Arequipa - Chivay - Puno

I hate foreign keyboards.  This one particular.  Duque Inn, Puno. Killer view, worthless keyboard.  Dude said room was 20 soles, I said 15, he agreed.  I´d like to try that in the States.  Everytime I try and update this blog I get on a new computer that has the slightest changes from normal, which ends up causing catastrophic problems.  For instance, this keyboard´s space bar only works if you push really hard right in the center.  If any key on the keyboard should be in pristine condition it should be the space bar.  It is the go to key for sentence construction.  And the backspace key is too small, it has to share some real estate with this ç thing.  And what are these for: ñ ç ¡ ¿ € | ¬ º

I started reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance today.  It is interesting.  I see myself right smack dab in the middle of the book. Cruising across the country, enjoying being on my bike instead of stuck in the compartment of an automobile, always wondering about future weather and stuck in the middle of accepting technology and learning how to maintain it (my bike) or just assuming that it should always work because it is new and was expensive. 

Been on a bus for 10 hours since I last wrote.  Lots of Plaza de Armas´, lots of playing games with kids, lots of papa rellenas, some mountain biking from Chivay to Corporaque to Yanque and back.  Got my head turning thinking about cycling South America.  I´m not making any plans for the near future, but within the next 30, cycle all of central and most of South America.

On the bus ride today to Puno we were driving at 4400 meters for a while.  A ways up there.  Looked just like the sagebrush between Evanston and Laketown.  It is strange you can go so far and the views can be so different, or completely familiar.  Bought a plane ticket out of the jungle today.  Can´t wait. This of course means we have to get into the jungle.  Two options: 17 hour drive or 55 minute flight.  You either pay in time or money.  The Lonely Planet has a short paragraph about the road into the jungle, it starts with four short words: This road is vile.

For dinner we walked into town and a few restaurants owners tried to coerce us into eating at their place. They offered meals for $8 and drinks for $3.  We laughed as we passed by in search of something ¨"affordable".  Dinner for $2.50 and shared water for $0.30.  It can be fun to be frugal, but it can also be fun to splurge.

Off to bed.  Since I left Ann Arbor 6 weeks ago I have slept in 37 different places, either staying in a location for just one night, or occasionally (Nanaimo, BC, Portland, OR, Lima and Huaraz) 3 nights.  However, I have never stayed in the same place for only 2 nights.  Kind of strange, not sure why, it has just worked out that way. 

Kids will be kids, Plaza de Armas.

Bus ride, 4400 meters.

Making yarn at Corporaque.

A little steep for my liking.

The genesis of the Cañon del Colca.

Eli swimming.

Lima - Arequipa

Picked up Elizabeth and Sarah at the airport all by my lonesome self. Eli wanted to stay within about 8 seconds of el baño, so I got to go alone. Poor big fella. Which is good cause I can work on my Spanish. Had a nice chat about Michael Jackson. Driver was grinning ear to eat when I dropped some Billy Jean lyrics.

Hotel in Lima was pretty stellar, killer views of the plaza san Martin. Beds had the resilience of a hammock. Day in Lima included some top notch food, a stroll through the market and a 9pm 16-hour bus ride to Arequipa. In arranging for the hotel to keep our bags while we went out for the day I was successfully able to say, "I am a bus at 9pm". Hmm.

El Mercado. I love them. They fascinate me. Regardless of what town I am in I always have to go to the market. I like seeing the chickens hung up with a hook through the throat, baskets full of guinea pigs, men cutting cows up with hacksaws, the endless rows of vegetables and fruits (many of which I've never seen) etc. I love that markets provide such a tangible link to food growing in the fields, carried by individuals to the market and passed on to the consumer. I love that you can actually see what part of the cow you are eating, or the blood spurting out of a recently slit throat of a chicken. In America, boneless chicken breasts in styrofoam packaging or a nice clean slab of ribs separates the masses from the production of food. For the most part- "I don't know and I don't care. Bartender?" How often do we eat chicken and have no idea where the chicken was raised, how it was killed, where all of its bones went etc. I love that other countries are a little more connected to the products they consume. Elizabeth claims I like markets because I can't smell them. To soak up the full atmosphere I asked a lady what all these strange meat items were- liver, kidney, heart, lung. The full 9 yards. I quickly jumped behind the counter and did a little of the So I Married An Axe Murderer meat scene. "So do you live in New York? Really? Just tell me if that's too tense. You guide me. You guide me. Mom can you get the school nurse? Get the school nurse, help. It was an accident in shop." To really get the full feeling I got behind the counter and gave a little meat massage. It was right on.

