I've seen more police officers in Peru than in the whole of the rest of my life I think. They are everywhere, I bet Peruvian unemployment is unheard of :)
I'd read in many sources that Peruvian cops were a Very Bad Thing. Particularly on one bike travel Internet forum the members were always referring to the cops on the Panamerican Highway north of Lima. An acquaintance doing a similar trip had run into bribery problems in that area too, so you can imagine my reluctance to leave Trujillo and head for Lima. I'd even considered getting onto some back roads and working around the problem.
After getting the bike sorted on the Saturday, Sunday seemed like a good day to try the trip south to Lima. Perhaps the police would lay in, or go to church ;) Leaving Trujillo just after 8am in the morning mist I was immediately back in the desert. I had always pictured Peru as jungle (probably too much Paddington Bear as a kid), it came as something of a surprise to find that most of it is sand. This time with two charged camera batteries I managed to get some better pictures of the desert moving in mysterious ways ;)
My first pulling over by the cops came just down the road, but I didn't even need to take my crash helmet off. The guy asked the usual, where I was from, where I'd left this morning and where I was going, and then let me go. I'd mostly been sticking to the posted limit since the trip began (mostly ;)) and I had decided to stay well within the speed limits until Lima, just so that I knew I wasn't in the wrong. There was a cop car at the side of the road right outside every single small town, watching for speeders. The second pull came about an hour after the first, again just asking questions before letting me go.
South of Huarmey there was a long stretch of desert alongside the Pacific Ocean, and suddenly I was riding along in thick coastal fog. The beaches looked pretty amazing, and very remote. They only seemed a stone's throw from the road, but that stone would have to cross deep sand and dunes. No way I was riding there! Winding into the mountains the fog would come and go, I read somewhere that it is caused by a cold current in the Pacific that runs up the coast of South America. Strange that I was surrounded by arid desert, and constantly wiping moisture off my visor.
Near Barranca the main Panamerican highway was closed and a diversion in operation. I followed the "desvio" signs down a side turn but then confusingly there was a turn back onto the main road. I stopped to look and a local ushered me back onto the Panam. Um, ok then... I was starting to get a bit paranoid that aside from a couple of local lads on bikes I was the only vehicle on the road for dozens of kilometers, when I came across the local boys in blue. They flagged me down and I pulled my helmet off to chat. It turned out that I was on a closed road, so I asked where the Panam was and was given directions. Sadly that wasn't the end of it.
"Es infraccion" the cop kept saying, meaning I was no doubt about to feel the full weight of the law. Having learned my lesson in Panama I wasn't about to give him my driving licence so he got one of the fake ones. He went into a big routine about how he would have to retain the licence until I paid a fine (I think 300 bucks), but no matter how many times he waved the licence in front of me, it was still just a nicely laminated piece of pink A4 paper and about as official as one of those "name a crater on the moon" special offers. All the while I was smiling, nodding and saying "si" a lot. The dumb gringo, a role I fit so well :) I was also chatting to his colleague about football, and I think that kind of put him off his stride a bit. His colleague seemed genuinely pleased to see me, and interested in England and the bike too. Eventually I asked where I would be able to pick the licence up again, and at that point the cop just gave it back to me with exaggerated good grace, and let me go.
I wasn't far north of Lima, when I got stopped for the fourth and final time. I'd just been through a toll booth, so I knew I wasn't in trouble for speeding. The cop asked for my licence and got the fake again, then he surprised me by asking for insurance. That was a first, and since it was optional at the border I'd been a bit bad and not bothered (nor in Ecuador). Errr. I knew that admitting my insurance was riding carefully was going to get me "es infraccion" all over again, so I produced my holiday insurance certificate, official looking and since it was all in English completely incomprehensible. He let me go, and I rode off feeling an odd mixture of smug and guilty.
Lima was massive, like riding into London although with more people on the streets. I'd Googled an hotel and it was surprisingly quite straightforward to find, after asking a few passers-by and some cops. There were several cops on every street corner, making checking and rechecking directions easy, all these guys were all very friendly and helpful. I had a pretty late dinner of Lomo Saltado, beef chunks in sauce with both rice and chips (fries). Delicious.
The next morning I decided I was going to head for Nasca, where the indians of the same name had carved lines into the desert, shapes that are so big they can only really be appreciated from a plane. Compared to the previous day there were considerably fewer cops on the road and they were far more relaxed. Not far south of Lima I rode into the teeth of a sandstorm for the first time, people walking had rags or shirts over their faces and there was very little traffic on the road. Aside from the wind making riding hard work, and sand stinging my neck and getting on my visor it was not a problem. Must remember to clean the air filter soon though!
It took less time than I thought to get to Nasca due to the good roads and lack of police intervention. I stopped at an hotel that was a converted Monastery and former hacienda, and got talking to a Peruvian named Fernando, who spoke good English. He told me about a plan he'd had once to get a car in the States and drive it back to Lima, only he'd been put off by people telling him how bad Central America was for robbery and police corruption. I told him never to listen to negative people. It made me wonder how many other people have shelved ideas or dreams because of "advice". As I am learning, things are never as bad as you think they will be. Just do it ;)
Frase.
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