Trip Report
Stage 9 - Southern Perú
12 November - 16 December, 2008
* Photographs from this stage of the journey can be found here.
* Route maps of the journey can be found here.
Total distance cycled: 15,571 km
Total distance in S. Peru: 1,721 km
Days on the road: 420
Maximum speed: 79 km/h (downhill out of Loja to Catamayo, Ecuador)
Maximum altitude: 6,310 mtrs (20,561 ft) - Mt. Chimborazo, Ecuador
Total distance in S. Peru: 1,721 km
Days on the road: 420
Maximum speed: 79 km/h (downhill out of Loja to Catamayo, Ecuador)
Maximum altitude: 6,310 mtrs (20,561 ft) - Mt. Chimborazo, Ecuador
Highest altitude cycled to date: 5,021 mtrs
Flat tires to date: 30
Total money spent in Southern Peru: $310.86
Average daily expenses: $9.42 in S. Peru ($12.38 trip total)
***
Huaraz. 8am. Time to say goodbye to the wonderful community of friends I spent the past few weeks with. An unimpressive town tucked neatly in between the spectacular grandeur of the Cordillera Blanca, I was finally ready to set out and ride the challenging 1600 km to Cusco, the ancient Inca capital.
A few hours away from the city, I steered towards the crest of the Cordillera Blanca on a dirt path that would take me all the way to a mind-numbing 4800 meters. The only people I saw over the next 3 days were alpaqueros herding their stock of alpacas high up into the mountains.
Don Alfredo, an aging and toothless alpaquero offered me to take dibs into his stash of coca leaves when I paused next to him to gaze out across the magnificent scenery. Before I could gobble up this mild narcotic, he stopped me and nodded disapprovingly.
Demonstrating an ancient rite called kintu, he held three leaves pressed between the fingers of both hands and blew gently upon them. "Apu Pastoruri," he murmured in Quechua, calling the spirit of the largest mountain. A silent, reflective moment later, he stuffed the leaves in his mouth and started chewing.
Most of Peru's indigenous people both chew the coca leaf and brew it as a tea, just as they have done for at least 3,500 years. In its raw form, the coca leaf contains less than half of one percent of the alkaloid cocaine. "You've got to try it when you go to Peru," my archeology professor at UCLA once advised a room full of earnest undergraduates. "But don't go telling your parents that I told you to try cocaine. Thats nonsense."
Such it was, mildly inebriated, after parting ways with Don Alfredo, I continued pedaling up the high pass, content that no traffic graced these dirt tracks. Next, I crested a 4,800 meter pass (an altitude more than 600 feet higher than the summit of Mt. Whitney, ahem), faced a brutally cold and relentless snowstorm for 14 hours at camp, cruised a wild descent to where it was too hot, got chased by rapid dogs, and hiked around the Inca ruins of Huanuco Pampa for free after bribing the security guard with coca leaves. Just another day in the Peruvian Andes!
In the small mountain town of La Union, a visit to the local discoteca familiarized me with the other Peruvian vice: alcohol. The strong stuff, aguardiente, knocked me out and I was nearly chased out of the bar for the soft words whispered to the lady at the end of the bar.
After two more days of miserable cycling up and down a road that was so sandy and dusty that every plant on the surrounding hillside was covered with a film of grime, I arrived in Huanuco and promptly made friends with the local firemen. Seth and Kirsten, my riding buddies from Northern Peru also happened to be in town, so we parted together the next day to share the next stretch of road together.
Riding with Seth and Kirsten's company made the 7000 foot climb to Cerro del Pasco go by much quicker as their good humor and stories never failed to entertain.
The Central Peruvian highlands was also the place where all of us experienced an abundance of hospitality. Unlike elsewhere in Peru, we were gifted loads of food, giant cakes, toiletries, and lots of bread - gifts galore!
Riding onwards, we eventually split up and I continued alone towards Huancavelica, after which the road degraded to dirt once again and climbed to the skies. For the next 180 km, the road never once dipped below 4,000 meters and topped out at 5,029 meters, supposedly the highest drivable pass in the world.
My friend Natalie had already arrived in Cusco by then, so for the first time in my trip I felt rushed and was far behind a 'schedule.' After arriving in Ayacucho, a beautiful colonial town and birthplace of the Shining Path maoists that plagued Peru throughout the 80's, I decided to catch a bus to hitch the short, but gruellingly difficult stretch of road to Abancay in order to reach Cusco in time.
