Asheville to Argentina

With the engine sputtering the three us rattle up the mountain and into the dirt lot of the  gas station. The bike´s where I left it and now I need confront the problem of getting it into the back of this little truck with the help of two frail old men and a skinny little ramp. Looking around I see a little hill about as high as the back of the truck and I tell the driver to back up to the rise. We were able to push the bike up the back of the rise, into the truck and haul it back to town.

At the mechanics there are a hundred questions, but I have to be at the police station by five and its 5:30. I tell the mechanic not to touch anything until I can come back tomorrow and I catch a taxi to the police station, leaving Sr. Taxi with the mechanic. Fish isn´t there and I wait. At about 6 he shows up and tells me that I need to take the insurance papers to the hospital and come back at eight tomorrow to assist in the ¨investigation¨.  Why did I come back to the police station?

So I take Shannons boots, helmet and cloths down to my bike and size up the next problem – how do I get all this crap on my bike? Lots of ropes, thats how. Once I have his gear strapped to the back of my bike using a crazy macrame of straps and ropes the pile is stacked higher than the top of my head. I see Latinos with stuff piled higher than this riding around all the time. If they can do it, so can I. I high-kick my leg over the seat and start the moto up. I´m hemmed in all around by police motorcycles and directly in front of me are about six motorcycle cops shooting the shit on the sidewalk. I give a little honk to make my intentions known. They back off about a half a step and I rev the engine. Letting out the clutch, the front tire rolls up on the sidewalk, but the back tire catches and I start to list over to the right. Loaded down like this, once she starts to go there´s no stopping her, and I fall over, knocking over one of the police bikes in the process. The crowed loved it and showered me in gales of laughter. What a day. They helped me get the bikes back up and I took off to try and find some dinner for Shannon and then find the hospital.

I find the hospital first so I just pull in to see how things are going. After 8 hours Shannon is still on the cafeteria tray of a stretcher in the 12 bed room. We talk a bit and he says that his hip doesn´t hurt if he doesn´t move and he tells me that nothings really been done for him. I´m told by the doctor that theres not much they can do with the type of break he has, and they want to move him to a better hospital on the other side of the parking lot, but first theres the problem of the bill. I´m done being a hard-ass and demanding that Pobre Sr. Taxi pay for everything. I just want things moving so I step up to the counter to pay the bill. $8.90 Soles. About three dollars. Shannons been sitting in that tray all day over three dollars.

Dude…. thats NOT a bong

Raising hell isn´t going to help, lets just move forward. I pull what I think is a helpful doctor aside and ask if it would be possible to get him a private room. He thinks a minute, then two so I get out my grease gun to help these wheels turn faster, I offer a little tip to the doctor if he can help with this. Problem solved.

They start moving people out of one of the rooms in the better hospital to make it private when I´m struck by a thought. If they can´t do anything for him, lets just get him out of here and into a comfortable hotel with a good bed, decent food and a TV – and without all the coming and going of sick people and their families. I suggest this and they think about for a while. The Dr says OK as long as its on the first floor. He even suggests a hotel and offers to take him in the ambulance for free. Things are looking up.

By nine-thirty that night Shannon was in bed at the Hotel Imperial, watching a movie in English and eating roasted chicken. I was talking to Michelle on the internet and she was mobilizing the troops in the USA to get him flown to a better facility.

—-

The next morning I go down to the police station and Fish and I get a taxi to the site of accident - there are no police cars and the cops take taxis everywhere, …and you know who pays . We go over again what happened and Fish takes lots of notes and draws some pictures of what I say happened. Then he says he missed breakfast because he had to meet me so early. I can read between the lines and ask if he would like to go for a bite before we interview Shannon. ¨¿Porque no?¨ And I´m greasing another wheel.

When we finally get to the hotel things are moving fast. Michelle has done a great job mobilizing and Shannons been on the phone with both her and the insurance company most of the morning. They´ve arranged for a helicopter to land in the socker field and take him to Cuzco in an hour, but are waiting for permission from the local police. I had asked the doctor from last night to lunch and he showed up with his son just in time. He helps by calling the police and making sure everything will be smooth – and theres a hitch. The field is locked and they´ll have to cut the lock. Who´ll pay for the new lock? Really, they were holding things up until I volunteered to pay for the lock.

Cutting the lock on the socker  field

Then there was some MORE paperwork that we needed. Fish, the Dr and I leave Shannon and get a taxi go to the police station. We are now VIPs because of the helicopter and the Captain and Sargent come out to shake hands all around. The five of us now get in a taxi and go up the hill where the Sargent gets out and yells up to a window. A shirtless guy sticks his torso out and yells back from the second floor. The Sargent gets in and we dive downtown. I have no idea whats happening but I do know that this is the most inefficient use of the little time we have. The cops should be getting the field ready, I needed to be getting things from Shannons motorcycle and the Dr should be getting the ambulance. Instead we´re all in the taxi, as it turns out, looking for some woman to sign a paper.

We get her signature, I get Shannons stuff and head to the hotel. The ambulance arrives and with much wincing Shannon is loaded into the back. We drive to the socker field and wait while Fish gets a hack saw and cuts the lock. As the ambulance drives past the socker goal the helicopter can be seen in the distance getting ready to land. It makes a pass over and the whole town takes notice. Kids flood onto the edges of the field to watch. They don´t often get helicopters landing in Abancay and with Shannon waiting in the back of the ambulance all the cops and attendants want photos.  After the photo ops four of us gather at the back of the ambulance and lift the stretcher out. We carry it to the helicopter and as we start to load it in someone asks where they will put Shannon because he can´t sit in a seat and the stretcher belongs to the hospital, so its staying. Somone suggests they just put him on the floor and someone else suggests that they let him lay on the mattress but keep the stretcher with the ambulance. They can send an orderly along in the choper to bring the mattress back. Do I have 50 soles for the orderlys bus fare home?

Shannon signing MORE paperwork from his mattress in the helicopter

The medic finds out he has to ride to Cuzco in chopper and back by bus

After the pilot gets some photos they take off and I watch as my friend disappears, literally, into the sun. Theres more business to take care of and when I finally return to the hotel the crash of adrenaline and the weight of the realization that now I´m on my own is huge. It makes me question if I can even keep on. But I know that everything will be better in the morning, so I get some dinner and a beer and go to bed.

Bye Shannon

—–

Shannon was examined in Cuzco where they determined that he needed some screws and a plate, but they didn´t have what he needed so he was flown to Lima. Michelle met him there. He had his surgery and now has five screws and a plate securing his right femur.

Michelle, with the help of the Andrades and friends has an apartment secured and she and Shannon will recuperate in Lima for the next few weeks.

Shannons KTM was sold in Abancay. It had a broken frame and who knows what else, so bringing it home wasn´t the best idea. I feel like I sold a kid a loaded gun though. There is no such thing as 950 motorcycle in Peru and I´m afraid this guy will kill himself on it.

The helpful doctor turned out to be a teacher that volunteers at the hospital. His name is Erasmo and without his help everything would have been much harder. Thank you so much Erasmo, we owe you a huge debt.

I´m now in Cuzco for  a few days, then on to Machu Pichu, Lake Titicaca and on to Chile. Its hard to do without my friend, but now even more, I need to continue on. Quiting because I´m scared would invalidate the whole trip.

My computer is in a shop in Cuzco and may be fixed tomorrow. If so I´ll post pics of the whole ordeal.