Christmas in Dixie

For a couple of years now I've been fortunate enough to spend the 25th of December a touch further south than Dixie.  Last year it was a very relaxed dinner and cocktails in Arica, Chile.  This year....  Well uh, this year it was a little differnt.  Most of you understand the the phrase "take her easy tonight" doesn't really mean shit when I say it.  So in an effort to "take her easy" for Christmas this year all was lost.  And by this I mean I, we, everyone in Cartagena, Colombia did one of the wildest 48 hour Christmas party, full throttle, life expounding, forget nothing, learn everything, wax, booze sessions I've ever been a part of.  Normally, as per the intent of this blog, I would write a descripitive account of all that was.  This time I can only say thank you to Micheal, Migulito, Owen, Felix, Jeanine, Marcel, the rest of the Aussie crew, and lastly Luchito.  What an amazing life I shred day to day. 

Oh and Cody, we need to talk about the relationship of the individual to the notion of equality.  Heavy shit man.

I'm surfing Panama with Chino now, I'm in Central America with nothing but mostly paved roads between Road 34 and this hotel.  Much love my friends, I'll see you soon!

The New Leg Two....

This is difficult for me to say, type whatever but F it. I've been holding my tongue for the past 4 days trying, really, really trying to be patient and let things play out before I go and post about what's next. The past 4 days have been the epitome of this wack ass life that constantly resembles a roller coaster in more ways than one: It seems like it's made for children, it's only fun because of the highs and lows(the highest point on a roller coaster is only fun because how low you go before and after it, if you get stuck at the top the ride sucks) and at the end of it (daily) I feel like I've had my ass kicked, whiplash and all. Well folks the roller coaster that is trying to ship a 1981 VW Kombi to Panama is one for the ages. 
*-If you're stoked on this post you should stop reading now, the rest is going to be boring ramble about shipping a car and being an idiot...

To pick up where I left off on the previous post rolling into Cartagena was a fairly emotional day in the big picture of this trip. I immediately dried my tears and set out to find the agency that helps tourist ship vehicles, drastically different than Buenaventura, not even the same fucking ballpark. After interviewing with them and learning the next ship was on the 23rd I signed up and figured the rest would just kind of move along right. I mean I had 4 days to sort it out. I went back on the 21st to commence the paperwork and started with the laying out of all of my stuff on the desk and talking it up with Louis when his wife mentioned the word "Aduana". "What's Aduana," I said. "you have it there in the papers" "No I've never heard that word in my life" "No no no. You have Aduana in the somewhere". Well there was about 5 minutes of this, me assuring them I had no Aduana and them insisting that was impossible. See over the next 15 or minutes I learned that this was a completely obligatory piece of paper that I should have recieved when I crossed into Colombia. Apparently with this paper you probably won't have your car taken by the military or police, but without it you're guaranteed to have your car taken by the cops. It's like that, taken. Side of the road with all your shit in hand, taken. No questions(especially for a Gringo) just gone. By now I'm sure you all can understand my surprise at this news seeing as how i had just conducted Kombi for two weeks over the entirety of the country with at least twenty different stops at police checkpoints and lengthy conversations about my business in Colombia. My immediate reflections on how in hell this was possible brought up the usual suspects: my Mom and Mexi and such looking out for me....Constantly. Shit shit shit. It doesn't make sense, I drove all of Colombia with no insurance and no Aduana being the best friend of men in uniform, Christ even talking my way out of a legitimate ticket for making a dangerous pass on a double yellow (I explained that Kombi was old and like a turtle so it was impossible to drive her dangerously, we all laughed, looked at their guns, laughed some more and they sent me on my way without inspecting the content of the stack of papers I handed them. Magic.) So at that point Kombi was basically hot property in this country illegally. This was bad, really bad. I had one day to figure this shit out or wait till the next boat a full week into the new year. Even then I would have to drive to the border with Venezuela exit and return to get the proper paperwork, all the while trying not to get my car taken by the fuzz.

Louis and Sonya were more than compassionate to my situation helping me with the people in the Aduana office here to sort out a solution for this problem but alas at the end of the day they just shut me down. They simply said no. The Gringo fucked up, the Gringo must face the consequences of his own ineptitude. Got it. That night I stopped by and talked with Kombi, basically deciding that I would drive her North through Colombia and surf for a couple of week then try and sell her and fly home. It was a sad night, sad indeed. I drank. I drank with Kombi. I drank on the street corner with drug dealers, prostitutes, and police. Gotta get low to get high.

