This llama waited patiently for his “seat” to open up on the bus, had some help getting seated and settled in for the ride.
Waiting for the Bus
Finding His Seat
Settled In For The Ride
1
httpv://youtu.be/sw-uU0rnxww
We bused to catch up, after a long story dead end in the Andes, and were treated by this sermon, in Spanish.
We could understand a few concepts of his sermon: Music of Satan, Movies and marijuana. He appeared be genuine, coming close to tears at one point. The bus seemed to be less than half with him, some clapping and singing hymns he led. He wasn’t Catholic, and that may have accounted for the lack of enthusiasm on the part of many. Evangelicals are making big strides in South America, and Catholics aren’t too happy.
py Zippy dust disguised at Rio Santa Bush Camp
Below: Appropriate for our 21st Anniversary today, a photo of Claire making an oh so typical marriage bed!
Claire at Bush Camp on Rio Santos
Bush Camp on the Rio Santa
Our second day on the Rio Santa was even more difficult than the first because it was long. We had nearly 70 kilometers to Chuquicara, with no improvement in the road surface, save for a few kilometers out of town. We were fortunate to stock up on large sodas and water at a small village and a roadside stand. The touring couple from Austria, Andi and Anita, told us of a bush camp spot they’d found seven kilometers out of Chuquicara. They said there was only one room in the village and it was taken when they arrived; we figured we would be so late we’d be out of luck also.
As we approached the seven kilometer mark it appeared the river was too close on one side, and cliffs on the other to allow any spot to camp, particularly one safely out of sight. But, just before the bridge, just as Andi had described, was a spot completely hidden from the road.
We set our sleeping bag out, and left the tent packed, the better to see all around us. Black mountains created a 360 degree corral for a spectacular display of stars. The Southern Cross tilted to the west as it sunk slowly below a southern mountain and the faint hints of the rising Milky Way.
As usual when bush camping, I eased in and out of sleep throughout the night, keeping time with the changing positions of stars and Milky Way. It cooled through the night and we snuggled off and on, spoke quietly about the stars, and the shadows on the canyon walls cast by the odd passing vehicle, watching for a cessation of movement or change in motor sound. We even found the fog like illumination of their dust clouds entertaining.
We’ve had a lot of experience over the years in bush camping, and have a few interesting tips for safety and comfort:
Claire’s: Not to sound paranoid, but we make a point to obscure our tire tracks going into a bush camp (some bikers call it stealth camping). We also break up the visual lines of the bike and tent or sleeping bag with a bit of camouflage. We have a silent language between us when something has alarmed either of us and we have a few decoy ploys to thwart potential trouble makers. We’ve heard people make camp near us, never aware of our presence until we pack up in the morning. We both sleep a little fitfully this way, but with 12 hours of darkness, we usually each manage seven or eight good hours of sleep. When we’re awake, we’re keenly sensitized.
Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo
By Claire Rogers:
We rode and walked a complete spiral around the neighborhood before we finally found the legendary Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo. We weren’t even supposed to be coming to Trujillo, but here we were, late in the day, arriving in town by bus and very disoriented. Lucho opened the door and quickly established: “Mi casa es su casa.” Lucho’s wife, Aricela warmly snuggled up to me on the couch though I was grimy and tired from travel. Bob connected with Alan, another tandem captain to talk tech and other cyclists came and went through the chaos. Soon there was a scramble to shower and fill the water basins before the service was shut off for the night. We locked Zippy to the banister before heading out to find dinner with Nedo, a Swiss cyclist who had just arrived having ridden the same 140 kilometers we’d just taken by bus. Nedo is on his way north and is planning a modified Southern Cross tour starting in October (he’s looking for riding partners, so pass the word. He’d like to go through the National Parks of S. Utah)
Casa de Ciclistas has been swallowing tired cyclists from off the gritty streets of Trujillo since 1985. Lucho, a winning competitive cyclist, keeps a workshop bulging with awards, tools and memorabilia from years of appreciative bike tourists. The front room is mostly for bike parking, but a small lounge area is the gathering place for international tourists to keep company with Lucho as he builds wheels, browse through the burgeoning visitor logs or visit and share notes with other tourists.
In keeping with the needs of touring cyclists, the accommodations are basic: a cold shower, rickety beds and a laundry wash basin and drying line. At this point in a PanAm tour, what cyclists really want is a place to spread out, repair equipment and search out stores for parts replacements. If they have the luxury of time, they’ll enjoy connecting with an ephemeral biking community hosted through the generosity of Lucho and Aricela. All they ask in return is a donation to help with costs.
The visitor logs are amazing. Entire life stories spill over the pages with added pictures and colorful drawings. Lucho keeps the first six volumes in an ammunition box and will soon archive volume seven. He also keeps a numeric record of his visitors, we were visitors number 1556 and 1557.
Lucho hopes to someday produce a book on the history of the Casa de Ciclistas. Sounds like a good project for a writer/bicyclist with excellent Spanish.