January 12, 1998 Chaclayo, Peru - {Hostal Villa de Arnedo} R80G/S 34356 R100GS 24007 After Huaraz, the road winds following the Santa river ascending until it reaches a plateau around 4,300 meters (14,200 feet). At this point it becomes a huge beautiful green grassy plain with white capped mountains visible off in the distance. Very few people live on this plain. However, there is an occasional ranch house with mud brick wall enclosure for keeping in the llamas or goats. At 4,300 meters, it was cold riding. Sharon had her electric jacket plugged in and heated hand grips on. I wore two liners (fleece and electric), however only had the heated hand grips going. Sharon doesn't like the bulk of two liners under her leather jacket. On the South West side of the high plain the road descended through clouds and we encountered a little rain. We passed through a beautiful canyon where the road switch backed numerous times. On one of these switch backs, we could see below a BMW coming up. It was a '93 R100PD with a Tesch luggage system which is the same as what we have on the R100GS, and a rare luggage system to see unless one has been to Aachen, Germany. We pulled over to the side of the road, and so did the rider. He was Helmut, from just South of Munich and was travelling from Buenos Aires through South America. We exchanged stories, and looked over each other bikes. One thing of surprise was that he was riding on Michelin Desert tires, the premier sand tire on the market. I asked him if had been doing much sand riding to which he said none. He said he usually didn't ride fast on the asphalt, so those tires worked fine for him. We told him about the Chamana hotel in Caraz run by a potential fellow Bavarian to which he was interested in the idea that he might be able to speak his own special Southern German dialect. As with other single male motorcycle travellers we've met, Helmut seems lonely, especially for woman. Sharon and I couldn't help noticing how while talking, 95% of his attention was focused on her. Maybe it's her Aryan features.... but probably more likely because she's a she. Further, down the mountains past the rain clouds, the mountain sides become dryer and the vegetation turns to desert like scrub and cacti. Where the road finally rejoins the Pan American, the terrain for a small area is sugar cane likely supported by artificial irrigation from the river flowing down along the highway. Soon after, the terrain turned back to desert which is what the Pan American has been all through out Peru. We were driving along a stretch of highway along a desert road. This desert highway has a ridiculous speed posted of 30 kph (18mph). Since there is nothing around but sand, the road is good, and straight, One would expect a posted speed of 100kph (61mph). We were behind 3 busses driving about 45 mph when we drove over a hill only to see 3 police on the side of the road waving us down. Sharon drove on through rather than pull over. She later said she thought they were waving her to slow down. The last Peruvian police pull over we blew on by nearly got us chased down. Tired, and not thinking, I instantly pulled over. The police officer spoke quickly, and basically said that I was going over 30kph which is the posted speed. He had to speak fast as they were handling 5 different vehicles at the same time. Nobody drives this ridiculous limit. I started babbling. I mentioned the three busses in front of us who hadn't been pulled over, and asked if they were speeding. I asked how fast I was going, since they didn't appear to have a way of detecting other than assuming everyone is speeding. No answer. He asked for my drivers license, and papers for the motorcycle. I handed him my laminated color photocopy of my drivers license, not caring if he held on to it, and my Peruvian transit papers which, unfortunately, I'll probably need to leave the country. He handed my papers to a third cop, the one in charge, who more relaxed spoke with his head tilted back, wore sunglasses and only a partial uniform. I said the same thing, told him about our trip, and compared his country with other latin american countries by telling him we travelled all of these other countries without problems. He showed me a laminated printed piece of paper stating the speed infraction was going to cost 240 Soles (US$90). When I asked how fast I was going, he said 46kph. Of course he made that up, I was going faster than that! He asked where I'm from. As if it was a surprise that I wasn't a Peruvian, he said, "Oh, foreigner?, you have to pay now." Another cop listening to our conversation, repeated the last phrase. Since it was all B.S, and all due to me being dumb enough to pull over. I started arguing that I was going 20 kph. After babbling more, repeating myself, He finally said, 'How about you buy me a Coca Cola. Having heard this Coca Cola bribe before in Panama City, I said, "A Coca Cola? Ok." Not daring to pull out my wallet in front of this cop potentially exposing my recent ATM withdrawal and giving him other ideas, I reached for my coin purse, only there was nothing in there. I didn't expect the cop would give me change for a 100 Soles bill. I opened the side pocket containing the souvenir Peruvian coins I had collected these past two weeks, and gave him what I had, which probably amounted to US$3, enough to buy two cokes around here. It wasn't clear if he meant one coke for him, or for all three officers. Of course, I wasn't going to ask. He was happy with what I handed him. He handed me my papers, wished me good luck as he shook my hand. His hand shaking gave me the creeps. It said, "I've just ripped you off, but no hard feeling, right?" I grinned, shook his hand and said goodbye, keeping inside what I really wanted to say. I took off as quickly as possible, however keeping below 30kph. By the time I was done, the other 5 vehicles