Peru Part 5: An Oasis and An Ending
The trip was coming to an end, I could smell it in the air and it was effecting my mood.
The day we boated out of the jungle, we also flew to Arequipa. The town itself was old Spanish colonial with beautiful stonework buildings. During a tour of a convent, I threatened to leave the girls behind to adjust their attitudes. They didn’t take the threat seriously. Our stay was short because our only reason for being there was to see Colca Canyon. Our bus tour started at 3am, and fearing a repeat of the Rainbow Mountain incident, I preemptively dosed myself with medications. The tour bus stopped for breakfast at a terrible cafĂ© that served scrambled eggs and what I referred to as “judges bread” as I banged it on the table like a gavel… no one laughed but that’s show biz, baby. At the canyon itself we did see a few condors flying in the distance and some people dressed in rather impressive condor outfits getting photos with tourists for tips. Somehow during this outing, my paternal instincts earned me the nickname “Father Condor”… Made me regret not leaving my companions at the convent. After the canyon we took a night bus to Ica. The bus was actually kind of fun, but uneventful. I sat on the top level a the very front and had an amazing view of the sunset and sunrise and watched movies in-between.
In Ica we somehow had our wires crossed and ended up at the wrong address, a van passing by stopped to inform us this was a bad neighborhood and that if we were staying we should not go out at night. NOTED. We got properly orientated and situated at the right address a bit further north at what I chose to assume was a safer area. I had a bit of a nap but was in a bad mood from the girls giving me a mean nickname and definitely not sleep deprivation and being a little hungry. We had some local Chinese food that I can only describe as bad and then caught a taxi to Huacachina, a small Oasis in the desert. It appears designed for post cards. I wanted to rent a buggy and fly through the dunes but was informed we could only get driven around by “professionals”. We bought our tickets and were walked to the buggy, a Nissan 4×4 that had the body stripped off and some chairs and a frame welded on. Looking at the bald street tires I didn’t have much hope for this trip. I was wrong, that driver must have been having marital problems because he drove that rig like he didn’t want to go home. We got a bit of air a few times and all my videos have excited screaming in them. We stopped and did a few short trips down the sand dunes on toboggans, plywood with some plastic on them shaped vaguely like a snowboard. The buggy was wilder than expected and the sand boarding was milder, but as any good Canadian, I have had several near death experiences on toboggans so maybe my perception is skewed.
It was now Renata’s turn to pick an activity. She chose a vineyard tour, at first I wasn’t very excited but, I skipped breakfast and we did a wine tasting first… so I got in the spirit pretty fast. With the better part of a buzz on, we got to tour TACAMA, the oldest Vineyard in South America. They explained a lot about wine but I was just enjoying the fresh air and architecture. I’m not sure I’ll ever be a wine guy, but I’m definitely a have a few drinks and wander around an old farm guy. That evening we found a street food vendor doing chicken shawarma and given the last few days of bad food, this food was nearly a religious experience.
Mildly hungover and sad to be leaving the shawarma stand behind, we caught a bus to Paracas, Peru’s tourist town. A small oceanside town with an abundance of hotels and restaurants but somehow, the locals just couldn’t quite connect the dots to make it fun. First was our hotel, Renata and I got put in a room right beside the reception so all night we could hear the receptionist getting phone calls, and in the morning guests stood outside our door to shout their daily plans to each other. We asked about changing rooms or even to a partner hotel across the street and were told that was not possible. We asked the hotel across the street anyway and they said they would be happy to… so we moved before anyone could change their minds. Natalie and I wanted to do some scuba but could only find a few places offering it, but it was actually through the same dive shop. The prices were steep and the photos looked like it was just mucky water. I looked into renting a bike to cruise around, maybe drive through the desert nearby but all we could find were little scooters. Then I found dune buggies but they were small cc and guided tour only, the tour was slow along a paved road. This place felt like a retreat for toddlers.
We ended up hiring a car to take us for a drive to some local beaches and viewpoints. The ocean was too cold to swim in and the wind was picking up so we mostly got driven around. The guide was fun and insisted on getting a bunch of funny photos of all of us jumping at the same time. Somehow, at the time it was about the funniest thing we had ever seen. We then had a lazy day of walking around the town and the beach nearby, ate some seafood and had an early night.
