Some of my adventures from Peruvian Coast

From a pass of height of 4390 meters above sea level I descended to Nazca lying on the coast. Towards Equador I am going to take a main road called Panamericana. It leads along dessert coast, slightly dull but it is tarmac and it goes through flatland so I will be able to gain some distance. When I look at my map after spending nearly two months in high mountains, it seems like I didn’t move at all.

I visit the site of famous Nazca Lines. They loose some of their mysticism when watched from close up. They are really primitive. Nevertheless the area covered by those lines is really impressive – around 5000 square kilometers. Small planes filled with tourists fly over my head. They seem as they were birds. I choose version for less wealthy people – an outlook tower allowing to see three carvings/drawings. Not far from that place lies the highest sand dune in the world – Cerro Blanco – summiting at 2078 meters above sea level that is a huge pile of sand.
I meet a cyclist from Columbia. He is quite short of money and doesn’t even have a camera.

Peru has a bad fame among tourist, especially coastal area. One evening I look for a safe place to camp for a long time, I ride until it gets dark. When all the human dwellings disappeared far behind me I saw a car on the side of the road. What is a car waiting for in the middle of a desert? It made me feel uneasy. I pulled over quite far from the car so I could use a natural toilet – bush or high grass (I suffered from diarrhoea – a common problem for tourists travelling in Peru, especially with small budget). When I returned to my bike, the car was still there. I turned back. The car moved and started to follow me, then it overtook me. I stopped. So did the car. I could feel my heart pounding somewhere close to my heels. I thought that cycling I am more vulnerable than when I am stationary. I grabbed a knife in one hand and a pepper spray can in the other. The car slowly moved away and disappeared in the distance. Soon I found a place to put up a tent, just behind a sand dune. But it was not a comfortably night. I left wheel tracks and footprints in the sand and was afraid that someone may follow them to find me while I was asleep. But t did not happen.

Ica is a town famous for its museum. Ancient Indians had a custom of deforming their skulls by pressing skull bones of children when the bone tissue is still soft and flexible. It is amazing that people could actually live with skulls/heads shaped like cigars. There were also skulls after trepanation which had been practiced for hundreds of years. The main surgery tool was a piece of flint, it is amazing that some of the patients actually survived the operation. Trepanation holes are in some cases overgrown with younger bone.

Further along the coast there were large numbers of people of African origin. They were the descendants of the slaves brought here to work on cotton plantations during colonial times. Colonizers could not use local population as lots of them had died due to diseases brought by Europeans. The cotton plantations exist also today and the fate of African workers is not much better than in the past.
Everywhere I was being warned about thieves and robbers…
I cycled past a house with a monkey on a leash instead of a dog…
Higher prices for “gringo” are a standard. In spite of this sometimes I had no choice and had to do my shopping. The area is very sparsely populated and especially without water in this desert country I wouldn’t have gone far.
Just before Lima I went past the quarters of poor people. The “houses” are made of four poles stuck in the ground with walls and roof made of straw mats. Average size of this kind of house is 2.5 by 2.5 metres. Most of them are left open all the time. No need for a lock if there is nothing inside. The price of such a house is really outstanding – 5 straw mats x 14 soles each plus 4 poles for around 3 to 5 soles each. 1 sole = approx. 40-50 American cents. The house doesn’t have to be waterproof. There is hardly any rain here at all. It is always warm so no need for heating. The only downside is lack of running water and electricity.

Lima has a multimillion population. No one exactly knows but it is estimated that there are 7 million people living there. The traffic is monstrous. Drivers advise me to keep to the left curbside because on the ride side of the road the minibuses and taxis tend to stop rather unexpectedly and with no respect for cyclist whatsoever. They stop at any sign given by potential client. This is a real war, a struggle to get another customer and cyclists are obviously in the way. However most of the drivers are cautious, probably because of my huge baggage and some of them even waved to me. I stopped at a cheap bar. I talked with the owners and made a joke that I would take their daughter with me on my further journey. What was for me just a joke, gave them a bit of hope that I was serious. Marrying a gringo is for many girls a dreamed opportunity to leave Peru. I got on my way pretty quick. I needed to visit a dentist as well. I chose a renowned one. Standard of service is very high, I could even choose what flavor I would like to taste in my mouth after getting an anesthetic jab. It was much worse with recording a DVD in Lima. Plenty of internet cafes around, but most of them got old equipment. When I finally found a place where they had a DVD recorder I had to spend half a day there because of some “technical problems”. After disassembling two PCs and many more trials I succeeded eventually. I got my DVD recorded. Generally Lima is quite uninteresting place and probably not so dangerous as people say. Roommates from a hostel I stayed in were wondering around for most of the night, from bar to bar, and they returned safe and sound. Very characteristic for Lima is noise. There is around 42% of unemployment in Peru and one fourth of the population lives in Lima. To survive and earn a living many people sale things. To draw attention of potential buyers they shout, scream, whistle and honk. Add to that cars’ horns (the louder honk the more respected driver - I thought) and it just gives an idea of the level of noise in this city.