that had been pulled over had dealt with the police and left. Sharon wisely had not stopped at the police check, and had just pulled over about 100 meters down the road to wait for me. Further down the straight desert road where there is little traffic, we came across a large truck turned over on its side that had spilled crates of limes all over the road now making the area smell of lime-aid and giving me a taste for a margarita. I can only imagine that it turned over because it was going to fast around the corner. It really looked like a bone head accident. Visibility couldn't be better, and there was virtually no traffic. The rear street tire of the R100GS slipped on the lime pulp and peels as I drove over. Sharon with her dual sport tires on the R80G/S didn't feel a thing. In order to consolidate space, yesterday I mounted our machete we bought in Guatemala on to the R100GS rather than carry it in the top case. The machete just happens to be mounted within reach while driving, just in case I get a wild hair up my butt and want to pretend I'm Ghengis Kahn severing heads of infidel dogs that do not pay proper homage at my passing. Actually barking dogs aren't much of a problem. Ignoring them is often the best course since they never bite. If I slow down, their bluff is called; they usually close their mouths and wander off. The main source of driving anxiety is towards the bus drivers. Bus drivers are, without a doubt, the foulest breed in Latin America. If I could get by the border posts and police checks, I'd gladly trade my machete for a rocket propelled grenade launcher. Not only do they risk the lives of all drivers on the road, but the one's who suffer the most risk are those on board his bus. Other travellers tell me that the back seats fill up first so the passengers won't be inclined to watch and see how many near death experiences pass by. Although they are a distant second, the second most reckless drivers on the road are the fuel tanker truck drivers, followed by the natural gas delivery trucks. The way the fuel tankers drive, one would think that their carrying milk that is on the brink of spoilage. However across the back is written in bold red letters "FLAMMABLE" (translated). I think in this macho culture, I see a correlation between how many lives are threatened versus driving style. The more dangerous, the less one drives with concern. Unfortunately, I believe the machismo amplifies the lack of concern to the point where they drive like a maniac. We've seen four gas trucks turned over on the side of the road since we've been in Latin America. In the US, I've never seen this in my life. Fortunately, the four we've seen hadn't been blown in to a zillion pieces. When North American driving ethics meet Latin American bus drivers, bring out the R.P.G's. Hence Los Angeles freeway shootings. I'll know I've truly adapted to Latin American driving styles when the bus drivers no longer rial me. At dusk we checked into a unremarkable, over priced hotel in a town about an hour north of Lima. Since their swimming pool was surprisingly chlorinated, and I was hot and sweaty from our ride, I took a swim. After a minute or two, they turned on the lights around the pool, and I noticed I could barely see my knees due to the opaqueness of the water. Even though it was chlorinated, I guessed the water hadn't been changed in the past year. I got out and took a shower. Sharon had declined on swimming due to a stupid sexual comment made from the hotel clerk. Since we were right on the coast, we had some delicious fish chichorone which was 1 inch cubes of a fresh fish covered in a spicy ginger batter and then fried. January 13, 1998 Huacca China, Peru - {Gran Hotel Salvatierra} R80G/S 34613 R100GS 24259 Today we we planned to cross Lima, the capital city of Peru with a population of 6 million. As with most Latin American cities, all highways pass through the city center. Digression: To my embarrassment at not knowing, A foreigner was explaining to me that the reason why in the US there are usually highways that bypass the major cities was due to an act by President Eisenhower. In the event that a city was nuked, transportation around the city would not be hampered. Sunrise was at 6:00am, but we didn't get on the road until 6:30. The road drove up some tremendous sand dunes that overlooked the Pacific ocean several hundred feet below. The road descended again to sea level and we entered Lima traffic around 7:20. We were around central Lima by 8:00am at which time the thermometer on the R100GS was well into the red zone overheating at around 290 degrees and climbing. These air cooled engines are not good for stop and go traffic. Fortunately, past the city center, now heading outbound, there was no traffic, and we could drive at highway speed. We were on the Southern outskirts by 8:15am. Of all the Latin American capital cities we've passed Lima appears to be the least attractive. A far cry from Bogota or Quito to the North. There are so many small disintegrating mud brick homes on dusty dirty noisy roads, that it seems like a depressing hard life. Even through Peru is a much richer country than Ecuador, it's citizens appear to live in relative poverty. We didn't pass by the Miraflores section of Lima which is supposedly where all of the money is, and we only saw Lima from the Pan American which few cities show their best side from. Today I was riding with a fever probably a continuation of the dysentery since Caraz. Last night we didn't sleep well, and this morning we took off without breakfast. We had breakfast ~65km South of Lima at a road side restaurant. While we were there a motorcyclist from Argentina on a 1 month trip from Santa Fe, Argentina to Lima on his Suzuki 350cc stopped. He said his gas tank wasn't big enough. Sharon and I both had previous impressions of what Peru would be like which