We caught the bus to Lima and I could feel the dread in my chest, the trip was winding down. We met with Fiorella again, she returned my jacket and took us around the city for last minute shopping and a tour. We had a nice dinner and watched a movie in our rental apartment, which was probably the nicest place we stayed. It was a high rise with big windows and a view of the ocean. I was sad to leave but real life was calling, I had to get back to work and to my little apartment.
All that was left was to get home, and Air Canada did such a bad job of it that they ended up booking me a flight on WestJet that got me home 12 hours late. Typical of Canadian Airlines.
Peru was a lot of fun, and like everywhere I’ve been, I feel like I scratched the surface. Now find myself daydreaming about going back and exploring just a little more… maybe someday, until then, I’ve already got other destinations in the planning stages.
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Posted in Travel and tagged backpacking, peru, travelwith 1 comment.
Peru Part 3: Sick As A Dog And A Day Of Rest
I often feel a bit of a fool when writing. I tend to default to “and then I, and then I, after that we, then we, and then I” and it makes me feel like a toddler telling someone about their day. I’m excited about what happened but do my readers really want a chronological play by play that almost feels like a police report? So here’s my attempt at something with a little heart.
I find myself losing sleep a night thinking of all the places I will never go, and the places I have been haunt me as places I may never see again. I want to see Africa and hunt big game and ride the famous ore train in Mauritania. I want to go back to the Himalayas and feel the cold air on my face and take deep breaths in the Buddhist temples and smell the tapestries older than the country I am from. I want to spin the prayer wheels and hear them squeak on their metal rods. I want to see the huge vultures fly overhead again, but the truth is, I barely survived the first time.
This was my second try at South America. The first time through I went home six months into my one year trip nearly 40lbs lighter. I was sick, downright sick. Food just wouldn’t stay in me and I didn’t want to eat anyway. It broke my heart and irreparably damaged my now ended marriage. And I was now in Peru.. in South America.. again, and sick again. Natalie had stayed in the apartment that day feeling unwell and I wished I had joined her. I had been sick for over a week, just a problem beginning daily anew. A combination of nerves, bad genetics, and bad food. Earlier in the week, a horrible tasting Hawaiian pizza Vanessa and I split ended my day early. In fact, one of the few things that didn’t upset my stomach was the alpaca burger I tried, though, spiritually, that didn’t feel great. The day before, our usual driver, Victor, had taken us through the sacred valley and showed us amazing sights including open air salt mines that had somehow never come under the thumb of a major conglomerate, instead remaining the property of the community, growing as the families did. For me though, the trip was simply a drive from bathroom to bathroom while swilling Pepto-Bismol and taking concerning amounts of anti-diarrhea meds. Its funny to talk about but at the time, it broke my heart, because I cant help but think of the person I could be if I weren’t sick.
Instead of hanging back with Natalie, I joined Renata and Vanessa for a 4 am pickup to take us to Rainbow Mountain. How could I not? Its THE Rainbow Mountain, the one on the postcards, the one I see on all the dating apps, along with an unusual amount of paddle boarding pictures… that’s not related to travel, but why are so many people on dating apps into paddle boarding? it always struck me as boring. At any rate, as we stepped out of our apartment, my stomach was making it clear, every step out of my home was in defiance. My stomach churned in a way that I can only describe as a direct threat to my dignity.
The microbus driver was late, he couldn’t find us for nearly half an hour. In his defense, we were in Cusco. I don’t think there’s a harder city to navigate, its all narrow one way roads on steep hills. Walkways and roadways are indistinguishable. He found us, and I pulled him aside and explained I was unwell and would need a bathroom very VERY soon. He shook his head and said we were the first on the bus and the next bathroom was 45 minutes out of town. I told him I probably couldn’t wait that long and he said he would find something. The bus slowly made its rounds, struggling to find each passenger in the maze of a city. After a few stops, I think the guide noticed the sweat beading on my face and waved me off the bus. He took me behind a city bus stop and said “you can pee here”.. this was not the first time someone in Peru thought my stomach ache meant I had to pee. I was starting to wonder if maybe Peruvians dont get digestive issues, that would explain some of the street food I had seen. After clarifying the situation, we got back on the bus. We plowed our way through the very early morning traffic. My entire body tensed and I counted down the 45 minutes on my watch, praying he was telling the truth. True to his word, right on time, we pulled in to a truck stop for fuel. I sprinted to the bathrooms in an outbuilding and had a seat. It was bad, it was shameful, and it was depressing. I was in pain, but in an embarrassing way, a way that rarely gets sympathy. I texted the girls in the group chat and asked them to text me when the bus was done fueling. I sat for a long time. I weighed my options… it was: risk an accident on the bus, or stay there until I felt better enough to travel and maybe try and take a taxi home… but I was nearly an hour away from our rental, would a taxi take me that far? I sat there disheartened and embarrassed, I wondered if traveling just wasn’t for me, and I worried I’d never get invited on another trip. Who would want to travel with me? I’m just sick all the time. The girls didn’t see my text but I heard the bus fire up. Snap decision, I ran and got on.