A new day dawned and upon checking my email, as Louis told me to, I got the best news I could have possibly hoped for: They had a friend in the office at the border with Ecuador and he was going to sneak a Aduana form from the stack and fax it up with all the proper post-dates and stamps and everything. Excellent! The ship had also been pushed back a day so we had some extra time to sift through this. So with all of our ducks falling into line It brought me to last night and heavy, heavy drinking on account of the good news which blurred its way into 8:30 this morning.

I don't normally get hangovers so when I do it really surprises me and I promise my liver, kidneys, brain, stomach and asshole that I'll never drink again. Never. Dammit this morning hurt me in a really bad way. I knew I had work to do to get Kombi entered into the port and sign a bunch of papers but I figured I'm a robust 31 year old man that can handle just about anything. Then this, this fucking email began to make me consider otherwise -

"Dear Will,

We have no good news for you today. I am sorry. All people at Customs Cartagena wanted to help you but Customs at the border have not been cooperative.

There is not any chance to load your car without the Temporal Importation Permit issue at a border.

Hope you can choice the best decision.


Brgds,"

Yeah, exactly. Hungover as hell and receiving the last minute, worst news of all. There are times when you should just cut your losses, put your tail between your legs, admit that you've been beat, get on a plane, and go home. THIS WAS NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES. It's got to be one of the most serious, grave, hilarious, painful, F'd up situations I've ever been in. I drove to the office of Louis and Sonya, sat down and had a cup of coffee, exchanged stares and glum comments then in a very strait forward manner I asked if it was possible for me to meet the head of Aduana for the city of Cartagena, by myself, no interpreters, no bullshit. They said it could be possible but that they had talked to him yesterday and he was less than responsive to helping a Gringo that caused his own problems. This is where it gets hilarious- Talk about making lemonade, I'm positive, absolutely positive that because I was so fucking hungover, smelling of booze, and clearly in physical pain that when I sat down with this dude at 9 am this morning and rattled off my shithouse of a situation in broke ass Spanish he actually ended up with a gleam in his eye. He stared at me for about a minute in total silence. We both just stared, maybe I blacked out, then he stood up went to the door, told his secretary a few things, she respond with a question, he said "Si", she looked at me for a second and then set about getting me my Aduana. It's impossible to convey via a blog the uniqueness of the human relationship. The human condition, our place, our time, what we do with it. But there are moments when it shows itself, clear as day (I'd like to say it slapped the hangover right off me but it didn't, I was hungover all damn day.)  You can't miss it and it's effortless to appreciate it.  Just own it, be with it, know it both in the biblical sense and the spiritural sense.  I sincerely love it. 

So that's it, I just had one of the best days of my life. I was devastatingly hungover till about an hour ago. I stood with Kombi and Sonya in the sun and offices and banks and the wildest chain of bullshit paper work in the history of mankind to ultimately leave Kombi in the port and booked on her ship. I should have waited to post this (I have one more inspection in the morning) but I have to share moments like these, days like this. IT IS GREAT TO BE ALIVE!!!!

I just finished my first beer. Cracked my second - Here's to life....

The Knock Out, Kinda like the Mallman song....

It's over, it's done.  Kombi vs. Andy ended yesterday.  The bout of the century, the fight to end all fights, Ali-Frazier's got nothin on this.  If it seems cryptic it should, it was, and it always will be.

I bought Kombi about 13 months ago with the idea that I would drive her till she died or back to Lima, whichever happened first.  Well over the first few months of that time I grew very fond of this lady and her curves and the way she put up a relentless, calculated battle to meander her way through round after round with the Andes.  So much so that I dedicated myself and my resources to returning to her to do it all over again.  Finish this deal soti-speak(Brent).  When I found her a month ago with flat tires, an inch of dust, and no insurance she still had a smile on her face, still had that fire in her loins.  The connection was real, the love palpable(Remember: I sleep inside of her every night, so yes, it's sexual).  It was just like old times, like I had driven her the day before.(Again, totally sexual)  Setting out from all things she and I knew as the comforts of Lima proper was so exciting that she lost her left rear wheel, but that was just the start.  We saw some old friends and some old beaches, but mostly we've explored the new and the interesting.  The whole of the 5,000 or so kilometers to Cartagena, Colombia.  All in all I would say fairly event free with some repairs both minor and major but those conducted with love so not the hassle one would assume, merely QT with Kombi. 