turned out to be wrong. We assumed it would be more like Ecuador, which didn't turn out to be the case. Along the PanAm highway, the scenery has all been sand desert. We thought we would see more indigenous population, and it has turned out to be almost all poor mestizo. Peru is apparently a richer country than Ecuador, however seeing so many shanty town, houses built out of straw mats, and garbage leave me with a different impression. The main building material around here is sun dried mud bricks which always have a disintegrating look unless they were just constructed. There's a lot of construction going on which apparently must be necessary since the previous buildings are dissolving. Peruvians for the most part get away with this construction material since labor is cheap, and they live in a desert where the destructive powers on the mud bricks is minimized. One benefit of the adobe bricks is that it apparently stands up much better in an earthquake than cement and cinder block which is the norm building material for latin America North of here. While driving along this open desert road which seems to have a slight bend every couple of minutes, we came to a part where the road climbs a little sand dune hill, and turns off to the left. On the side of the road were two buses both facing opposite directions that obviously had a head on collision with each other. My guess is that one or both were passing around this blind curve. Normal driving for bus drivers. On both busses, only the front end where the bus driver sits was smashed in. It appeared as though the accident may have happened either early this morning or yesterday. There were a couple people still standing around. Broken glass bits were scattered all along the road. Further up the road, I saw a broken car windshield lying on the side of the road which may have been there from some other accident. I would guess this blind curve is a common place for blind passing, which is so much a part of latin american driving style. The funny thing is that for miles in either direction there are no blind curves. Our destination was Ica, however Sharon had read that Huacca China 5km SW was a little nicer, so we headed there. The paved road meandered into a bank of sand dunes which were several hundred feet high. The tiny resort town sits on the fringes of the oasis lake. It appears to have been built up a while ago, as one of the two hotels on the oasis was built in Art Deco style while the other has a built around the turn of the century colonial look. Surrounding 3/4 of the lake is a promenade with cement railing formed in a tasteful style that was popular 100 years ago. The hotel we're staying in called the Gran Hotel Salvatierra is like the cover of Styx' Paradise Theater. It was once a beautiful art deco grand hotel full of pomp and gala. It was definitely created by someone with style and taste. It has the appearance of being maintained the past half century by poor unenergetic non-visionary locals who pocket the income, re-investing almost nothing in upkeep. Meanwhile ancient grape vines are full of grapes under collapsing walkway terraces in the garden. The fruit orchards are littered with broken crates. The vine like trees that once canopied over the outdoor halls have uplifted the tile floor with their roots. Our room which probably was once a nice room still retains art deco molding, hardwood floors, and oak art deco armoir. Unfortunately, last time the room was painted (several decades ago), the beautiful oak armoir wasn't moved and thus is covered with white paint drips from the ceiling. Molding, trim, and light switches all suffered the same from the painter who apparently did more damage then good. The pity is just that this grand hotel, a beautiful tasteful creation, has been run down by stupidity and apathy. Next door, the hotel was built in a similar era, however has been kept up, and rather than the $9 per couple that it's costing us, they charge $90 per couple, It's a 4 star hotel and appears to have retained all of it's grandeur. Sand boarding on the dunes, similar to snow boarding is a popular sport around here. It seems everybody will rent a sand board here for 3 soles per hour. January 14, 1998 Huacca China, Peru - {Gran Hotel Salvatierra} Last night we had slept 13 hours. All day yesterday I was fighting fever and other symptoms of dysentery as we drove from Chaclayo to here. Yesterday evening, they had a live band which played nice samba music from 9:30-2:30am. Also, the gambling casino which opens at 8:30pm, and has shiny brass trimmed video slot machine lined up facing the lake. We both missed out, choosing to sleep instead. Now that we're down at sea level again, we also have to adjust to the heat. Where in Caraz, we slept under two blankets (one alpaca wool), here we couldn't be cool enough until just before dawn. Not feeling energetic to paying US prices for breakfast, we skipped having breakfast at the four star hotel, and had an unremarkable breakfast at a little side street restaurant that ran out of strawberry preserves mid breakfast, and had to make a half hour run into Ica to get more. Meanwhile, they quickly made some pineapple marmalade which they brought out. Since they made it at my request for some strawberry jam, I felt obligated to eat some, which I did, and returned many thanks. For $1, we took a taxi into Ica to the museum, where we learned about the various cultures that ruled over this area over the last two centuries, which included the Nasca, the Ica, the Wara, and the Incas. The Incas from Machu Picchu (Cuzco), pretty much took over the whole are in the mid to late 15th century. They really only had a short reign though before the Spaniards moved in. In the early 16th century, the Inca ruler left the Inca empire to his two sons, who then subsequently fought each other in a war that weakened the