Dancin' deserts in Peru

The town of Sullana was the closest of any size over the Peru border, so it got the nod for the night.  I needed Pervian currency, so went into the town centre, where I had to contend with SQUILLIONS of little 3-wheeler trike taxis.  I couldn't believe that there could be the demand for so many of them! Most of the towns are full of one-way streets, making it difficult to negotiate your way, when you don't know where you're going in the first place!

A uniformed guy on a 2-wheel bike asked if I needed help, so he took me through many little streets to the bank, watching the bike while I was inside.  When I came back out, he'd been joined by a bike policeman, also watching my bike. I asked for a "good" hotel, so off we went, one in front and one behind me, weaving through all the little tri-taxis, in and out of the traffic and pedestrians at a fast pace.  I was horrified - what if I hit someone??  But we reached a hotel, and safety, at last, and it was a decent one, with WiFi, even, and a good restaurant, where I had a luvverly steak.

Strangely, with all the research I'd done for this trip, I'd never actually researched the geography of the countries themselves, nor the roads therein.  I had NO IDEA that there were deserts in Peru.  I'd always had an image of mountains, the Incas, rainforests, greenness etc.  Not deserts, never deserts. I was riding through the deserts.  For some unknown reason, I didn't fill up with fuel as I left town next morning.  I had plenty, I'd be right till the next town.  Yeah, well, the flyspots on the mapping program on the computer weren't actually towns, just "flyspots" - no fuel! You guessed it - I ran out of fuel, in the middle of nowhere, in the desert, winds blowing, dust swirling, nothingness.

After several unsuccessful attempts to flag cars down, a car eventually stopped, and I got across the message that I was out of fuel.  This lovely man [a local, apparently] then offered to drive on to the next fuel stop (5km, he said) get fuel and come back.  I gave him some money, and off he went.  I wondered if that was the last I'd see of my money!  But my faith in mankind was rewarded, as he returned in 20-25 minutes, and we fuelled up the bike.  Off we went, he just in front of me, to the tiny "restaurant", sitting forlornly alone in the desolation, 8km up the road, where he dropped off the fuel can, reassuring me that the next fuel was "5km" up the road - or so I (mis)understood him to say.  I clocked it.  It was 79km, and I was on reserve the whole way!  Surely I couldn't run out twice in one day?  Nope.  And he stayed just in front of me all the way to Morrope, where I was able to refill, and breathe a sigh of relief.  Note to self - ALWAYS fill up whenever possible!!  OK, understood.

Riding into the township of Huamey that evening, my nose was assulted by whiffs of sizzling meats.  I promptly found a hotel, disregarded its onsite restaurant,and walked back uptown to sample some of the lovely food on offer from the street vendors. Back at the hotel, I was cajoled by the owner into sampling some corn "wine", non-alcoholic.  It was actually very nice, quite a pleasant and fruity flavour. The owners both spent time giving me directions as to how to quickly get through Lima without problems.

The deserts are superb.  Subtle tonings of cream, fawn, brown and grey, intermingling with the colours of the rocks, the sky and the sea, at times. The mountains, dressed in their gowns of sand, with filmy, swirling skirts of creamy satin falling down the slopes.

Endless deserts, sea, skies, mountains - and wind.

The Wind Devil came a'courtin', wrapping his long silky arms strongly around me, whirling me, flinging me, this way and that, backwards and forwards, over and back, in an awful parody of the seductively beautiful tango, leaving me breathless and aching with desire - a desire to remain upright! It was difficult, but I managed to keep the bike upright through all those miles of wind.

He came back a'tappin' on my shoulder for more dancin' over the next couple of days, but I brushed him away with a flick of the head, and bent to the task of laying down miles.   I still had a long way to go. Chile was just across the border.