Let me breath a little bit (UPDATE)

Last time I checked in with you folks, I was getting turned around by police in Tingo Maria for the illegal act of being a gringo in the jungle. I have since regretted complying so easily with the checkpoint patrol for a number of reasons. Pretty much everyone since Tingo Maria say the terrorists live in the deep jungle far away from the main roads and have only killed gringos who wander into their territory, and that was years ago. So I guess I had to climb all these mountains again for nought, when I could've been chilling in Moyobamba by now. Fortunately, I am resting by the coast in a beautiful city named Trujillo, and the sweet smell of the Pacific is filling my lungs for the first time in months. How I missed this great ocean.



I was eager to get up to Cerro de Pasco, a town separated from the city of Huancayo by a three and a half day climb that promised to be the last time I would have to make a 4600 mts ascent before heading down to the jungle lands of Huanuco, followed by the province of San Martin. From Jauja to Cerro de Pasco, my heels cracked in a hundred pieces like baked clay due to the dry climate. Temperatures along the route dropped to below freezing levels despite the fact that it's summer out here, and breathing the air this altitude was a little tough. Sleep was scarce, especially in Cerro de Pasco, where I got fleas in a hostal bed. At least the free breakfast was good (mint soup with taters).

Dead chinchilla

The descent down to Huanuco was a welcome change from all the climbing in the past couple of days and the frigid temperatures of high mountain passes. The trip down to the city was one of the longest descents I've had since dropping down into Ayacucho (four hours!), hitting what must have been an average speed of an Usain Bolt sprint. Wintery clothes were eagerly stashed away as the beast and I entered the jungle for the first time. The clothing of the locals was getting scandalous compared to the usual heavy sweater getups of the past couple of weeks, so I decided to strip down as far as human decency allows in order to blend in, but I wasn't fooling anyone in Huanuco.

  

I have come to enjoy one very special attraction that can be found in just about every Perúvian city, and that is the central market, where you can find just about everything you need when it comes to produce, clothes, basic electronics and Albert Christ memorabilia. Always a few blocks away from the central plaza, one knows they've entered mercado centro when they find themselves inside a giant warehouse wreaking of rotten meat and fruit. Don't let the smell deter you, for this place is filled with gold...I'm talking about finding ten mangos for a dollar, kilos of plantains for a mere two soles, and just about every cow innard imaginable, and if you aren't in the mood for cooking up some cow tongue fajitas, then maybe all the ceviche and fried rice will suit your fancy. I can't say enough good things about the central markets...except for the areas dedicated to overly aggressive juice vendors...putting two bananas in a blender with some honey and water doesn't make you the boss of all things nectar related. Sit down and stop screaming at me to taste your terrible swill.

More mountains :-(

I guess another recap is in order...after a day and a half in Huanuco, I drifted down to Tingo Maria, where all my freeze dried wounds on my fingers and feet were assuaged by the heavy Amazonian humidity. It was a welcome change from the weeks of mountain climbing, but all too brief as I was quickly turned around at a police checkpoint as I tried to head towards the San Martin province for a quick ride towards San Ignacio, where I would cross into the eastern edge of Ecuador. I was not about to backtrack back into the mountains for 210 km's, so I hitched a ride with another hauler (free of old fashions) and rode to La Union. At this point, it's necessary to mention that all the Perúvian homies I've met in my car rides are usually not down with my tunebox...except when it comes to Fela Kuti. When I put "Expensive Shit" or "Opposite People" on the car radio, my amigos leave the tunes on repeat pretty much until we reach our destination. They're all big fans and I think it blows their minds after spending their entire lives listening to screaching cholitas sing about how awesome it is to cook big dinners for their husbands. It's a big change.