16 hour bus ride.  "Not so bad, it´s more tingly than hot." Ham sandwich for breakfast, Zac Efron speaking spanish.  It was pretty stellar.  Had a pretty itchy scalp, gonna look about a shower and some shampoo this evening.

In Arequipa we jumped on a public bus to ride into town cause some taxi driver was trying to rip us off, $3, can you believe it. It's hard taking a public bus in a city you've never been in and not knowing Spanish. I tried asking a couple folks where we were to no avail, so eventually decided to have all 4 of us get off. When I asked where the Plaza was they pointed way back from where we had previously been and kind of laughed. It was a little comical getting off. The four of us were seated, screaming at each other with Peruvians standing in between us. We all got up to get off but the bus keeps going so we have to try to keep our balance and ask for another stop. By now everyone is kind of staring at us- who are these crazy lost gringos and why are they on this bus. To add to the mix I decide to shout out some broken Spanish to add a little humor: donde estas Lima, Peru. Soy perdido. (I'm a lost person, again screwing up the ser vs. estar problem). When you're lost and don't know where you are, make sure you enjoy it. I wish that I was lost more often. It's a nice feeling of, I don't know where I am, I don't know where I'm going but I sure am enjoying it. "We're there."

Showered in Arequipa. First time in a week almost. Clean. Had to wash my hair three times to get the shampoo to foam. The first two times it was just kind of absorbed. Also had handfuls of hair come out. Stuck it all over the wall. Felt like a woman.

You guide me.  You guide me.

The traveling team.

Royal dead dudes.  I really don´t like it how the guy on the right has turned his nose up at me.

No joke, view from our room.  $10 a night.

Huaraz - Lima

Sitting on the bus, about 15 minutes from Huaraz and therefore 7 hours and 45 minutes from Lima. Off to the big city to pick up my sister ad cousin for the last leg of this Peruvian journey.
Yesterday was spent at Chavin de Huantar, visiting the ruins there of the Chavin people, a group of people with widespread influence over Peru from 1500BC to 500BC. In contrast with Macchu Picchu which is only dated just before Europeans arrived. Their leftover ruins consist of a large temple ground with a square plaza and some underground "galleries" where they worshipped their god Lozno (a combination of a couple different animals), scared non-believers into belief through a combination of flashing light off of precious minerals, the sound of rushing waters and the consumption of hallucinogenic herbs, a place for the priests to live and an area to hold prisoners captive. All very interesting. I feel my missionary work would have been more productive if I had the aid of hallucinogens.

Last night Eli and I attempted to have a conversation with 4 children who approached us as we sat in the town's plaza at 9pm. We soon learned that these kids spoke Quechua, not Spanish, so communication proved difficult. At a loss for words I turned to the universal game of rock-paper-scissors hoping to establish some common ground between us. It was a success. We had a great game for about 20 minutes, and every time they beat me they shouted 'pagar' or, to pay, as loud as they could. We also worked on counting to ten in English and Eli and I tried to do the same in Quechua. They were much quicker learners than we were. Before they left they of course asked for some money and I was stuck in the dilemma situation of being Christlike vs. supporting the continued practice of begging. A dilemma I have faced before and don't think I will ever have a good answer for.

About Peruvians. The majority obviously speak Spanish, but many other languages also exist. Quechua is the primary language of roughly 8-10 million South Americans and their are about 100 distinct languages spoken in South America. It is believed that when the Europeans arrived roughly 2000 languages existed. I feel a bit shabby for only knowing one language. More and more I think Americans are going to be the last people around who only speak one language.

The last pictures are of some of these great people and their town, Huaraz. The Quechua women have a very distinct dress- colorful tights, a dark skirt, a sweater and blanket tied around their shoulders that are both very colorful and also used for carrying items to the market or toting children around.

800 BC tunnels underneath the temple at Chavin.

Chavin de Huantar temple complex, 800 BC.

Quechau woman, typical dress.

Quechua abeula.  Looks warm to me.

Trekking in the Cordillera Blanca, Day 3

Wake up around 6:15am to a nice frost everywhere. Throughout the night heard rumbles of ice tumbling down the glaciers above. Slept much better, even though we're camping at 14,000 feet.

Get up and moving early. Same breakfast, 10/10. The mountains are spectacular and the views are supposed to be the best early in the morning. Set out at 7:30 to reach the Punto Union Pass, 4750m. A solid hour and a half later, and 500m higher, we reach the pass. It's awesome. Love being in the midst of greatness, and these mountains carry some grandeur. Celebrate with a bottle of Inca Cola and chocolate cake.