empire, such that the Spaniards severely out numbered where able to walk in and take over, with a little help from some of the Inca's numerous enemies (the Chemu). In the museum, enclosed in glass cases, they have several mummified humans. These people were buried in tombs, and because of the dry climate, their flesh shriveled and dried up rather than rotted away. they have on exhibit many skulls with the hair still attached showing off the in hair dos of the previous centuries. One woman still had her hair braided like is done today, while another had dread-locks that were over 6.5 feet long. In another case, they show skull deformities. Like in Mayan cultures, in these pre-Inca, it was fashionable to have a high forehead. They use to tie ropes to the skulls of infants squeezing the bones and brains out both ends. It was obvious where the rope bands applied pressure to the elongated skulls. In another case, they showed skulls where brain surgery (trepanation) had been performed to let out evil spirits. Some of the skulls showed fresh unhealed cuts in the bone that the patient obviously didn't survive, while others, bone had grown back over the hole in skull. The unsuccessful surgeries looked like they had a two inch diameter hole cut into the skull. 60% survival rate. used obsidian tools or bronze tools Afterward, we found a restaurant and had a pitcher of lemonade, delicious cheesy garlic bread, and bowl of pesto pasta of which we were not able to each much of due to not feeling well. The R100GS front right fork has been spewing oil since obviously the fork seal now needs replacing. While I have spare fork seals, and fork oil which are the two most difficult things to find, I need to pick up some brake fluid, since I have to break the brake fluid line to pull out the forks. I spent a while looking through Ica (population 150k) for some DOT 4 fluid. Only DOT 3 was to be found, which would work in a pinch, but I'm not desperate at the moment. I was told to try in Arequipa. I did see this stuff in Cuenca, and in Quito, Ecuador. Also I was looking for some Bosch spark plugs for the bikes since we're past 10k miles, and should be using our spares in both bikes. One store in this town carried Bosch, but not the right model. Unfortunately, the manual I have only gives the specs for Bosch, and not any other brand. NGK and Autolite are popular in Peru. I didn't find either brake fluid or sparkplug here. We took a little three wheel motorcycle taxi back for 2 soles ($.75), very similar to the Vespa based autorickshaws throughout all of India. After a shower, I fell asleep around 4:15pm, and slept until around 7:00am the next day, again missing out on the night life and casino. January 15, 1998 R100GS 24505 R80G/S 34863 This morning, I met an Argentinian couple staying at our hotel, who bought a Jeep Cherokee in New Jersey. In July, they drove it up to Prudoe Bay, Alaska, and are now heading South. We traded stories. Like us, the worst border crossing was in Honduras, but likely due to their fluent Spanish and some luck, they got out of paying the high fees we and a Bolivian we met had paid. Crossing the Darien, they rented a container on a boat which cost them $1200. The container was large enough for two vehicles which they split with someone in a pickup truck. They then flew from Panama to Cartagena for ~$200. It took them 4 days to get their vehicles out of customs. After a breakfast of leftover pesto pasta and garlic bread, I rented a sand board, and Sharon and I climbed the highest sand dune. Going sand boarding in a desert on the sand dunes, is an experience difficult to pass up. Climbing sand dunes in a desert is much harder than I imagined from impressions I got from the movies. The sand disperses and falls out from one's footing such that each step only results in climbing half the height. Further the sand caves in around one's foot, so there is the additional resistance of picking up one's foot. The equatorial sun is much harsher than near the poles, and the brightness reflects off the sand. There is both heat from the above sun, and from the hot sand below. The wind whisks over the dunes such that if you're down wind of someone walking, the flying sand can be blinding, and of course no talking or breathing with your mouth open. I can't imagine getting far on foot in a desert not properly prepared. This is good experience before crossing the Sahara... While I climbed to the top of the Western dune above Huacca China with my sand board and sand board wax in hand, Sharon climbed half way such that she could take some photos of the area The sand board of Huacca China looks a lot like a uni-directional snow board, however for bindings, they have cloth straps attached to the board that form two loops to stick one's feet in. There is no where near as much control as even a free styl'n snow board with loose fitting snowmobile boots offers. The board that I had had two shallow aluminum fins screwed on to each side. The outfitter, a restaurant, that I rented it from was the only one who did this. After trying it with the fins, I suspect it made the feel less like a snow board. I found only a little of my snow boarding skills transferred to sand boarding. However the falls are much easier to take than with snow boarding. The sweat and oils on my skin collected sand from each fall turning me into an abominable sand man. After a first run down the bunny dune, I climbed the big mama, the tan diamond. From the top, there was an excellent view of the oasis resort village below, Beyond the dunes I could see the flat plains of the desert and the town Ica. I could see where someone was attempting to grow a small plot of ?corn? in the sand desert. I waxed up my board, put the straps on my feet, and headed down towards Sharon who was about halfway up this 400 foot run which led to the back entrance of our sand chalet (hotel). Turning took some getting used to, as there is a lot more give in the sand than snow allows. The concept of carving snow doesn't transfer; At least in my short experience it didn't. Half way down the hill, my wax wore off. It was no longer possible to slalom down the hill as the friction was to great, so I turned the board and went straight down. Sharon came scooching down the dune after me in a great deal of pain. We had both hiked up the ridge of the sand dune in Teva sandals. However at the top of the bunny dune, I switched into my hiking boots which I carried in my back pack for better use with the sand board bindings. Sharon still had her Tevas on which half way down the tan diamond, she fried her feet on the sizzling hot sand. Two other British sand borders I met, later told me they had the same experience of burning their feet on the sand with their sandals while coming down on a sand board. Due to the effort in climbing the dune which is much harder than climbing a ski slope, and not quite as rewarding, it's no wonder why we've heard this is an experience that people usually only do once. However, I'm glad I did it... We drove across miles of straight paved highway that went across the flat sand desert. These plains of sand would extend for 10s of miles before coming across a barren rock mountain which separated the next flat desert plain. Although barren, the desert was nice and cool, and in some parts hazy. The straightness, and high quality of the road made it easy for us to make good time. When we arrived in Nasca, we were quickly greeted by hotel hustlers wanting us to see their hotel, and book a flight to see the Nasca lines. Provided we booked, a flight with them, they would give us a good discount on the room... this of course confusing the prices. While negotiating on the street, a '91 R100PD motorcycle pulled up. It was Warner Bausenhart, a German born Canadian who had just come up from Ushuaia for the Christmas party. He said that their were about 25 people, 15 motorcycles, most BMW, a few Yamahas that showed up at the party. Greg Frazier who we last saw in Bogota apparently made it to the party. We arranged to get together for dinner, and talk later. Warner checked into the very nice 4 star Nasca lines hotel across the street and down a little from us. He later showed it to us. It was very nice, and a bargain at $40 per night. Warner really likes his occasional cushy hotels. Warner is a retired German literature professor from Ottawa, Canada. He bought his motorcycle in 1991 intending then to do his trip through the Americas. He left in October. He was in Colombia in the middle of November. He drove along the East side of South America to Tierra Del which he did in 5 weeks at what he called a reasonable pace. Three weeks after Tierra del Fuego, he's in Nasca, Peru heading along the West side of SA back up. Since we were coming in opposite directions, we traded information, and traveller stories. He had some problems with his stock rear shock absorber back in Costa Rica, and has been limping along like a polgo stick since. Through some screw ups, he hasn't yet been able to get the _correct_ stock shock that he already paid $700 for. He's planning on making it back to Ottawa for his wife's birthday in April. January 16, 1997 Nasca, Peru - {Hotel Algeria} Went to the airport in a '72 Chevrolet BelAir with a Nissan Diesel engine. Sharon and I hopped on a 4 seater Cesna. It was just the two of us, the pilot, and a second guide who both pointed out the Nasca lines as we flew past each sand glyph. We flew above the Nasca lines at an altitude of 500-700 feet. The pilot flew up to each, circling them so that we could get a good look, and take a picture. I can't imagine viewing these any other way. There is an observation tower, however not much could be seen by it. Apparently there are several hundred of these objects in the desert made over a thousand years ago. and not visible from the ground. There are several theories as to what they are for, including UFO landing strips, ritual objects for 1,000 year old hot air balloonists to view, agriculture planning calendars, constellations on earth for non-earth living beings to see, etc. Someone told us the day before to look for the Cesna airplane that crashed in the monkey's tail three weeks earlier. We didn't see it there, but did see an airplane wing laying amongst the Nasca line objects.... Fortunately our plane was new with only 491 hours on the engine. Later we took another tour. First we went to a cemetery 20km out side of Nasca where people in the nearby pueblos would bury their dead. Apparently there were over 5,000 dead buried here. People were mummified before they were buried in the tombs. Their brains were extracted, and cotton was often placed in the eye sockets. Internal organs were removed, and tendons were slit. The bodies were then placed, often in a fetal position in the tomb. The dry desert climate preserved the flesh from rotting, and still 2,000 years later, we could see preserved mummified flesh on the bones. Most of the graves have been robbed. The grave robbers usually tossed the bones onto the sand such that the cemetery was littered with bones that have since been bleached clean by the sun. There are human bones everywhere. We were told that it's been significantly cleaned up, however, just walking along the paths that they have set up, there is still 2,000 year old woven burial cloths lying in the sand, raw cotton burial caps partially covered. hair braids half way sticking up. It's actually kind of disgusting if one thinks about it too much. As we were walking through the sand by the tombs in our sandals, Sharon stops and says, "I'm getting bones between my toes". Since these human corpses are over 2,000 years old and dry, it takes some of the disgust out of it. UV rays have irradiated all of the