I almost forgot...La Union was a blast. This small mountain town just so happened to be celebrating it's carnaval when I was dropped off near the center of town. However, since the cold mountain air was not the kind of environment where one would find sexy ladies shaking their booties and boobies around in string bikinis, the whole event turned out to be one giant water fight instead. The main attraction was the large gathering of evil ghosts (accompanied by a band) marching through the center of town in scary masks and ponchos, trying to scare little children and get a rouse out of the populace. For the next couple of hours, the local people took a stand against satan by pelting his minions with water balloons, flour, and checha from high balconies while the minions danced their evil jig in the streets. As I was the only gringo in 200 km's or so, I was quickly pulled into the fray by a drunk old lady, had my face and arms smeared with chalk, and thus channelled the fiendish spirit of some kind of gringo baby stealing ghost. For the next thirty minutes, I danced a hellish salsa with my ghoulish old lady around town, all the while trying the best I could to dodge water balloons and other projectiles. It was all in good fun, and I hope to see my face in the local newspaper in La Union, what with all the people wanting to take a picture with the baby eater.

Perúvian bball lockout

No need to mention the details of my climb to Huaraz...frozen to my bones, frozen water bottles, coagulating chain grease etc., not very enjoyable in general. But then came another record setting descent...a full day and half of down hill riding from Huaraz to just past Yuracmarca, and then some the next day all the way down to Chimbote, but of differing degrees of quality. Huaraz to Caraz was excellent forest drifting with potable water on the side of the road and excellent fried fish in Caraz...

...then came Mordor, or the Caraz-Chuquicara leg of the descent, where plant life shriveled into pulverized dust and the river turned an ugly shade of gray. Although I have faced dirt roads many times before in Andahuaylas and Ayacucho, road conditions here wreaked havoc on my wrists and ass. This was not loose gravel or pressed dirt...large stones were deep set into the route with absolutely no give while other sharp stones were scattered about the path to sheer away the sides of my tires if I made a sharp turn. This was two and a half days of very painful riding and very little progress, and as I crept along closer to the mountain base, the headwind became all the more potent, and I was forced to dismount several times before reaching Chuquicara. Oh, also some young punks in Yuracmarca with the lamest super saiyan haircuts that have ever graced the pates of cro-magnons thought they might dismount me by hucking perfectly ripe mangos in my direction. It turned out to be a good opportunity to collect some dinner and practice my insult spanish with some little bastards.

My arrival in Chuquicara was like a dream, for two and a half day long rock road finally came to a halt and so did the oppressive headwind. I was greeted by some mountain rescue dudes who bought me water and beer and spent the next couple of hours discussing dumb presidents and drug policies in South America, something that'd been on my mind since Tingo Maria. They gave me some good advice on my future route through Perú (and informed me the Moyobamba route was in fact safe for gringos) and told me what cities to check out. The next day, I was off to Chimbote and Santa and got my first wiff of the ocean since the Bay, and from there I was off on the great Pan American highway, which was the most desolate stretch of land I've seen since Southern California. At least I was back to 100-120km days along almost flat road. I arrived in Trujillo nursing diarhea bowels, so once again, I was out for two days with little time to see the sites. Although I wish I had more time to enjoy this town, I must keep moving. Ecuador is less than a ten days bike journey away.

Discovery Channel Discovery of the Week: Guaba (or guava)

This gigantic green bean has lined the sides of roads since Chuquicara, and I would not have paid any attention to it if I had not seen the locals carting bushels of these monsters into town and selling them for 2 soles per kilo. I was intrigued, so I got one for myself.

At first glance, this appears to be an oversized green bean, and if I know my audience, an oversized vegetable is hardly an impressive sight for all the gringos out there...

...but crack into this bad boy and you're greeted with a sweet surprise. The white pulpy goodness that surrounds each bean on the inside has the same feel and texture as a marshmellow and peels cleanly away from the bean. The folks down here eat the pulp raw, but only when it's cold, otherwise it will make you throw up apparently. I can't quite put my finger on the taste of the pulp...there's definitely a hint of green bean in there, but it mostly tastes like a wet chunk of bubble gum to me. Definitely the perfect treat after a long ride. The locals also dry roast the beans with salt in an oven for a couple of hours, which is supposed to make for another awesome snack. I'm good with the pulp for the moment.