Trans-Amazon Expedition
Week 2
We began pedaling at the Pacific Ocean, near Chiclayo, Peru.
The first few days of biking lulled us into a false confidence. We dipped our wheels in the white foam of the Pacific Ocean, and headed East across the flat desert. The pedaling was easy on the smooth straight asphalt. We knew the Andes loomed ahead of us, but it was several days before they came into view. Finally on the third day the Andes slapped us in the face. The level road quickly changed into an unrelenting climb to the top of our first pass. The road wound its way up over 9,000 vertical feet in less than 30 miles. It took a day and a half of pedaling in our lowest gear to reach the pass, but it felt good to know that we had reached the Amazon water shed—plus we had 40 miles of continuous down hill to rest our tired legs.
After a hastily made agreement to stop every 5 kilometers to regroup, we started down the steep winding road towards the valley below. It was easy to hit 30 miles an hour on the short straight sections, but much of our time was spent braking around hairpin turns. With every turn braking became harder. I tried pumping my brakes to keep the rubber from melting, but after 3 kilometers my brakes were worthless. Fearing for my life I brought by bike to a stop by dragging my feet on the pavement, and started running next to my bike in hopes that everyone would stop and wait at the 5 kilometer mark.
When I arrived everyone was a bit shaken. Three of our bikes had burned through their brake pads in the first 5 kilometers of downhill. We sat dumbfounded for a few minutes, wondering what to do. After tinkering with our brakes for an hour, we were able to get a small amount of braking power on all of the bikes. We headed down the mountain again, with a plan to meet up after 2 kilometers. After a kilometer I brought myself to a stop again by dragging my feet for 100 yards and walked down to meet the rest of the group. By this time everyone’s brakes were totally shot and we had to come up with a new plan.
We tried flagging down trucks, but soon found that they could not stop on the steep grade. Their brakes smelled of burning rubber as well. As we were about to give up and start walking down the road a family pulled over in a compact pick up. They were on their way from Lima to a small mountain town for their Easter celebration, and were happy to help. The only hitch was that they already had 4 people in the truck, as well as a load in the back of the truck. We waved them on and sat back down to finish taking off the cleats from the bottom of our cycling shoes before beginning our long walk.
A few minutes later the family returned and decided that they had changed their minds, and thought that we could all squeeze in for the ride down the mountain. With rope and wire holding the bikes in the bed of the truck, we piled all 8 people into the cab for a tight, but memorable ride to the next town, and hopefully a bike shop!
Luckily, the rest of our two week journey through the mountains went more smoothly. We had learned our lesson and always had plenty of extra brake pads on hand. During long down hills we would often have to stop every 30 minutes to adjust our brakes, and replace worn pads, but the ever-changing countryside more than made up for these minor hardships.
What started out as flat, desert terrain, became mountainous within a couple of days.
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