Peru Part 1

A Disclaimer – When we entered Peru I thought it would be a continuation of the beauty we had seen in Ecuador. We were in Peru for well over a week and we both agreed that the only redeeming aspect of Peru was the Pisco Sour, with the egg whites that can give you salmonella. “Totally worth it if it gets me a helicopter ride out of here.” I stared at a map to calculate how fast I could drive out of this hell hole. That all changed (“11:00 on the 4^th of June - it just got beautiful with a vengeance” / according to my journal) and we ended up using every day of our 3 month visa, but that came later . . . In fact, Peru was so good that I had to break the dispatches into Parts. Welcome to Part 1

Peruvian Ugly (Just The Northern Coast)

I think successful travel in north coastal Peru means significantly dropping your standards. You are going to need “Expectation Retraining”: Someone holds up a dirty old shoe and states: ”This is beautiful”. You mumble; “This is beautiful”. The only thing that is attractive in Peru is the work of Mother Nature, the ruins of lost civilizations and the architecture of the Spanish. Anything touched by modern Peruvian hands is world class, war crime ugly. They are riding on the old coat tails of the First People and The Spanish and polluting mother nature as fast as they can.

The culture that built the ancient pyramid of Tucume burned it all down and started over. They practiced a sort of scorched earth policy as they believed in the cleansing power of fire.  It’s time to do it again. Northern Peru is so committed to ugly that a firestorm is the only way out.

What 900 years of rain does to adobe.
Look closely - those are all bricks.10 stories tall!

One would think that Ecuador and southern Peru would come here, throw their arms around northern coastal Peru and say, “Come on man, you’re really giving us a bad name. A facelift isn’t going to help you. You need to burn it down and start over.” While the humans are moving out their meager possessions (There are as many abandoned buildings as occupied ones), they could just hang a big “Going out of business” sign at the northern border, wait for the exodus and then burn it to the ground, collect the insurance money and start over.

Should you make the mistake of finding yourself here, you’ll see hundreds of miles of trash heaped 3 feet high running the length of the roads. Knocked down bridges and rickshaws are more common than growing plants.  You’ll see blankets being used for front doors . . .  yes, it’s that kind of poor. When their current dwellings look like ruins I think it’s fair to say that this isn’t a culture that has come very far. In fact, I would contend that the finest days of this country were pre Colombian. My further proof is that 10% of the populace work in the tourist industry.

It’s as if they hired a consulting firm to make the most unattractive and unlivable cities on the planet.

“Picture the ugliest part of Mexico you’ve ever seen, and then let’s remove all living things other than humans.”

“Ok”.

“We pave nothing, which means that everything will be covered in an inch of dust. This removes all color except the death drab brown of adobe.”

“Oh that’s smart. I can see it now. What else?”

“All architecture must be rectangular. Only boxes allowed. Then we throw trash everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Stack it as high as you can. Never bury it. We want it visible.”

“God that’s good. Keep going.”

“Now, this is the cake topper: Over fill every street with noisy honking tuktuks, and just when you think it can’t get any uglier… “

Cue the devil dog. That’s right… this is the national dog of Peru.

You don’t have to watch movies like Mad Max to see the future. The future is the Apocalypse and the Apocalypse is Peru, right now.

I’ve never seen so many consistent miles of ugly, and I’ve been to Oklahoma.

Shitty Cities

What makes a shithole? With the recent Trump quotes and the paragraphs I wrote above, I found myself wanting to attempt a list of what constitutes a CrapTown. Here’s what I came up with. Feel free to write me your additions:

1.     Moto taxis galore with no muffler & screeching brake pads. Loud and polluting and the best reducer of life quality

a.     Extra credit for running all night long

2.     No pavement. Dusty or muddy. One makes you pray for the other.

3.     Is there refrigeration in the markets or just slabs of meat rotting on wood counters? “Are these the biggest healthiest flies you’ve ever seen or what”?

4.     When the bathrooms don’t even have soap, zero paper towels is a given.

5.     Quit all construction when your buildings get to 75% of completion.

6.     No smiles. Why would there be?

From Driver to Passenger

Poor visibility, worn brake pads, terrible roads
blind corners, a heavy foot. Terror.