Nearly an hour of driving later, we stopped for a breakfast. I barely touched it, but again used the facilities and filled my pockets with tissues. The girls ate my share of breakfast, we did have a long day ahead of us. The bus rattled up a gravel and mud road surrounded by amazing mountain views. I squinted my eyes and did my best to distract myself any way I could. I listened to a podcast and tried to imagine everything they talked about in extreme detail. Renata had shown me study that activating your imagination can sometimes shut down anxiety, it worked a little, but as soon as the bus stopped, I b-lined for the bathroom. We started our hike and hit light rain. The hiking wasn’t bad, the exercise distracted me from my stomach and we slowly made our way to the top. Unfortunately it was cloudy and rainy at the top and the famous view just wasn’t there. We saw a muted red hillside with hazy clouds in the way. We got what pictures we could and waited as long as possible for the weather to clear but it just didn’t. Out of time, we turned and headed down. Once we descended the steepest part, the clouds parted, Renata turned back but I just didn’t have the energy left in me. The clouds came back before Renata could make it back up. The bus ride home wasn’t as tense for me, but I was still off and making use of every bathroom at every stop.
We were scheduled to hike the 7 lakes of Ausangate with the same tour company the following day. Natalie was still sick and I yielded to my stomach’s demands and stayed back with Natalie. It ended up being one of my favorite days of the trip. Vanessa and Renata left early in the morning, and I slept in a little then went to the local shop and got some snacks. I came back and fired up the little ceramic plated propane heater. The apartment was exposed wood beams made of logs rather than squared off lumber, and cracked plaster coated the walls. It looked, felt, and smelt, like a South American home, it had unique architecture and the floors had a charming squeak to them, its imperfections made it perfect to the point that houses here in Canada feel like soulless hospital waiting rooms and office cubicles by comparison. The kitchen was simple, but the kettle worked and that’s all I wanted. Natalie and I settled in on the lounge chair and couch and scrolled through Netflix. I found just the right movie, a comedy from my childhood, The Three Amigos. It was what I needed in that moment, we followed it up with another of my favorites, Tremors. I’m a sucker for a double feature. Natalie hadn’t seen either before. After sufficient lazing about and movie watching, the other girls were back from their trip and we went to Cafe Organik. The waitress walked us to our table, but there was a grey kitty on the chair. She picked him up and carefully set him on another chair at another table without so much as a meow or head raise. We sat and I motioned for her to hand me the cat, she smiled and plopped him on my lap and informed me that his name was Tiburon (the Spanish word for shark). He was soft and cuddly and sat on my lap the entire meal. It was a lazy waste of a day and it was perfect. The following morning, we hopped another flight that would start the jungle adventure part of our trip which was another amazing highlight but also another fight against my health.
Despite my weak stomach and willingness to complain about it… my friends and I are already planning our next big trip so… guess I’m just going to keep powering through. Hope the next trip has a few rest days and friendly cats in cozy cafes.
Posted in Hiking, Travel and tagged adventure, backpacking, Cusco, Ollantaytambo, Outdoors, peru, Rainbow Mountain, travelwith no comments yet.
Peru Part 2: Birthday in Cusco and Salkantay to Machu Picchu
I’ve always hated birthdays, just a reminder of the relentless passing of time and my shortage of progress. The closest thing I’ve ever found to a cure is have really weird birthdays, last year I took my motorcycle off-roading with a friend and didn’t mention it was my birthday until I was leaving, it was a good day. 2023 I was in Pokhara doing a tour of Tibetan culture in Nepal. Wonder what I’ll do next year.