To expedite the trek we decide to combine the last two days and trek all the way out. It's a long 6 hours and 1,000m descent but we reach Vaqueira at 2:45. Along the way are more beautiful mountains small towns and school children eager to trade sugar cane for cookies and a photo. Guinea pigs are caged up near occasional homes where they are raised as a Peruvian dish. Yum.

No buses in Vaqueira. We're 4 hours on a dirt road from where we want to go and not a taxi in sight. And only 5 homes in sight, so not a lot of options. Finally a large truck rolls through, we ask for a ride and jump on top for what will become the ride of our life. At first, an hour of climbing up a mountain to reach 4750m. The same elevation as our trekking pass. The whole time we are wondering, where is this road going to go? and how are we going to get over that huge mountain in front of us? We eventually go over the pass (more of a giant cutaway in the rock) and when we glimpse the other side we start laughing. Dozens of switchbacks down the side of the largest mountain I've ever seen a road on. We begin the descent and, while sitting on top of this truck, laugh every 100 meters or so because the switchbacks are so tight and a miss turn by 2 feet would send us tumbling 4,000 feet down to our graves. Its like when you get off a roller coaster and you're laughing so hard cause you thought you were going to die from all the flips and twists. Words really don't do justice. A couple weeks ago I was on the highway between Banff and Jasper, Canada. Supposedly the most beautiful drive in North America. Well it doesn't even measure up to this journey. So I took some pictures and a short movie.

4 bumpy-dirt-road-standing-on-the-top-of-a-truck hours later we reach Yungauy. In all, we've hiked 500m up and 1,000m down and then driven 1,000m up and then 2,300m down. I can say we've seen the mountains.

It was good to be out and exploring. It's also good to be sleeping in a bed with every tent/clothing article hanging up in my room to dry.

Buenas noche.

Driving back to Caraz, at 4767m.  Roads shouldn´t be built at 15,000ft.

The Punta Union Pass, 4750m.

Looking down the valley from where we´ve come.  Nice to have the warm sun out.

For our return ride back to Carz, a major mountain had to be descended.

Chocolate cake on the pass.

The truck Eli and I stood on the top of as we drove back to Caraz.

Trekking in the Cordillera Blancas, Day 1-2

Cashipampa (2915m)-> Llamacoral (3760m) -> Taullipampa (4250m)

Day 1
The next two blog entries are about the trek Eli (my brother) and I did through the Cordilleras. Interesting fact: in this small area of Peru there are 50 mountains above 5,000m. In contrast, North America has only 3 and Europe has none. Take that Alps.

Ever since the Annapurna Circuit in Nepal I've been interested in the big mountain ranges of the world as well as how the body responds to high altitude. It is quite interesting to breathe and not get any air. This trek was a bit different than Nepal because we were camping and had to carry our own food. This meant a stop in the mercado in Caraz, before the 90 minute drive to our starting town, Caraz. Picked up some oranges and bananas along with some empanadas to liven up the trail mix and oatmeal previously bought (and some chocolate cake carefully packed away into a Tupperware to enjoy at the top of the pass). Love markets in other countries. How do you know the chicken you ate buying is fresh? In the States, you have no idea. In Peru? Because the chicken next to it is currently being plucked, the chicken next to that is lying upside down on a cinderblock wall with its neck slit as it bleeds out onto the ground, slowly twitching its last twitch, and the chicken next to that is being drowned by a teenage boy in a dish of water. Love markets in other countries.

The trek started out good. Hot, steep, interesting irrigation for farmers, lots of quinoa growing along with some other funky looking stuff. We quickly climbed 800 meters or so and then the club flattened out to a somewhat open pasture filled with cows and donkeys. Perfect place for camping? I guess. Just hope I don't end up with a cow in bed with me in the morning.

