Brexiting (Oxford to Huanuco)
The 20 or so hours I had in the UK after returning from Greece and flying to Lima were rather full. I tried to tidy the house up for Ioanna as an apology for abandoning her for 2 months, modified some Arduino code for our homemade GPS tracker, covered the desk in hot glue whilst putting said tracker in a case, checking that everything that should be packed was packed and contemplated mowing the lawn. I had a few worried messages from Mum so I furnished her with flight numbers so she could enjoy her traditional stint watching FlightRadar and told her that the bikes that we’re riding are pretty much scooters at 4000m and Peru is just Spain anyway.
I had the luggage all laid out on the bed — in the end I had to carry two large suitcases, a backpack and a helmet which I was petrified of dropping or smacking against a wall. Tibet was in a similar state and fancied a race to Heathrow (he was coming from Cambridge, I was coming from Oxford) before his train got cancelled and so I had to occupy myself with some Wetherspoons culinary delights (read pork scratchings and ale) until he arrived, losing the race.
Flying to Bogota was my first long haul flight and Tibet had warned me that it was likely to be an unenjoyable affair. After Tibet had wound me up about inquisitive hands inspecting my luggage during the transfer I had tried to find enough padlocks to secure my hold luggage. I failed and was slightly worried I would have no stuff when we landed in Lima. As a result, I was geared up for a long slog through the many mediocre episodes on offer to keep my mind distracted. However, just after the food was brought around I rolled up my jumper, placed it against the wall and promptly fell asleep. I woke up some 10 hours later for another round of food to see a rather red-eyed Tibet saying “I hate you”. I watched an unremarkable episode of something for 30 minutes and then went back for a nap before we landed in Bogota. Bogota airport was, like the episode, unremarkable — one unit of international airport plus some Greece style “poo bins” for the toilet paper in the one toilet that was actually open.
We boarded the plane to Lima for another 3 hour nap (not applicable to Tibet) before waking up to see the Andes and the Cordillera Blanca below — our first taste of the breathtaking scenery that Peru seems to throw up more often than not. After we landed in Lima we were confronted by something like 20 desks all hosting taxi companies offering rides into central Lima. Our suspicion was that everyone was trying to rip us off. Being seasoned travellers (!) we thought we could do better ourselves so went outside, got cold feet and started searching the internet for reputable taxi companies. Instead we found only a compendium of Lima-Taxi horror stories about how taxi drivers are guaranteed to kick you out of the taxi in the arse end of nowhere and then nick all your baggage. Upon reflection I would not recommend you employ this technique of getting a taxi if you find yourself in a similar situation. After some negotiation with a school (group / gang / murder) of taxi-drivers we managed to get into the centre of Lima for 35 soles (which somewhat miraculously turned into 40 at the end) and a few grey hairs. This was quite an eye-opener to the Peruvian driving style which could be described as violently intimate. We decided we wouldn’t be driving through Lima any time soon and so our planned route with the bikes changed once again.
We landed in Lima on a Sunday and had originally planned to leave on the same day, however we were attacked by some South American bureaucracy. In order to buy the dirt bikes legally in Peru we had to have something called a “Perimso para Firmar Contratos”, literally a permit to sign contract. One of the few places where you level up in this particular qualification is in the centre of Lima at the Migraciones office. We are unsure of the point of this as it seems that there are no criteria for being refused the permit. As a result of this wonderful bit of faff we got to sample the delights of Lima for an afternoon and night in a not very salubrious bit of Lima. I don’t know if the whole of Lima was that rubbish, but, well, it was fairly horrible. Particularly the smell. My assessment of Lima could fill an entire blog post if I knew enough swear words, but as I don’t I will delicately skip past this.
Early on Monday morning we went and got the magic stamp in our passport. It was a fairly simple process after googling and translating an article in Spanish — we only had to speak to 4 (?) different people in the Queen’s Castellano, but we got it done with plenty of time and without the help of the many fixers outside offering pens and the opportunity to lighten your wallet.
One more taxi-death-ride later and we were back at the airport where I very cleverly left my brand new Leatherman knife in my carry-on luggage and so I very kindly donated it to the Peruvian Union of Airport Security People through a squall of European Union (for now) tears. We then got on the flight to Huanuco, and I managed to get a quick power nap in (not applicable to Tibet) next to the stretcher in the corner (!) before the frankly terrifying landing where the plane seemed to still be banking to avoid the mountains as he touched down in Huanuco. To call it an airport is a bit of a stretch, but it did have the distinction of having the most secure baggage retrieval system I have come across, where you actually had to show ID and a baggage number before you were allowed to take your bag.
Didier came to meet us at the airport with a big smile and helped us load all of our luggage into something the size of a Fiat Cinquecento. With the rear seats not fully emotionally connected to the rest of the car we were driven at break-neck speed to the morgue (It did worry me slightly that the taxi driver knew where this was) near to Toby’s workshop where our bikes were lying in wait.
Or so we thought….