cooties, This stuff doesn't decompose here. We drove back to town to a residential area turning into what looked like an alley under construction. The road had piles of various gravel and stacks of clay fired bricks (not mud sun dried). Depending on who I talk to, 1-2 years ago, they had an earthquake here which registered 6.8-7.2 on the Richter, which damaged and or destroyed many of the homes here. The Fujimora government said they would provide building materials, relief money and loans to all of the citizens of Nasca. Our guide said that before everyone lived in the mud brick homes which melted in the rain. Now they are all provided with red clay fired bricks. In town, there are lines of well dispositioned people, standing in front of the monetary relief agency office, pouring onto the street. We walked around the piles of gravel to the home of a "scholar of the ancient Nasca pottery ways". After selling everyone refreshments out of his refrigerator, he took us to his back garden area, past his souvenir pot shop, where he showed us how pottery was made 2,000 years ago. To one who is not a scholar of pottery artifacts, such as myself, the process didn't seem much different than I think one would expect. Clay is formed in to the shape of the pot, fired, and then painted. However, to glaze or shine the finished pottery, he rubbed a polished stone on the sides until it shined. A common pot in the museums here is a small enclosed squished ball type pot with two little tubes sticking out of the top and a bridge between the tubes which acts as a handle. They said that these pots had no purpose other than to be ornamental, and serve as a type of parchment for pictures. Since the ancient Nascas didn't have a form of writing, pictures on their pots where the way they passed on stories. Our Nasca tour bus turned into another residential part of Nasca suburbia, into the back yard of someone who has taken on gold panning as his source of income. In a white Datsun pickup truck, bags of crushed red rock, which apparently is gold ore, is brought in. This rock has been mined from an ore, and crushed in a tumbler. In this back yard they have several cement formed pools shaped to roughly fit around the shape of a boulder, creating a sort of giant mortar and pestel. Bolted to this boulder is a teeter tawter board, which some young brain food starved kid stands on rocking the boulder within the small cement pool for hours. The movement further crushes the gold ore until it's fine enough that the gold flecks break from the other mineral. They then mix this red water solution with mercury. The gold adheres to the mercury which collects in a pool at the bottom (amalgamation). They pour off the red (now waste) water, and save the mercury. The liquid mercury can then be squeezed through a cloth, which then leaves a small pile of mercury colored gold dust in the cloth. The final process, I wasn't clear on due to problems in translation, however I think, the mercury laced gold is then made pure via a dip in a reverse electrolysis bath. They said that if one is lucky, a person can come up with 6 to 7 grams of gold per week which they then said sold for about $10 per gram. It's not much of a living even before subtracting expenses. When we returned back to our hotel, a tour group of 40 Agustana University students from the US had just arrived at our hotel. They kept to themselves, not interacting with travellers or locals, however taking over the hotel scene which was now stretched to capacity. We went to a wonderful restaurant which is popular amongst travellers, and loaded with encouraged graffiti left by previous travellers on the walls and ceiling. Rather than order from the menu, I asked our waitress if there was a Nasca regional specialty dish. Lomo salatado is a specialty of Peru. It's beef tenderloin stir fried with french fries, sauteed onions, tomatoes, parsley, with a sort of beef broth sauce, little vinegar, with a couple small chile slices and oregano. It was delicious. As with every night and morning, our hotel played for it's guests the Time Life video series Lost Civilizations, "Inca secrets of the Ancestor". It was a very nice informative video, however with a biased slant portraying the the Spaniards as the bad guys whomping on the poor 80,000 strong Incas with only 168 conquistadors armed with guns and horses. They really down played the fact that the Incas had created a lot of enemies in the area during the last century of their existence and empire expansion. Due to a former Inca ruler splitting the empire amongst two waring sons, the Incas had been seriously weakened by a bloody civil war. The Incas were no better than the Spaniards in their quest for expansion of their empire and wealth. January 17, 1998 R100GS 24601 R80G/S 34690 Camana, Peru, - {Hostal Monetecarlo} After a continental breakfast, and watching the Inca video again, we packed up our gear to leave. The tour group of 40 university students from Augustana college near Chicago was also leaving. After their Peruvian guide warmed up to us, they took notice, and asked about our trip with a special interest since we were all from near Chicago. They told me they were getting university credit for their travels. After hearing this, I was thinking I should enroll in their PhD program and get a doctorate of vacationing :-) As we drove South of Nasca through the arid barren desert, the landscape turned green as we came across a river. This was right next to where we turned off for the cemetery yesterday. Obviously this tiny town on the river has been here for several millenniums. However, I wouldn't have known it was more than a century if it weren't for the cemetery. This likely being because they build everything out of sun dried mud bricks. Further down the road, we came across a bus lying on it's side perpendicular to the road. The side of the bus