Peru: The Angel in Pink Wellies

We had been advised by the very helpful proprieter of the Hotel in Abancay to take the River road along the Valley to Puquio as the only other road out was treacherous and full of landslides. He described, with the help of google maps, the route along the river for 150kms then a bit high up and over the mountains before  arriving in Nasca, where the altitude was better. We are given hope that the next few days of the 1000kms ride to Lima would be easier on our lungs and arms. The first ‘easier’ bit was a continuous 30 minute steep downhill ride to get to the river bed, but we got there and could breathe a bit better and relaxed into a leisurely winding ride alongside a raging river. 

A few challenges broke into our relaxed frame of mind, namely washaways. Riding along the valley road, we crossed about 5 causeways which got progressively deeper as we got nearer to the river itself. The causeways are cement dips in the tarmac where the gushing mountain waterfalls cascade over. That’s fine if you are a big truck. The biggest washaway presented more than a challenge for me. I leapt off the bike and we watched for some time as the bulldozer moved tons of wet earth out of the way. A truck went through. A car went through and B lined up ready to go through. Everytime the bulldozer scrapped and moved the earth the watery pit was becoming deeper. It was B’s turn to move through. I video’d the whole performance which took an alarmingly long 3.40 minutes. 30seconds in to the crossing B almost lost his footing, as the gushing water hollowed out the earth where his feet were. He had to keep moving. The bulldozer man was revving up to shivvy B along and the Yellow hardhat man was blowing his whistle furiously. I was just screaming hysterically. 

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Then came along an Angel in the Pink Wellies. She marched across the pitted water-filled remnants of the road, grabbed the side panniers with one hand and the back pannier with the other. She steered B, holding him up first this way, then the other, as with their 4 feet they manoeuvred their way across the raging river, shin deep. Three and a half minutes later they were on the other side and the bulldozer carried on. The yellow hard hat man got me a lift in a pick up and I was driven through eezy peezy. By the time B and I were re-united the Angel in the Pink Wellies had plodded her way back to the starting point. How could we say Thank You? While we were faffing around, shaking wet boots and calming down, she strode over again, this time wading knee deep. Big hugs and thanks you’s and a fistful of Pesos did it for us and her. 

The Angel in the Pink Wellies

The valley road at 3200m went on and on for over 100kms, with magnificent gorges and canyons and plateaus. By the time we got to Piquio, the mist had covered all the landscape and even though it was only 1pm we found the one and only hotel, parked the bike, stripped off wet boots and socks, snuggled up in a warm bed and, being a Sunday, found FI on Radio Five Live to listen to the AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX. 

Puquio is a tiny bus stop town. Huge tour buses and coaches zoomed through on the one and only route joining Cusco to the Coast. By 6pm the stalls were set up and the restaurants opened, all in freezing mist and muddy conditions. We had delicious spaghetti and chicken soup, with goats cheese topping. On returning to our hotel, we discovered two more bikes in the parking garage: Two Honda XR 250’s ridden by the lovely Linda and hubby Mike. We had a great evening in the lounge swopping stories and the bestest moment was being introduced to an App called ‘ioverlander’. Exactly what we had been looking for: a live app, continuously updated, by overlanders for overlanders.  I felt a huge weight disappear from my stress levels as any type of overlander information appeared; from regular campsites to wild camping, with prices, and recent updates. Fantastic. 

Getting out of Puquio was an uphill adventure of 55kms of curves rising back up 1000m to 4600m again. We daren’t stop, just keep going along this beautiful plateau for another 100kms. The temperature dropped to 13degreesand in amongst the Pampas we spotted leaping creatures called Vicunas, a short haired long necked wilder version of the Llama. Large signs instructed all motorists to HOOT continuously to scare them off the road. The weirdest thing is that they are so well blended into the Pampas that up to 10 metres away they are ‘invisible’, that is until they leap. We blew our hooter continuously so they would leap away from us. It sort of spoilt the magnificence and beauty of the amazing ‘top of the world’ peace. 

Before the descent into the Desert Ride to Nasca we have a picnic and enjoy the sun and stare in wonder at the winding road we must now take to get to the coast. What goes up must go down. And down it went all the way to a large patch of sand and wind. We rode across this sandpit for another 100kms on the straightest road ever, with the wind trying very hard to push us over. The buses and trucks also did a good job as every time they passed we were whacked sideways by the wind and landed a few more inches nearer the edge of the road. Everything here seems to be in the extreme category.