In the morning I went to a post office to send a parcel. Not easy. The post lady checked the contents of the parcel, then she sawed it in a special bag. I had to write address on the bag. Then the paper work. I had my passport copied and my thumb print taken. It was attached to the parcel along with plenty of labels. That was a lot of bureaucracy. I wondered if the parcel would get to its destination – Peruvian mail service has a bad reputation.

After leaving Lima a motorcyclist stops by and offers a lunch or a shower. I thanked him but I just left hostel so I didn’t need any of those. I cycled along a big mining area. Many guards but it looks to me like they were watching only heaps of sand, because I couldn’t see anything else.

One night I camped next to ruins of some ancient fortress. The guard allowed me to camp there and also wanted to share his sandwiches with me. In the morning another guard was waiting for me to wake up. Cesar (that was his name) gave me a tour of the fortress right at the sunrise. He had a new mobile phone with camera and it made him really happy to take pictures of me and him in the fortress. He posed with his gun – a fake as he said. This nice man gave me some candy to say goodbye.

One day a driver of a truck coming from the opposite direction tossed me an orange. I tried a local special – seviche – a raw fish with onion. Not my favorite really.

As I entered Ancasch province I came across some anti-government riots. They lasted for two days. Police couldn’t manage to control it. Protesters blocked roads with rubble. In one village they stopped a truck. The driver bought his right of way by tossing some apples to the protesters. The mob is wild. Rumor had it that during the night police fired some shots. Three persons were wounded. On the roads between towns I was the only moving vehicle. The traffic was completely paralyzed. In big town of Chimbote police were trying to unblock streets but unsuccessfully. The young protesters build new barricades as they went. Only motorcyclists and cyclists were able to get through between the heaps of rubble. An ambulance was also struggling to pass. Some cyclists I met showed me a detour allowing to avoid the riots in the town centre. On the outskirts of the town a woman shouted to me “Beware! They rob on the next street!” I thought she was overreacting. Behind me there was a cyclist with a friend sitting on a frame. I could see four boys, around seventeen years old, getting up from the curbside and running towards me. I pushed harder on the pedals and took my pepper gas can. The boys caught the two guys behind me. I could see the robbers running away with a stolen bike. I was saved. To leave this dangerous town I need to go through a tunnel. I had a feeling and I wasn’t wrong – there were some more robbers at the tunnel. I hid behind a convoy of three big trucks with huge wheels that didn’t mind the mounts of rubble. As I was starting to be happy that I got away I drove into a mass of people. A woman shouted to me that I should go to the police, because I could get easily robbed here. As soon as possible I found a police station. The officer said that I wouldn’t be able to get to a next hotel so he let me camp inside the station. Quite poor conditions there were. Bathroom with no water or light and some “bad cop” was trying to snatch some money from me but I resisted. In the morning he was very nice to me – chief policeman was observing my departure from his balcony. The riots were over and so I could go on my way.

I stopped by restaurant called “La Balsa”. The owner, Mr. Clemente, gave a crazy man like me a dinner for free. He also asked me to stay overnight, for free as well. I was tempted to take his offer but it was quite early and I wanted to ride some more. Mr. Clemente had a notebook with signatures and some thanks from all the crazy men that visited him – for example three men that were walking from Ushuaia – the southernmost town in the world. It took them two years to get here. One of them was planning to walk for over 12 years to beat the Guinness World Record. The shortest distance to walk had a Japanese guy who was “only” walking to Japan through Bering Passage. The Japanese pushed a buggy with all the things he needed during his journey. One of those guys had spent a month in a Russian prison suspected to be a spy after crossing Bering Passage. The other had spent also a month in jail in Panama, suspected of drugs smuggling after crossing Colombian border. Mr. Clemente gave me also a few bread rolls.