Lima
Natalie and Vanessa arrived in the morning, dropped their gear and we were off. We met with Renata’s local friend Fiorella. They had met via a Facebook group for people wanting to learn new languages and had been video calling to learn English and Spanish. She was kind enough to give us a tour of the city that included a local ceviche place, a visit to a Paddington Statue, a market, a park full of cats, and a fancy restaurant called Clon. I felt a little like Guy Fieri checking out a hole in the wall local joint and fine dining in the same day. Fiorella was also kind enough to hold onto my motorcycle jacket and gloves as I didn’t need them for the remainder of the trip.
Cusco
The girls only got to spend a single night in that nice AirBnb because in the morning we flew to our next destination. Cusco, its an amazing city, but its all steep and narrow stone streets. I joked it wasn’t a walkable city but a climbable one, no one laughed, but that show biz, baby. Our first day there we got checked into a bit of a shabby hotel high up the hill of town and walked down to the market. We had amazing falafel for lunch and somehow I was the only one who didn’t get a little sick from it, which is unusual. We wandered the city a bit and the girls made a few coffee stops and we saw what felt like a few dozen churches.
Birthday
The day of my birthday I met Renata at a cafĂ©, she had left the hotel long before me. She was kind enough to buy me a pistachio croissant for breakfast. From there we hiked to a giant statue of Jesus, high above the city. The highlight of that was getting a picture with an alpaca named Javier. We then met up with the other girls and went to a market where we had a smoothie. The smoothie lady was very excited about my birthday and kept giving me extra to drink. I think I was the only one not excited about my birthday, I had actually been dreading it and was somewhat dragging myself along around the city that day. For dinner I was taken to yet another fine dining establishment, I had the beef and it was amazing, and a birthday brownie was brought out for me. I felt a little awkward in my travel clothes being served by people in suits, but it is what it is. Fancy restaurants always make me feel like an old farm dog that snuck into the house, it feels a little unnatural like at any minute I’m going to get scolded and removed for no particular reason.
Pisac
As a test and prep for our upcoming trip to Machu Picchu we went to Pisac to see the ruins. We were driven by a delightful man named Victor. He spoke a little english. I had showed Renata the Punch Buggy Game (where you punch someone when you spot a VW beetle). He thought it was hilarious, but I was losing to bad, he started pointing them out to me before Renata could strike. On the way he stopped off to show us a big alpaca and llama farm where we could feed them by hand. Not sure what the point of the place was, but it was sure fun. The ruins themselves were beautiful and we could walk all over them. We hired a guide who seemed knowledgeable but he must have been quite a busy guy because he had a backpack full of homemade goods to sell. He first showed us his polished moon stones, then his hand made flutes, and his hand made beaded birds (identical to the ones we saw for sale in Guatemala), and his homemade aroma therapy oils that he somehow had a perfect factory looking label on… or maybe he was just full of alpaca dung and trying to sell us mass market goods. Hard to say, but I know what I would guess.
Salkantay
At 5am Victor picked us up and drove us to the start of the trek. It was a few hours drive and the last of it was on a narrow road carved off the side of the mountain. Eventually we hit a stand still traffic jam and someone informed us the road ahead had washed out. We were instructed to jump out, gear up, and start hiking. It was lightly raining and I was already cold, I hate starting a hike that way on top of being upset about being reminded just how old I am getting. My friends, my creaky knee, and I all hiked along the road between the jammed cars and micro busses until we saw the washed road and a trail down and around it. As we took the detour I saw the entire community had come together with shovels and pick axes to make our new trail and begin repairs on the road. That road was important, and it would seem the government probably wouldn’t be fixing it soon. We had only hiked about an hour, if that, and we asked someone for directions to our hotel for the night. He pointed at a building and said “that one” we assumed it was a mistake but no, Victor had driven us nearly to our hotels doorstep. We were checked into an uninsulated and unheated room with 7 beds. We dropped our gear and hoped no one else would be joining us. I put on my thin fleece sweater and my rain poncho. I left my down jacket and rain jacket at home hoping for warm weather and reduced weight… I was wrong. I ended up cold and carrying Renata’s poncho in my bag, however she was kind enough to let me wear it. We hiked uphill, in the rain, to Humantay Lake. The hike was all of an hour but I was cold and sweaty at the same time, my flimsy rain poncho, still holding on for dear life from when I purchased it for $1 in Thailand, was really just trapping moisture in. We got to the top and I was feeling a little ill and was immediately annoyed by all the influencers doing costume changes and photo shoots. I get the importance of social media fame for, almost, every job now, but it still annoys the hell out of me to see influencers in the wild. I headed back to the hotel long before the girls. When I got there I put on as many layers as I could and hid under the blankets desperate to get warm. In the evening we all played cards and huddled as close as we could to the ceramic pot being used as a mobile fire pit. Unfortunately we were seated by the door and people were seeing how much they could come in and out and they were most definitely unfamiliar with doors, especially the concept of closing them. The lovely old woman running the place caught on that I was cold and unwell and brought me a hot water bottle to put on my stomach under the poncho. She also started laying down the law on the door being closed. Lovely woman, five stars.