Trocha means unpaved. Pista means paved. Trocha is bad. Pista is slightly better than bad. The road to Cutervo defeated me. I couldn’t drive faster than 4mph and most of the time my speed was so slow that it didn’t even register on the speedometer. This went on all day until I finally parked Elsie behind the iron gates of a soccer field, paid a man to watch her and voluntarily demoted myself to filthy backpacker. (Not being forced to use a public bathroom is the only way I tell myself I am above the lowly “mochilero”. We humans love to differentiate). I wanted to avoid the bus driving lunatics of Peru at all costs and now I am paying to be in their vehicle. Every seat is full and there are no seatbelts. He drives as fast as he can and passes every vehicle he can overtake to the peril of both vehicles. And you should see these roads. I think the only question they are asked before being hired is, “Do you have vertigo?”

Northern Mountainous Peru

The canopy vines in the northern mountains of Peru really give the place an otherworldly look. I’d seen that look on the war torn islands of Vanuatu in the South Pacific. It was an introduced species to help with aerial coverage during the battles but when the war ended the vine did not, and it continues to strangle everything to this day. I wonder if this is where they found it. The Ecuadorians would have cleared the land and farmed anything but these lands look untouched. I wonder if the difference is that vine.

It’s not all Incan (Tawantinsuyo)

I know when you think of Peru you think, “Ah, the land of the Incans.” Over the 13,000 years it has been inhabited there were thousands of other different indigenous tribes. Were the Incan notable? Absolutely, but in actuality, they were the last on the scene, and built on the shoulders of giants. They were the best documented, largest empire in the Pre-Colombian Americas (since history witnessed their defeat and enslavement - but not extinction, their ancestors are everywhere) and get all the majority of the credit for the ruins. But…Then you witness Kuelap

Kuelap – The Macchu Pichu Of The North

Built in the 6th century AD, and inhabited for 1000 years

The outer ramparts

Kuelap is only going to get better. Now there is a tram that will take you there and as they get more money they can unearth more of the site. Or….. It will turn into another Chitzén Itsa where every wall has been rebuilt and nothing genuine is left of the terrain they lived in. That predicament is for future generations to decide. I saw what I saw and was left gasping for superlatives.

At it's height up to 3000 people lived here (archeologists interpretation)

Huanchaco

Constructed in 450 AD with 130 million adobe bricks it was the largest pre-Colombian adobe structure in the Americas 

The early tomb raiders cut directly into it. The Spanish diverted a river to wash away 1/3 of it, so as to get to the treasures

The Moche people added layer over layer like the skins of an onion so the insides are perfectly preserved

You’ll see it on the map as Trujillo but the fun tourist sector is Huanchaco. It’s a surf town, which means nightlife, and we were lucky enough to be there with Overlander friends. The Trujillo sector is an unglamorous dust bowl of a town but contains 2 spectacular ruins. …  Chan chan and the 2 pyramids: Huaca De la Sol and Huaca De La Luna (if you ever see me again, ask me to pronounce it)

Chan-Chan. The largest Pre-Colombian city in South America. All made with adobe. Built 900 AD. Defeated by the Inca and incorporated into their empire 1470

La Galgada

From Trujillo to Caraz we passed numerous blue signs that say, “Sitio Arqueologico”. Peru does a wonderful job of denoting their ruins of ancient civilizations. When the long shadows told us it was time to stop driving, we came upon Chuquicara; an almost nonexistent place with one gas station, some empty low ceilinged buildings that looked like they were probably built to corral llamas and a couple places with dirt floors under a tarp that would sell food. It was at one of these restos that we asked: “Any blue signs around?”

The lady sent us to an old man. The man said he remembered one from when he was a kid up in the canyon. A few calls later and we had arranged a guide for 7am the next morning to drive us. 

Suicidal Diego - the destroyer of tires, eardrums and lives

Diego pulled up in a car that should have been scrapped 5 years ago. It was loaded with humans and sacks of produce. He drove at breakneck speeds on one of the most dangerous dirt roads with sheer “drop offs to death” around every corner. 3 times he stopped the car to check the right front tire because he knew it wasn’t safe. But it didn’t slow him down any. He’s cranking the music as loud as it will go and honking his horn just before every scary corner to alert oncoming drivers on this single lane death road, whom, I would imagine, are concentrating intently for the sound of a horn.  That’s a fantasy. I’m sure they are doing exactly the same as he because, you know: Latins! We’re screaming at each other to communicate but turning down the music is not an option. There are 2 things in the world that are destructive to stereo speakers: 1.) Water. 2.) Latins. The music doesn’t sound right until the speaker is blown. Twice I heard myself curse in terror as we slid around a corner with our tires touching the last inch of dirt before oblivion. At certain points I could look back and see that the earth had eroded out from under the road. It looked like the letter “C”. Certain death for a future car. AB was wedged like a potato in the boot, with a 65 year old lady and a bag of tubers.

