Hey everyone, it's Alexander.
This week, I hit country number 10—Peru—and let’s just say, it’s not my favourite so far. The roads are brutal, the towns are covered in garbage, and Peruvian drivers are out of their damn minds. I’ve ridden through a lot of chaos, but this is next level. No rules, no logic, just pure insanity.
That said, the journey continues. From Cuenca’s hat museum to the banana plantations of Ecuador, from sketchy border crossings to an unexpected reunion with my buddy Bronson—Week 11 had it all.
Cuenca: Panama Hats, Politics, and Rain
Rolling into Cuenca in the rain wasn’t exactly fun, but waking up to a warm, sunny day in a gorgeous colonial city made up for it. I wandered through town, checked our the hat museum, where I learned that Panama hats were actually invented in Ecuador. They only got their name because the workers building the Panama Canal wore them. I bought a good one back in 2018, and I still have it, sweat-stained and worn down. Time for a new one.
After the hat museum, I visited the Museum of Modern Art. As you've probably noticed, I enjoy visiting the museums and galleries in cities I'm in and I was really impressed with what I saw. On a somewhat related note, elections were happening in Ecuador, and political graffiti was everywhere. I always love seeing how different places express themselves, whether it’s on the streets, in cultural institutions, or through conversation.
I posted a lot more pictures from the Museum and the city streets in my Instagram page @realcroney if you'd like to see more.
Y por supesto, I rode in on rain, and the next morning I rode out in the rain as well!
Riding Through Ecuador: Coffee, Bananas, and Border Town Vibes
The ride south toward the Peru border started off scenic—coffee plantations everywhere. Some farmers dry their beans right on the roadside, while others have massive drying areas. Continuing south past the coffee was bananas. Literally kilometers and kilometers of banana plantations, stretching as far as I could see.
But then came the landslides. With all the heavy rain, rocks the size of softballs, helmets, even my entire bike were scattered across the road. Coming around a corner to find a boulder in your path is a great way to keep your adrenaline levels maxed out. I slowed down and took my time.
I had planned to cross into Peru, but with me moving at a slower pace due to the road debris, I decided to stay in Huaquillas, an Ecuadorian border town. If my room had faced south, I’d be staring straight into Peru–it was that close.
At a local gas station I met Allen, a Guatemalan rider who dreams of making it to Alaska. I told him to skip Alaska and head for the Northwest Territories, where you can actually ride to the Arctic Ocean, whereas you can't in Alaska. He loved the idea. We'll see what happens.
At this point, I was feeling worn down. I’ve been lucky with the weather, and this journey has been enlightening. The sights and people I've met have been phenomenal, but after two months and a week on the road, it’s catching up to me.
Crossing Into Peru: Bureaucratic BS and Tuc-Tuc Frogger
Border morning. The crossing itself was bizarrely easy. The Ecuador exit official and the Peru entry official sit right beside each other, passing my passport back and forth. One stamp, slide over, another stamp, welcome to Peru.
But then, for some reason, they didn’t want to exit my bike from Ecuador. So I had to ride 5 km back, hunt down the right place, get my exit stamp, and then ride 5 km back into Peru to finish my paperwork. All in, two hours. Not the worst, but still annoying. Then, the real chaos began.
Peru immediately threw a new challenge at me and I call it Tuc-Tuc Frogger and I've become quite skilled at it. Tuc-Tucs (those three-wheeled cabs) are everywhere and the driver follow no rules, just pure, unhinged driving madness. They carry everything—people, hardware, farm supplies, furniture as they swerve all over the road. Lanes? What lanes? Stop sign? What stop sign? People crossing? Who cares. Imagine playing Frogger at full speed, except if you lose, you don’t just respawn—you’re done.
After navigating the madness, I rode inland, where Peru gave me something new: desert heat. I rode through oil or gas pumping zones, then some green spaces with cane fields and lots of rice paddies. This may sound odd, but I got a sunburn on my wrists in the exposed space between my riding gloves and the sleeves of my shirt. It was hot, going up 36°C and the heat, combined with dehydration, left me completely drained and I called it a day in Piura.
The previous night I stayed indoors, locked up in my room, as I'm finding border towns to be sketchier and sketchier. But tonight, I was enjoyed a nice long walk which was nice. Needing a SIM card, I stopped at a mall–the only time I got to a mall–and I had to give them my thumbprint just to get a cell plan. Normally, just handing over a passport is enough, but Peru? Nope. Biometrics required.
I hoped Peru would be like the other South American countries, but so far I'm not impressed. The towns are dirty, dusty, and full of garbage. One place just dumped trash right in the middle of the street and it was right up to my thigh! Another town pilee it on the edge of town and threw dirt on top. I can’t wrap my head around it. The stench, the filth, it’s unreal. I know things will improve, but so far? Not loving it.
The Ride to Trujillo: Hot, Dusty, and Another Rant on Drivers
Thursday was another long, hot, dusty day covering 430 km in 7 hours. After yesterday’s dehydration disaster, I forced myself to drink more water, which helped a lot.
I ended the day in Trujillo, a nice coastal town that felt a little more livable than the places before it. But getting here meant riding through more towns dumping garbage on the road, piles of filth baking in the sun. It’s shocking and it left me speechless.
And now, let’s talk about Peruvian drivers.
I’ve been through 10 countries, and I can confidently say: Peruvians are the worst drivers I have ever seen. It's like Peruvian Fight Club. No rules. No sense. Just do whatever the f#@$ you want. Every country had its quirks and style of driving, but Peru is pure anarchy.
Reunion with Bronson, a Corrupt Cop, and a Needed Reset
Another long hot ride ahead of me, I worked my south to Santa María, I ran into Bronson—the same guy I met in Bogotá weeks ago. We recognized each other’s bikes instantly. He wasn’t planning on stopping, but we both agreed it would be nice to get out of our own heads and have some company so we booked ourselves into the same hotel and spent the day walking around the town, chatting, and had a fantastic dinner.
The next morning, after coffee and goodbye's I headed south continuing my way to Lima but as I got closer, traffic was building up–it was Saturday at 10:30 am after all.
Then? Disaster.
My WhatsApp was lighting up like a Christmas tree telling me that I had forgotten my passport at the hotel. I've never done that before. After four really long eight hour days of riding, I was mentally fatigued so I'm not surprised.
To top it off, just 10 minutes shy of the hotel I was stopped by a corrupt cop who immediately went for the bribe. I spotted the tell-tale signs right away when he asked me to step away from the other police officers so he can pull his scam. I knew what was happening but I screwed up and reached for the wrong wallet, the one carrying more cash, and I ended up having to pay more than I wanted to.
By the time I grabbed my passport, I was done with Santa María and the traffic. I rode an hour north just to get the hell away.
Week 11 in the Bag
By Sunday, I was burnt out. I took the day off, had two naps, walked around town, and finally got the bike washed.
There are four countries left, including Peru. Three are very long and I have about one month to finish this journey. I need to keep moving, but Peru? I just want to get out.
Let’s hope things start looking up.
Stay savage, friends.
MotoAgent out.
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