It is Easter Sunday, and I start my day knowing that I will finally get to the jungle and that I have 130 km of descent in front of me.
I only rode for one hour, and I already feel the smell of the jungle: mist, earth, moss and dead vegetation combined in a wonderful perfume. I fill my lungs with oxygen, and soon I see the jungle lying in front of me, massive, endless.
I was welcomed by the first jungle ambassadors on the way,
and at lunch I was welcomed by the real ambassadors: the people living here. I though that the Peruvians were very nice, but here I saw that the Peruvians living in the Amazon are even nicer! I stopped for lunch close to a shop, and I was greeted with warm words and offered bananas and sugar cane. What a better gift for a guy on a bicycle!
I continued the ride, and noticed that my right knee is hurting a bit. I am ignoring it, as I know that it always starts hurting when I approach the 100 kilometers mark. Things were going fine, I was warm, happy and full of oxygen, but all of a sudden I hear the dreaded sound – air leaving the tire. I have my third flat tire in two days (and always on the back wheel)!
I take everything out, change the tube, and I keep going. The knee hurts more, and I am stressed about the back wheel – I can feel it is not round anymore. I have a spoke key, but I know that the last thing I should do is try to true the wheel myself. I arrive in Mazuco after ten hours, exhausted, my knee hurting, my eyes and face burning and the back wheel wobbly.