Still delirious from the bowel busting nightmare that was a Peruvian bus ride, I continued cycling for three more days up and down giant passes and steep gorges, across the infamous Rio Apurimac, where many a bridge was razed and burned by retreating Inca and Spanish troops during the Conquest. Finally, panting like a dog chasing buried treasure, I rolled into the ancient Inca capital of Cusco.
Flat tires to date: 30
Total money spent in Southern Peru: $310.86
Average daily expenses: $9.42 in S. Peru ($12.38 trip total)
***
Huaraz. 8am. Time to say goodbye to the wonderful community of friends I spent the past few weeks with. An unimpressive town tucked neatly in between the spectacular grandeur of the Cordillera Blanca, I was finally ready to set out and ride the challenging 1600 km to Cusco, the ancient Inca capital.
A few hours away from the city, I steered towards the crest of the Cordillera Blanca on a dirt path that would take me all the way to a mind-numbing 4800 meters. The only people I saw over the next 3 days were alpaqueros herding their stock of alpacas high up into the mountains.
Don Alfredo, an aging and toothless alpaquero offered me to take dibs into his stash of coca leaves when I paused next to him to gaze out across the magnificent scenery. Before I could gobble up this mild narcotic, he stopped me and nodded disapprovingly.
Demonstrating an ancient rite called kintu, he held three leaves pressed between the fingers of both hands and blew gently upon them. "Apu Pastoruri," he murmured in Quechua, calling the spirit of the largest mountain. A silent, reflective moment later, he stuffed the leaves in his mouth and started chewing.
Most of Peru's indigenous people both chew the coca leaf and brew it as a tea, just as they have done for at least 3,500 years. In its raw form, the coca leaf contains less than half of one percent of the alkaloid cocaine. "You've got to try it when you go to Peru," my archeology professor at UCLA once advised a room full of earnest undergraduates. "But don't go telling your parents that I told you to try cocaine. Thats nonsense."
Such it was, mildly inebriated, after parting ways with Don Alfredo, I continued pedaling up the high pass, content that no traffic graced these dirt tracks. Next, I crested a 4,800 meter pass (an altitude more than 600 feet higher than the summit of Mt. Whitney, ahem), faced a brutally cold and relentless snowstorm for 14 hours at camp, cruised a wild descent to where it was too hot, got chased by rapid dogs, and hiked around the Inca ruins of Huanuco Pampa for free after bribing the security guard with coca leaves. Just another day in the Peruvian Andes!
In the small mountain town of La Union, a visit to the local discoteca familiarized me with the other Peruvian vice: alcohol. The strong stuff, aguardiente, knocked me out and I was nearly chased out of the bar for the soft words whispered to the lady at the end of the bar.
After two more days of miserable cycling up and down a road that was so sandy and dusty that every plant on the surrounding hillside was covered with a film of grime, I arrived in Huanuco and promptly made friends with the local firemen. Seth and Kirsten, my riding buddies from Northern Peru also happened to be in town, so we parted together the next day to share the next stretch of road together.
Riding with Seth and Kirsten's company made the 7000 foot climb to Cerro del Pasco go by much quicker as their good humor and stories never failed to entertain.
The Central Peruvian highlands was also the place where all of us experienced an abundance of hospitality. Unlike elsewhere in Peru, we were gifted loads of food, giant cakes, toiletries, and lots of bread - gifts galore!
Riding onwards, we eventually split up and I continued alone towards Huancavelica, after which the road degraded to dirt once again and climbed to the skies. For the next 180 km, the road never once dipped below 4,000 meters and topped out at 5,029 meters, supposedly the highest drivable pass in the world.
My friend Natalie had already arrived in Cusco by then, so for the first time in my trip I felt rushed and was far behind a 'schedule.' After arriving in Ayacucho, a beautiful colonial town and birthplace of the Shining Path maoists that plagued Peru throughout the 80's, I decided to catch a bus to hitch the short, but gruellingly difficult stretch of road to Abancay in order to reach Cusco in time.
Still delirious from the bowel busting nightmare that was a Peruvian bus ride, I continued cycling for three more days up and down giant passes and steep gorges, across the infamous Rio Apurimac, where many a bridge was razed and burned by retreating Inca and Spanish troops during the Conquest. Finally, panting like a dog chasing buried treasure, I rolled into the ancient Inca capital of Cusco.
The reunion with Natalie was a wonderful experience and after exchanging warm hugs, she quickly discovered my bottomless appetite and love for greasy street food. Over the next week, we explored the city together and celebrated my 1 year anniversary into the trip with a Gato Negro, the cheapest wine available, and an awe-inspiring tour of Macchu Pichu.