I love camping. But they have some serious pros and cons.
Con #1 Sticky Legs. I don't mind bring dirty once in a while. Some may think that I am usually dirty. But when it comes to sleeping, I'm a bit more particular. I like nice clean feet and legs that are free from any sort of stickiness. Usually a little stickiness is OK, but that's when you are at home. Let me explain. When you sleep on your back, your legs don't touch and all is well. Sleeping on your stomach (I don't) is also in the clear. But what about on your side? Your legs come in contact. No one likes this. That's why blankets are always larger than beds. You pull the sheet loose and jam it between your legs and they don't touch. No possibility of sticky legs. (This is also why I hate it when hotels tuck the sheets into the bottom of the bed. You can't prevent sticky legs and it feels like your ankles are going to break. Although Katy disagrees). Now you might ask why are you going to bed with sticky legs. Answer: I've been hiking for the last 6 hours, it's hot, I haven't done laundry in a week or showered in 3 days. I get in my sleeping bag, zip up, roll over to the side . . . . sticky legs. I scrounge up some other clothes and throw it down there to try to minimize the problem. But every time I rollover the article of clothing gets dislodged and I'm back at the same problem. I feel like I could peel my legs off of each other. Or that someone through some Elmer's Glue in there when I wasn't looking.
Pro #1 Transient Living. Deep down everyone gets a little bit sick of the routine. Same old day in and day out. The same day over and over again. Wouldn't you like to pick up your life once in a while and move? Of course. This is camping. Your house is on your back, your oven/stove/microwave/toaster is now smaller than your hand and the only clothes you'll need are wrapped up in a small bag. You live happily for the next 2-7 days. Then you get home and wonder - "why on earth do I own all this other stuff?" I did great for the last week without it (in my case 10 weeks) yet for some reason it sits in boxes, closets and drawers throughout my house. Gotta love the freedom that comes with camping.
Con #2 Cell phone battery life. My phone is now my camera. For a 4 day trek I've gotta ensure that my battery lasts the whole time. Sleeping at 14,000 feet is cold and we all know that the cold drains batteries. Solution? Sleep with my phone in my pants. Not cool.
Pro #2 Stars. On a nice clear night in the mountains you peel back the rain fly and stare at the stars. Doesn't get much better than that. Stars also remind me of two places I love, Albion Basin and Jamaica.
Pro/Con. Being out of touch with time. This is a pro and a con. The pro side deals with the fact that time is irrelevant. The only thing you're gonna do all day is walk, eat when your belly rumbles and then walk some more. When you don't want to walk any further set up camp. The con side is that time (because you're not paying attention to it) starts to move at different speeds. Example: the first night Eli and I go to bed around 7pm because its dark and cold out. We toss and turn for a bit, sleep on and off for a bit, and then I start getting that feeling of "isn't it morning yet, I can't sleep and want to get a move on the day." I decide to not bother Eli quite yet so I lie there for a bit before asking him what time it is. I've guesstimated that it must be around 5am and some light will start creeping over the mountains. Finally ask him, and his answer 11:55pm. What in the world? It's not even tomorrow yet. Morning hasn't even thought about coming. Back home I wouldn't even be in bed. I've gotta suffer through 6 more hours of sticky legs? Hence the pros and cons of time when I am camping.

Day 2
Morning finally came. Oatmeal with an adequate amount of trail mix add in. My new favorite. Especially when I get some MMs. The only thing that didn't run smoothly was when I noticed a cow nuzzling its nasty muddy nose into my shorts and licking them to a wet dirty mess. So much for drying out. Besides, what's with cows eating clothes?

A beautiful hike up past Alpamayo and to the base of Tualliraju. Spectacular views. A slight drizzle rolls in around 4pm so Eli jumps in the tent and I hideout under a huge boulder that also serves as a cow hideout during storms. (I surmise this by the amount of dung in the place). Get back to the tent around 5:30 to a nice dinner of rolls, ham and cheese. Eli's got crumbs up everywhere so I make some "fat hobbit" jokes and we are rolling around laughing in the tent. In an attempt to sleep better we stay up as long as possible playing WAR, the card game. We invent some new rules to spice things up and after about a two hour battle I come out victorious. Fall asleep around 10pm, after washing my feet with a rag hoping for a smoother crisper night sleep.

Hiding from the rain and having dinner.

Peru has more desert than I had anticipated. 

All the dirt/sand is from a recent landslide.

Picking up some water before ascending to the pass.

Campsite our first night.

Huaraz

Fast forward to Monday morning. Eli and I slept in and are now trying to figure out how to arrange a 4 day trek through the Cordillera Blanca. It's called the Santa Cruz trek if you are interested. From Cashapampa to Vaquiera. We have all our gear, now we just need a permit to trek without a guide. I'm excited for the 4750 meter pass. Only 700 meters short of my pass in Nepal. However, there is a 6000 meter tall mountain in Arequipa that I am thinking about doing.

I'm typing from a tourist cafe's WiFi. When we walked in I heard, Half Step, Mississippi Uptown, toodaloo. So the effects of Jerry have had far reaching effects.

In the market this morning a lady was selling carrots with a sign that said 2 x 1.00. I figured two organic carrots for un sol was a good deal. I effectively asked for some and then the guy got out a scale and started piling carrots on. I thought, what have I said wrong. It turns out that I bought 2 kilos, or 4 1/2 pounds of carrots, for 35 cents. So if you want to keep up your healthy eating Elizabeth, it should be possible.

Besides that things are going well. I just wish my fingers were smaller for this iPhone keyboard.