An accurate GPS would have calculated to the meter and the kilometer the distance we traveled both toward the sky and over the land but in this case it's not necessary.  No, I have a better gauge.  My gauge involves time, people, and inaccurate road maps.  Funny because the slower she wanted to go the more people I met, for once speed wasn't on my side.  Slower and slower, having an incredible knack for knowing when to break down and when to spin like a top.  She decided when and how I would meet some of the most amazing individuals a man can hope to, she made me meet four Brazilians that were lost in the Atacama desert of Chile and running out of fuel fast; they all spoke perfect English, they stopped to ask the Gringo for directions. 

If it seems like I'm rambling on it's because I am, we're here, we've done it.  Rolling into Cartagena, Colombia completes my route through South America.  In two days Kombi will be loaded onto a freight ship and cast off to Colon, Panama.  Effectively ending, forever, her years as a resident of South America.  The Rumble in the Jungle is over, Kombi has beaten Andy and all that lay in its wake on this oily, dust covered mat is a pile of friends, empty beers, and a shitty blog to document it all.  Ah the memories that are South America, I know I'll be back but Kombi won't.  On the 26th or 27th of December we'll embark on the second leg of this trip to surf our sweet asses back to the good ol' US of A. 

Leg one is complete, leg two has a lot of questions and kilometers.  Different, new questions that Kombi nor I have ever answered.  Different, new kilometers that Kombi nor I have ever driven.  The stoke is high, the work has been done to prepare us for the road ahead, and I have time to kill in Cartagena......  beers anyone?

BuenAVENTURA

Where do I start really. Well I met Louis tonight where I stopped for dinner. Stopped just before nightfall in the center of Colombia where I once again feel safe. Far away from all the things that were the last two days of life. Man where to begin... Well it's far too often if not all of the time, seriously every single person you ask, that you're told a city is dangerous and you shouldn't go there. Start with our state department and their bullshit excuses for travel advisories and safety suggestions and end with every person in S. America telling you that if you go to the next town over you'll get killed. Sometimes even the next block is deadly, it's fucked, it's stupid, it's paranoia and fear at its worst. So when we were told to go Buenaventura for a boat to Panama and only a couple of people tried to warn us we thought we were gold. Easy breezy, typical shit right? The whole thing, strait from the start, was F'd. Approaching the docks and having 6-10 jacked dudes surround Kombi, stroking knives, asking what "what happened to you" means in Spanish. All the while trying to sort out transportation on boats north manned by these very same cats. Three times over we were swarmed and at least two of those it seemed some really bad shit was happening if we didn't get out of there fast. We did get out of there fast and the next morning out of Buenaventura fast. Shit man that could've gone so wrong so many ways, it tried to but we were able to see it coming and split. To close in my book, but nothing really compared to what I learned about the route to and from that city itself. The road to Buenaventura is a hot spot for FARC attacks and activity. apparently the whole region is teeming with them and it really is random when and where they strike but the military presence all along the route along with armored vehicles, automatic weapons, and the like really makes one understand that this country is at war. It's real and it's active, hundreds of soldiers at the ready to protect me, Kael, and everyone else trying to get through that shit-show of a road. All in all we got out of there burning the whole of two days in the process, enduring the craziest traffic jam of my life, and leaving me with a bunch of content that I'm not able to put into a post worth shit.  Whether he knew it or not, Louis brought me back to the reality of the trip and the whole reason I'm doing it.  Thanks man.

I'm terrible at this, but something about the past four days has me very thankful that I have such amazing, thoughtful friends and family back home. It also gives me the feeling of being very, very alive.  I love you guys, talk to and see you soon. 
William

Kombi needed a rest

I have some time to kill here in Palmira, Colombia.  Kombi´s alternator shit the bed yesterday so it´s time to just cool my jets for a day whilst I wait for parts to fix her.  No worries.  When she has a problem it´s just like any other small domestic dispute: it just takes time and beer.  So hopefully I can get her all put back together this afternoon and keep heading north.  My arrival date at Cartagena will be the 16th at best.  Not good timing for trying to find a boat to Panama.  Dammit we´ll see....  Cheers folks, to Kombi, Colombia, Time, and Beer!  Gotta love this shit---

All times Colombia. For the love of God!

