Update from heaven...only I´m not dead (II)

November 17, 2007
Piracoto to Barranca:
We were hesitant to leave the wonderful little village of Piracoto, just on the foot of the mother Andes, being that we received such wonderful hospitality. One dream of mine, is to set up a clinic outside of the states, and if I were to pick a place from the trip thus far, it would have to be Piracoto, Peru.
We set off at six-thirty in the morning, understanding the severity of the trip that we had in front of us. There was a little adobe house on the corner that sold gas out of a watering canister, and we each bought a gallon to fill up our tanks for the road...knowing their would be nothing for the next 5 hours of trail.
How do I explain this trail. It is 109 kilometers of rock, river, gravel, dirt, mountains, valleys, donkeys, cattle, goats, sheep, dogs, birds, waterfalls, and wonderfully friendly mountain villagers. Twice I passed women in the formal dress, full of colour, it included a skirt with stockings in black leather shoes, a blouse with a shall, and large bowler hats tilted to the side. They would be very traditionally sitting to the back drop of mountains, washing clothes or doing needlepoint, with the most unique look of true beauty...exactly what I think of when the word ¨life¨ comes to mind. They would then for those few seconds, look up from their daily activity, I would wave, and they would smile...it was poetic and beautiful and I will never forget them.
I had rediscovered beauty all throughout the five hours of riding at ten miles per hour, through some of the roughest terrain...no, the roughest terrain, I have ever experienced. Not to mention, it was a one lane trail with domestic animal herds, fallen rocks, and unbelievably dramatic cliff drop offs. My mother would be very upset. I tipped the bike over twice on this road, once in a pile of mud, and the second time on a gravel turn. Just a couple of scrapes on my legs, otherwise the bike and myself are just fine. We climbed to over 14,000 feet, where we made it to the top of the mountain over looking the city of Huraz and the beautiful snow capped mountains, home to the tallest in Peru. The site was magical and emotional, Lou even started crying. We sweated out a very intense ride for this moment, and alas, it was their in front of us, screaming ¨look at me, I am fucking amazing!¨
It took us an hour and a half to get down into the city of Huraz; dropping around 5,000 feet through road construction is always fun. It was well time for lunch, and Landon and I were feeling lucky to be alive, so we dared for more adventure, and chose the Cuey for our lunch item (aka Guinea Pig). It tasted like rabbit, only their wasn´t a terrible amount of product and was left hungry. I think I will stick to Pollo next time.
After lunch, and taking pictures of the fried appendages left over from our Cuey corpse, we headed back on the highway, this time paved, through the Peruvian National forest to Barranca.
This is another part of the trip that I am not sure how to explain. It was the most beautiful road I have ever been on in my entire life. I was left breathless, for four hours back down to the coast. White capped peaks with grassy highlands, adobe cottages on the mountain sides, with grazing cattle, cold rocky streams, sweeping valleys, the largest boulders I have ever seen (an absolute climber´s paradise), with a winding road that would make every German connoisseur jealous. It was remarkable, and I wish for every person in the world to be able to travel this road once in their life. I only imagine that if I marry some day, my wife on our wedding day, will bring me as much aesthetic beauty as this road did that day.
It would have been a perfect day in the life of Sean Tucker, if it were not for the simple fact that I was judged on the basis of my skin colour. For all of my friends out their that understand what I am talking about...racial profiling is a bitch. We were riding all day, with kids and adults alike screaming out ¨Gringo¨ from the dome of the Peruvian mouth, like it was the common hello for ¨pale ass different person.¨ The worst part of being pink and riding through Peru, is that you are stopped by every police check point. ¨Who are you riding in this neighborhood on that fancy cycle, huh Gringo?¨ And they are always wanting something. Lou is the one that forks over the goods; one time he gave the cop glow sticks and the other time a sheet of Benadryl. They are really just their to hassle you, mostly based on the colour of your skin and the fact of the motorcycle being so large. But eventually, all the paperwork comes back and they let us pink boys on our way. We made it down to the Pacific and into a Hostel merely feet away from the crashing waves just in time to watch the sunset over the big blue ocean...of course, they made us stay in the back of the hostel.