Shopping at the store for some sweets we came across some MMs and Hershey's chocolate locked away in a glass case. I think all chocolate should be treated this way.

Dinner seems to be a repeat of the last two nights. This Chifa Chifa Chifa place is the digs. Also found a dessert shop where I can get a large piece of delicious chocolate cake for about $0.80. And churros are $0.40, with a smattering of dulce de leche in the middle. Other delights include chicken sandwiches for $0.40. Let's just say that we're eating well.

Keep that candy locked up.

Quinoa drink for breakfast, prepared by Liz, our LDS friend we´ve stayed with for 4 nights.

Turned out to be 2 kilos for 30 cents, not 2 carrots.

Lima - Huaraz feat. Laguna Churup

Ay ay ay.

Whew. Sitting in Chifa Chifa Chifa in Huaraz right now with mi hermano. It's been a good last couple days. I'm happy to have Eli here with me. I kind of operate as the guide and he works as the translator. We make a good team, however being able to communicate with people, although very beneficial, does seem to take a but of the mystery out of my traveling.

It's an 8 hour bus ride from Lima to Huaraz, along with a gain on 11,000 feet of elevation. So we're up in the mountains staying with a friend of a friend via the Church and Facebook. She's very nice.

Getting here was on the bus. It costs about $30 or so for the ride but comes with a meal and three movies, AC and recliner seats. Not too bad. When I got online they were having a discount, it actually said Insuperable, which Google translated to Unbeatable. It only cost $10, and although I feared a broken seat for 8 hours I went for it. Besides, 8 hours is only 8 hours. It was a steal. The conductor asked us to sit elsewhere, nicer seats, so all the English speaking folks would be on the same floor of the bus for the movie. Three stellar shows later we arrived.

Huaraz is great. The trekking center of the Central Andes. Not quite like the scene in Kathmandu, but groovy nonetheless. Church this morning. Pretty standard minus the Spanish part. I think I understood 20 words during the meeting. The strange part came at the beginning of the sacramental prayers. Oh God, in Spanish is O Dios. But what I heard was adios. I wondered why the words goodbye had been included in the sacramental prayers in Spanish speaking countries. I assume I'm not the first gringo to have this problem.

Day (acclimatization) hike up to Laguna Churup. A difficult time finding some transportation but eventually we were rolling. About a 2 1/2 hour hike up to around 14,500 feet. It was beautiful. And yes I went swimming. Cold. Descent was good. Only problem with his hike was we thought their would be a small town at the start of the trek. No such luck. So by the time we got down our bellies were rumbling. We also didn't have a taxi so we headed back towards Huaraz, a 4 hour walk. Half an an hour later we stumble upon a family in the street up in the middle of nowhere. I'm sick of walking so I go over and commence the 90 second conversation I'm getting used to. Eli came to the rescue and continued where I left off. All I effectively communicated was, hey I'm white and I don't understand what you're saying. Five minutes later I felt a little left out of the conversation. So I threw out my new phrase: tengo hambre (I'm hungry). I've said that a lot on this trip but never has it so quickly turned into a bowl of beans, potatoes and guinea pig (cooked of course) in my hands. We ate outside sitting on the side of the road in the dark. It was great. Then I played my favorite game with the Peruvian ninos. It's called Como se dice (how do you say). Basically I say a Spanish or English word and they have to say the other. It's a good one.

Finally got a taxi back to town. A lady got in next to me, so I exchanges pleasantries. She spoke Quechua, the native tongue, and no Spanish. I decided to leave that conversation for another day. Eli and I joked that if mom were here our problem would have been solved. She would have done what she always does when she encounters someone who speaks a different language. It's called slower and louder. DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? As if the effectiveness of the eardrum is the main problem.

So now we are having dinner at Chifa Chifa Chifa. Chifa means little Chinese restaurant. I don't know why it is repeated three times. I ordered the tallarines 40x40. Tallarines means noodles, and I'm not usure if 40x40 has anything to do with food. Either way I had a giant meal for $4. Just the way I like it.

Pictures to follow, Internet problems.

The sign pretty  much explains this one.

Walking home through Pitec and Llupa.

Huaraz.

Portland - Lima, Peru

Wow.

To sum up the last couple days would be difficult.

It was good to get to Portland.  I miss getting up and hopping on my bike every morning.  It was nice to have a routine.  However my new challenge of deciphering Spanish and navigating Lima will prove to be more difficult than cycling 100 km each day.  I´m picking it up slowly.  More on that later.

Being with Katy was great.  It was much harder to part ways in the aiport the other than I had expected.  I love her and it´s going to be hard not seeing her for 6 weeks or so.