So if you read this blog with any frequency you're probably tired of hearing it but God dammit. Dammit it all strait to hell! Today's route through the southern mountains of Colombia takes the cake. All I ever seem to talk about is how cool the roads are and how crazy the drive is but you have to understand, and most of you do, that's what I'm doing. I'm driving the Americas and the roads and the shit they wind through is what peaks me out. Other cats will have pictures next to cathedrals, waterfalls, bus stops, and whore houses. I'll have hazy pictures of guardrails, blurry mountains, street people, and whore houses. So atleast we're together where it matters...

I had a Mexi moment yesterday. It's funny because he gave a half assed reason to last years trip: I needed to get away a bit. Try as I did, I never really had that moment last year, but I did yesterday. For those of you interested I'll be glad to talk about it when I get back. Viva Mexi!

Anyway The last few days of solo trekking has been the cats ass for real. I finally feel back at home on the road and right on que it seems Kombi has a problem. She started acting a bit funny as I strolled into town an hour or so ago so we'll have to see how it pans out tomorrow.

Oh and I had a great conversation with these three environmentalist a few days ago about how much I loved the highways in Ecuador, and cheap gas...  As you might imagine they hate that shit, hate it!  No reason to really get into it but sufice to say I had a good time with it.  Later dudes-

Good times, Good times

Northern Ecuador is Fucking amazing. There I said it. I've driven some pretty awe inspiring roads in my day but route 10 from the coast of Ecuador to the interior of the Andes is absolutely stunning. The size of the mountains, the density of the jungle, the waterfalls... Waterfall after waterfall, several thousand feet. Jesus man it was amazing, that's all there is to it. So that was my drive today and I really took my time doing it. (Not that I had a choice, we're in the Andes and Kombi's pace has slowed considerably) For the last three days I've been on the coast of Ecuador bouncing my way north surfing where it looked good. Again there's no swell so that really didn't pan out, but the towns and the people were top notch. So much so that I think I'll be finding my way back here at some point to spend 2-3 weeks exploring all the potential for surfing. I dropped Nate off at the bus stop in Jipjiapa yesterday at 7 am and I'm off solo now till somewhere in central America where I'll hopefully meet up with Chino, who knows. As I write this entry I'm camped at a restaurant in the far north of Ecuador. It's nice and cold and I'm tried and having a beer, so it's gonna be an early night full of great sleep. Con Suerte. I'll cross into Colombia tomorrow and begin what looks like 4-5 strait days of nothing but driving and trying to get to Cartegena as quickly and safely as possible. Here's a couple of pics to pump up the post a bit, keep it real, real homies---

Bienvenidos A Ecuador

After a few days of shredding in northern Peru with little to no swell Nate and I decided to head north to Ecuador.  I have more than a few stories from the last few days but I'm F'ing exhausted and this beer is almost done.  So other than accidentally being tear-gased at the border, the fuel gauge going out on Kombi, meeting a friend from Holland in Lobitos,and randomly running into a dude from the Canarie Islands I surfed with a year ago..... Nothing really is going on.  Still just cold beer and good old fashioned Kombi road trippin.  Oh and we got stopped today for the better part of the afternoon by a road block set-up by local fisherman.  Apparently all the fish are sick or poisoned or something and it's the governor's fault.  F him, he should resign like Joe Pa.,clearly it's his fault...  -Out-

Lit up in Bermejo

Lost in Lima, Beers in Bermejo. Faded, cocktailed, drunk-as-shit, bent. Been there done that hoss. Few cocktailed nights will end as this one is. Nate is asleep in a room with nothing but a bed =, the bed has two mattresses, the room has no electricity. There is no electricity. I'm parked in a back-lot with a few dogs and a candle as security. Secure. Julio has been the right hand man all night, beers, a bed for Nate, and direction on life. He didn't say much but I've known him for a year now(total of 5 days) and his lessons are actions not words. I did lend him a map of Peru though and I think he's found where the town his family members live actually is. Funny how things work out on all ends. Julio, Nate, dogs, fish hands. And here we are, Lit up in Bermejo....