Diego stops at a blue sign. We see nothing but a hill. Then our eyes come to focus on the minutia and we behold La Galagada for the first time.

It’s 4000 years old. I think buildings in Europe are ancient when they were built in the 1500’s. 4000 years old!

(Tunnels so deep that when I turned off the light, the anxiety rushed in and I had to do a panic check)

Once we had our fill getting back became the priority. We walked a long distance to the nearest shadow of a town and asked if there were any taxis we could hire. The old lady said, “Ill call Diego” – “No No! No Thank you”

AC means Before Christ. The sign says: "2400 - 2000 BC"

4000 year old appreciation to detail still stands

Canon Del Pato

Getting to the Cordillera Blanca requires driving thru 35 tunnels. Here’s the rub: they are one lane wide and traffic is in both directions. Have you ever backed a 24’ long 12’ high big rig out of a tight fitting one lane tunnel? Pray you never have to. I did a lot of horn honking and drove faster than I should have to get 51% into those tunnels so I wouldn’t have to be the one to back out. I think the ancients had an easier time traversing these canyons with raging rivers in the wet season.

Very little room for error and Peruvian rocks aren't very soft

Caraz

There are places where Overlanders dig in and stay for a week. And then the campsite achieves critical mass and you stay another week. It didn’t hurt that we were in the shadow of the spectacular Andes, but at this point the attraction was the camaraderie we felt with our fellow drivers. We went up to Laguna Paron and enjoyed small town Peru.

Chavin De Huantar

Simply wow. Sometimes the stars align and the cosmos smiles upon you and gifts that "brass ring" experience. Those moments are few and far between but we scored with this place.

We parked late in the afternoon. The archeological site had closed for the day. We were enjoying a glass of wine on a public bench next to the entrance of the ruin. I sometimes bring extra cups, as it’s a great way to meet people. A man exits with a full leather satchel slung over his shoulder with charts and blueprints protruding. “Can I interest you in a nice glass of wine? Say, are you an archeologist?” Yes, I am a whore for archeologists.

Turns out - John Rick has been the lead archeologist at Chavin for 24 years and we met him on the evening of his 40^th wedding anniversary. He had a glass with us and then invited us to the party with all his grad students. The next day when we saw him on the site he invited us to step over the “scientists only rope” for a personal tour.

This place had it all: San Pedro cactus, water works, sensory deprivation cells – it was an unearthly temple with a hit religion. It had been continuously inhabited for maybe 10,000 years by the ancient Chavin forebearers prior to the temple being erected in 1500 BC. It was abandoned around 550 BC when an earthquake hit, the priests were shamed and the cult collapsed. But prior to that it had been visited by the major civilizations of the area as far away as Ecuador for 1000 years.

3,500 years old – I can’t get enough of this stuff. Stick around for the next installment of Peru because the ancient civilizations get older still!

Your man on point,

Captain Bobby

Ecuador

We left Colombia

It’s the last of the Caribbean bordering countries. That means rum quality is going to drop. I sip rum, but Elsie guzzles diesel. However, when the diesel costs just $1.03 per gallon, I can afford to buy the imported rum. And yes, the currency is US greenbacks. Fuel costs alone would have made Ecuador a dream but add in perfect roads, and you’ve got one very happy man driving a 6 ton diesel chugging truck. Not to mention - It was the easiest border crossing I ever made and it was absolutely free.

Aleja at anchor

The Drive To Tena

We stopped on the side of the road to buy some Guamas (you are a fool not to eat these every chance you get)

Guamas

and the lady who sold them to us swore she had some petroglyphs on her family’s property and for the low low price of just $1.50 each, she would have her kids walk us into the bush and show us.

