeper, especially if it’s accompanied with a friendly trucker’s wave. However, even on an open desert road with nothing ahead as far as the eye can see.....every Peruvian feels it necessary to skim right past me and give a huge blast of the horn the moment they pass me!! Often a fog horn. It gives me a mini heart attack every time and is making my hair turn grey! I understand a warning beep to let me know your approaching or a supportive toot, but why, on an open road, blast your horn the second you blast past me from behind!! Rant over. Arriving in Peru’s capital as week or so later was a good milestone. Lima is mostly a complete hole though the central area has some nice old buildings from when they were conquered by the Spanish. The Miraflores area where I stayed is set around a triangular green park and is Lima’s Covent Garden. After eating rice 3 times a day for weeks it was a chance to load up on all the western food, European coffee and cakes I’d begun to crave!

Leaving Lima south on the Pan-am was a section of the journey I had dreaded for weeks. Mentally riding your bike so far is very tough. But doing a long stretch of road for the second time knowing what I was up against was brutal– daily head-on winds that rip right through you on a never ending tedious barren desert wasteland that changes little in 1000s of miles! It was not going to be fun and I was proven right to have been concerned. Winds had intensified further still, and if you’re a cyclist you’ll appreciate this, I’d take freezing rain, steep mountains, snow, tropical heat…. anything over head on winds! I was literally starting to lose the plot. It was like cycling into a wind tunnel, I felt like was going backwards....for over two weeks! An old coke can blasted down the road towards me so fast it could have took my eye out as the wind howled around my ears giving me a constant headache and blowing me all over the road as I constantly fought to readjust my steering.

Passing some of the Nazca Lines

Sand particles would be picked up and gusted into my face,engulfing the highway in sand. I would often scream out loud, “F OFF!!!” Cycling the Americas had been great, but I was hating every second of this. I’m not one to wish my life away but in would have paid good money to be teleported 2 weeks into the future.

One day which remains the most vivid in my memory was the 4th day south of Lima. I was on the road at sunrise, and it had taken me about 14 hours to cover a miserly 77 miles! To give that some comparison, I have cycled over 200 miles in that time frame before. The head-on winds were so strong I had been creeping along at 5mph, a little over walking pace for much of the day. To top things off, throughout the day I had been feeling a rumbling sensation in my stomach which all of a sudden became very urgent. I dropped my bike, ran to the side of the Pan-am and pulled down my shorts milliseconds before a brown liquid blasted from my backside like a ruptured sewage main with the most atrocious smell. That’s disgusting I know, though it is accurate! This process repeated itself every few hundred meters until I finally came to the first civilization in quite some time, a restaurant. The town I was aiming for was just 10 miles further, but by now it was pitch black and I just couldn’t make it any further. The combined effect of both the cycling and diarrhea dehydrating me completely and draining me of all energy.

I walked into the restaurant the moment Peru kicked off in vital world cup qualifier against Argentina, the jovial and passionate atmosphere among the truckers who had pulled over to watch making my carefully selected meal of plain rice and bread far more interesting. Due to the heroics of a goal keeper who appeared to have a trampoline beneath him and following a disallowed goal from Messi, Peru somehow managed to hang on to a nil-nil draw. The celebrations went on for days with the highlights replayed nonstop on Peruvian TV, you’d have thought they’d won the World Cup. They mainly consisted of Peruvian players being fouled since Peru hadn't managed a shot on goal, though the TV production company made the most of it. My lifestyle that night was far less glamorous than those football players and I went outside into the cold air to pitch my tent in front of a disused wooden hut, which offered good shelter from the wind. I did however have a Sea view from my luxury abode.

The next morning I woke up to severe stomach cramps and ran outside to do the inevitable, packed away by tent and sleeping bag and began pedaling, camping outside a shed was no place to hang around in my condition! It was only 10 miles to the town of Atico but with energy levels at zero and regular toilet stops it seemed to take an eternity. My spirits were somewhat lifted by a big concrete slab on which the words, “Hotel Alicia, a perfect place to relax” (Un lugar perfecto para descansar) and HOT WATER!!!! Were hand painted, a rare commodity in this part of the world, and in my current state and having not had a hot shower in weeks, it spelt heaven. Rated at 3 Stars it was Atico's version of the Hilton. Unfortunately my dreams of a hot shower eluded me when the red tap produced a trickle it would be generous to call lukewarm. The way I felt leading up to that day it was like Christmas day being taken from a child and I demanded we tried all the other hotel rooms until we found a working hot shower. It was bliss! It’s amazing what you find comfort in after trips like this.

