After Machu Picchu we regrouped in Cusco and had a night out on the plaza. We spent the evening at Norton Rat’s Tavern, an international-adventure-biker-bar (most traveling bikers end up at Norton’s to share stories and beers). The following day we returned to utopian Urubamba where we spent the night and reveled in the hot tub at Jeff’s house.

We were up early the next day, rested and excited about our balloon ride. It was an amazing morning. It began with a coca leaf ceremony where we paid homage to the mountains surrounding the Sacred Valley - Salkantay, Veronica and other snow-capped peaks. We each chose three Cocoa leaves, held them up to the mountains as an offering, asked for a safe ride, then buried the leaves under a rock.

Watching the balloon fill was awesome. Jeff’s balloon crew laid the envelope out across a field and placed a gasoline-powered fan at the opening. The balloon filled slowly, and when the fan could fill it no more, the burners were fired up, pumping hot fumes into the balloon while making a tremendous jet engine roar. When the balloon stood erect we all climbed into the basket and Jeff kicked in the afterburners. The balloon took off like a rocket, flames roaring, and then perfect silence as we floated 2,000 feet above the Sacred Valley. The view was spectacular. Once we were in the in the air we emptied bags of coca leaves into the sky as tribute to the mountains. Thanks to good winds we were able to drift far from our takeoff spot. Jeff took advantage of the drift and navigated the balloon around a small hill, letting the basket scrape the ground, then gunning the burners to lift us again. Bouncing on the ground was fun and it felt safe. If I lived in a different area, I would seriously consider getting a balloon.

The next day we took Stephanie to the airport. It was hard to part after only a week. There is so much to see in Peru and we had only scratched the surface. We returned to Urubamba for one last night of tranquility at Jeff’s place. It is hard to stay away from the valley. We returned to Cusco to round up Jeroen, who is accompanying us to Ecuador.

Tuesday morning we hit the road traveling onward for the first time in two weeks. It felt great to be on the road again. En route to Nasca we encountered another roadblock (this one was for road work, not protests). While waiting for the road to open another biker showed up. His name was Geraldo, and he was from Belgium. We all rode together for two days. It was almost like being in a real biker gang! We stayed one night in the town of Abancay, then left for to Nasca. The road to Nasca was 300 miles of hairpin and switchback turns. The scenery was incredible. We climbed and descended countless mountains, riding through some of the most varied scenery we had seen on our trip. We went from deserts to hot river valleys to the high, cold, altiplano and finally to the coastal desert at sea level. Our riding elevation varied from 900 to 14,500 feet. The BMW is great at altitude thanks to its fuel injection, and it has none of the power or starting problems carbureted bikes have. All it needs is good gas.

Upon arriving in Nasca we did the customary hotel with moto-parking search which turned out well. Some kids chased us down and lead us to a hotel that allowed us to park all three bikes in the lobby. Too cool and only five bucks per person per night.

The following morning Valerie took a flight over Nasca lines. The Nasca lines are huge designs (geogliffs) laid out on the desert floor and are only visible from an airplane. There are condors, monkeys and even alien landing strips. It is theorized that the builders of the lines used them as tribute to their gods and danced around the edges of the designs during their ceremonies. But the best part about the Nasca lines are it’s newest lines. The story behind the newest lines origin is quite clear. About ten years ago, an American in a four wheel drive motor home was looking for a campsite in the desert. He drove into the desert and went all over the place looking for a campsite. He was spotted in the morning by a tourist flight over the lines. It turns out he had driven all over the Nasca lines leaving indelible tire tracks visible from the air. What an idiot.

The new skidplate has not held up well. Vibration isolating rubber parts were unavailable in Cusco, so the skidplate had to be bolted directly to the bottom of the engine case. After I bumped the bike across a few rocks and cement stairs, two of the bolts had sheared off and we were worried about damaging the motor. I walked all over Nasca looking for the right parts (they are called soportes here). It was a wild goose chase. I came back to the hotel despondent and sweaty. A local guy at the hotel saw me and asked me what I needed. I showed him the parts I wanted (lucky for me Jeroen has them on his skidplate) and we were off. The guy drove me all over town, and with the help of his mechanic found we found acceptable parts. The only problem was the threads on the soportes. The threads were American standard, and my bike is metric. Ha! We eventually found a welder who was able to affix new bolts to the soportes. The soportes ended up standard on one side and metric on the other. One of the sheared bolts was really stuck in the engine block. No one has drills or extractors here. Mechanics normally use a nail and pound it on the broken threads, trying to back the bolt out. It didn’t work for my bolt, so the welder used welding rod to build up the broken bolt and welded on a piece of metal at 60o as a handle. They were able to get it out with no trouble. Genius. Now the skidplate is perfect - It bounces off things instead of crushing them.

From Nasca to Ica the scenery was all the same. All we saw was sand and rocks. It is really dry here. The locals say winter lasts only 24 hours, meaning they get rain maybe one day a year. Houses here don’t even have real roofs. Our favorite restaurant in Nasca had a woven bamboo roof meant only to keep the sun out. If it rains, everything would get soaked. Near Ica We stopped in an oasis called Huacachina, famous for its sand dunes. Jeroen was determined to ride his KTM on the dunes, which he did. Adam walked up a dune to see if it was Bee-worthy (it wasn’t. The BMW is heavy and it had bad gas) and was accosted by a pack of girls, each one demanding their own personal photo with him. Adam’s fan club! Tomorrow Lima, next week Ecuador.