was dented in, as if it had rolled during the accident. This is the third serious recent bus accident we had seen in three days. This desert road has long planar stretches and since there is no flora or fauna, visibility is excellent. This particular accident happened near one of the few hills with a curve. I would suspect someone was passing when they shouldn't have on the blind curve. Often travellers ask if travelling by motorcycle is dangerous. Relative to the busses, I think it may be safer. We pulled off the PanAmerican to a restaurant that had parking in the back. There was a white R80PD with the entire Al Jesse Pannier catalog mounted on the bike. The owner came out and introduced himself as Nick (or formally William) from South Carolina. He hadn't seen another motorcyclist since Mexico. He was retired from doing house construction for habitat for humanity, and was now headed South on a similar route. He was just getting ready to leave so we didn't talk much now figuring we would meet up further down the road which we did at the airport in Arequipa. The road followed the coast line sometimes at water level, and then further South along beautiful cliff faces with 500 foot drops straight into the ocean below. The Pacific ocean was emerald colored here where it lapped up over the sand, and was tipped by salt water foam. The coastal drive along the ocean is among the most beautiful we've seen on these travels so far. After a while the beauty of the ocean shore, rock formations, and sand fade off into boredom as the roads are so perfect and straight. Watching the waves, campy Hawaii 5-O music started playing in my head. Sharon later said Eagle's "Hotel California" played in her head. "On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair..." We had to stop twice to wipe the salt water off our helmets. The waves would crash into the shore, and throw up a mist several hundred feet in the air. After a while, this salt mist would build up on our visor fogging it up from the outside and not evaporating. On the Northern outskirts of Camana, we passed through several towns where it seemed almost the entire inhabitants lived in little box housed made from sewing 5 straw mats together. This makes a poor man's tent shading from the sun, and offering a little visual privacy, but not much else. The straw mat cubes terraced the small dry mountain that the village was built around. As there didn't appear to be anything but sand and rock in the area and no vegetation, I have no idea what the economy could have based on. They were probably the poorest looking villages we've seen. There appeared to be some small housing projects of small cube shaped clay fired brick homes. However few lived in these homes. There's not much to write about this town Camana, We checked into our hotel for 35 soles, ate Lomo Saltado for dinner, and left in the morning. This town is a transit town for busses. We didn't see Nick even though we found out later he stayed here. January 18, 1998 Arequipa, Peru R100GS 24855 R80GS 35214 Driving up to Arequipa, the sand blowing into the crevices around the mountains was white which looked more like snow as if we had arrived during the first dusting of snow for the year. Several kilometers before Arequipa, we pulled over to the side of the road to take in one of the oddest scenes. The lighting and haze in the sky completely masked the high mountains off in the distance. The only way we knew they were there was from the snow caps that appeared to be hovering in the sky. Strange illusion. These surreal type landscape visions have been common occurrences for us in Peru. Likely because we're not use to seeing desert, mountains and ocean all together and the atmospheric conditions they produce. I often feel like I'm on an alien landscape, or at least looking at an Omni magazine. We picked up our airline tickets to Cusco. They cost us $59 each, one way. Arequipa is a leather town, however no where near the same extent that Cotacachi is in Ecuador. We found a place to repair our leather tank panniers which one of the support straps had ripped out during a fall. It took them 15 minutes, and they charged us $.75. After lunch, we visited the convent in town which are guidebook said was the most impressive thing to do in Arequipa. It turned out to be worth while. The convent use to house over 200 cloistered nuns, and has been in existence since the 16th or 17th century. In 1970, they moved the only remaining 23 cloistered nuns to a smaller more modern adjoining area. Apparently no one wants to be a nun these days. Our guide told us they had three classes of nuns, To be a first class nun at this convent, one had to pay 3,000 gold pieces. This entitled one the privilege of wearing a black veil, nice multi-room living quarters complete with private kitchen, maid, and maid living quarters. One became a second class nun by paying over her dowry to the convent. This entitled one to a smaller multi-room living quarters, maid, but had to perform some services to the convent. The third class nun had to work to earn her keep, didn't have a maid, and lived in a one room living quarter. Our guide told us about one of the nuns who lived until 1686, and is currently under going the process of becoming a saint. She explained to us that to become a saint, they need to perform three miracles that are accepted as such by the Vatican. Apparently this nun was responsible for several. In 1930s someone was diagnosed as having cancer. This person apparently did quite a bit of praying to this several century deceased nun, and miraculously became cured of terminal cancer. A room in the convent is now dedicated to her complete with a log from a dead tree she apparently planted 3 centuries ago. Across the street we stopped in a nice hotel to check on the restaurant since usually these four start hotels have nice restaurants. Inside