Frank Lewis (View on flickr)

Dad - Abbott Fay at park near Grand Junction (View on flickr)

Papá – Abbot Fay, en un parque cerca de Grand Junction

Acabamos de llegar a Perú venidos de una estorbada viaje a Estados Unidos. Fue excelente y exhaustiva. Primero, tuvimos que enfrentar 10 horas de autobús para la cuesta de la Cajamarca, entonces más 8 horas de autobús de Trujillo a la capital de Perú, Lima. Entonces volamos por mucho tiempo hacia Boston, y llegamos a tiempo para el evento principal que apretaba nuestro viaje: el cumpleaños de 80 años del padre de Nancy, Frank Lewis. Fuimos para la cabaña del hermano de Nancy, Dan, en New Hampshire y vivimos una conmemoración deliciosa.

Entonces volamos hacia Denver para ver los hijos de Randy, Elisheba y Mark, y dirigimos hasta Grand Junction, Colorado, para ver los padres de Randy. Caminamos con ellos a vemos su nuevo lar en el retiro de edad Atrium, en Grand Junction – ellos tienen una linda cabaña, completa, incluso con más espacio del que tenían antes, garaje, y el confort de hacer las comidas en el propio retiro. Instalaciones muy buenas.

Entonces dirigimos de vuelta a Denver y tuvimos un encuentro con amigos que fue un encanto absoluto. Varios amigos vinieron a vernos, incluso un grupo de ciclistas viajeros que no conocíamos, Nick y Dave, dos impresionantes jóvenes que están para partir de Denver en el camino de Panamá. ¡Gracias a todos qué vinieron y también a los qué no pudieron venir por su amistad! ¡Gracias, Ann, por la deliciosa recepción de la fiesta!

Los últimos días fueron gastos en una tentativa frenética de organizar todo el equipo que queríamos llevar con nosotros (cosas más calientes para las montañas, cosas nuevas que encargamos y compramos, etc.) Fue increíblemente estresante para mí, especialmente cuando decidí llevar mi trailer BOB conmigo al revés de continuar usando alforges (historia por venir). El cambio representaba un pequeño riesgo, una vez que no usaba el trailer desde 2004 y él estaba abandonado en un canto del garaje de Elisheba. Estaba realmente con miedo de haber olvidado un algo que me impediese de usarlo, o que no me adaptaría, o que un algo se perdería en el viaje de avión que estorbase todo...no se ponía tan ansioso hace años. De cualquier forma, logramos empacar todo eso, embarcar en el avión, y traer de vuelta a Lima, viajar las 9 horas de autobús para Trujillo, y tener todo instalado en la Casa de Ciclistas nuevamente. (Todo funcionó, y estoy contento pilotando con el trailer. Escribiré más sobre eso después.)

Frank Lewis (View on flickr)

Dad - Abbott Fay at park near Grand Junction (View on flickr)

We just got back to Peru from a whirlwind trip back to the US. It was great, and exhausting. First, we had to take a 10-hour bus down to the coast from Cajamarca, then an 8-hour bus from Trujillo to the capital of Peru, Lima. Then we flew for ages to Boston, and we arrived in time for the main event that timed our trip: The 80th birthday celebration of Nancy's dad, Frank Lewis. We went to her brother Dan's cabin in New Hampshire and had a delightful celebration.

Then we flew to Denver and got to see Randy's kids, Elisheba and Mark, and drove to Grand Junction, Colorado to see Randy's parents. We got to walk with them and see their new home at the Atrium living center in Grand Junction - they have a beautiful cottage, complete with even more space than they had before, a garage, and a meal a day at the nice facility next door. Very good setup.

Then we drove back to Denver and had a get-together with friends which was an absolute delight. Several friends came to say hello, and even one set of bike tourists we'd never met, Nick and Dave, two impressive young men who are about to set off from Denver on their way to Panama. Thanks to all of you who came and who couldn't for your friendship! Thanks, Ann, for the delightful hosting of the party!

The last couple of days were spent frantically trying to arrange all the gear we wanted to take back with us (warmer stuff for the mountains, new stuff we'd ordered and bought, etc.) It was incredibly stressful for me, especially when I decided to take my BOB trailer back with me instead of continuing using panniers (story to come). The change was a little risky, as I hadn't used the BOB since 2004 and it's been sitting lonely in a corner of Elisheba's garage. I was really afraid that I'd forget something that would make it unusable, or that it really wouldn't suit me, or that something would get lost in the airplane ride that would mess it all up... I haven't been so anxious in years. Anyway, we got it all packed up, got on the plane, and made it back to Lima, took the 9-hour bus back to Trujillo, and got all set up at the Casa de Ciclistas again. (It all worked, and I'm happily riding with the BOB trailer. I'll write more about that later.)

