7th April 2009
Cusco to Abancay
We were quite sad to leave Cusco and had to drag ourselves away. It is the type of place that sucks you in and lulls you into a comfortable routine of wandering around the narrow streets, trying out the huge number of cafes and restaurants or sipping a pisco sour or two in the evenings. It is the type of place that quickly drains the cycling funds!
We stopped in the square with our bikes for one last look and were surprised to see Eamon, an Irish motorcyclist we had met in LosAlercesNational Park in Argentina. So we had a quick catch up with him before saying our final goodbye to Cusco.
We had quite a steep climb out of Cusco, but were kept company by two teenage boys who challenged Dave to a race to the top (Dave won this time!). It turned out that they had the same bikes as us- a Scott and a Specialized. The boys tried to swap their bikes with us and we later learned that they had just put the branding stickers onto their mountain bikes, to make them look more attractive!
Both of us were somewhat apprehensive about the next few weeks cycling because we had chosen to cycle through the mountainous region of Peru, from Cusco to Abancay and then onwards to Ayacucho and Huancayo. We had been forewarned by Tom and Dave of www.bikingsouthamerica.co.ukof four 2000m monster climbs and descents, most of which would be on single lane gravel roads. All we could do was keep our fingers crossed that we wouldn´t experience too much rain.
We had a short steady climb to our first pass, about 50km out of Cusco and once over the 3715m pass we were taken aback by dramatic views of the valley, 1500m below us. It was beautiful. Mist rose from the valley and every inch of the land seemed to be cultivated, no matter how high or how steep the mountain sides were.
We wrapped up warm, ready for our 2000m descent (on tarmac) and had an exhilarating ride, careering around hair pin bends. The descent just kept on going for at least 30km. The road was insane, twisting and turning back on itself and to add a little extra excitement we dodged and weaved our way around barking dogs. It was great fun!
We stopped at the little village of Limatambo in order to save a little downhill for the following day. It seems that everything is exaggerated through the Andes- and we were in for a mammoth uphill climb from 1800m back up to 4000m. It was quite daunting, but we took the winding uphill slowly, admiring the awesome scenery. I kept imagining the Incas working and travelling through this region or retreating from the Spanish. Today in the lower areas of the valley, the climate is quite tropical and mangoes, papayas, avocados and oranges flourish. In the upper regions, corn, quinoa, beans and potatoes are grown.
As we continued to climb we noticed that a lot of the women working in the fields would stop and wave and then laugh at us, pointing high above our heads to indicate the pass we would have to reach. It did wonders for our moral!
We had planned to quietly camp beside the Inca ruins of Saihuite, 10km to the top of the pass. However our cover was blown as a local carnival was just winding up and we quickly became the centre of attention with 20 children following us and asking us questions as we made our way to the ruins.
With an impending storm, drunk locals and inquisitive children, we were offered a barn to camp in by Pancho –keeper of the ruins. We were thankful for a roof over our heads and enjoyed watching an electrical storm pass behind the ruins.
NB for other cyclists, Pancho said he would welcome people to camp beside his house or in his barn, for a small donation. He also has a little shop that sells basic supplies and there is a spring nearby.
We climbed back up to 4000m the following morning and looked forward to some 2000m dare-devil downhill to Abancay. The early morning fog meant that we had limited visibility as we careered around the bends-it was great!
Abancay hosted us for our rest day and we enjoyed watching the Peru v Chile qualifying match for the World Cup.
Abancay to Andahuaylas
As we left Abancay we could make out our next 2000m uphill climb – a gravel road zig-zagged up across the mountain. It is really de-motivating to see how high you have to climb, especially when the road disappears up into the clouds. There was nothing we could do, except take it slowly. Despite the climb, the scenery was incredible and we enjoyed watching Abancay get smaller and smaller, the higher we climbed.
We stopped in one small village and were given an avocado to eat and invited to sit with two women who were sorting out beans to sell to Lima (for 5 pence a kilo). They found it hilarious that we had chosen to travel by bicycle and that we had chosen to cycle up the mammoth pass. They let me take a photograph of them. Often on our journey, we have found that for the most part, the locals don’t like having their photograph taken because they think that we will sell them for a profit back in our own country. We explained that it was for our memories and we promised to send them a copy, to which they again laughed as they didn’t have any postmen, but we said that we would get someone to drop it off via a car or bus.
NB. Notes to other cyclists. There are two roads to Andahuaylas from Abancay. We were advised to take the top road with the pass as it has a wider road and there is slightly more traffic going past if there are any problems. There are little houses on the way up to the pass and over the pass there are places to camp. Once over the pass there are also streams. We were told this is the safer route. The locals will tell you that the lower road has more villages along the way and that is isn’t so high- however be warned-you will have to climb two mountain passes instead and it is longer.
On our way up to the pass, the rain began to pour and the road turned to mush making the going very slow. Thankfully a truck driver offered us a lift. During the lift, the truck received a puncture and so Dave helped him to change the tyre, for which the driver was thankful for because it was a new truck and this was the first time the driver had had to change the tyre and dropped us off in Andahuaylas.
