I decided to stay in Trujillo and give the bike some much needed attention. I'd bought replacement brake pads in Costa Rica and they were still in one of the panniers, and recently Red 5 had been sounding a little rattly starting from cold. As it was more than 7000 miles since the last oil change I though fresh oil would be no bad thing :)
Being the third largest Peruvian city I was hopeful that I'd be able to pick up the right oil in Trujillo. I already had a new oil filter, bought with Ricardo's assistance in San Jose, but had no tool for screwing the filter into the engine. Hmmm. I asked at hotel reception if there was a bike shop in town and no luck, but there was apparently an oil centre, a garage specialising in oil changes. So I got a taxi into town and luckily the garage had the right oil. No luck with a filter wrench, but the garage were prepared to let me use the facilities to do the oil change free of charge. Sounds simple, but I didn't understand a word that was being said :) Fortunately the cabbie phoned an English speaking colleague and he explained everything over the phone. I agreed to bring the bike back and went to fetch it.
By lunchtime I had the bike on the centrestand in the garage and realised I was standing on a precipice, looking down into the mysterious void that is mechanical skill. I've never done an oil change before, normally it is all I can do to pump tyres up ;) But I had the bike manual and it looked easy enough. The guy that had sold me the oil introduced himself as Pedro and also introduced me to Juan, the only mechanic in the place that wasn't half my age. Juan, it seemed, was going to be my assistant. We removed the bashplate from under the engine sump and I got a good look at the clobbering the exhaust had taken from all the "topes" in Mexico and Guatemala. The bottom wasn't nice and round and exhaust shaped any more, it was bashed flat. Oops. The plate mountings were a bit bent but no real issue.
The oil change was actually really straightforward. Having drained all the old oil into a plastic container, Juan dipped his thumb in and showed me it with a sour expression. Ok, so it wasn't meant to look that colour then :) I put the new filter on and Juan stuck some instant gasket on the sump plug, which I wouldn't have done (not in the manual!). After sticking the new oil in and firing the bike up there were no leaks. Job done. It really surprised me how well I got on with Juan, after all neither of us spoke the other's language. I'd got enough of a grasp to understand basic questions though, and was able to tell him my name, age, a bit about me and the trip. Peruvians have all been incredibly nice so far. They are friendly, welcoming people.
Pedro, meanwhile, asked if he could put the name of the garage on one of my panniers. He seemed quite made up that the sticker would be off to Patagonia :) I thanked the guys and gave Juan some money for his time, though none seemed expected. Then I headed back to the hotel through the chaotic traffic. Don't ask me why I didn't change the brake pads when I did the oil... stupidity I guess. I decided to do that back in the hotel car park. No mechanic to help, no pad to kneel on, no additional tools only my own kit. D'oh.
I got one caliper off, but the bolts had been threadlocked into place by a gorilla with a bad grudge and some strong glue. The left front caliper bolts wouldn't budge. I put some WD40 on to loosen them, and then put so much force behind my spanner that it began to bend. Eventually I got one bolt out, but managed to round off the head of the other, making the left pad impossible to change. Argh.
I decided to call it a night and revisit the garage next day instead of heading to Lima. After carefully riding to the garage next morning on one set of new pads and a set of old, Pedro was able to use a big wrench to get the bolt off in about ten seconds. Of course, I thought wryly, I must have loosened it for him ;) He then took me on a tour of all the local garages to see if we could find a replacement bolt. All the garages were in competition, but the owners were all friends. We'd ask about the bolt, they'd shake their head, and then suggest we try so and so down the road. At the fourth attempt we found the right size bolt, so I was then able to change my left set of pads on the street outside Pedro's garage, with a small audience.
With the brakes and oil sorted, I then had an afternoon to kill. I knew the ruins of Chan Chan were close to Trujillo, but a chance conversation with hotel staff revealed I could get there in a cab easily. So it was I paid them a visit. After paying entry I found I could get an English speaking guide, so rather than wander on my own like Palenque I hired a guide. This turned out to be a great idea because none of the areas of the ruins are marked and I would have just wandered around with no clue what I was looking at :)
The ruins are actually about 20 kilometers square, so it was just the palace area I was looking around. Built by the Chimu they date from maybe 900BC up until around 2000 years ago. Although essentially only sand and a sort of plaster, the outer wall was about five metres thick, which may explain how it is still there in an area prone to earthquakes. I listened to my guide explain how the Chimu were conquered by the Incas, who were in turn conquered by the Spanish, and wondered what lead people to squabble over a few square kilometers of desert sand near the Ocean.
Leaving Chan Chan my waiting cab took me to the beach at Huanchaco. I was hoping to see some of the reed boats that traditionally are used for fishing off the Peruvian coast, but the area was so incredibly touristy that I did a runner after a mere five minutes.
I like Trujillo, and will find it hard to leave in the morning. But, the show must go on :)
Frase.
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