Group pose at Casa de ciclistas as Pius and Stefan leave (View on flickr)

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.

Stillness of the desert (View on flickr)

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.

Nancy riding on the desert road near Chuquicara (View on flickr)

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.

Impressive geological formation on Chuiquicara Yuracmarca road (View on flickr)

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.)

Tunnel in Canon del Pato (View on flickr)

Randy at end of tunnel on Chuiquicara Yuracmarca road (View on flickr)

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.

Chuiquicara Yuracmarca road (View on flickr)

Chuquicara to Yuracmarca road (View on flickr)

Randy on Chuiquicara Yuracmarca road (View on flickr)

riding into Huallanca (View on flickr)

View from campsite (View on flickr)

Chuquicara to Yuracmarca (View on flickr)

Nancy cresting the Abra Yana Shalla, at 4700 meters (15,400 feet) (View on flickr)

Hoy cruzamos el punto mas alto del viaje hasta ahora, y tal vez el mas alto del viaje. Después de subir otra vez en los Andes (la Cordillera Blanca) por mas de una semana, cruzamos Abra Yana Shalla a 4700 metros. Habíamos llegado a esto poco a poco, subiendo no mas de 1000 metros por día cuando entramos a los lugares altos. Nancy sintió la altura en muchas maneras, y por eso tratábamos de cuidarla todo posible. Pero lo cruzamos esta mañana hasta los picos. Vimos mucho paisaje bonito en los últimos días y trataremos de subir mas fotos en unos dias.

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.

People sometimes ask us what kind of bike we recommend, and how we manage bike maintenance. Here are some thoughts.

Ride a bike that's maintainable. In Latin America, that means a 26" mountain-bike style bike with standard components (V-Brakes or cantilever brakes, not disk brakes). You can buy 26" tires and tubes in even a small town, and you can find a mechanic who will have at least some tools for working on your bike. In a medium-sized town, you can get a rim and maybe spokes. If you have a 700cm wheel, you may have to send away to the nearest capital city and wait for a few days to get some of these things. Some people with difficult-to-obtain parts have spent lots of money on international shipping (and then on customs duties) and have waited ages to get going again when they've had a failure.

Ride a bike that's strong. It's better to be heavy than fragile. Get 36-spoke wheels (we're committed to this after a long failure of a 32-spoke back wheel in Canada. We haven't had a broken spoke since we switched to 36 spoke wheels). Get straight-gauge, strong spokes.

Carry a few spare parts. You can't carry everything. We always have tubes and patch kits, some spokes and the tools to replace them. Many people carry a spare tire. We don't, at least until now.

Keep the bike clean. We think that a bike that's clean doesn't wear as fast, especially the drive train. About every month, more in dusty dirt roads, less on clean pavement, we take our bikes and clean them and completely clean the chain and drivetrain. Often we'll go to a lavadero, a place where they wash cars, and either pay them US$1 to wash the bike or borrow the hose and do it ourselves (don't let them put high pressure water against the axles or bottom bracket or headset!). And we take off our chains (we love the SRAM chains because you can just remove the magic link and take them off, without a chain tool). We put the chains in plastic bottle with a little gasoline or diesel or something and shake it and get it all clean, the wipe it up with a cloth and put it back on. We have also paid a little bike shop US$2-3 to clean up the bikes.

Keep it maintained. The chain and cassette and rings are going to get worn out, as are the tires, of course. Keep ahead of these things, and you won't have a crisis down the line. You can get drivetrain components for 9-speed bikes in most cities in Latin America. We try to change the chain every 2000 miles or so, and the whole drivetrain after 2 or 3 chains. We have had the advantage of a few trips home in which we could bring back parts as well, and on one of these we brought back a whole drivetrain to Panama.

Our maintenance schedule: We try to tighten all the nuts and bolts every month, and clean the bikes and drivetrain. We remove the chains (we use SRAM chains with the magic links, so can remove them without damage and without tools) and soak them in some gasoline. Then we clean them up, dry them out, and re-lube them. Getting the dust and dirt off the other parts of the bike and drivetrain also helps prevent numerous kinds of wear.

Use the local talented bike mechanics. There are lots of good and "OK" and very useful bike mechanics in Latin America. More than at home. And they're far more creative and can do far more with less than you might expect. And they charge next to nothing. I'm not going to say that you shouldn't take responsibility for your own gear and watch closely, but you'll find more talent and experience and moxie than you might expect to find. Our friend Tim Malloch wrote about his many good experiences with mechanics on his ride.

Keep your screws tightened. We try to tighten our screws every month or so, especially the rack screws. Don't overtighten, of course. But a failed front rack has thrown many a cyclist over the front handlebar. And loose screws lead to mechanical failures of all types.