Also, a funny thing happened. It doesnt fit smoothly into the story but I just had to talk about it. The kitchen area for the hotel was outside, and there was a big group staying at the hotel so there was a lot of food being brought in. The chef, was wearing hiking pants and a down jacket, typical of the younger men in the area, but he felt it important to wear a white chefs hat. That on its own was funny enough, but more than once he ran past us, with a tray in each hand, the hat on, and running on his tip toes like a cartoon character sneaking. It was just so candid and caught us all off guard it became something we laughed about a lot on the hike.
Day two of the hike was the real highlight. It was the hike over Salkantay pass… The over part was the problem. It wasn’t raining but the previous days rain had left mud which contained a large amount of horse manure. It was effectively an uphill trudge through wet horse poo. The view at the top was nice, and we did see condors flying high overhead, but the trail was crowded and I was downright exhausted. From the top of the pass we hiked downhill for nearly seven hours. It was long enough I thought we had gotten lost. We eventually landed at our hotel which was noteworthy for how bad it was. Keep in mind how much I travel, this one was probably top 10. The rooms were simple, but had art on the wall that still had the corner protectors on the frames, and one was hung blocking part of the window. The bathrooms upstairs near our rooms didn’t have showers that worked so we had to go downstairs through the, thankfully, empty dining area to get the the shower. Three of us had lukewarm showers, but poor Vanessa had a cold one. There was no shower curtain and the drain didn’t work well which was just unpleasant. In the room I had to smash a bug for Renata, one more reason to bring a real book instead of an e-reader. Now, dinner was another sight, we paid about $5 for it, which is steep in Peru. It was boiled spaghetti with salsa and something similar to parmesan cheese. It. Was. Awful. Just downright bad. I had hiked for nearly eleven hours that day and just couldn’t finish a plate. In the morning we were woken up by a half hour of a diesel engine idling. I was glad to be walking away from that place.
Our hike to the next stop was a boring one. We hiked along the road all day, Renata and Vanessa ran off far ahead so Natalie and I had the day to catch up on gossip. There were a few waterfalls that ran across the road, so I swapped my hikers for crocs. We arrived at the Eco Lodge to find it was actually a really nice hotel and I got my own private room, which was nice. Dinner was veggies, rice, and beef, but the beef was a rather pathetic unidentifiably cut that resembled a bat wing… sometimes, its best not to investigate. After dinner the hotel called us a car to drive us to the local hot springs, the road was narrow, and the shoulders steep. I also noticed a lot of burning clutch smell and the dash lit up like a Christmas tree with warning lights whenever we went up hill. The hot springs were nice, but not worth talking about. We left after dark and I found our car had only one working headlight, and a dim one at that.
The last day of the hike was to a town called Agua Caliente, it was effectively 22km in the heavy rain. Luckily, the rain was warm and we were headed to a hotel so it didn’t bother me much. Renata and I hiked together, we thought we were ahead of the others so we stopped at a hotel/cafe for tea, from there we could see Machu Picchu across the valley, barely. We waited over an hour for the girls, and decided they must have gone around (they actually snuck passed somehow). As we got closer to town we walked along train tracks, where I couldn’t resist the urge to put a coin on the tracks and see what happens. The train squashed it, but not as dramatically as I had hoped. We met the others in town and got into our hotel, again somehow uphill. It was ok, but the windows opened into the hallway not outside, and all night the lights were on and coming in through the window. Somewhere there’s an architect who needs a slap. We then took a day off to rest, we explored town and found another Paddington statue.