Back to the water from whence we came

Nate is here, things are good. Things are very good. The waves here in Cerro Azul are great to get my sea legs back before heading to north Peru for hopefully some epic shit that will put us in our place. So now that we've settled that things are good we outta back track to a few moments over the past two days when things weren't so good. Remember that as I write this I have a cold beer in hand and things are good.

I was shacked up at the Loki Hostel in Miraflores, Lima for the last three days taking care of the business that is preparing myself and Kombi for the long haul north. All in all I really can't complain but getting Kombi out was a hell of a deal. After an hour or so of negotiating with the hefe of parking at the Thunderbird Hotel and Casino I talked him down from over $1,000 USD to a cold $400. For almost 10 months worth of storage i think it's actually a pretty good deal. Problem is I figured we were basically ready for action after that but I was sorely mistaken; Komb'si insurance(SOAT) and inspection was expired. This morning was supposed to be filled with waves and cold beer but instead it was sitting outside of a SOAT station waiting for insurance (with cold beer). Then waiting in line to be inspected and failing said inspection (with cold beer). Then driving down the road a mere 15 kilometers and having an undetermined breakdown (with cold beer). It took Nate and I about a half hour of trouble shooting possible problems to figure out that we had three lug nuts missing from the left rear wheel and the last two hanging on by may 1.75 threads. Holy shit you have no idea how lucky we were to find out that that was the problem as opposed to anything else. Anything! I was not stoked by the noises I was hearing and immediately thought that this trip was F'd from the start, but NO, just lug nuts. Just the violent slamming of the wheel loose from the hub going down the highway, no big deal. So here we are, Cerro Azul, waves, and COLD ASS BEER. Muy Bueno, Muy Bueno indeed.....

Pictures------

Post 1, Round 2 : Kombi in the clink

I'd like to say that using the term jail is a little harsh, but in reality and given the freedom that Kombi has known, spending the last eight months parked in the cellar of a casino is nothing short of jail. Well I found her today, worked for about three hours and got her purring like a kitten again. I got extremely lucky on two accounts: the battery wasn't dead, and I was able to seat a completely flat tire without high pressure air and taking it off of the van. Amazing, lucky, both, but it's done and she's ready to roll.  With an air of confidence and spirits high I reached the security gate without incident and Kombi could taste her freedom....  Then the bad news; not only was she not allowed out today (Sunday) but it looks like it may be upwards of $300 USD to bounce her from the clink. Well if it's three hundo I'll pay it and I'll pay it with a smile on my face because I found her and she's in good health. Suppose I'll found out tomorrow.... Oh and I found a staple in my rice today at lunch, a little early in the trip to be worrying about my intestinal health.  That'll come later, guaranteed.

I plan on posting a lot more this trip so keep your eyes on the blog and stay in touch.  Wish me luck as I steer this rig north and take Kombi home.  Colorado here we come.

-William P
 

Returning to Kombi

It's a decision I made somewhere in the mountains of Bolivia and a promise I knew wouldn't be easy to keep, but here we are, the tickets are purchased, the route is set, and the dream will be realized.  In two months I'll be flying back down to Peru on a one way shot to get Kombi and head north, head north all the way to Fort Collins, CO USA.  This is just a quick update for all those cats that have been asking what I did with the ol' girl and where my next trip is going to be.  I'm confident I can drive her home in somewhere around 6-8 weeks with a whole F load of surfing along the way.  I can't wait to really fire this blog back up and get back to life on the road.  See you then old friends.

Chicama, Peru

I'm working on putting together a blog for both the last part of the trip and full blown recount of the entire deal.  For now here's some pictures from Chicama.  I truly believe that this is one of the best all around towns I've ever visited.  I was luck enough to fall in with a great family and enjoy several nights of cooking out and drinking heavily with them.  On top of all of that Chicama is home to the longest left-hand wave in the world.  I can see moving there someday down the road. 
Oh and spectacular sunsets EVERY night.
Also for anyone who gives a damn.  I deactivated that Facebook account so if you need/want to get in touch with me feel free to email me at allngdfn@gmail.com

Pics-

Also gave this family a ride from Chicama to Chimbote

                                             drank beer with these dudes in Bermejo

                                      

Back in Lima

The computer has died!  The little notebook is was relying on to store my pictures and write my blog updates has shit the bed.  I´ve only a couple/few more weeks here so I think that´s it for the blog.  Short as it was, it was a good time.  I´m headed north from Lima here in a day or so to surf northern Peru and maybe cross into Ecuador, we´ll see.   I return to the States mid Feb. to get back to work and start planning the trip to drive Kombi home to Fort Collins.  See you all soon!

