We are getting into the routine of things waking up around 5 to be ready by 6 and today is no different.
Tying on the soft panniers is a bit of a mission, but we have had our fair share of losing stuff in the past.
We are in high spirits after yesterday and are looking forward to another awesome day of outstanding riding.
Here is the route looking to the north east. Travelling right to left, from Huancayo through Conception to Jauja the road is tarred, but after that there is 180km of dirt, crossing out of sight over the central Andes down to La Merced in the distance.
Of course we could keep straight on to Tarma (see the blue on the far left of the pic above) and down another canyon on tar, but that will not likely be as fun or challenging as our planned route. It would be too easy. So instead we take the short cut as the crow flies on the map to La Merced, knowing it will take a longer in reality because these mountains are seriously huge and dirt road tend to be very slow going with staggering drop-offs on one side.
This route will climb from our start at 3,300m above sea level up to just over 4,500m above sea level and then drop down 3,700m into the Amazon basin. That's a total of nearly 5 kilometers in ascent or descent in just one day!!
Here is a closer view of the descent off the top (also looking northeast).
Looking in the opposite direction. The point labelled Uchubamba looks to be about half way down.
Zooming in on Google earth shows nothing but hazy green jungle. It is one of those areas still not properly covered by satellite photo's, probably due to inclement weather every time a satellite is overhead. We know the road has a lot more switchbacks than shown! Anyway enough of the stats and theory, time for some riding!
The tarred section to Jauja (pronounced in Afrikaans like gau-ga) turns out to be a monotonous and boring stretch with a lot of traffic.
The only thing we have for entertainment are idiot drivers. We slow down to accommodate guys pulling in front of us, overtaking in stupid places, kids running into the road, and trucks doing u-turns on the highway. Nothing surprises us anymore. There is no point in getting irate about it like we did in Gauteng. Here it is way, way worse. Re-education of the masses is not going make one iota of a difference anyway. Our aim is just to try get to the end of it in one piece, a task that takes about two hours and leaves us feeling a little bit tired already.
We pull over just as we hit the dirt out of Jauja so I can make a scheduled call for work before we lose cell signal
After this we will have no phones or contact with the outside world until we get to our hospedaje in la Merced.
We follow a road that I don't think has seen a grader in perhaps 10 years. Its rough and seems to consist of zinc plate and large stones which flick up and out from under our tyres. Soon enough we stop to wait for an excavator moving two huge rocks onto a truck as part of a bridge construction project. There is a lot of arm waving and instructions from the supervisors and I smile bemused as they get this earth moving job done.
I miss the shot of the day so far as I put away my camera when an impatient taxi squeezes past on the left. At the same time the rock is dropped onto the back of the truck and almost rolls off the side onto the chancing driver in the car. Holy Moly that was close!!
The irate traffic guard running, catches up to the taxi as he squeezes past us waiting there, and he hammers on the roof of the car with his fists and yells at the driver through a closed window. Non-plussed, the drivers looks over, smiles and drives away.
Not much further on we come across a fuel station and take the opportunity to top up. Never go past a fuel station if you think you might run short on petrol. We are given a fantastic welcome by the people there. Clearly gringos on big bikes are not common place in these parts.
This lady and her daughter walk up to us and ask us about our journey. Initially we are surprised by their forwardness, and being South African, we are naturally a little suspicious. But we quickly realize this is genuine curiosity.
"Where are you coming from?" they ask.
We tell them Lima, via Ayacucho. They are wowed by this. Even more so when they see a female rider!
They offer us some fresh granadillas and we graciously accept. It is so humbling that such poor people give away the little they have so easily.
There is a lesson in this for us all I think. Sometime life catches us up so much in the big rat race in the cities - We are so busy looking at our I pads and our I phones - its all about me me and me, and we stop noticing what is going on around us altogether, and treat any kind of intrusion on our cocooned lives as an offence to our sensibilities. These people don't even this thing called the internet, neither do they really care. They are just delighted to have us visiting them, and I realize I was too quick to draw a wrong conclusion.
So we chat with them animatedly for a while. This old guy also explains how happy he is to to see us. He does not ask for money; he has no need for that.
Where are we going? To La Merced. Ah but there is another way that is easier. Yes, we reply. We are more interested in going to La Merced via Uchubamba rather than Tarma. Their faces brighten up and they welcome us telling us that it really beautiful there. We ask how far it is to Uchubamba and La Merced. He says "Oh its close, on your bikes just 2 hours, probably." We know this is grossly underestimated but we don't argue. He probably seldom goes there anyway. He does tell us the way to the next village, Molinas (Maize Mills), and gives us a few tips on the road conditions and where to turn. We thank him and with that we are off again.
The road quickly turns into a narrow, bouncy challenge with a lot of very fine dust which makes passing cars quite difficult.
Its about half an hour later and we arrive in Molinas the hard way. We have somehow missed the unmarked "desvio" and now have to dodge some deep, unprotected holes in the road.
As we admire the little square ("Plaza las Armas") that is a feature of every Peruvian city, town and village. These are always the pride and joy of every municipality to the point that they are a status symbol of sorts. Some a very grandiose and colonial, while others are quite unpretentious and practical places to relax with one's family on a Saturday afternoon. As we putter past, this guy runs up to us and stops us. He also has a huge smile on his face.