We find the Nasca Lines and climb the towering steel stepped structure for a bird’s eye view. I buy a little stone, engraved with a replica humming bird. 

Both the Front and Back brake pads need replacing !

Young adventurers on a kawazaki 650, with more stuff than us.

picnic stop

At ICA we stop for an icecream and put our new App to the test. Yeah, a hotel within budget, with a pool and breakfast just around the corner. Such simple Luxury after a gruelling 10 days of testing us almost to our limits.

Lima is in sight! where we are staying with the family of our wonderful doctor friends/rescuers from Chos Malal. It is with huge thankfulness that we arrive at their house and get a glorious welcome. Suddenly our world has become normal again. We get introduced to a Camu drink (Red Berry) for breakfast and spread Peruvian Butter (mashed Avocado and lemon) on our toast. We shop at an Inca Market for goodies to take home and hear that our baby Grandaughter has been delivered safe and sound.

Lima is a green goddess in the middle of Sand, fed by 5 permanent rivers. The gardens of Lima are filled with bird sounds and visited by beautiful hummingbirds, busily drinking from the honeysuckle. I present our fabulous friends with a thank you and memento of our stay with them.

We need to return to France as our 90 days insurance/trip is up, but will return within 3 weeks to carry on.

As I write, I must explain that that didn’t happen. On the day we were due to fly back to Peru, B was rushed into hospital here in France for an emergency operation. He is now recovering, with absolutely NO bike riding for 6 weeks. Travel plans are on hold. 

Peru: "Thank you for your Bisit"

Tribals and Llama paintings

 70 % of employment in Cusco revolves around the Tourist Industry. The aeroplanes bring in hundreds of Machu Pichu sight seekers, Inca Trail Hikers and Packaged Tours daily. Lovely Rosa, at the Hospedaje with the Purple Gate, escorted us to the local bus stop at 8am on Friday morning. We joined in with the students and workers catching the local bus into the centre of Cusco. There is a front door and back door to the bus, entrance and exit. People get on and only pay when you get off. The conductor leaps out the front, runs to the exit at the back to take your money, then dashes back to the front door to see who got on, just before the doors close. It’s a frantic rush backwards and forwards as well as taking money, giving change and shouting out the destination in a bid to attract more customers. For the cost of 1 sol (about 20p) we had a great 90 minute ride. By 9h30 the traffic was almost gridlocked and we were happy to get out of the bus and play Tourist for a Day. 

Dinner?

Coca Sweets 

Cusco Town Square

Shopping

city tour

 First stop, a Tour Shop, where we met agents who are Bear Grylls enthusiasts. The Machu Pichu expedition is a 9 hour round trip and the Inca trail is a few days overnighting at mountain huts . Explaining that our search was for something a bit less energetic, we were then given all the city tour options, which they didn’t do. We left their agency and were immediately approached by a ‘city tour touter’. The next 3 hours was very pleasantly spent sitting first on a luxury coach, being driven around Cusco, then transferring to an open top double decker where we toured the countryside to relaxing pan-pipe music. We saw Spanish Places of Worship, Inca Ruins, Plazas and Sculptures,all the while sucking the Coca Candy Sweets. No effort required to do anything except listen to Elvis, our tour guide. He was born into the Quecha Tribe, speaking his tribal language plus Spanish and excellent English. A surprise Blessing by an Andean Priests, complete with Shell Horn Trumpet and 3 Coca Smoke Wishes ended the tour, just as the rain came down. After a coffee back at base in the Town Centre we caught the 90minute bus back to Rosa. On the bus we sat behind a very old Peruvian lady wearing a very tall white TopHat, with a wide blue and bow. I studied both the hat and her long black plaits, which were braided with very thick black wool, ending in a complicated crochet/embroidery pattern joining the two ends together in a pretty loop. We also got chatting to some English University Students, reading Social studies, in the middle of their placement year (3^rd Year). They had already spent 7months in Peru, helping at various Social centres, flying between city centre venues, funded by a UK Charity. We explained that we got around on a motorcycle, riding between city centres, funded by ourselves. No comment.

in Cusco

Spanish buildings

Hummingbirds Galore

Inca ground floor,the Spanish stole the stones for their places of Worship

Inca foundations and Ground Level with Spanish on the 1st Floor

Lucky Clay Bulls on the Rooves

Natural dyes

Natural dyes

Woolly Species and Natural dyes

Need a Hat?