Parts are available in the big cities. You don't have to have (most) parts sent to you from home. Almost all parts are available in the major cities. If you have a major need, you can get on a bus and take the wheel or whatever to the city and get it fixed. Also, your local mechanic can probably arrange for almost any part to be sent to you via bus, if you can wait a day or two.

Rims and Wheels. We had hoped to buy 36-spoke wheels that would go the whole way, but it didn't happen. Rims wear out due to braking (unless you have disk brakes), and due to the load we put on them. We have had great experiences with getting new rims installed in both Colombia and Peru. In just an hour or two, a mechanic put on a quality rim, rebuilt the wheel, and life has been good. And the charge for the wheelbuilding was perhaps US$5. So I'm now more inclined to get a new cheap rim more often rather than to worry about how to get a fancy one sent from the US. But so far, the local ones have lasted as long as the really fancy ones we started out with. Never buy Mavic rims of any type for bike touring. I don't know what's wrong with them, but they always crack. They're terrible.

If you're interested, take a look our Bike Maintenance Log.

Update, September 17, 2008: I (Randy) had a rear axle just a bit loose probably since Trujillo. When I first tried to get it adjusted in Huanuco, they didn't have cone wrenches! How can they not have cone wrenches! Same result in Huancayo. Today I found a deaf-mute bike mechanic in Ayacucho who did have them, and got it adjusted. Now I will carry cone wrenches when traveling in Latin America.

Another update: My beloved multi-tool got lost or stolen above Huanuco, so I went looking for a replacement. I was able to come up with a pretty nice set of Allen wrenches, but I still wanted tire levers (Nancy has some, but we try to be independent on the ability to change tires.) So I went all over Huanuco and Huancayo looking for them. All the shops held up screwdrivers and said that's all I needed.

Lots of people ask us how we get money while travelling, and whether we carry a lot of cash, etc. Here's an attempt to answer your questions.

Money is obviously a big issue. You want to have enough, but not so much that you might lose it all at once.

These days it's just tremendously easy to get money from ATMs. The only exception to this that I know of is Cuba, and that's a whole different story. But everywhere we've been we're just a few days from an ATM. There are times the ATM doesn't work or won't dispense the amount of money we want, but the ATM has completely put away the use of travellers' checks (a waste of time and money) and the need to carry large amounts of dollars. (FYI: There are actually a number of machines in Latin America where you can withdraw dollars in addition to the local currency.)

Some tips:

• Use a debit card. It costs LOTS of fees to do a cash advance against a credit card.
• Find out from your bank how much it will cost to use your card at an ATM in Latin America. Some banks charge 2% of the advance and perhaps an additional transaction fee. Our bank (Fidelity) charges nothing. (The ATMS/Banks themselves sometimes charge a fee, but usually not. Sometimes there's a US$1.00 fee tacked on the statement. Sometimes there's a fee added at the ATM. Often there's no charge.)
• Carry at least two different debit cards, from different banks. Carry them in different places. Sometimes your bank will (for no reason or for a good reason) just stop letting you get money off of a card. Then you're in trouble until you can figure out how to call them. (Note that they shut down cards for good reasons, like fraudulent use, as well as arbitrary reasons and by mistake.)
• Make sure to contact your bank or card provider before you leave and let them know about your trip. They'll make a note of it on your account. Lots of banks assume that charges from Peru, for example, are probably fraudulent, so may shut down your card.
• Carry some dollars. They can be changed nearly anywhere if you're willing to work at it. Sometimes it's not at a good rate, but you can get somebody to buy your dollars and get you out of trouble.
• Remember that many banks can give a cash advance on a Visa card even if they don't have an ATM. It requires a little paperwork, but it can work out, and there's no additional fee. Any bank that has the "visa" symbol can theoretically do a cash advance for you.
• And of course, follow the standard advice about money. Don't show it. Don't carry too much. Keep it in a secure place. Etc.

We have also been able to handle our home finances pretty well from afar. We do all our banking over the internet, being careful with passwords and how we manage them. We haven't had our account hacked to now, but it's a concern, and a fair reason to carry your own laptop.

We have paid taxes on our meager income each year by downloading Turbotax and doing it all in an internet cafe. Having less income makes it all easier, of course...

The BIG DEAL, and the hardest thing of all, was getting ready to leave in the first place. Everything else pales in comparison. Getting things sold, stored, and getting all our affairs in order was far harder than anything else we had to do.

Love in his face - above Chavinillo (View on flickr)

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.

Snowcapped nevados up from Chavinillo (View on flickr)

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.

Randy riding up toward pass on Chavinillo to Huánuco road (View on flickr)

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.

La Corona del Inca on Chavinillo to Huánuco road (View on flickr)

Another celebration in the road in front of us, near the pass above Chavinillo (View on flickr)

Things can be tight in the road. Nancy getting around the traffic jam (View on flickr)