Town of Trujillo, on my way in I saw a man stealing a handbag from a girl. She caught a taxi with some man and started a pursuit. I don’t know how it finished though.
The following night I spent at famous “Cyclists’ House”. Lucio, former professional cyclist, and all of his family dedicate their whole spare time to cycling. When I arrived he was just returning from a cycle trip with a group of youngsters. He was encouraging them to cycling. I couldn’t figure out where was he and his family finding the strength to do all this when even normal living in Peru is a real struggle. One of the rooms in his house was prepared for cyclists like me – you could sleep there for free and rest for as long as you needed. I met there William from France travelling by bike and his Argentinean girlfriend who was hitchhiking. They were meeting every day in places chosen in advance. The next day Borja from Spain arrived. He had been cycling for four and a half years. He cycled all the continents except of Africa. That night Lucio invited everyone to dinner and then he took us to a birthday party at his friends’ house. Everyone was wearing their best clothes. Only I had my travelling clothes, slightly dirty – I didn’t expect any parties . For his good heart Lucio had been already rewarded when he had been a pro. A couple of cyclists from France had invited him to take a part in Tour de France and paid for his travel. Before I left the “Cyclists’ House” I signed in a guest book. I was 823rd on the list and first Pole.

The following day I visited Chan Chan – a ruined city made of mud bricks – the biggest of this kind in the world. Some cyclists I met on my way bought me a local dish made of potato. It looked like a giant wafer. I also tried a local delicacy known since Incas’ times – a geniepig. It was quite expensive, 10 soles. There wasn’t too much meat and it didn’t look to appealing either, with claws and leftover fur – looked like a rat really. Skin was thick and hard as a shoesole. It was served with its head, cut off and placed on side. I didn’t enjoyed it too much.

Next stop – Lambayeque. Heavily guarded museum. I couldn’t even take my mobile inside. It shows nearly untouched royal tomb – a grave of some king and all of his servants. The guard scanning me with a metal detector found my pepper gas spray. I felt a cripples going down my back. I forgot to leave it with my bike. How to explain that? Luckily for me, he didn’t know what it was.

In the next village I asked for permission to put up my tent. Some young boys shared their beer with me and one of them decided to give me present – a necklace from an ancient grave that he had robbed. Priceless antiquities – necklaces, vessels, cups – were lying, covered with dust, in his bags. He wanted to be nice to me and offered some more of those things. I didn’t accept explaining that I couldn’t fit all of this on my bike. I couldn’t avoid taking the necklace in any way. That was kind of funny – a day earlier I paid 4 dollars to see such things in a museum, and this day I could own them for free. That evening the boys took me out to a discotheque. Local girls didn’t hide their yearnings to emigrate to Poland – that’s Europe after all. In Peru girl expects man to cover all the expenses of partying together. One of the girls, after third dance, decided that we had known each other long enough so that I should buy some cigarettes for her. At a discotheque you buy cigarettes in single pieces. Every time I wanted to buy something I had one of my “guards”, the boys, with me, keeping an eye on the transaction so that the bartender wouldn’t take too much money from a gringo – a custom in Peru. After the party we took a taxi - three wheeld motorcycle. Intended for two persons it usually takes six or more passengers if they manage to hold on to something. High pitch noise from the engine was clearly showing the exceeded load. That is what I call ecological way of travel. Usage of fuel and material to the limits.

I was getting closer to border with Ecuador. The heat was enormous – 37 degree Celsius in a shadow. Many people were resting in hummocks. Men were drinking chiche from containers made of coconut shells. There was usually one such cup for the whole bunch of men.
Sunday. I arrived to Paccha – a small village. As soon as I stopped a crowed of curious people surrounded me. I couldn’t move. Somebody invited me for a beer, someone else to a dinner. I needed to resign, it would finish as a big party for sure. As many times before, people asked me to take pictures of them and show in Poland what Peru and Peruvians look like.

Before the border I met some nice Germans. They were pedaling from Canada. They gave me a map of Ecuador – thing impossible to get in Ecuador. It was the same in Peru – it was impossible to buy a map of Peru in Peru. All the Peruvians I met were excited to see my map, especially their own village marked on it.

Most of the nights during my travel along Peruvian coast I spent camping at police stations, plenty of them located along Panamericana. Peruvian policemen are very helpful and friendly for cyclists. There are two more Cyclists’ Houses in Peru – in Lima and in Chiclayo. That was Peru for me – full of remarkable places and people of big hearts but also dangerous and poor.

Tomasz Chyzinski

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