Grass roots

After the beach, our next stop was Trujillo a little bit further down the coast. I (El) had come down with a stomach bug at the beach and, still unable to eat normally, I was relieved that we had a little longer off the bikes to recover. We had a planned rendezvous with a package from home containing spare tyres, cassettes, chains, raincoat, voile straps and other consumables that are hard-to-impossible to source in South America. With limited supply options we’d ordered what we needed to our friend Richy back in Bristol who posted it to Joe, a fellow traveller and very obliging mule, who had retuned to the UK for summer. I don’t think any country we’ve ridden through on this trip has a postal service; when Joe landed in Lima he sent the package by the Encomienda service run by most Peruvian bus companies. Sourcing supplies and spares is a headache for most bike tourists, with the WhatsApp groups frequently featuring questions about where a certain size tyre can be sourced in country X, so we were really grateful to everyone involved with project package.

Stopping off in Trujillo also meant that we could stay at the oldest Casa del Ciclistas in the world, run by Luis and his family for nearly 40 years. Little did we know that we were rolling into town the day before the annual three day stage race. This event is a bit of a big deal in South American sporting circles with Colombian and Venezuelan athletes as well as Peruvian riders travelling from far flung places, equivalent of travelling from Inverness for a race in Bristol!

Initially, we were asked if we wanted to ride in one of the team cars to support Luis and help change a wheel or hand out water. We ended up getting totally stuck in as his support team for the weekend handing out bottles, bananas, cheering and taking a load of photos. I ‘outed’ Liam as an ex professional cyclist and this endeared him to Lucho even more, he was quizzing him on how much training he did, which was his favourite discipline and sharing his own post-race Garmin statistics in return.

Aside from a few differences, the familiarity of grass roots racing felt immediately comforting to me and we both felt at home in this bike community on the other side of the world. Before the races there was sign on, the familiar number pinning and nervous warm ups. The level of organisation was perhaps slightly less rigorous, resulting in confusion as to where the various start lines were and some typically Latino timing. The three stages of the race were all quite different: a road race along an out and back section of the PanAmerican, a mass start hill climb and a city centre criterium. Clearly any winner would need to be a strong all rounder. Back in Europe the Tour de France Femmes (avec Zwift) was underway and my friend Saskia Dugon was photographing the CanyonSRAM team. I thought I’d channel her and borrowed Liam’s camera to get some stills of the pre-race action.

Luis was racing in the Masters C category, and his daughter’s partner Hugo (a professional cyclist and something of a local hero) in the men’s Elite. The first race started at a petrol station, which felt like road racing mixed with Audax for some ultimate combination! The riders here race with whatever equipment they can get their hands on, for some of the Masters A riders this did mean fancy carbon bikes, deep section carbon wheels and snazzy Lycra skin suits. However, plenty of riders were on cobbled together bikes (Lucho himself proudly rides a 30 year old frame), Lycra that is sometimes ripped and threadbare, helmets which are probably not offering much in the way of safety anymore. However, there seemed to be very little snobbishness, so long as you raced clean (with reference to tactics rather than doping) then everyone was friendly!

The Masters C went off with the women’s category and we followed behind in the convoy. Luckily there was very little for us to do in this race aside from provide some information on time gaps when Luis went for a solo break. I couldn’t imagine racing on such a busy road (the equivalent of the M6), whereas most races back home take place on rolling B roads. The race convoy provided some safety from the traffic but there was no hiding from the fierce headwind on the return leg. Luis’ solo breakaway didn’t last but he managed to secure 3rd place in the sprint finish. Hugo’s break was successful and he rolled in victorious a while later.

The hill climb stage the following day was something else – 30km and 1500m of climbing, straight from the start line. Luis had removed his Garmin and mount in order to save weight and would only carry one bottle of water, so we expected our role would be a little more active keeping him fed and hydrated. Our support crew was bolstered by Che, an Argentinian cycle tourist who met the family while staying at the Casa and had stopped his tour in Trujillo where he had met a woman. As the gradient climbed upwards the bunch disintegrated as everyone settled into their own rhythm.

What we didn’t expect is that our support car would puncture! A formula1-esque tyre change and we were back on the road, and just in time as Luis had managed to drop his water bottle and was desperately in need of another. He had broken his right elbow a few months ago and still has limited mobility in that arm; trying to grab his bottle out of its cage he’d hit the top tube and lost the bottle in the gutter. No fear, Liam was at hand to run alongside him and pass up a fresh one.

The final stage was the city centre criterium. With closed roads finally there was no traffic to worry about, so that just left the potholes! The Masters C and women’s race had thinned considerably following the attrition of the previous day’s hill climb. With a solid time gap to 2nd place and limited tactics required owing to the smaller field, Lucho just needed to get around. He had however removed his bottle cage, as it was a short race he had weighed up that the aerodynamic gains were more important.

We picked a spot to cheer from right in the middle of the circuit. Che had gone back to his new woman and had been replaced with Jeff Roe, an American cycle tourist who had turned up at the Casa the previous night. Jeff was new to bike racing so we did our best to explain the various aspects and tactics, like how much of an advantage it is to ride in the slip stream of another cyclist (drafting).

Luis managed to spring to second place, securing his position as the overall leader. Hugo (who had had a terrible time in the hill climb) managed to win an intermediate sprint and the stage, securing second position overall.

The post race atmosphere was light and cheerful, as we all waited for the officials to tot up the overall times there was lots of picture taking and introductions. Lucho recounted the latest stage and how one of the women had nearly ended his race with a dangerous move. After gathering for the final podiums and prize givings we went out with the family for a celebratory meal!

Our final afternoon in Trujillo was a little more somber. Luis races with the image of his son Lance on his jersey. Lance was killed by a delinquent car driver a few years ago at the age of 12 right in front of Luis’ eyes. Luis took us to the original Casa del Ciclistas to show us round, where he also showed us some memories of his son. The family had moved out of this house and restructured the way they ran things after the water and electricity bill had become a bit difficult to manage. They stopped taking on unlimited riders, allowing them to stay for free for as long as they wanted and turned the Casa into more of a home-stay asking for a 20 soles donation per night.

Luis talking about his son’s tragic death made the lack of justice seem even more profound. For such an awful thing to happen to someone who gives so much to the local and international cycling community seems grossly unfair. In the old Casa Luis also had posters of a Belgian cycle tourist who had died in South America after a lorry rear ended her tandem. It made me feel even more grateful that we’d been able to support Luis and his family over the last three days. As travellers you receive so much warmth and generosity from the communities you pass through and you often can’t offer much other than stories in return. Sharing in their joy while carrying around water bottles and spare wheels we felt so amazingly privileged. I think this is one of the most precious things sport can give you, no matter your culture or language it provides common reference points to facilitate personal connection.

The extra few days down at sea level had also allowed for my digestive system to return to a little closer to normal. So on Monday morning we boarded a bus for Huamachuco in the mountains to resume our journey.