the hotel they had one of the most impressive antique shops I had ever seen. Usually antique shops are full of junk, however this one had a high proportion of very nice pieces collected from all over the world including beautiful oak Victrola's with a giant oak horn, 19th century English made symphony music boxes, one of the most beautiful upright pianos I've seen complete with brass swinging candle holders. Neat stuff for decorating an old style Bed and Breakfast. January 19, 1998 Cusco, Peru - {Hostal Caceres} We left our hotel at 6am to catch our 7:25am flight to Cusco. Since we were leaving our motorcycles, I told the night clerk that we will return in 4 days. He asked "Are you going to breakfast?" I said, "No, Cusco". We picked up a taxi right in front of our hotel. As we drove to the airport, and the road turned uphill, the taxi died. The taxi driver said it ran out of gas. We hopped out and helped push the new little Hyundai up hill to a Shell gas station which fortunately was only a block away. Our driver put 3/4 of a gallon of gas (4 Soles) into the car. We hopped in, and after the starter turned over a few time, it started right up. The taxi driver touched his plastic jacket protected picture of a saint surrounded in blue polyester fringe hanging from his mirror. He then quickly waved his hand in the sign of a cross and took off. At the airport, there was already a line however with no one working at the counter. By the time we made it to the front, we were told that due to the fog on the ground here, our airplane hadn't arrived yet, and was still in Lima. Fortunately, our flight only took off two hours late. Meanwhile other travellers we had seen in both Arequipa, and Nasca were there waiting on the same flight. Nick the motorcyclist from North Carolina that we met during lunch somewhere between Nasca and Camana was at the airport. We sat and talked with him for a while. He was planning to make a detour into Machu Picchu by flight, however was returning much quicker. He had booked all of his hotel, train, and flight reservations through a travel agency in Arequipa. He told us of a BMW parts dealer in Buenos Aires he had heard about. I wrote down the address for future reference. Buenos Aires BMW parts "Avant Guird" Av Pueryrredon 981 And Av Cordoss OR GG Our flight was, as it should be, uneventful. I did notice that our 727-200 jet would fly through mountain valleys where the mountains were higher than our altitude on both sides. I'm not use to seeing such low altitude jet flying. We arrived in Cusco, and the taxi drivers swarmed us at the exit gate. One offered to drive us into town for 10 soles ($3.64). Not knowing the rate, we accepted. Heading back to the airport, we paid 3 Soles. I haven't seen any taxis in Peru with meters. Cusco is a beautiful city, the most beautiful we've seen in Peru, and certainly among the most beautiful in Latin America. What makes it so, is the Spanish colonial architecture so present in all of the buildings and streets. While Spanish colonial architecture is present throughout Latin America, here it is beautifully constructed, not in a grid fashion but with quaint streets going every which way which makes it easy to get lost, and are a pain to navigate, however make for interesting walks. The hilly landscape further adds to the beauty. The whole town is inset in the mountains. We walked around, through the Plaza del Armas (which is what every town in Peru calls their center square), and down several of the colonial cobblestone walkways. Beautiful. Unfortunately, the town is incredibly touristy. There are street peddlers everywhere selling all kinds of souvenirs at inflated prices. I was beginning to think that Peru didn't have any beggars until we arrived here. We hadn't been asked for money until Cusco. I suspect tourists create a beggar's occupation by giving out money. If one can make a living by begging, then many do. We certainly went through much poorer areas of Peru than here not witnessing this. Cusco actually appears to be one of the most prosperous areas in the country supported in large by tourism to Machu Picchu. We stopped in Plus Cafe on the plaza which had been recommended for it's coffee. I had one of the best cappuccinos since leaving home. Sharon who's body wasn't feeling up to the caffeine had tea. I arrived in Cusco with bag full of dirty clothes. We stopped in one of the zillion laundry shops in the town. They told me they would have my clothes ready by 7:30pm. Twice I asked, "What time do you close?", and both times I was told 9:00pm. After dinner, we stopped to pick up my only clothes I had that were not on my body, and they were closed. It was 8:20pm. I knocked on the door. A neighbor told me to try another door. Another neighbor helped out and found the little ~8 year old daughter of the owner in the building, who said her dad was out all night, but might be back in the morning by 5:00am before we had to go to the train station to catch our 6:45 train. At 5:45am, I was back at the door knocking for ten minutes. The clothes I was wearing were already not smelling pleasant. My knocking likely woke up the neighbors, but in Latin America, lots of noise at the crack of dawn is the way of life. Nobody answered, and I left Cuzco without my clothes. I picked up a T-shirt at one of the many souvenir vendors in Aqua Caliente, and had my clothes I wore cleaned at the hotel in Aqua Caliente while I stood around for 2 hours wearing a large towel they loaned me. When I returned back to Cuzco several days later, I told the laundromat owners my story in my best Spanish. Without me further prompting, they apologized and handed me my clothes, no charge, saving me 2 dollars minus 4 dollars I paid for my souvenir T-shirt. ---- Dave Thompson thompson@pdnt.com www - http://sdg.ncsa.uiuc.edu/~mag/Thompson Net-Tamer V 1.09 Palm Top - Registered