I set the alarm for 4:50 the next morning and was on the road by 5:20 making the most of the lighter early morning winds. I thought the day off had enabled me to recover but I soon found myself in a world of trouble. 82 very tough miles later I made it to the large town of Camana, took my shoes off and lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, it was 6:30 pm. Nine and a half hours later I awoke at 4am, TV and light still on, I definitely wasn’t better yet! It was frustrating taking precious days off in such baron deserted landscapes but I had little choice, I had nothing in me. Camana, although pretty compared to other Peruvian coastal towns, was a ghost town that Sunday so I decided to dump my bike in the hotel and take a bus (with loo) to the beautiful city of Arequipa, 3 hours inland. I was in drastic need of a change of scenery and figured I could chill out in a cafe there overlooking the plaza, chuck some antibiotics down my neck and all would be good! Despite the illness Camana was an important milestone for me, this was the place I had got to 5 years ago before heading west into the mountains and up into Bolivia, there was to be no more repetition of roads. I remember being so relieved to get here last time in the knowledge I was about to change course and head west to Bolivia (avoiding those winds) that I celebrated by eating a whole roasted chicken and fries accompanied by a massive 1.5 litre bottle of Peru’s Inca Cola. The luminous acidic yellow carbonated drink, that tastes a bit like dandelion and burdock, did not sit well and the chicken ejected out of my mouth no sooner than it had entered! There were to be no such celebrations this time in my present state, and even though I knew I was heading south to Chile with more winds on the way, the knowledge that I would be on new roads was a big lift.

One of 1000s of gravestones from traffic tradgedys littering the PanAm

Just 3 days separated me from and the Chilean Border. I had now began to set my alarm clock for 4:30AM, I figured that in the early hours of the morning I could cycle 3 times the distance every hour compared to later in the day when the winds peaked. I managed to get as far as the small town of La Curva the first day, a particularly lush spot where one of the rivers from the Andes cuts through the arid landscape into the Pacific giving the surrounding valley a vibrant explosion of much needed greenery. Other than a minor earthquake which rocked my bed in the early hours it was a peaceful place. The penultimate day I sensed a rare drop in the winds and got on my bike early and pedaled hard before the sun had chance to rise. The difference was immense and I managed to knock out 113 miles to make it to the tiny fishing village of Puerto Grau. I rocked up there just as night began to fall. Already knowing the answer I asked one of the fishermen if there was a hospedaje or hotel in town. He looked at me with a big cheeky smile on his face and said, "Yes..... 3 stars....on the beach!" Despite being knackered I appreciated the comedy and proceeded to push my bike down the beach and began pitching my tent under one of the giant hand build wooden fishing boats. Considering there had been an earthquake that morning and the huge vessel was propped up by 4 planks of wood it was probably a particularly stupid place to pitch a tent, but a spectacular one so I did so anyway. All that was left was a 100Km to Chile, I could see the flag in the distance at the border station. Never have I been so relieved to reach a border. A few of my friends questioned why I didn't take a bus for this section. My answer was simple, "the tough parts of the journey like this will make the finish so much sweeter!"

I realise that that I have ranted on negatively about the winds and inhospitable climate and have probably put anyone off wanting to visit Peru! They should. For starters, you can shuv your Michelin star up your ass, some of those little wooden huts with their makeshift kitchens cooked up the best seafood I´ve ever tasted. Wonderful soups with a whole boneless fish inside and Ceviche for about 3 quid. The coastal road has magnificent wildlife and the road is often very dramatic as it climbs onto 500 meter sheer cliffs with gigantic barrel waves crashing into the shore, the deep blue of the Pacific in awesome contrast to the arid shoreline. And finally, although I chose the coast road, inland Peru has arguably more attractions than anywhere in the Americas…Lake Titicaca, Machu Picchu, the stunning Andes mountain range to name a few.