Machu Picchu
We had the option to hike to the site, but it was a few kilometers of steep switch backs, so we opted to take the half hour bus. Once up there, we did a self guided tour based on some research I had done, and the previous days rain had left a lot of the drainage and irrigation systems functioning. We were supposed to hike to Huayna Picchu as part of our pass, but due to rainy season, it was closed so we were allowed to go up top to get the famous post card view. There isn’t much to tell of it, the weather was great, the views were great and I was a little sad. I wanted to visit this famous place for decades, ever since I was a kid, and especially since university. I almost went during my honeymoon in 2015/2016 but didn’t quite make it. And now I was here, and it was all just kind of a pile of rocks. I know there’s great history there, but everything was “maybe it was this” and “we think it was used for that” and in the end, it again felt like an influencer photo studio. We got our share of photos too, hopped the bus, got our stuff from the hotel, and caught a train. To be honest, I think the train was almost as much fun, we were comfortable, eating, and taking in the view together.
The Lucky Horseshoe
On the first day of the Salkantay Trek, I had left the lake early and headed back to the hotel to lie under blankets and try to warm up. When the girls came back, they found a horseshoe stuck in a muddy creek bank and knew I would want it. So they brought it back for me. I wrapped it in a plastic grocery bag and stuffed it away in my pack. It stayed there until I got home. I cleaned it with some vinegar and gave it a scrub, it revealed that it was fairly modern (not surprising) and had been made from rebar. It now hangs above my doorway for luck. In Peru I noticed they would hammer them into the floor at entryways, typically on the top step, unfortunately, that isn’t an option in my apartment.
Posted in Hiking, Travel and tagged backpacking, Cusco, hiking, Machu Picchu, Outdoors, peru, travelwith 5 comments.
Peru Part 1: Motorcycle Fool’s Errand
I’ve been to Peru before, but was only in Lima for about a week. I haven’t been to South America since my honeymoon in 2015, that trip didn’t work out, and neither did the marriage. So of course when the idea was suggested in the group chat I was hesitant but also looking for a bit of redemption. Its hard as a writer when you can’t put a feeling into words, that’s my job, but I guess I just wanted to salvage South America. Like if I could go there and have a good time it would undo some of the failures of my past.
The plan was for me and three friends: Natalie, Renata, and Vanessa to all go to Peru together. You may remember them from other adventures like my Guatemala trip. As it turns out, I would be there a week before the girls arrived so I did the natural thing and rented a motorcycle and did a trip north. I found a few motorcycle rental options but the most affordable, by a huge margin, was a Hero Eco 150cc (boasting a whopping 13.5 horsepower). I did a sizeable amount of research on the best available route and decided to do Canyon Del Pato. It was a long flight there, and getting from the airport to hotel resulted in some confusion when my pre-booked ride didn’t show up so they sent another only to have both arrive at the same time. In the evening I explored the city a bit and got some food. Ordering that first meal, alone, in a new country is always a great feeling when successful and in this case I was able to use my Spanish, which felt like a big win.
Lima to Barranca
In the morning I picked up the bike and hit the road. My first impressions were that Peruvians were crazy. Traffic was bad and the motorcyclists belonged in a circus exhibition show the way they drove. I did my best to match their style in an attempt to be predictable. An easy trick was to find a bike and follow it through the traffic. Once I got outside of the city it was a much calmer ride, but my bikes lack of power became quite obvious. I found I was topping out somewhere around 70km/h. The landscape was also a little depressing, it was all desert and sad huts and shacks barely standing. Peru also has a major little problem with at times resulted in a bit of a landfill small. The rental place suggested I see Chancay Castle. I googled some pictures and it looked like an interesting old castle, maybe a relic from Spanish colonialism. I drove half an hour out of my way to find it was actually a theme park… I didn’t go in. I passed a checkpoint and was waved in, my blood pressure spiked and I had visions of Peruvian incarceration because I didn’t have cash for a bribe. Turns out this cop was very honest, he checked my paperwork and we did our best to communicate, eventually he just asked “tourist?” “si, tourist” “ok, have good day”. My hotel for the night was off the beaten path down some dusty back roads and at one point a dog ran out to chase me, I barely got away… my motorcycle was barely faster than a terrier, thank got it wasn’t a whippet chasing me. The hotel was nice, but no one spoke English, with my lacking Spanish they explained that they dont have a kitchen, I had to order food. After some “chatting” with them, they were kind enough to call and order for me. The food was amazing, grilled chicken and french fries. I spent the evening alone in my hotel room wondering just how foolish this idea was.
