Macara, Eucador to Chulucanas, Peru

Today we rode from Ecuador into Peru and it would seem a whole new world, when it comes to the standard of living and so on. 

What I hadn't appreciated last night was just how close we were to Peru, cause no sooner had we mounted our bikes this morning and we were lining up, at the customs office in Ecuador and then an hour or so later doing the same thing at the Peruvian office.

The ride from the hotel to the border crossing, wasn't even long enough to get anywhere near warmed up..... Probably a good thing in the end, given the amount of time we'd subsequently spend milling around waiting for our paperwork to be processed!

Me, waiting for my Peruvian stamp into my passport. 

Possibly the first time that a Camelbak water bag has been worn at the same time as a Lead Out Cycling jersey. 

Once everyone had been counted, signed in and so on, we were able to commence our day's ride. Being down at a reasonable altitude made a big difference and the fact that it was rolling hills rather than gigantic mountainous slopes to contend with I was able to set a reasonable pace and make some inroads towards our lunch stop, given that the sun had begun to come out and the weather to get a little warmish....

By the time I'd got about 25-30 kilometres under my belt, I was keen to stop, grab a coffee (or a coke) and to have a bit of a chat with my colleagues as opposed to riding on my own. As a result I eased off the pace, stopped for a bit near a cafe and sure enough a couple of my colleagues caught up. We all then wandered in, chose our nominated ice-creams and were just about to open them up, eager with anticipation only to realise we didn't have Peruvian Soles.

Being so close to the border, we tried to pay with USD but unfortunately were thwarted at the last hurdle, given that the shop keeper had seemingly never seen American money which also happens to be the currency used in Ecuador..... 

Strange and she could have charged us whatever she wanted, but so be it. Off we rode.

Another 10-15 kilometres on, by now with most of us of water the temperature having got so hot we stopped in the next little village, hoping that we might have a bit more luck. As we did so, a chap on a motor bike pulled up and informed us, that one of our colleagues had been stopped by the police. Concerned about what they may be asking, we had a ten minute pow-wow to discuss, how we wanted to tackle the situation. Fortunately just as we'd come to the conclusion that one or two of us would have to stay and mind the bikes, whilst a couple of others would jump into a taxi to investigate, Dave, came into view with a police escort.

It transpires that they wanted to know whether he was the last person on the road, from our group, because according to their head count, they'd lost a few of us, between the border crossing and their local station. Apparently they'd been counting us! After a long and detailed discussion / explanation, we were able to give them the information they required and we were allowed to cycle on. 

By this stage, any thoughts of replenishing our food / water supplies totally forgotten. We simply wanted to get a bit of distance from the local constabulary.

On we rode for another ten - fifteen kilometres, this time with a police presence tagging along behind! By this stage we were all out of water, it was something like 35 degree's and we'd been out on the road, since crossing the border, at least two an a half hours or so.

As a result a third attempt was made to purchase some coke / water to see us through to the lunch truck. Costing an arm and a leg a couple of bottles of coke were procured, as was a five litre container of water which we used to partially refill all of our Camelbaks!

Feeling a little refreshed, we then rode on to the lunch stop, only to find that it was only some four or five kilometres from town. Being that it was 1:30 by now and we were all fed up with the constant police harassment, we all decided to call it quits and to jump on the truck! Once loaded up we then headed for our hostal in Chulucanas, only being stopped by the police some further five or six times along the way. Along the way, we saw a couple of our colleagues also with a police motor cyclist following in pursuit.

Just some of the local constabulary who'd harrased / protected us during the course of the day.