Rest days in Portland included going out to Tillamook and soaking in that delicious ice cream.  Thank heaven for the cows, because that cheese and ice cream is baller.  Unfortunately, I think my body doesn´t particularly mesh with dairy products, so I try (not too well) to limit these items in my daily routine.  Then we hung out at the beach with a while.  It was great spending some time with Charlie.  Love that little kid.  Hope he dóesn´t grow up while I am away.

Fast forward to tonight and I am sitting in the Hitchiker´s Hostel in Miraflores, Lima, Peru.  (Some of these details are more for me than for you).  When I got off the plane a guy was standing there with a nice little whiteboard with my name on it, Clayton Pratt.  I assumed it was for the Hostel that I confirmed my reservation with.  Nope, one other one I sent an email to but never heard back from.  I guess the early bird gets the worm.  Thoughts on the airport: calm and orderly.  It was like my classroom the second year, if Haití or India´s airport were my classroom the first year.  Quiet friendly people making sure I was ok.  Having my first couple trips in India and Haiti makes the rest of the traveling world seem so tame.

Hostel is pretty nice, $10 a night.  Dm room on the second floor.  In my room are a couple new friends, Nataliya, Thomas (both from France) and Ryan is down the hall (Australia).  Nataliya is here studying, Thomas works as a chiropractor (he´s been traveling/working for the past 4 years trying to find a place in the world he´d like to live, much more exciting than the typical Mormon kids dilemna: Salt Lake City? yea or nea) and Ryan worked in Canada for a bit doing construction then is on a 3 month shoot through South America.  He speaks about as much Spanish as I do.  Language is a strange bag.  The four of us had dinner the other night and it was a large concoction of my awful French, worse Spanish and a little bit of English for everyone.

Today I got up the courage to test out my Spanish and not worry about publicly humiliating myself.  I did the tour at Huaca Pucllana, a temple site right in Lima that was used from 500-700 AD. The walls were built in a bookshelf manner, see pics, which ended up carrying significant antiseismic properties, which is why it is still standing today.  Fun fact I learned, it never rains in Lima.  Well a little, 7 mm a year.  In fact, they have to wash the streets here with a huge water truck because rain never comes to wash away the grime.  Not much compared to the Hoh Rain Forest´s 142 inches.  I noticed this diference when I took the public bus (try to imagine me navigating public buses with a couple phrases of Spanish under my belt) to Pachacamac.  It is another temple/city ruin 30 km southwest of Lima.  It´s a total desert out there.  Pretty cool archeology here in Peru.  Those Inca´s were builders.  It was also an interesting contrast to see 500 year old houses/temples with the shanty towns of poor rural Peru in the background.  Likely those homes won´t be standing in 500 years.  Public bus back into town, walked around for awhile, gelato and pan con jamon por cena.  Hablo un poco espanol.  Quisiera el menu, por favor.  Gracias.  Donde esta el autobus por el city centro?

Just booked bus tickets to Huaraz.  Eli comes in tomorrow night, and Saturday morning we´re off to the mountains.  5000 meters here I come.

Ruinas de Pachacamac. El Templo del Sol on the far right. Built in the 1400s.  Outside Lima is quite the desert.

Circuitos de Playas.  Miraflores, Peru.

The bookshelf and antiseismic technology of the Huaca Pucllana temple.

Mi esposa y yo.

The old world meets the new one.

Plaza de San Martin.

The stunning view outside my hostel window.  It costs a bit to get views like this.

Seaside - Portland 80 miles

I'm here.  I don't have to get on my bike for the next month. It's good, cause my legs need some rest, and it's bad, because I feel at home on my bike. It's my life force, if you will.  As the first leg of this journey comes to an end, my thoughts are directed to the following:

Leo:  Bob, there's a groundbreaking new book, that has just come out, ah. Now, of course not everything in this book applies to you, but I'm sure that you can see, when you see the title, exactly how it can help.


Bob:  Baby Steps?


Leo:  It means setting small reasonable goals for yourself, one day at a time. One tiny step at a time.


Bob:  Baby Steps!


Leo:  For instance, when you leave this office, don't think of everything you have to do to get out of the building, just think of what you must do to get out of this room, and when you get to the hall, deal with that hall, and so forth. You see.


Bob:  Baby Steps, oh boy!  Baby Steps, Baby Steps, Baby Steps through the office, Baby Steps out the door. It works.  It works.  All I have to do is take one little step at a time and I can do anything. Baby Steps around the office.  Baby Steps around the office.


Leo:  That should give you a lot to digest while I'm on vacation.


