I ran into a group of motorcycle riders that were all on my same make and model bike - the Kawasaki KLR 650. They were three middle aged Venezuelan dudes riding from Caracas to Cuzco and back. I saw them pulled over at the side of the highway so I stopped to say hello. We rode together for awhile and had lunch at a strange stakehouse that served these hamburger looking fillets. They asked if I had stopped at the park at the equator and I told them I didn't even know I'd crossed it. This disappointed them a little, but they gave me a sticker from the park anyway - to help me remember. I thought I would be roasting at this point of the ride, but it's just the opposite. We are at such high elevation, around 9,000 ft, that temps are chilly and there has been plenty of rain. The roads have been good, but the cold is taxing and these high-mileage days are starting to take their toll on me. A good night's sleep will do me well.