Wildly overpriced and over-run with tourists, Macchu Pichu still did not fail to impress. Set upon a sheer mountaintop with the picturesque Huayna Pichu rising behind the ruins, it was among the dozens of Inca ruins along the Urubamba valley, and one of the few not discovered by the Spaniards.
Leaving Cusco, Natalie and I cycled across one last high pass and gained access to the Peruvian altiplano, a place where fierce winds, big silence, and vast horizons dominated.
Although our first view of Lake Titicaca, the massive highland lake that borders Peru and Bolivia, was across the bleak cityscape of Puno, our last few days in Peru cycling along the shores of the lake revealed its beautiful aqua-blue waters and supreme light. Arriving in Puno, exhausted, we smelled our way to the finest pizzerias in town (as advised by my friend fellow cycling friend, Eric who sampled just about every one of the dozens in town - thanks!), and finding a home in one particular Macchu Pizza, we put them out of business two nights in a row.
Wildly overpriced and over-run with tourists, Macchu Pichu still did not fail to impress. Set upon a sheer mountaintop with the picturesque Huayna Pichu rising behind the ruins, it was among the dozens of Inca ruins along the Urubamba valley, and one of the few not discovered by the Spaniards.
Leaving Cusco, Natalie and I cycled across one last high pass and gained access to the Peruvian altiplano, a place where fierce winds, big silence, and vast horizons dominated.
Although our first view of Lake Titicaca, the massive highland lake that borders Peru and Bolivia, was across the bleak cityscape of Puno, our last few days in Peru cycling along the shores of the lake revealed its beautiful aqua-blue waters and supreme light. Arriving in Puno, exhausted, we smelled our way to the finest pizzerias in town (as advised by my friend fellow cycling friend, Eric who sampled just about every one of the dozens in town - thanks!), and finding a home in one particular Macchu Pizza, we put them out of business two nights in a row.
But Macchu Pizza was far from our normal diet. Food in Peru leaves much to be desired; greasy food like fries and burgers dominate the budget street scene, and the 'tipico' is usually a slice of chicken or meat with a heaping load of white rice.
Fighting stomach problems and the physical stress of the first days cycling with a fully loaded bike, Natalie was having a difficult time adjusting to the food, and perhaps, the altitude. We both hit rock bottom in the town of Sicuani, where after a prodigious heap of french fries and a fried egg, bathed in a small lake of oil tried to make entry to our mouths. It ordinarily breaks my heart to see food go to waste, but this one was nearly inedible! We were ready for a change (we could believe in).
With her characteristic strength and resolve, Natalie managed to ride through the entire distance with fortitude, and I was glad to have a cycling companion to share in the awe of experiences all along the way.
Needless to say, our stoves and culinary skills saw much more use and we made better friends with iodine tablets as we ventured our way closer to the Bolivian border.
Nearing the border, our anxiety levels rose, particularly because of the complicated bureocracy involved for American travelers; I, for holding a US passport since my immigration from Nepal, and for Natalie. Since Evo Morales took office in Bolivia, he made the entry requirements for Americans the same as those Bolivians would face to enter the US.
Fair enough, but that meant a whopping $135 fee per person. In the end, I decided to force an illegal entry into the country - an adventure within itself - and also justified the venture in my code of ethics because I saw the fee as a sign of petty politics between countries engaging in a childish war of words. If you're interested in my experience of the illegal border crossing, feel free to check out this post.
Having anticipated my journey through the length of Peru since the beginning of this trip, I looked back with mixed feelings on it. While I was greatly impressed and inspired with each turn at the stunning natural beauty, the cultural history of the Incas and the world-changing events of the Spanish Conquest, I found it a challenge to deal with the lack of good food and the startling effects of globalization. Used toilet paper and soda bottles littered the roads, sometimes even along remote mountains passes, children and villagers were hostile and demanding in their 'requests' for money, and the biting poverty made me delve deeper into questioning the discourses of modernization and the efficacy of the numerous 'aid-programs' working in Peru.
The people I did manage to make close contact with, however, left a deep impression of humility, wisdom, kindness, and hospitality. By the time I reached Cuzco, I had learned a sufficient amount of Quechua to carry basic conversations. Even though my photos from this section of the trip glorify the natural and archaeological wonders of Peru, the interactions I made with my new friends along the road helped enrich my Peruvian odyssey and made it far more rewarding than Macchu Pichu or the Cordillera Blanca ever could.