Andahuaylas as a town isn’t much to shout about, however we had heard about a French NGO called MunayWasi, who have set up a number of projects from education initiatives to health assistance. We were interested to learn more about it so decided to go and visit it. We were very lucky as the French founder, Monique was over on a yearly visit, so we had the opportunity to meet her and have a tour of the centre. www.munay.eu
NB. For other cyclists you can stay at the centre for a small donation.
Whilst we were there Monique introduced us to some farmers from the Inkahuasi valley who have set up a co-operative and are growing organic coffee and honey, we enjoyed learning a little more about their business and they are looking for opportunities to export abroad.
Andahuaylas to Chincheros
We left Andahuaylas sporting our new one pound hair cuts and had a really enjoyable cycle back up to 4000m-yes we actually enjoyed it! Cycling through the villages in this area has been a great experience as we have found everyone to be really friendly. We frequently stopped to chat to people. Often the conversation was whether we could send over metal detectors to them as the roads we were cycling on used to be both Inca and Spanish trading routes. Apparently, traders used to carry their treasure on mules, however if the mule died, the traders would have to bury their treasure with the mules as they had no way of transporting it. Many of the villagers guaranteed us that if we went into business with them they could show us the areas where treasure was waiting to be re-discovered.
In another village, my cycling days nearly came to an end as Dave was offered the opportunity to swap me for two Peruvian women to take back to England and in return due to my “strong” cycling legs, I could stay and work in the fields. I was a little worried at how long it took Dave to decline the offer!
Just as we neared the pass and were about to set up camp, a truck driver stopped and demanded that we get into his truck to be taken to the next village. We assured him that we had warm clothes, food and a tent, however he was not to be swayed and started to drag our bikes into the back of the truck. He refused to leave until we agreed to go with him, saying that God would not forgive him if he let us sleep up at the pass as it wasn’t safe-we were sure to be robbed.
As we didn’t want him to get on the wrong side of God, we clambered in and he delivered us to Chincheros (apparently Uripa wasn’t a place for us to stay in). He delivered us to a hostel with a big smile and thumbs up and made sure we were booked into it and had a working TV to watch Brazil v Peru. I think he thought we might sneak off and camp in the countryside.
Chincheros to Ayacucho
We left Chincheros in the rain but still managed to enjoy a further downhill section, despite it being very muddy. We descended back down to 2000m or so, stopping along the way to chat to many of the farmers and children.
Being robbed at gun point was a theme that kept coming up. Throughout our journey we have got used to people giving us warnings; from UK people warned us about the people in South America. In Argentina, we were warned to watch out for the Chileans. The Chileans warned us to be careful of the Northern Chileans. The Northern Chileans warned us of robbers in Bolivia and the Bolivians warned us to be careful in Peru. I wonder why we are so suspicious of other people?
However, what was different was that we kept getting specific advice not to cycle between Orcos and Ayachucho as apparently the road is quite dangerous at the moment, particularly at night and especially up at the passes (apparently the area has been prone to drug running). We had met quite a few locals that had been mugged within the last few weeks and everyone urged us to take the bus between that section. We didn’t really want to take the bus, but decided that it was better to be safe than sorry.
The bus journey itself was an experience, it was a roller coaster ride on a single lane gravel road that twisted and turned up the mountain side. If that wasn’t excitement enough, the driver had a passion for speed and decided to race the bus in front and did his best to get ahead of him. My knuckles were white as I grabbed the seat in front in fear, it didn’t help that a horror film was being shown and every hairpin bend was accompanied by piercing screams from the film. Whilst I occupied myself praying for a safe journey, Dave got to know most of the people on the bus, who were interested to hear why two Gringos were on bikes in the middle of the mountains.
We spent the night in Ayacucho and enjoyed walking around the plaza which was quite similar to Cusco, without all the gringos and tourist trades. The appeal for many people is to visit some of the 33 churches built within the town. Semana Santa, or Easter is the main appeal in Ayacucho as it is host to the most elaborate processions and celebrations. However, Dave and I wanted to press onwards towards Huancayo...but that is for the next installment.
10th April 2009
Ayacuco to Huanuco
We loved the ride out of Ayacucho, with its valleys reminiscent of the Mediterranean with quite barren, rocky scenery dotted with cacti and prickly pears.
We were joined by a mountain biker from Huanta who accompanied us back to his home town and we had an enjoyable hour or two sitting in the plaza eating our lunch. People were so friendly towards us and we chatted to a number of people, from shoe shine boys who told us that they earned about one pound a day to three primary schools teachers, all of whom tried to get us to stay to watch the Easter festivities that were starting that day. However, the day was still young and we wanted to press on.