Barranca to Huaraz
It wasn’t an interesting day, but it was a challenging one. I started the day early as there were predictions of rain and I wanted to get ahead of it. The landscape changed from desert to more grassland and I gained elevation.. nearly 4000 meters of elevation actually. That little bike with its carburetor really struggled, in fact, I was going so slow up the switchbacks that I got pulled over. Again, I was nervous and again the police were honest. A quick license and paperwork check followed by a handshake and a goodbye. I arrived at town tired, dehydrated, and starving and promptly got lost looking for my hotel. Google Maps kept leading my down a dead-end alleyway. After the second time I used satellite view to science it out a bit better and finally found it on the edge of town. Then it took 15 minutes of banging on the door before someone let me in, as usual I was the only guest. I had more chicken for dinner at 5pm, my first meal of the day, and went to bed early not feeling well. I was quite cold, as we were high up, but the hotel had no heaters, the owner was kind enough to give extra blankets.
Huaraz to Caraz
While loading my bike, I tipped it against a brick wall and broke the last inch off the brake lever. Not a great start to the day. The road to the next town was a bit rough, but it was paved. I then deviated to see a lake that the hotel owner in Huaraz had suggested I visit. The road was a sand and gravel mess, more potholes than road and no shortage of wash out. I fought my way up it for 45 minutes and paid to get in to the park. 15 more minutes of driving and I was at Llanganuco Lake. It would have been at home anywhere in the Rockies with its turquois waters. Downhill was a little faster, more in the fashion of a mountain bike than a motorcycle. I made my way to my hotel in Caraz, only to find my phone not able to make calls and no one opening the gate, again I banged on it and rang the bells until someone finally came. A woman with an American accent expressed shock that I was on such a small bike with such little luggage. She let me in, got me squared away and explained that I was the only guest. I joined her for a walk around the property with her dogs, which was quite lovely, then had a nice meal in the attached restaurant. The owner told me she was from Montana originally and she introduced me to her business partner, a woman from Venezuela named Maria. The room was nice, with a big bed, proper shower with hot water, and lamps beside the bed for reading (oddly rare when I travel).
Caraz to… Caraz…
After a few days of rather dull riding along roads that were either straight and boring or tight switchbacks that were a slog, I was excited to finally hit the canyon. Canyon Del Pato is well known for its winding roads, tunnels through mountains, and views of waterfalls. It comes highly recommended on adventure motorcycle travel. I loaded up my bike, bid farewell as they wished me safe travels. At 21km I excitedly went through the first tunnel and was so happy and excited to finally be doing it… but the bike felt…off. I pulled to the shoulder and had a good look at my, now flat, rear tire. Some serious adventure bikers from Argentina stopped to help, but I found my emergency tool kit provided with the bike had no spare tubes in it, just an old wrench and a clutch cable. They aired my tire up and suggested I turn back, which I did. I made it 1km to a cafe, the woman explained that I couldn’t get a tire shop to send someone to me and hiring a truck would be very expensive so I was best to wait for a truck to come by and catch a ride. Only one truck came by, a large gravel truck who couldn’t fit the bike. I decided I best press on, the woman lent me a hand pump more suited to a bicycle. I aired the tire and made it a few hundred feet before it was flat again and now unable to hold air. I couldn’t ride the bike at any speed on the flat so I had to push it. This was going to be a long day so I made a better plan. Stripped off as much gear as I could and changed to a light long sleeve shirt to keep sun off. I grabbed a gear tie (heavy duty wire that can be shaped) and used it to tie my clutch lever half way, then I set my helmet on the throttle as a lock. In this way I could let the bike slowly power itself while just holding it up. It was slow but it worked, except the foot peg would occasionally bash into my calf. A few people on motorcycles stopped but were unable to help, finally enough sun had penetrated my skull that I came up with an idea. The next bike to stop happened to be a young man who spoke some English. I asked if he could get to where there is cell service and call my hotel from last night and see about a truck. He left and I kept pushing, 45 minutes later he came back and said “that’s Maria, I know her, she said she would try and get a truck so just wait here. I’m sorry, I have to go.” and off he went. I stopped in some shade, had some water and a snack, after what felt like an hour, I started focusing on how he said that she said “try to get a truck” and decided I didn’t like that. I started pushing again. Around kilometer 4 and hour 3 of pushing a farmer stopped in his tuk-tuk, I asked if his phone worked and if I could use it. I also thanked myself for taking all those Spanish lessons, because they were absolutely paying off. Maria answered and she excitedly explained that she was on her way in a truck and I should stay put. I thanked the man for letting me use his phone. Within minutes Maria and a man were there with a big truck, a cabover larger than a pickup but smaller than a semi. He and I lifted it up and into the back and rested it on a tire. He drove Maria and I to the tire shop were she came with me to make sure I didn’t get ripped off. The driver asked 120 soles for the ride (about $45), and a new tube, tire, and install was 105 soles (about $40). I couldn’t see what caused the tire to go flat as it had been so beaten by me pushing the bike, there was no obvious puncture, so my guess was I damaged it by hitting a pot hole, or maybe the protective band inside the rim slipped and the spokes poked a hole in the tube, I’ll never know for sure. The driver left, Maria caught a taxi, and I got some gas and headed back to the hotel. It was now nearly 5pm and I was exhausted. I spent the night at that hotel and Maria informed me she was giving me a special deal on the room, which is crazy because she had already saved me, if anything I should have paid extra.