Bob:  Vacation?


As it is with Bob, so it is with me.  One little step at a time and I am now in Portland.  It has been an adventure.  The good and the bad of traveling is that, when you are on vacation, you begin brainstorming your next vacation.  Where will I ride next?  I've met people along my trail that have cycled almost all of the world; all of Europe, South America, Southeast Asia, Australia.  There is a lot to see on this planet of ours.

But what's next for me?  I guess you could say I'm taking a vacation, from my vacation.  Tomorrow morning Katy flies in to Portland, can't wait to see her.  She's been a gem of wife to allow me this adventure before medical school starts in the fall.  We'll poke around here for a couple days and then I'm off to Peru.  I'm going to be a tourist in a distant land.  Hope to see some beautiful sights and meet some people with different experiences and stories to share.  Luckily I'll have my younger brother Elijah with me, turning Spanish into English.  I hope to add to this blog while I'm away, but don't anticipate daily updates.  We'll see what happens.

1,454 miles / 23 days on the bike = 63 milesish a day
1 pair of cycling shorts, washed them twice
dozens and dozens of bananas, best with nutella and trail mix
more rain than I would have cared for
55,262 calories burned (an equal number consumed?)
2 sore legs, feeling increasingly lethargic these past 400 miles
zero flat tires
zero days with a sore neck
two lost items, a sock and a phone charger
2 provinces and 2 states
6 ferries
and one wife kind enough to let me go

All in all, I hope to take away two important ideas from this trip, the first was written on the wall of the motel I stayed in last night:

1. "May your happiness be in your journey, and your journey never end." Enjoying the journey, and not always waiting to arrive at some distant destination is keep to happiness in this life.  It was easy to be happy as I hopped on my bike each day and enjoyed the Canadian Rockies, Sunshine Coast, Vancouver Island, Olympic Peninsula and the Oregon Coast.  I hope to be able to enjoy the journey 2 months from now when I'm sitting in a library late at night studying.  The hardest part of this trip, you may wonder, is not logging long miles each day, it's knowing that every mile I ride won't be repeated, so I better enjoy it now cause I only get to see it once.

2.  People in this world are much, much, much kinder than I ever expected.  The overwhelming feeling you get watching the news is that you can't trust your neighbors, lock your doors, don't expect help from strangers, hitch hiking? are you out of your mind?  Here is the thing I don't get about hitch hiking:  People are afraid of picking up hitch hikers because they think they might get robbed or killed.  However, hitch hikers are told not to hitch hike because it's not safe, they might get robbed or killed. Are we really afraid of everyone we don't know? Over the past 3 weeks I've stayed in the homes of complete strangers probably fifteen or so times.  Each time is almost exactly the same: when I arrive I'm offered something to drink and a warm shower.  They invite me to have dinner.  After dinner we sit around and chat, exchange cycling stories and get advice on the next day's routes, places to see etc.  Then, being cyclists themselves, they perceive my continual hunger and ask what else I would like.  I eat breakfast with their family in the morning, and when they leave for work they say, make yourself at home and close the door when you leave.  It's good to know people are so genuine and kind, hope to be able to return some of these same favors.

pedal -> perupedal

Astoria - Seaside 25 miles

A slow meander on the bike today. It was nice to have a slower/shorter day. My legs are starting to feel perpetual fatigue after the previous 335 miles the prior 4 days.

My mother rode with me today. It was nice to have some company. On and off rain and shine, like the previous week. However today got about 5 minutes of torrential hail, so we sought shelter at the nearest sight. Also visited the beloved Oregon Coast. I built a killer sandcastle here 4 years ago.

Seaside is a nice little town. It has a little statue commemoration for Lewis and Clark. They were quite the dynamic duo.

Drumroll please . . . , I am now within striking distance of Portland, which will complete the first leg of pedalperupedal. It has been a good ride. Strange to think that I actually started in Calgary, on a bicycle. It seems a bit surreal. Each day when I get started I don't think, whoa, it's a long way to San Francisco. What usually happens is I say, 18 miles to Banff, or only another hour to lunch, or on tougher days, if I get up this hill I will stop and rest, or I'm going to pedal 100 more times then coast for a bit. And magically, all these little milestones add up to a long trip. By small and simple means are great things brought to pass. And the whole is greater than the sum of it's parts.

On another note: Tillamook Ice Cream. Have you tried it? It's the cat's pajamas. The bees knees. And according to Charlie, chocolate ice cream is healthy. So I try to have a couple scoops each day. Just to keep the engine running.

