"Barren deserts and bent cops" - Welcome to Peru!

As I approached the border town there was a clear sign pointing towards the Peru/Ecuador border, so I naturally took it and was pleasantly surprised to find myself on a beautiful, brand new, two lane highway. All was going well until I passed under a sign saying,

“Gracias por su visita” followed quickly by another one saying “Bienvenidos a Peru”

Bugger! I`m now in Peru and haven`t passed through Ecuadorian migracion to get my passport stamped and aduana to cancel my temporary import permit for the bike. How the hell did that happen? Pulling up at the Peruvian control I asked,

“Donde esta migracion de Ecuador?”

The border guard pointed back down the road. Somehow I must have missed it. With the temperature rising, I climbed back on the bike and headed back 2 km and asked again, this time I was directed to Ecuador`s migracion on a completely different road. Passport duly stamped,

“Donde esta la aduana?” I enquired.

I was directed another 2 kms down the road I`d originally ridden! The simple border crossing was becoming unnecessarily complicated. Eventually I arrived back at the Peruvian migracion which was unnervingly quiet after the fiascos of Central America, in fact, there was only me and two other bikes, ridden by two Colombians who were riding down to the town of Mancora before heading back home to work.

The process went fairly smoothly and I was soon on the road in Peru! What a complete change to Ecuador. The mountainous, verdant landscape had now changed to hot, flat desert conditions reminiscent of Arizona. Even though I`d been on the road for several hours I was keen to push on to Mancora which was another 1 ½ hrs away. Juan, my Argentinian friend had recommended it and as the Colombian riders were going there too it seemed like a good idea.

The road followed the coast and it was refreshing to be by the sea again, it reminded me of riding the Pacific Coast Highway in California, but I was beginning to tire and I was pleased to see the outskirts of Mancora appear ahead. After a fruitless ride around the town searching for accommodation I came across The Grand Hotel (not so Grand in reality) which was more than wanted to pay but I`d had enough of trawling around in the heat so, given that I got a discount for staying more than one night and they had a secure garage, it was a done deal.

I stayed for 3 nights, got some much needed washing done and enjoyed some time walking on the beach and watching the surfers drain the last drop out of the surf before the sun went down. I even found a little café that managed a half decent cup of coffee which is saying something, because most of the time you just get a cup of hot water or milk and a jar of instant powdered coffee.

After 3 nights I was ready to move on and make some headway south as I still had a long way to go to get to Lima, the capital and more long rides to reach Machu Picchu, one of my original goals. I decided to make the journey as comfortable as possible for my back by riding only 3 / 4 hrs a day, so my plan was to set off straight after breakfast and reach my destination late morning, which would give me a full afternoon to find a hotel and look around the city/town. The first stop was the colonial city of Piura which wasn`t as picturesque as I was expecting, but across from the hotel was the city`s best Chinese restaurant, so naturally it had to be tried. Chinese cuisine, Peruvian style, washed down with a couple of beers. The locals seem to be very keen on their local drink “Inca Kola” (yes, that`s what it`s called), I would be tempted to try it if it didn`t look remarkably like a bottle of urine. Call me unadventurous, but anything that colour is unlikely to tempt me away from a decent cerveza. In fairness, the meal itself was pretty good. As ever, I had a huge plate and felt like another one within an hour!

With nothing really tempting me further, I left Piura early the next day and made for the bigger city of Chiclayo. The main Pan American Highway hugs the coast on the way through Northern Peru deviating inland and carving its way through mile upon mile of barren desert. Straight, flat roads with nothing on the horizon but sand and more sand.

One night in Chiclayo was also enough, and the next day I was on the road to the more attractive Trujillo. Another 3 hrs of desert to cross. It`s interesting how even on a motorbike your mind can wander and even dip into a minor trance while riding in a straight line for hours on end. I had to consciously pay attention and focus. My senses on high alert and my mind fully occupied to avoid being run off the road by reckless truck and bus drivers attempting suicidal overtakes.

In the mean time, I occupied my brain by singing all the back catalogue of Simon and Garfunkel, Jackson Browne and as many Beatles songs as I could remember (yes, it was a long road). With the final chorus of “Lady Madonna” ringing in my helmet, I rolled into Trujillo. My GPS unit has finally given up the ghost, so in every town I stop and ask the locals,

“Donde esta el centro per favor?”

I headed for Trujillo`s central plaza and then tracked around looking for a suitable hotel. The first one wanted the equivalent of $80! I had been warned by Andy that Peru wasn`t as cheap as you might think and so it was proving. So sadly, it was back to the “hostel experience”, or to be more accurate the “hostal experience”, which is not a backpackers hostel but a more basic kind of hotel. Yet again, one night was enough (I`m getting used to these "one night stands"), and the next day saw me on the road to Chimbote about a 100 mile ride away, although I had been warned by the hotel manager in Mancora that Chimbote wasn`t a particularly nice place and had an unpleasant smell! It was on the route and I thought it would be a convenient place to stay a night, but as I approached the city the stench wasn`t just unpleasant it was almost making me gag. There was some kind of fish processing plant located there which produced a stench that seemed to permeate the very landscape.