***
Acknowledgments
- Gilberto: for your good company and the lively conversations shared at the vast ruins of Huanuco Pampa.
- Alex Verde Acosta and Fredy Vicente: for sharing your hospitality at the Bomberos station in Huanuco.
- Markus Greter: thanks for the great info on the route ahead and for the exciting roadside meeting of cyclists!
- Seth and Kirsten Gates: for your amazing company throughout the Peruvian highlands and for all the good vibes shared!
- Senora Marleny and the whole village of Huariaca: for all the generous gifting and making a stinky group of cyclists feel very welcome in your village!
- Denise: the bread halfway up the hill to Cerro de Pasco was just what we needed to fuel the climb.
- Escuela 30 de Agosto: for your good humored cheerfulness and helping me celebrate 13,000 kilometers on the road!
- Cesar: for the giant coca cola and giant cake gifted in Cerro de Pasco.
- Kenya: for the gift of a seductive conversation and helping me hone my flirting skills in Quechua further.
Acknowledgments
- Gilberto: for your good company and the lively conversations shared at the vast ruins of Huanuco Pampa.
- Alex Verde Acosta and Fredy Vicente: for sharing your hospitality at the Bomberos station in Huanuco.
- Markus Greter: thanks for the great info on the route ahead and for the exciting roadside meeting of cyclists!
- Seth and Kirsten Gates: for your amazing company throughout the Peruvian highlands and for all the good vibes shared!
- Senora Marleny and the whole village of Huariaca: for all the generous gifting and making a stinky group of cyclists feel very welcome in your village!
- Denise: the bread halfway up the hill to Cerro de Pasco was just what we needed to fuel the climb.
- Escuela 30 de Agosto: for your good humored cheerfulness and helping me celebrate 13,000 kilometers on the road!
- Cesar: for the giant coca cola and giant cake gifted in Cerro de Pasco.
- Kenya: for the gift of a seductive conversation and helping me hone my flirting skills in Quechua further.
- Señor Gomez: for your kind hospitality in letting me spend the night at the police station in La Oroya.
- Michel Sakamoto Santana: for helping lead me into the chaotic Huancayo, and for helping me to get Bucephalus cleaned and outfitted with new pedals!
- Max: for letting me use the services at the bike shop, and for all the positive vibrations!
- Miguel Torres: thanks for your wonderful hospitality in Huancayo and for all the amazing stories and 'dichos' shared!
- Lucila Mendez Ramez: thanks for all the Quechua lessons and for your angelic patience in helping me learn so many Quechua sayings and adages.
- Domingo William Anccasi: for helping me understand Andean geology in depth high up in the Central Cordillera.
- Don Delfin: thanks for filling up my water bottles with your sweet maté.
- Santiago Lema: for the travel stories and the good company on the long and lonely stretch of road between Lachoc and Rumichaca.
- Gilbert: thanks for helping me learn more about village life in the highlands and for all the stories shared late into the night and for all the cups of maté as we huddled around the fire next to Lago Choclococha on the highest road in the world.
- Ingrid, Nelly, and Nancy: you are the best bomberos in the world! Thanks for your good vibes in Ayacucho and for showing me the strength and independence of Peruvian women.
- Jens: for your good company and all the jokes shared on our hike up Huayna Picchu.
- Richard: for the hot tip on cheap lodging in the tourist infested Aguas Calientes.
- Enrique: for the memorable hitch and the good advice along the traintracks on our illicit 'Inca Trail' hike.
- Rolfi: for helping straighten my bent derailleur and for maintaining an excellent bike shop in Cusco!
- Sr. Quispe: for enthusiastically sharing all those stories with me in Sicuani, even though I was too tired and too hungry to sustain the conversation longer!
- Ted Van Eijk: you are an inspiration, and your hilarious stories and illuminated gestures will forever be remembered! Best on the rest of your trip!
- Macchu Pizza: I have never thanked a whole restaurant, but the pizzas were seriously divine and a welcome change to the usual Peruvian fare!
- Juan and Julio: for the exhilirating high altitude bike race near Pomata and for keeping up with my slow pace the remainder of the way for a chat!
- Edy, Veronica, and Maribel: thank you for your hospitality and kindness during our last night in Perú.
- Natalie: thank you for your company, for doing your best to overcome all the challenges, and for getting through the miles through thick and thin. You've seen me as I am, through the weak moments and the delirious highs, and I'm glad our time together has helped us both reach our goals. Until the next chapter...
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