William

Post 22

 I suppose I should begin with my apologies again but I have to admit and it’s probably quite obvious that they  are not sincere.  I would say I’ve meant to update the blog or even feel bad about not updating but I don’t .  The last couple of  weeks have been full to the brim with experiences beyond my expectations.  So with out further ado her goes the longest blog post ever-

I think I left off the last little nugget about tear down the back end of Kombi.  That day in Topiza was an eye opener when it came to exactly how Kombi’s heart beat.  After 4-5 hours of surgery and a few beers I had the fuel pump, distributer, and fuel line system cleaned and reassembled.  As I said in the last post  I intended to drink early and often so I could get to bed early for a long day the next day.  This didn’t really sort out the way I had planned.  After fixing Kombi it was necessary to take a test drive out to the countryside to make sure all was well.  So Wiebke(one of the German girls) and I set out  down the road with the best of intentions.  It was late Friday afternoon and shortly after leaving town I couldn’t help but notice that there we dozens of dudes still working on the road we were meandering through.  So it didn’t take much thought to figure out that what better way to get to know the town folk than to pull over and drink the hell out of whatever beer was left in Kombi.  So for an hour or so Wiebke and I put a few back with a Bolivian construction crew figuring that whatever info I could glean from these guys just might help me out when I need it most.   The best metaphor I could  come up with at the time was “building bridges for the future.”  Bridges we still had to find and then cross, but without building them in the first place you can’t have either of those things.  I’m sure you can see where this is going.  Later that night we moseyed into a locals only carnival of sorts on the outskirts of  Topiza this is where we found those bridges and crossed them and crossed them back over and over and over again.  Low and behold as we’re walking through the drunk area being heckled by wasted Bolivians this dude runs out of one of the tents and grabs me by the arm insisting that I join them at their crowded but hospitable table.  After a short conversation of me telling him to let me go and him dragging me into the tent I figured out that not only was he one of the construction workers from the road but he was the only one.  Everyone else has left to go to sleep for a 5 am wake-up call.  He had intended to do the same but upon seeing me he ordered up another round, I ordered up another round, his buddies ordered up another round, he did, I did ,they did…  Sooooo the going to bed early bit didn’t really shake out, the “bridges for the future” bit really did.  Willis, myself, Kati, Josh, and a half dozen Bolivian good timers got cocktailed till the police shut the joint down.  I really hope Willis made it to the job site on time.

Kati, Josh, Kombi, and myself hit the road sometime around 6 am the next morning for a long day of probably the most beautiful stretch of mountain driving I’ve ever seen in my life.  The mountains of south-central Bolivia and stunning to say the least.  We mixed in about 200km of dirt/gravel road and 11 hours later we arrived in the town of Potosi, Bolivia, the highest city in the world.  Potosi sits at an altitude of about 13500 feet and we topped out on our route at just over 15000 feet.  (I should make a side note that the highest elevation Kombi and I have attained was somewhere on the Paso Jama at just over 18000, but I’ve found no way to confirm what the locals were telling me.)  Anyway, Kombi purred like a kitten the whole day through all of the altitude, dirt, and hitchhikers we could throw at her.  After a night in Potosi we bid farewell to Kati and Josh and I set out for La Paz/Lake Titicaca.  We made it about 50 km down the road when Kombi decided she had had enough and this time it was the real deal.  Not only would she not restart after letting her cool down she wouldn’t even run going downhill in gear  We had big problems.  That’s where Walter and Julio come into the picture.  After coasting back down the mountain to a small town we had passed through Walter and I spent the next 5 or so hours tearing apart, cleaning, and rebuilding the carburetor and distributor(again).  He sincerely attempted to refuse any sort of payment but I insisted on and small amount of money and some beer.  We all had a good laugh, shook hands, took photos and hit the damn road.