Caraz to Barranca
Unfortunately, due to that lost day and the flat tire, I couldnt keep my original route, I had to turn back and retrace my route. I laughed a little at the fact that I had driven 3 days of meh roads to get through one tunnel of the canyon and then turned around, but thats life sometimes. Now I had 2 days to retrace those steps, so I did the long ride back to Barranca. It was better riding as it was mostly downhill, but the entire time I worried about another flat. In a lapse of judgement, I booked a different hotel this time, something more central. I booked online for about $35 but when I arrived I was checked in and paid $20. In my room I wondered if this was a umm… well… a sex hotel.. there were mirrors everywhere and all the bedding was bright red velvet and zebra print. Putting it out of my mind I had a shower, the bathroom looked like they forgot to finish it, there was exposed water valves they had cut the tile to access and a hole in the top that I assume they plan to put a window in at some point, and there was no shower curtain. I got out of the shower and saw a text from booking explaining that I had been put in the wrong room at the wrong rate and I had to move to the penthouse and pay the difference. It wasn’t much nicer, but it did have a balcony, but it looked out over unfinished buildings and smog. The TV worked, and it was nice to watch a movie.
Barranca to Lima
The road back to Lima was quite dull, just a long 4 lane road through the desert. I did take this opportunity to find that bikes top speed, going down a long hill, full tuck, top gear, full throttle, I hit a whopping 97km/h. I was honestly a little furious at this point. I got back to Lima and white knuckled my way through traffic back to the man I rented the bike from who seemed shocked I was there to return it and told me he would be there in an hour, when I explained I was there now, he arrived in 10 minutes. I showed him the damage to the lever, and the new tire, and politely gave him a bit of a talking to about his pathetically insufficient emergency kit. He seemed genuinely surprised that the tire change tools weren’t in there along with a new tube. He gave me my full damage deposit back and promised the next guy would get a better kit.
I caught an Uber to the AirBnB and got checked in. Renata arrived shortly after and I nearly cried I was so happy to see a familiar face after those last few days. Our internet wasn’t working so the owner came by and fixed it and brought us a bottle of wine to apologize for the inconvenience. We drank it that night, and ate way too many maple cookies after a short walk around town to try a pisco sour. In the morning Natalie and Vanessa arrived and the rest of the trip began.
Honestly, I was quite sad about this part of the trip, the riding I was able to do wasn’t great and the bike was severely under powered for it. I considered a large bike but this one cost $300 to rent while a larger one, 500 cc, cost around $1200. It made me realize the importance of enough power but also my need to learn how to change a tire and have the tools to do it myself. For an experienced biker that could have been a 1 hour setback, I lost an entire day that cost me the main purpose of my trip, that’s on me. I did learn that there are trustworthy people willing to help in these countries, like the friendly police, all the bikers who stopped to help, the cafĂ© worker who gave me a pump, and especially the hotel owner who came and retrieved me. But in the end, like most things in life, it was on me to help myself and I just couldn’t in that instance. I was off to a rough start, but I have four weeks and three friends to help salvage it.
Posted in Motorcycle, Travel and tagged adventure, backpacking, Outdoors, peru, travelwith 1 comment.