Tracing the ancient lines

The zero traction mudboots were included and my constant slipping and falling was a comedic delight to everyone. The kids crushed up Achote fruit, mixed it with water and traced the depressions in the rock with toothbrushes to reveal the ancient carvings. How old were they? 1000 years? That land has been in their family for as long as they can trace it. Odds are it was their ancestors who made the carvings. It was weird and wonderful and felt genuine. Those non-canned brass ring experiences are rare and memorable.

Misahualli

We chartered a little boat to motor us up river to see how the deep jungle natives live in their authentic villages. When they heard the outboard motor approaching they changed out of their modern clothes and dressed in the non-sense grass skirts and coconut bras that tourists drool over. Falling so closely on the heels of such an over the top experience we had the day before this fake charade left us empty.

Life In The Andes

The color of my coffee changes with my altitude. When I’m at elevation I don’t add milk because I want it to stay hot. When I’m at sea level I add a lot because I want to cool it down. I drank it black in Quilatoa and white in Montanita.

Poverty: Where All Your Dreams Are On Layaway

Cold, wet, poor and hungry: I think that’s the definition of sheer misery. We saw lots of that driving through Ecuador and it wasn’t just the dogs. Hope dies last but without any way to improve your lot in life it’s got to be a cruel existence to be that destitute at such a high altitude.

In the USA there’s really only 2 ways to deal with the ghetto: joining a gang or the military, and either way you’re gonna end up shooting somebody. Whites have one more option; they can join the rodeo, but those poor bastards end up living only half as long as the gunslingers. Do I feel lucky every day? Yes; a lot more than a little.

Quilotoa
There are locations on the planet that are inherently more dramatic than others. Consider the caldera of an extinct volcano at 12,800 feet (3,914 meters) above sea level which has been converted over the millennia into a lake.

Quilotoa

We hiked to the bottom, rented a double kayak, paddled across and back, and then hiked out. That ranked about as strenuous as high school wrestling practice with the Kates brothers.

Upon leaving Quilotoa I noticed a transmission leak. 8 words you’ll never hear in Latin America: “Sorry, you can’t work on your car here.” They work on their vehicles everywhere and it’s immediately accepted.

My drooling transmission

It’s as common place as urinating in public. Pink fluid drooled from a crack that I couldn’t get my freezing fingers anywhere near. The whole town is a remote mudbog. I deemed it not to be a safe bet to start dismantling radiators etc. I made the decision to race the leak to Quito. I cornered the market on automatic transmission fluid in the surrounding area and set off with funnel in hand. We made it.

Mark Sessions

Mark bought this woman flowers

My old buddy flew down to travel with us for a few weeks and I immediately put him to work fixing my leak. We’d spoken before he left The States and he arrived with the needed parts. Mark Sessions – my dear friend and non-stop champion. This guy once drove to a diesel specialist service center, slapped $100 down on the counter, handed the tech his phone and said, “This is my buddy Bobby. He’s stuck in South America and needs your help. Please walk him through what to do.” Pit crew from heaven.

Quito

Parked on a basketball court in a military compound

What to say, what to say…I’m luke warm on Quito. I suppose it’s another huge dirty 3rd world Latin American capital. But it does have some charms. Try to avoid this formula: Quito+public transport+rush hour=nightmare

Cotopaxi

We actually went here 3 times and really enjoyed it all. Why? So much of an experience is dependent on the specifics.

The family that runs it (warm and friendly), the backpackers we met (fun and Irish, which is pretty much redundant), the food, the llama, and then there was biking down the mountain at breakneck speeds. It was also the first encounter Alejandra ever had with snow.

The Quaint Villages of Ecuador

The natives are beautifully dressed and somewhere between 4 to 5 feet of height. You have to be sneaky when taking their picture. The Lowland Natives are sunburned and the Cloud Natives are wind-burned.

The other natives are horrible: Those Alpacas spit with incredible speed, range and accuracy. And then there’s the stink. . . I feel like we took the native market tour of Ecuador. Otavalo, San Peguche, Saraguro.

Maslow’s Hierarchy Of Needs

Q: “After a Latin puts a roof over their head, what is the next concern?”
A: “A soccer field.”
All the little mountain towns have graded flat spots so the kids can play soccer. It’s that important.

Tourist Trap Photo Op

It’s easy to subscribe to the gringo trail of Instagram pix. Line up, wait till the previous phony snaps their selfie, move into position, snap yours, step out of the way, let the next sham artist step into frame, and no one back home is any wiser. We’ve seen a lot of fantastic vistas but this place is completely packaged.

