Rurre

After Coroico we rode for a couple days on muddy roads, got a couple flats, broke a spoke, were bitten by lots of bugs, and found about three table spoons of rocks inside Matt´s crankset. This usually makes riding difficult to impossible. So we did what we usually do when the Powercrushers are faced with adversity; we took a truck. Now we have seen some bad roads, but the ones in the jungle really smooch the pooch. While it is relatively easy to find empty transport trucks heading out into the jungle, they are by no means fast. Our average speed from some nameless town outside Caranavi to Rurrenebaca was about 8 mph. We bounced around in the back for about 18 hours, trying to read and not ingest too much sawdust or flies. During the long six or eight hour stretches of jostling the bathroom situation was resolved in numerous creative fashions. At one point Ben dropped his crankset (the round, pokey sprocket in front) on his foot and made a hole where you could see the bones. The doctors told him later that this was impossible (it got infected), that it was merely a sub-surface tendon, yet he persists in his claim that bones were exposed. This is in line with his usual ploy of making himself feel tougher than he actually is. Also, while Ben and Harris enjoyed a sensible breakfast of boiled mystery meat, rice, and fried plantains at a roadside restaurant, Bull and Thea opted to try the fare at the shack a few blocks down where all the locals were eating. Fried pig parts were served and Matthew, courteous as ever, consumed them and barfed. It has been two days and the purging continues. Everybody else is happy and sweating.

PS. Thea is putting up some sweet photos on old entries so scroll down if you have 6 seconds that haven´t already been spoken for.