Last, but not least. Forecast for 6 days of sunshine. It came a bit late. But it came. Hopefully the ride into Portland tomorrow will be with the sun in my face and the wind at my back. These two things, by the way, are all cyclists could ever ask for.

Sunset at Seaside. Forecast for sunshine tomorrow, and a wind blowing towards Portland. Can't wait.

The Oregon Coast.

Katy can rest assured that we'll meet in Portland and I'll have some clean clothes.

Westport - Astoria 86 miles

The bookends of the day were two delicious, and rather large, meals. Breakfast was at the Blue Buoy Restaurant. I think I set a PR for the most Bisquick consumed in one sitting. Along with two eggs (served over easy) and 3 strips of bacon that made Wendy's Baconator look like child's play. Two comments about breakfast: One cup of Bisquick has three times as much trans fat as a McDonald's Big Mac. Interesting huh? I perused upon this while rummaging through the empty cupboards at home while Katy enjoys her gourmet Google cooking. Comment number two: every time I've ever ordered eggs at a restaurant I've always had them served "over easy". It's kind of a knee jerk response. To be honest, I don't know what "over easy" even means and I also don't even know the other acceptable answers to the question, "How would you like your eggs cooked?" If you have any other suggestions for me to try, please enlighten me. (But don't come at me with scrambled eggs. We all know that this is just what happens when your cheap non-stick cooking pan meets a metal spatula and the delicate, but most desirable, yolk breaks.)

The other bookend (dinner) has a bit more explaining to do. After battling the unceasing headwind over the ridiculously long bridge from the southeast corner of Washington to Astoria, OR (picture included) I came across a kind fellow named Dave, driving a red pickup, who asked where I was spending the night. I'm getting good at spotting friendly folks, so I play dumb to see what he has to offer. I told him I was unsure, he asked for my phone number, and we parted ways. He called back moments later, inviting me to stay the night at his house, but I assured him he didn't want Charlie at his house running around at 11:30pm screaming "Cakaw" and pretending to be a bird. To be cordial I asked him where a great place to eat was, and he started giving me directions to the local hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant (my favourite). Halfway through some pretty basic directions he said, "you know what, where are you staying? I'll just drive over and escort you to the place." Before I could tell him that wasn't necessary I heard him yell across the house "honey, I'm gonna go show these guys how to get to the Mexican restaurant" and then the line went dead. The rest of the story is uneventful, except for the fact that I ate a burrito the size of my thigh, delicious guacamole and also managed to finish Charlie's and my mother's meal. I usually resent being the designated 'eat all the leftovers' person but since I had just rolled off 85 miles without anything but 2 water bottles I wasn't going to argue. Dinner also supported my theory that the closer you get to the border, the better the Mexican food (it also explains why Ann Arbor is the culinary capital of the Midwest, but unfortunately has terrible Mexican food).

As to the events between eating and eating? Just pedalling. Today I got a email from my dad with a High School Commencement speech attached. It resonates, in part, with some of the things that I've been thinking of lately. Towards the end of the speech it says, "Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you." The idea being, enjoy something (like a bike ride) not because you'll eventually arrive at your destination, not so you can tell your med school friends what a cool summer you had and not even so you can have a blog to let others know how cool you are (but I am pretty cool, right?). But engage in whatever activities appeal to you because the very act of engaging is the reward of the activity. For me, the reward of riding is not arriving in San Francisco, the reward is the long hours in the saddle, the aching quads, the roller coaster of rain and shine, meeting folks like Dave and enjoying the never ending beautiful scenery and standing in awe of the majesty of Him who created it all. I think President Monson summed it up best when he said, "Find joy in the journey." The destination will come and go, but we will always be right in the middle of our journey.

My journey typically involves staring at my handlebars, front tire and the white line. (Sometimes I see how long I can go without lifting my head up and looking at the road. It wouldn't surprise me if one of these days I run into a parked car at full speed while trying to go longer than I previously have.) I took a picture to illustrate the reality of my journey. I get up each day and jump on my bike. There are mountains and oceans, small villages and large cities and rain and shine. But day after day it's just me, my handlebars, my front tire and the white line.

Besides that, I managed to get some pictures of that ridiculously long bridge, my support team as seen from the top of the Astoria column, dinner at La Cabana de Raya, "Entering Oregon" and Charlie playing a game of hide and seek. I'm not sure if he's hiding or seeking.

Looking North of Washington from Astoria.  That's a bridge.

The thrill and excitement knowing I just entered Oregon.

"Where should I hide?"

The Columbia River, which I crossed previously in Revelstoke, BC, as seen from the top of the Astoria Column.

See the sign?

Killer dinner, at the recommendation of Dave.

This is what I do, 6-7 hours a day.