Nicknack Tourist Crap

Combo restaurant shoe store. Shoes make great ladles

Montanita

We came down out of the Andes and meandered our way to the coast. Surf. Sun. Fun. Ecuador is a winner due to its dramatic geographical & climatic inventory in such close proximity to each other.

Cuenca
Founded in 1557 and resting at 8,200 feet of elevation, present day Cuenca is wonderful and waiting for your visit. Ancient Cuenca might be even more interesting. There is reason to believe it may be the most likely candidate for the fable of El Dorado – the lost city of gold that the Spanish so feverishly sought, but never found. It was originally built and inhabited by the Canari people around 500AD. The Inca defeated them in 1470 and built Pumapungo, a city to rival Cusco in Peru (and trust me, that is saying a lot!).  However, it was demolished by the time the Spanish arrived with only tales of its golden magnificence left to tantalize.

It's thought that when certain stars shined in the water
 in the rock holes that it was time to plant

We loved our time there and even rented an apartment to enjoy the city from a different perspective. The only downside was the horrendous air quality that has been tragically degraded by the city buses. We literally took to wearing face masks.

Our friend and tour guide in Cuenca: Philip

Menu of the Day

While elbow to elbow with strangers packed into a restaurant, the waitress asked a question, and the answer was “Poquito.” I started singing to the tune of the hit single Despacito; “Poquito Poquito“. And the mother of 2 sitting next to me immediately began dancing in her seat, caught herself, and everyone including her teenage daughters laughed out loud. Latins can’t control their urge to dance and the slightest spark can ignite a fire. I always thought “quick to laugh” was a reason to admire a culture, but maybe “quick to dance” should be included in the list.

A Quick Aleja Story

One time we were parked next to a plaza with a lot of horrible construction noise and I ask Alejandra, “What is that one awful noise? Do you hear it?” and she moved closer to the window and she looked, and she listened, and she carefully said, "Ah yes, it's a macheen"

“Oh really? Thanks. Thanks a million. I thought it was a volcano, or a very looong explosion, but now I can rest easy knowing..... It's a macheen”. If only I could package her brand of cute. Sometimes it’s the things you see, and sometimes it’s the people you see them with, and when they both align – oh happy days.

Your man on point,

Captain Bobby

Colombia Part 2

Aleja
She said, "leesen", and then she scratched her tiny shoulder with 4 fingers in rhythm, It sounded like horses quietly galloping, and she said: "Dats horses."

She’s 5 feet tall and her hair is 3 feet long. You do the math: Hair everywhere. She’s young and wild and Latin and cute as a cuy and that accent has no equal on the planet.

Meeting The Family
I knew I would be meeting her mother and sister. I knew they were going to have tough questions to ask. Who wouldn’t? I was asking the family to trust me with their youngest daughter while I took her out of her country for the first time. I prepared. I made a list and I practiced how to answer in the best Spanish I could muster. On the day of the interrogation, I took Aleja and her sister to a movie. Nathalia seemed to like me. Good, I needed every ally I could get in that room. Her mother would
be home soon and the clock was ticking.

On the long walk to her house I even asked Aleja to role play with me to get a better handle on how her mother might throw me a curve ball. “What do you think will be the toughest topic your mom is going to ask?” “Well, you do know that she is convinced you are going to sell me in Ecuador, right?” I checked my list. Nope, I hadn’t prepared for that one. “What? She thinks I’m going to sell you!” “Oh yes, she is sure of it.” My foot touched the first step. There was no turning back. The front door was open.

We climbed the stairs and entered the home. We exchanged casual niceties. I had brought a plant. It seems like a hollow trade now. I can’t believe I was that foolish: “Here’s a plant to take the place of the daughter you raised.”

She asked me to be seated. Her boyfriend appeared. Great. Guys know guys. I’m never gonna get out of here alive. And Jhonny speaks really fast. I had trouble following along. Aleja had to translate a couple times. Then her mother’s best friend entered and joined in. Sure – let’s invite the whole block.

There’s no way I’m going to pull this off in a foreign language surrounded by people who have, and should have, a healthy distrust of a man twice her age. I took a deep breath. I made peace with my ensuing failure. I mentally repeated the words; “speak from the heart”.