Silverware

Blessing Ceremony by Andean Priest

Goodies for Blessing and Buying

Huge sweetcorn with a slab of cheese

With the happy, relaxing day over, and tummies full of genuine Italian Pizza, it was early to bed in preparation for the next day’s ride to Abancay. With the bike packed and our strength returning slowly we followed the same bus route as the day before all the way into Cusco, taking less than the 90minutes by bus. Cusco is situated one of many Valleys, which means that to get out of it there are many steep roads leading in all directions. The Spanish language has indistinguishable differences between B’s and V’s, both written and spoken, which turns listening into pockets of surprises. Trying to ride out of Cusco, following Garmin and road signs became more and more difficult as the traffic intensified. There are NO Rules. Nobody gives way at the Round-abouts or Stop streets, everybody  GOES. We land up at a Stop street, at an incredibly Steep incline with a choice of 4 roads. 2 steep up or 2 steep down. We really don’t want to take the wrong one and enter the mayhem again. Other Drivers Hoot and Overtake. We are Frozen in an Undecision Zone.

And then a kind man in a little silver car pulls alongside: “ Are you going to Secret Balley”?

 “ No, Abancay”

“Ah, Avancay. Follow me”, he says

We follow the silver car, up and over and around , in and out, keeping close behind, not letting any other driver sneak in or push us away. It takes a gruelling 20 minutes. We could have been lost in Cusco forever, without this guy.

At the main route out he pulls over with flashes on. We ride next to his window. “Thank you, Thank you so much” we call through his open window. “You are a life-saver, thank you, thank you”, we say again.

He smiles shyly and says sweetly “Thank you for your bisit”.

With this delightful farewell we are on the road again.

Abancay in the distance ( 33kms/1000 metres down/2 hours away!)

Hairpins Galore

Elevation chart.

It is a sunny day, we are feeling strong, and the road is good. We wait for a bulldozer to clear a landslide and find a few stalls selling fresh mango, papaya, banana and oranges. It is so hot now we strip off the thermals in the primitive breeze-block-loo-with-a-view overlooking another Balley, wash down the instant fruit salad with some tea infusion and carry on. The landscape is ever changing, green, low down along a raging river, then soaring up high. At the top of one mountain we spot Abancay in the distance. It is only 33kms away. “Soon be there we rejoice,” but it takes 2 hours! We go round and round and down and down, dropping 1000 metres in altitude over many, many hairpins. B’s arms are breaking and I’m exhausted from hanging on. The entrance into Abancay is steep and downhill and we stop at the first hotel sign we see. It’s cheap and has a lock up parking garage. Perfect. We settle in to our room, flop on the bed, install a VPN on the phone and catch up with Formula 1 on Five Live.

“Can you smell smoke?” B asks. I get up and look out of the 2^nd Floor hotel window. “Nothing here!”, I say, just as the fire alarm screeches loudly in time with the Start of the Grand Prix. We grab the Passport bag and helmets and keys, scramble down the stairs and gather with the rest of the crowd in the street. The chimney of the restaurant next door to the hotel has caught alight, buckets of water are being poured down it, the electric cables are melted and the fire engine arrives 20 minutes later. So much for R&R with Radio Five Live.

The Hotel owner is very embarrassed and apologises for the interruption. He then goes out of his way to show us on his computer, the route out of Abancay and all the elevations and scenic attractions. The northern exit from Abancay is too risky, too many landslides and too many curves. His advice is to go South, 150 kms along the Balley Riber road aiming for Puquio, which is 300kms away at 1700 metres. We can't wait to get to a more acceptable altitude and away from these valleys and mountains, with only one way in and one way out. A trifle claustrophobic, especially as we are short of breath,  Health & Safety & fFre Hazards included, which adds to the sometimes overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

Coffee, bread, jam and cheese are included, so that’s what we have for supper and breakfast. Our altitude in Abancay is now 2300 metres and we are already feeling a lot vetter. 

Smoke alarms and Evacuation, we are staying in the Hotel behind

We take the River Valley Road, Not that road!