New stage. New roads. New emotions… and the same unshaken dream that’s driven us since the beginning: reaching Alaska.
Day 1 | Lima to Huaraz
We landed in Lima with the first light of the day. The city was still half asleep, so we crashed for a while at a capsule hotel in the airport — one of those pay-by-the-hour pods that feel like you’re sleeping in a spaceship. Perfect for a reset, both body and mind, before hitting the road again.
Then, straight to the Husqvarna dealer in Lima, where we had left the bikes for a full service. Waiting for us there was Felipe, a friend we met during the previous stage. We brought him a couple of bottles of whisky as a thank-you — in the moto world, small gestures go a long way.
As soon as we got back on the bikes and hit the road, I noticed something weird (in a good way): mine was running better than ever. Turns out, the ECU had been reset — all the settings were different. It felt like a brand-new machine. I was stoked.
The route this time was closer to the Pacific, without climbing as high into the mountains as before. A literal change of air. We rode around 400 km until Huaraz, a small, unremarkable town — but perfect to rest before sunset.
Day 2 | Huaraz, engine failure, and a hard wake-up call
We left early. About 100 km in — flash. I catch something blinking on the dashboard: low oil pressure warning. But by the time I focused on it, it had disappeared. The day before, the bike had been acting weird, even triggering the hazard lights on its own. Something wasn’t right.
Fifteen minutes later, the oil light came on again — this time, it didn’t go away. I called out to Santi, we pulled over. Oil level: all good. Started the bike again — light was off. We kept going.
But 15 km later: light comes on again, power drops, I ease off the throttle… and nothing. Engine dies. We coast to the side. I try to start it — it sounds like a baby rattle.
Diagnosis was instant: engine blown.
There we were, in the middle of Peru, surrounded by mountains and emptiness. Now what?
With nerves running high and no real options, Santi reaches into his bag and pulls out two zip ties he’d been carrying since Ushuaia (“just in case”), and builds a makeshift tow strap. Tied together, we rode 80 km northbound.
We stopped to rethink everything. Should we go back to Lima? Keep going? How?
Looking at the map, we saw we had passed a decent-sized town earlier: Chimbote. We decided to turn around. It was still early. We had time.
We had lunch at a roadside spot. The town seemed dull — until we realized we were just on the outskirts. The real Chimbote was a proper town: paved streets, life, motion.
Felipe had mentioned a shipping company called Shalom. We thought about sending the bike back to Lima by truck, but that meant risking our legal time in Peru — and we didn’t want a repeat of the Bolivia situation.
Then came the lightbulb moment: ship the bike straight to Aguas Verdes, the border town with Ecuador. We’d tow it across the border, and just like that, she’d be legally out of Peru. That’s what we did — same day, the bike was packed and shipped, thanks in part to Jesús, a guy we met at Shalom’s gate who helped us wrap it all up in record time.
In a single day: engine failure, regroup, new plan, executed. Pasteles.
It was a rollercoaster. But it was also the day that Santi stepped up, no questions asked. He towed me, supported me, made smart calls under pressure. This stage, without a doubt, belongs to him. Gracias, hermano.
Day 3 | Chimbote to Piura
With the Norden on a truck somewhere, the two of us jumped on Santi’s Africa Twin. We tied my duffel bag to the back, tightened up our resolve, and hit the road.
We wanted to reach Máncora, already close to the border. But it was a long way — nearly 800 km — so we decided to break the ride with a night in Piura. A charming northern city, full of soul, with Peru’s signature combo: amazing food and kind people.
Days 4–6 | Mancora
We were getting close, but Peru plays by its own rules. Village traffic, stray animals, and landscapes that demand you stop and stare — everything slows you down.
But we made it. And it was worth every second.
Máncora greeted us with clouds overhead but warm vibes all around — a laid-back beach town with a surfer soul and a friendly heartbeat.
We found a hotel that looked decent and turned out to be fantastic. The staff? Even better. We spent three unforgettable days there. Volleyball tournaments, postcard sunsets, karaoke, horseback rides on the beach, tons of pisco sours, incredible food… and something harder to describe: a real connection with the people. We became friends with everyone.
Meanwhile, the Norden kept crawling through Peru’s bureaucratic jungle. Every distribution hub meant a new truck. Thankfully, we had an Apple AirTag on it, so we could track it live — a real-time logistics soap opera.
Day 7 – Máncora to Aguas Verdes, and crossing into Ecuador
The big day came. The bike was almost at the border.
We said heartfelt goodbyes to our hotel friends and headed for Aguas Verdes.
At the border, they told us the truck would arrive in 2 hours. We grabbed a bite, came back… no bike. It had been dropped at a hub 40 km back — we had driven past it earlier without knowing.
We turned around again, picked up the bike, checked everything, tied her up (again, literally), and went back to the border. It was already dark. I was riding in the back with no lights, blind, towed. But the mission was clear: get across.
We cleared immigration, did all the paperwork, and crossed into Ecuador. Legal. Alive. Tied together — but still moving forward.
We crashed at a bizarre hotel that looked abandoned, complete with an empty amusement park. Straight out of a movie.
Day 8 – Guayaquil and end of stage
With the worst behind us, the next day we rode to Guayaquil. I had already been in touch with Renato, a contact who was going to help us ship the bike to Miami, where it would rejoin the adventure — this time with the Africa Twin prepped and ready to take over.
We handed over the Norden, went to the hotel, and prepped for our early morning flight.
Stage closed. Tough, but unforgettable.
Because adventure isn’t just about the destination — it’s about how you rise through the chaos. And with friends like Santi, anything is possible.