It was a machine gun staccato of questions and I felt my palms get wet, but I sat up straight and I answered honestly and humbly. I made eye contact and I admitted that there would be hardships and that I wasn’t interested in just adding a slave to my passenger list. I wanted a partner. I saw a slight tension release from the shoulders of Dona Aura. There was a long pause. They looked around the table at each other.  Dona Aura said “Pues, Bueno que mas vamos a hacer, tomemos  cerveza?”

I whispered to Aleja: “did your mom just suggest we drink beer?” “Yes!”

I immediately stood and volunteered to buy. AB and I walked out the door, down the steps and out of sight. “I think we won!” I think we won too!”

Goodbye Party
Alejandra has a boyfriend. Her boyfriend isn’t stupid, just Spanish disabled. When she said that her friends were throwing her a “despedida” (goodbye party), I thought she said “desaparecida”, which means “disappeared”. Hilarity ensued. I made the mistake of wondering aloud if I would get more for selling her whole or by the kilo. The butcher at the carniceria didn’t think it was very funny. I’m probably not going to try that joke with her mother.

The Last Day Of February
We departed Medellin. Hair pinned and hair brained switchbacks were the norm.

Tramps like us – Baby we were born to run. She learned English from Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. She’s heard of Led Zeppelin but she couldn’t name 1 song. She’s never heard of David Bowie. Do you remember the last elongated scene from The Graduate? The music from our phones became the 3rd passenger.

Jardin, Manizales, Salento, Cocora, Tulua, Cali, Rosas, Pasto, Lago Cocha, Las Lajas: We meandered our way out of Colombia. It was the first time she had ever left her own country. How would she live without Arepas?

Now this is how to eat chicken. The shirt was later donated to a cold dog

The Arepa – The Leatherman Of Foods
The arepa is a wonderful building material. It’s also a sturdy projectile for self-defense. However, the consumer grade commodity product that arrives at your table in the plastic basket with your silverware isn’t really fit for eating.

That's the commodity arepa

It explodes in your stomach to 3 times the normal size, and you can’t eat the rest of the day. It was designed to get the campesinos back in the fields for more work.  Because it doesn’t get served with the food on your plate; I consider it more of a delivery system
adjunct.  A little mortar and paint and you could build yourself an outhouse – and you’re gonna need one. It’s also the perfect size and weight to use as self-protection from a starving dog (they won’t eat them either). None of the above applies to the Venezuelan version.

Cold Dog of Cocora Valley

PRB ~ It Doesn't Stand For Pabst Blue Ribbon
It’s the phonetic replication of the Spanish language; which sounds like a motorcycle with a sputtering carburetor issue. Listen, here’s the proof: “podrias probar esta para remover la pintura”. You must remember that the “v” sounds like another “b”. It's the constant babble of the Spanish language that refuses to ever downshift into a slower more comprehensible gear. I now live with a native Spanish speaker and I’ve never been closer to quitting the language.

“Wanna Mix Things Up?”
Before Columbus came to the New World, there were no oranges in Florida,

no bananas in Ecuador, no paprika in Hungary, no potatoes in Ireland, no coffee in Colombia, no pineapples in Hawaii, no rubber trees in Africa, no chili peppers in Thailand, no tomatoes in Italy, and no chocolate in Switzerland. Columbus “discovering” America caused the deaths and subjugation of millions. But there was an upside. They call it the Columbian Exchange. We humans re-inventoried the planet. I’ll let you decide if it was for the better or not.

But change came, and for me, my entrance into South America was a big revolution. The Spanish changed (yet again, and by a larger measure), the culture changed, the food changed, the climate changed, and the people changed. I love it down here. Don’t forget to put this continent on your bucket list. Man is it good.

Acting Class 101

My teacher said, “Take chances!” And that’s carried through to everything. If you aren’t raising eyebrows once a month for telling inappropriate jokes, you aren’t pushing the bounds of humor, and you should be. If you aren’t getting your heart broken every 2 years, you aren’t making yourself vulnerable to others, and you should be. If you aren’t coming face to face with death’s stinking breath yearly, challenge yourself a bit more.

Take chances! Keep the party rolling, because nothing is a bigger buzz kill than a corpse, especially when it’s yours, but push a little deeper, ask a bit more from yourself and others, Take Chances!

Your man on point,

Bobby Freedom