Since the two days of rebuilding Kombi has been running like a dream.  She actually has me think I may attempt to drive her back to Fort Collins next winter.  We’ll see.

Back on the road north past La Paz Josh and I set-up to do a DH tour of some trails outside on the town of Sorata, Bolivia.  The tour only ran $100 and was worth every penny of it.  All in all we were out 13 hours including shuttles, riding, and food logging over 4000m in vert.  The trails are mainly old foot paths the locals use to access their farms.  It felt great to get a day of shredding in keep my head strait until I can get back in the ocean in a few days.  Thoroughly exhausted we headed to the town of Copacabana the following day to relax before we crossed the border back into Peru.  That’s where shit gets interesting.

Nowhere in my limited research did anyone or any website tell me that Peru and Bolivia are not friendly with one another at their borders.  Not only do they not let each other cross into their respective countries but they don’t let their own people cross back over the border.  This makes absolutely no sense whatsoever and obviously caught me by surprise.  So after bribing the Bolivian border guard to let me leave Bolivia(upon entering the border patrol made a mistake and put the wrong license plate number on my paper work, they were trying to say that Kombi was stolen) and going through all of the immigration to leave Bolivia and enter Peru Kombi was held up at the border and not allowed to enter her home country.  At least ten times the older gentleman working the vehicle desk told me I had to reenter Bolivia and drive to the Peru border with Chile if I intended to enter Peru at all.  At least ten times I told him that this was impossible.  All of this was really intense with him raising his voice at times visibly irritated that anyone with a vehicle from Peru would even attempt to cross this border.  I did get a look at the list of vehicles that had crossed for the previous three days and it looked like about 15-20 total cars crossed each day and none of them were Bolivian or Peruvian.  After two hours of me refusing to take my paper work back from him, faxes, phone calls, and ultimately another bribe they reluctantly lowered the chains and let Kombi go home.  It’s tough to relay the whole scene but it definitely required me to max out whatever Spanish I had in my quiver.  One wild ride.

Onward and upward Josh, Kombi, and I drove along the west bank of Lake Titicaca taking in the beauty of the largest lake in South America.  Away from Titicaca I found the landscape a touch uninspiring and literally just as I started to comment to Josh that Southeast Peru left a little to be desired we came upon the town of Calapuja  Calapuja is most definitely not on the so called “Gringo trail” with maybe a total of one thousand inhabitants it see little to no tourism, but as we drove by that day I spotted a bit of a crowd in a field off the road.  Upon closer inspection it turned out to be the local celebration for Carnival with about 150 or so people all in costume ready to dance, sing, and drink the Thursday away.  Turns out I’m really into that shit too.  The first people we met insisted that we have some beer with them and their “Family.”  If you’re familiar with the way Carnival is set-up around the world various groups of people called Schools get together with a common theme and pool their resources to buy all the booze, food, and such for partying.  Well here they’re called Families and in this small town there were a total of three Families.  For certain we happened on the right one.  I knew we had to be in Cusco at 7 am the next morning to pick Big Andrew up at the airport so after about and hour of beers and good times with our new Family Josh and I decided to hit the road for the 6-7 hour drive to Cusco.  I made it about 5 km down the road when I pulled Kombi over and started to cuss myself for the ridiculous decision I had just made.  How in the hell could I possibly pass up the party that was about to happen in Calapuja in favor of a 7 hour drive to Cusco.  As I drove back to the party I was actually mad at myself for being such a fucking American and thinking I had a schedule to stick to and any sort of obligation to anyone outside of Calapuja.  The rest is history , the day of Carnival turned into the night of Carnival turned into me crawling out of Kombi sometime in the night  and yakking next to the house I was parked in front of.  Hours upon hours of drinking room temperature beer and passing around 4 or 5 cups for 25 or so people to drink out of caught up with me.  It was so much god damn fun, I can’t even explain it.  Dancing the night away with 70+ year old wasted women, everyone having the time of their lives.  The band is taking turns drinking and playing music, the dancers(including Josh and I) are drunk and falling in the street.  Wasted dudes are coming and going on motorcycles, sometime 2 and 3 guys per moto.   Watching any and all social, cultural, ethnic, and linguistic barriers fall by the wayside


That’s it.  I’m done.  I have to go back to Calapuja……