He tells us he is the mayor and welcomes us as the first tourists to Molinas. His delight is contagious as he shakes our hands vigorously and then asks us permission for a photograph. He looks like he wants to tell someone else about us but there is no-one in sight. I guess that is why he wants the picture. Our presence there is certainly a big deal for him, so maybe we really are the first tourists on bikes there.
"Please enjoy your stay," he says, and we are once again overwhelmed. We move on, rolling higher and higher into the mountains, and the valley begins to narrow slowly and characteristically.
Check out the terracing going on, even here on these steep slopes. This is Inca-aged stuff.
We have this theory that the Inca people had a lot of time on their hands; so to keep them from getting bored, the Inca king set his people to terrace the whole countryside and to build stone walls everywhere.
I apologize about the picture quality, most of these were taken on the move with a wide angle lens and cropped. But to me, they capture the essence of our journey.
After a good hour or so of the most amazing winding dirt road, we arrive in another village where the single street is completely blocked by an excavator digging a 6 foot trench in the middle of the road. There is no diversion. To the left is a huge heap of dirt, so I look that the options to pass on the other side: Not enough space past that pole is my conclusion. Anyway, there is a deep drainage channel there, a slot and a worthy challenge for Graham Jarvis but not for us on loaded E-beemwes. When will we ever learn?
It crosses my mind that we will have to turn back here, but if you know me, and I am not to be outdone so easily.
I eventually decide the only way through is to ride up next to the excavator on the left, but once I am committed I realize it might have been a bit rash: There is a steep slope down to the left. I am now blocked by a big pile of earth in front and cannot get off my bike without falling over.
Hmm.
Now my only option is to cross in front under the bucket of this furiously working machine over to the drain side of the road. I notice the drain on the right is little bit shallower in front, filled with rocks and rubbish. There is also a couple of lengths of 4 inch plastic pipes strewn about. Meanwhile the excavator is still digging furiously away. I wave and yell and eventually convey my intentions to the operator. He does not shut it down but merely holds the bucket up in the air, dangling it really, and motions me to go through beneath it.
Oh shite....
If he drops it or slips his hand on the lever or something I will be dead. 'Dear Lord, just go for it', I say. It will be spectacular if I can pull this off, and spectacular if I can't.
I kick into first and pull gingerly beneath the bucket. It's a bit of a job to get the bike around the excavator but with some wheel spin its doable. The sphincter factor is now really high. I purse my lips and push on, hunching my head down instinctively. Then its a hard left turn onto and along and over the parallel pipes. The one moves about as I go over it, but I focus on not looking down and just gun it for the end hoping not to crash into the trench. Its wobbly as anything but somehow I make it with a quick foot out here and there. Not very graceful but I'm still delighted.
I leap off the bike and take this shot.
I walk back and take D's bike through for her, while she plays with the camera. Unfortunately the battery dies after that and we only have the 'mik en druk' camera with us now and my go pro.
D is happy about that me taking the bike through for her is not keen at all to ride this kind of thing. Neither am I really but we must get through. To my surprise I pull it off a second time. The construction guys are delighted and the operator comes over and offers me some dried maize in a packet. I tell him thanks but no thanks, but he insists. Little do I know how important this will be come later on.
This village is the last we see of people for quite some time. The road winds up into some really big mountains and the air becomes frigid despite the bright sunshine. Can you spot D? Awe inspiring riding.
Still climbing, we enter an areas of pampas -highveldt if you prefer- but way above the treeline.
The road becomes a series of tortuously tight switchbacks. D is battling a bit with these and goes around them slower and slower as her confidence wanes. Its happened to me too. No matter what you have learnt and know, when fear kicks in it starts to affect one's riding ability. Something that would normally easy becomes hard, and the prospect of bouncing down a steep mountainside can be really paralyzing. She stops and prays, gathering her wits.
I stop with her waiting patiently for her resolve to return. We have lots of time. We can afford to take it slow for a bit. Its high here, we are very close to the top, and the air is very thin. I am feeling horrible again and focus on taking long deep breaths. After while we ride on and within twenty minutes are nearing the top. There is yet another tight switchback and I stop, this time holding my breath as I watch D tackle it.
D takes it slowly and negotiates the turn successful. I'm delighted and proud of this simple achievement.
The top is not quite as impressive as I had imagined, but it is still beautiful.
A series of switchbacks starts our descent ahead of close to four kilometers. I'm hoping that D's confidence is growing after those last few switchbacks as we are going to need it for sure somewhere in front.
Author's side note* As I sit here now typing this I realize how much in cloud cuckoo land I must have been to continue. My leg was not great by any means and we should have capitalized on the previous day's success and built on that with another easy day to grow our self confidence. I should have taken the warning signs to heart but I did not. Overconfidence had won the day and we took a bit of a chance. But isn't that what life is about - You know sometimes testing the limits? What I will say is if we had turned back at this point I am sure we would not have had such a big adventure as we did. Was it irresponsible? I can now say it probably was with 20/20 hindsight, but therein lies the rub. Pissies will never be heroes, and we would have just had a nice trip instead of an epic adventure, and it is the latter which we remember fondly, not so much the tourist trip, even though it was nice.The road ahead does not look too bad after all!
Ha ha, fat chance.
Topic: From the Andes to the Amazon (Read 11420 times)