Out of Huanta, the scenery changed once again and we could almost believe that we were in a Wild West film. We half expected to see John Wayne ride out to join us on his horse through the canyon. We followed a river, past donkeys, goats and mules towards the town of Mayocc. We were pleasantly surprised when a bus full of people stopped to chat to us. A tiny old woman in traditional dress passed us some fruit to eat through the window. We can’t remember the name of it, but it was a cross between a citrus fruit and a passion fruit and she took the time to show us how to peel and eat it.
The villagers of Mayocc greeted us warmly and took us to the only hostel in the village. We spent the night chatting to a traveling salesman who roamed Peru and Ecuador in his white VW beetle and regaled us with his stories.
Unfortunately, the next day disaster struck. Just as I was about to reach the brow of a hill, my chain and gears locked. Luckily I managed to unclip from my pedals without falling off, but as I looked down I noticed that not only had my chain snapped, but my gear hanger had completely broken in half, leaving my derailleur tangled up inside my now, slightly bent spokes. There was nothing for it but to hitch a lift to the next big town and pray that they could fix it. Dave informed me that we might have to wait around Huancayo for a while as gear hangers are unique to particular bike companies and, if we couldn’t get a spare one or one made up, we would have to get one imported. The problem was that it was also coming up to Easter and we didn’t know if places would be open.
We weren’t particularly impressed with Huancayo which was a busy industrial town. However, it did have two redeeming features. The first was that there were an abundance of cake shops which pleased Dave no end. The second was that we came across a whole street mending and knocking out fake branded bikes. Thankfully I was able to buy a new Shimano derailleur (for twenty pounds) and although we found a similar gear hanger, it wasn’t a perfect fit. Luck was upon us as we were told of Cesar, a metal artist who was a bike fanatic and could make perfectly matched gear hangers.
Dave and I paid Cesar a visit. We felt bad that we had asked him to work on Sunday as he had planned to spend time with his children, however he said that he would happily try and make a new hanger for me (for ten pounds) and invited us to watch him work and have a chat about bikes. It was incredible to watch him work, not only was he meticulous in his trade but within four hours, we had made a friend and I had an exact replica Scott gear hanger and was back ready to cycle the next day. He proudly showed us his bikes that he had made for his children and he has also made his own aluminum bike from scratch which we were impressed with. We were so grateful we took the whole family out for dinner!
Finally we were back on a roll cycling, from Huancayo we climbed up again and cycled 125km to La Oroya. LaOroya, a mining town, has to be the ugliest town we have come across in Peru. Piles of black tar like substance cluttered the views and heavy machinery lined the outskirts of the seedy town. Despite this, we checked into Sol Y Luna hostel and were very pleased to find that we had the best shower we have had since arriving in South America-hot, powerful and lots of it!
From La Oroya, we passed a few Andean towns that grow and celebrate the Maca, a beetroot like substance which is apparently the best natural aphrodisiac. We were amazed to see a surreal Salvador Dali like structure celebrating the Maca in one non-descript town and sought out where we could try the Maca.
We had another great experience in the town of Carhuamayo. As we entered the town looking for a hostel, a restaurant owner named Adrian flagged us down and invited us for tea and a rest in his restaurant. It turned out that he was a motorbike fanatic (he had nine bikes plus a tuctuc) and had a basic room he would let us have one pound each- bargain. Adrian completely looked after us, showing us how to prepare and cook Pachamanca, which is the traditional Inca style of cooking using stones to cook meat, potatoes, corn and beans. Naturally we enjoyed tasting it as well.
NB for other cycle tourers, Adrian said he would welcome other cyclists. His address is Pachamacas, Las Canastas, Av. Union No. 1068, Carhuamayo.
After cycling up to 4380m at Cerro del Pasco, we enjoyed a 90km downhill section, even though it rained and hailed on us most of the time and 50km of it was in a terrible condition of potholes, cracked tarmac and the occasional landslide-the downhill to 1910m was delicious! It brought us out to Huanuco and we had heard that we were in time for the Semana Santa (Easter) procession.
Many of the towns in Peru celebrate Easter with processions during the Easter Week. Actors dress up and act out the Easter story, it culminates in the arrest, trial and crucifixion of Jesus on Easter Friday. From 10am in the morning until 4pm in the afternoon, Dave and I followed the very lifelike procession. Hundreds of people were dressed up to play their biblical parts and a Frenchman was playing the part of Jesus. We watched as they acted out the arrest and dragged him through the streets, whipping him. He was then taken to the central plaza where the entire town gathered to watch his trial. Then he and the two other criminals were given their crosses and were made to walk up the nearby mountainside where they were crucified on the cross (their hands were bound as opposed to nailed).
Watching the whole story play out was quite emotional because it was so lifelike and at the same time is was also strange to watch all the town folk watch the crucifixion whilst having picnics and eating ice-cream. It seemed that not only was the crucifixion a spectacle, but as the only gringos in the town, we received quite a lot of attention too, with many photos being taken of us and comments such as, “Are they gringos?” “Are you related to Jesus-the actor?” We will put the photos up shortly.
