We had been advised by the very helpful proprieter of the Hotel in Abancay to take the River road along the Valley to Puquio as the only other road out was treacherous and full of landslides. He described, with the help of google maps, the route along the river for 150kms then a bit high up and over the mountains before arriving in Nasca, where the altitude was better. We are given hope that the next few days of the 1000kms ride to Lima would be easier on our lungs and arms. The first ‘easier’ bit was a continuous 30 minute steep downhill ride to get to the river bed, but we got there and could breathe a bit better and relaxed into a leisurely winding ride alongside a raging river. A few challenges broke into our relaxed frame of mind, namely washaways. Riding along the valley road, we crossed about 5 causeways which got progressively deeper as we got nearer to the river itself. The causeways are cement dips in the tarmac where the gushing mountain waterfalls cascade over. That’s fine if you are a big truck. The biggest washaway presented more than a challenge for me. I leapt off the bike and we watched for some time as the bulldozer moved tons of wet earth out of the way. A truck went through. A car went through and B lined up ready to go through. Everytime the bulldozer scrapped and moved the earth the watery pit was becoming deeper. It was B’s turn to move through. I video’d the whole performance which took an alarmingly long 3.40 minutes. 30seconds in to the crossing B almost lost his footing, as the gushing water hollowed out the earth where his feet were. He had to keep moving. The bulldozer man was revving up to shivvy B along and the Yellow hardhat man was blowing his whistle furiously. I was just screaming hysterically.
Then came along an Angel in the Pink Wellies. She marched across the pitted water-filled remnants of the road, grabbed the side panniers with one hand and the back pannier with the other. She steered B, holding him up first this way, then the other, as with their 4 feet they manoeuvred their way across the raging river, shin deep. Three and a half minutes later they were on the other side and the bulldozer carried on. The yellow hard hat man got me a lift in a pick up and I was driven through eezy peezy. By the time B and I were re-united the Angel in the Pink Wellies had plodded her way back to the starting point. How could we say Thank You? While we were faffing around, shaking wet boots and calming down, she strode over again, this time wading knee deep. Big hugs and thanks you’s and a fistful of Pesos did it for us and her.
The valley road at 3200m went on and on for over 100kms, with magnificent gorges and canyons and plateaus. By the time we got to Piquio, the mist had covered all the landscape and even though it was only 1pm we found the one and only hotel, parked the bike, stripped off wet boots and socks, snuggled up in a warm bed and, being a Sunday, found FI on Radio Five Live to listen to the AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX.
Puquio is a tiny bus stop town. Huge tour buses and coaches zoomed through on the one and only route joining Cusco to the Coast. By 6pm the stalls were set up and the restaurants opened, all in freezing mist and muddy conditions. We had delicious spaghetti and chicken soup, with goats cheese topping. On returning to our hotel, we discovered two more bikes in the parking garage: Two Honda XR 250’s ridden by the lovely Linda and hubby Mike. We had a great evening in the lounge swopping stories and the bestest moment was being introduced to an App called ‘ioverlander’. Exactly what we had been looking for: a live app, continuously updated, by overlanders for overlanders. I felt a huge weight disappear from my stress levels as any type of overlander information appeared; from regular campsites to wild camping, with prices, and recent updates. Fantastic.
Getting out of Puquio was an uphill adventure of 55kms of curves rising back up 1000m to 4600m again. We daren’t stop, just keep going along this beautiful plateau for another 100kms. The temperature dropped to 13degreesand in amongst the Pampas we spotted leaping creatures called Vicunas, a short haired long necked wilder version of the Llama. Large signs instructed all motorists to HOOT continuously to scare them off the road. The weirdest thing is that they are so well blended into the Pampas that up to 10 metres away they are ‘invisible’, that is until they leap. We blew our hooter continuously so they would leap away from us. It sort of spoilt the magnificence and beauty of the amazing ‘top of the world’ peace.
Before the descent into the Desert Ride to Nasca we have a picnic and enjoy the sun and stare in wonder at the winding road we must now take to get to the coast. What goes up must go down. And down it went all the way to a large patch of sand and wind. We rode across this sandpit for another 100kms on the straightest road ever, with the wind trying very hard to push us over. The buses and trucks also did a good job as every time they passed we were whacked sideways by the wind and landed a few more inches nearer the edge of the road. Everything here seems to be in the extreme category.
We find the Nasca Lines and climb the towering steel stepped structure to for a bird’s eye view. I buy a little stone, engraved with a replica humming bird.
At ICA we stop for an icecream and put our new App to the test. Yeah, a hotel within budget, with a pool and breakfast just around the corner. Such simple Luxury after a gruelling 10 days of testing us almost to our limits.
Lima is in sight! where we are staying with the family of our wonderful doctor friends/rescuers from Chos Malal. It is with huge thankfulness that we arrive at their house and get a glorious welcome. Suddenly our world has become normal again. We get introduced to a Camu drink (Red Berry) for breakfast and spread Peruvian Butter (mashed Avocado and lemon) on our toast. We shop at an Inca Market for goodies to take home and hear that our baby Grandaughter has been delivered safe and sound.
Lima is a green goddess in the middle of Sand, fed by 5 permanent rivers. The gardens of Lima are filled with bird sounds and visited by beautiful hummingbirds, busily drinking from the honeysuckle. I present our fabulous friends with a thank you and memento of our stay with them.
We need to return to France as our 90 days insurance/trip is up, but will return within 3 weeks to carry on.
As I write, I must explain that that didn’t happen. On the day we were due to fly back to Peru, B was rushed into hospital here in France for an emergency operation. He is now recovering, with absolutely no bike riding for 6 weeks. Travel plans are on hold.