I fuelled up, looked at the map and decided that I would push on to the next likely looking town which was Barranca, which meant a further 100 miles or so across the desert. The desert road snaked its way southwards occasionally touching the Pacific Coast, with a continual onshore wind blowing sufficiently strongly for me to maintain my course only by leaning into it at a 50º angle, which made the going very tiring. Mile after mile of barren flat desert, intermittently broken by mile after mile of barren, hilly desert eventually brought me into the town of Barranca. It had been a long day in the saddle so I didn`t waste much time searching for a hotel but basically stopped at the first place that looked O.K. and so I found myself at the door of Hotel Chavin (you could probably lose the “in”), but it was comfortable and had wifi and a nice hot shower. Oh for the simple pleasures!

One night with the “chavs” made me eager to get to Lima which was now only a short 2 ½ hr ride. I had decided to find the one BMW garage in Peru (located in Lima) and possibly get a tyre change and maybe chain and sprockets too, as it would be another 2,600 miles to the next BMW garage in Santiago, Chile and I wasn`t sure whether both would last that long.

The last few miles heading into Lima were littered with multi coloured shanty towns, clinging precariously to the hills. The noise, the heat and the traffic congestion ramped up considerably. The tranquil trance of endless desert miles evapourated quickly. But unfortunately, not quickly enough. The road into Lima is a dual carriageway and across the other side of the carriageway I saw a group of Policemen, but I only began to pay atention as one of them waved me down, and it wasn`t to have a polite chat and admire my bike.

I heard the words, “Quarente cinco” - “infraccion” as he pointed to the speedo. Then he took out a little book and jabbed his finger at paragraph b, subsection c, “Infraccion” he repeated. Of course I had no way of knowing whether I was “speeding”or not. Then he wrote down on his pad “S100” (100 nuevo soles, about £22). I was taken so unawares that I actually paid it! I didn`t even offer less, for which I berated myself for several minutes afterwards. As I rode away from the mugging, I tried to console myself with the fact that it was the first time I had been a victim of this literal highway robbery in the whole journey and vowed to pay much more attention in future.

These thoughts were still in the background of my mind as the traffic intensity and heat built up further getting closer to the city when I saw a police car in my mirrors and then heard the siren right behind me signalling me to pull over.

“You`ve got to be joking” I said out loud to myself.

This was turning into an interesting day. So what was it going to be this time, more speeding? You`ve guessed it.

“Quarente cinco” – blah blah – “infraccion” – blah blah………

“No es possible………….yo vie…..45kph…….la misma……todo trafico……” This time I was putting up a defence saying I was going the same speed as all the other traffic. Then he pulled his ace and said that I passed a radar trap some kilometres back. Whether I did or not is a moot point as he wanted his bonus too. Clearly he had been informed by his mate that a “meal ticket” was riding his way and I was an easy target. This time the “fine” had gone up, “S150” and he had my paperwork for the bike.

“No es possible. No tengo mucho dinero” (you scum bag, I added under my breath).

“Quanto tienes?” (how much do you have)

“Quanto tienes?” he repeated. I rummaged in my pockets for a smaller denomination knowing I had a couple of S20 and a couple of S100 notes and just hoped that I pulled out the right ones. The offer of $20 saw him wrinkle his nose up with disgust, eventually the bribe cost me S44 and he returned my precious paperwork.

Welcome to Lima!

Apart from a decent cup of tea and coffee, I`m even missing the good old English bobby.




I have subsequently found the copy of my paperwork that would have given me more leverage if I had it at the time! You live and learn.

Another 30 mins brought me into the seething, cacophony and chaos that is Lima. My next challenge was finding my way to the BMW garage and then to a hotel in a completely different part of the city without my GPS. This all took another 2 hrs. I finally arrived at the garage only to discover they didn’t have any tyres and they couldn`t check whether they had a chain and sprocket set because the service department was closed! This was all relayed to me by a very helpful Peruvian biker who spoke good English. Carlos gave me the address of a shop that sold tyres,

“Here`s my e mail address and phone number. Give me a call if I can be of any more help”

Faith in human nature restored again, I thanked him and set off to find a hotel in the Miraflores district of Lima about 30 mins away. After asking the way several times I finally arrived at 2.00 p.m. My short 2 ½ hr ride to Lima had now become 6 hrs. I discovered that all the cheap accommodation was full,but managed to negotiate a 3 night deal at reasonable hotel. After showering and collapsing on my bed, I contemplated the challenges of the day and noticed that I felt remarkably calm considering how that would have affected me a few months ago.


I spent the rest of the weekend wandering around Miraflores and on Monday morning set off to find the garage that could supply me with tyres, luckily it was located very close to my hotel and even better, when I arrived they had tyres in stock. Result! Strapping them to the bike I rode to the BMW garage to get them fitted and also change my chain and sprockets if they had a set available. They did! The plan was coming together. It seemed strangely sad to change the chain I had so lovingly tended every day since Alaska, and maybe it could have lasted the course? But it would have been right at the end of its life and why take the chance? Tomorrow I`m back on the road south heading for the town of Pisco, (presumably the home of the sour?) then Nasca and across the Andes to Cusco.