Peru, Day 1

(written late on 9/30 and early on 10/1)

Today was supposed to be an amazing day. Today was supposed to be all excitement all day long. It didn’t exactly happen that way. I rolled out of bed around 5:20 am to finish up my last minute packing. I made mental notes while laying in bed to grab my headphones, an extra derailleur cable, a hand pump, chain break, and a couple extra pieces of gum. Scott woke up around 5:40 and drove me down to Evan’s house where we were going to catch our cab.

After Scott dropped me off and Evan and I were in the cab I received a text message that our flight had been delayed by an hour. This would make it nearly impossible for us to make our connection to Lima in Houston. I was disappointed, but thought maybe the flight from Houston would also be delayed so we’d be able to scoot right on the plane. Upon arrival at SeaTac we found a massive line at the Continental desk. We each had two checked bags, including awkward sized boxes full of bikes and parts. It was hard to negotiate the load around the channels of people and lines snaking throughout the terminal. My blood pressure was starting to rise, but we kept it in perspective by saying before we knew it we’d be on another continent on the trip of our lives.

Our next hurdle – I should call this a major road block, but I digress – came when we were checking in. After waiting in a 45 minute line (actually now happy for a delay so we wouldn’t miss the flight) it came time to scan our passports. Mine went through no problem. Evan mentioned that his never scans so he had to enter the information manually. The ticketing agent approved it and we waited to pay for our bags. The agent told me checking a bike was $100 – on par with what I expected, but annoying nonetheless. Suddenly, the check-in machine shut down and we were asked to move to another computer with another agent. When it came time for Evan to re-enter his passport info, our new agent immediately put a halt on the process. His passport was damaged and Continental had recently been fined for sending people abroad with damaged passports. After some hemming and hawing he told us that Evan would be unable to board the plane. Unreal.

I was in a state of panic. This trip, while my dream trip, is one that I’d grown comfortable with because I was going to have a wingman. Someone to motivate me to ride higher, harder, and take a few risks. Someone who knows the inside and out of our cameras so we could film what we needed to film and troubleshoot if necessary. I didn’t want to do this alone now. I pleaded with the ticket agent but he had none of it. He told Evan that he would put in a special word with the Seattle post office so that Evan could potentially get a passport in one day. Who knew that was even possible? The decision was on me whether or not I wanted to hang around and see what happened or get on the plane. With no guarentee that Evan would have his passport I reluctantly decided to continue on with my journey, but not before this new agent decided to charge me $200 for my bike, instead of $100. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I pouted in the terminal about the fee, lost my credit card for about 15 minutes, subsequently panicked, then forgot about the drama when we rediscovered my Mastercard was stuck in my passport which the agent had been holding. After handing over the cash, I said goodbye to Evan and hoped that I’d see him in Lima tomorrow. My next challenge would be to attempt to make my connection. They were predicting I’d fail, but said it was worth a shot. If I missed the connection I’d end up reunited with Evan in Houston tomorrow afternoon, as there’s only one flight to Lima each day on Continental.

Distressed, flustered, and tense, I made my way to my gate. I grabbed a Green Machine breakfast and sulked at the gate while on the phone with my best friend who had just returned from a 2 week honeymoon in Spain, Morocco, and Portugal. She gave me a couple quick war stories to make me feel a little better. Still, I was sad to be flying alone and worried that I’d end up doing the entire ride by myself. Not exactly comforting when it’s supposed to be some of the most challenging terrain in the world. Additionally, I hate flying and solo missions make it even worse.

Evan’s girlfriend had picked him up as soon as she could get to the airport to take him to the passport office to try to get his situation remedied. They worked on that while I sat on the plane to Houston, enjoying a row to myself and watching stupid romance comedies on TV. What is it about flying that lets you watch the worst crap that entertainment has to offer and be totally ok with it?

As we neared Houston I asked the gate agent if she knew where my gate for Lima was, as there was no gate assignment on my boarding pass. She told me that there would be an agent to assist me as soon as I got off the plane. It was looking like I was going to have about 25 minutes between landing and departure of my next flight. Houston is a pretty big airport. My chances of making my connection were grim, and the way things were going, I had zero expectations. This was turning out to be the worst vacation ever, not the best, as I had hoped.

We touched down in Houston and I noticed a voicemail from Evan. I checked it and voila! Finally some good news!  Now, if I could just get on that next flight… I sprinted off the plane and made my way to the waiting agent and asked about Lima. He smiled, and pointed to the next gate over. Boom! More good news! Perhaps my luck was turning, as they hadn’t even begun boarding yet. I dashed through the terminal looking for an ATM, realizing that I had forgotten to get cash out of the bank the day prior. Going to a foreign country with no cash seemed like a death sentence – especially when I wasn’t sure how I’d be getting to my hotel.

After about an hour wait, my luggage finally showed up. Rolly bag, bike, carry on- all at the same time. I was relieved to see the bike, but the box had a little damage on it, so I’m hoping the frame looks ok. As I excited customs into the waiting area it was like being herded into a gladiator arena. There seriously must have been a thousand people all over the room holding up signs with the names of their cargo on them. I felt like a retarded cow being herded through a procession with my massive amounts of luggage piled onto a surprisingly smooth-rolling cart. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a sign with both my and Evan’s name on it. I smiled and told the guy there would just be one of us on the ride this evening.

After about 45 minutes we made it to the hotel Tambo in Miraflores. It’s a small beach community but that’s about all I know since it was dark when I arrived. I’m just stoked to have a bed for the next couple of days. All of my stuff arrived. There’s Internet in the hotel. The only thing that sucks is I was advised not to drink the water so I’m dreadfully thirsty.  Breakfast is right around the corner, so that should be remedied soon.

That’s all for now! I’ll start snapping photos today.