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Published: November 17th 2006
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Hello Everyone,
I´m just writing this whilst Jac packs up and gets himself together after numerous visits to the toilet in the night. So take the length of this entry as an indicator of our general health/organisation. OUr next adventure out od Cuzco will take us down into the jungle to - in theory leave today. I´ll keep you posted.
We caused much confusion and general hubbub by arriving in Machu Picchu on our bicycles. Under normal circumstances the site is inaccessible by any other means but the train but via a 300km round trip we eventually bounced into the historic site along the railway sleepers.
Our journey started late in the day at 3.30pm as we tried to reach the town of Ollantantambo before dark laden with the additional baggage of our hangovers from the preious four nights of partying. Needless to say as the darkness closed in we were a long way short of our destination. Fortunately we had done the climbing so we donned our head torches and bike lights to try and negotiate the pitch darkness of the winding road down into the town of Urubamba - a town or two short of planned.
Even darker than the night were the cliffs on the side of the road of unknown depths which held our attention possibly more than the road itself. Eventually we rolled into the town much relieved and in one piece happy to find street lighting and restaurants to replenish our fuel supplies.
The next day we were reaquainted with the laugh-o-meter of our Indian travels. Gauging the distance and difficulty of the road ahead is one of our main pre-occupations whilst on the road. Distances are at best guessed by Peruvians we ask by the roadside. We know from experience that these can vary by around 100% from the true distance and give no indication of the steepness and smoothness of the route. More likely we will get an indication of the length of time it takes by bus or with a glance at our legs a wildly optimistic estimate of how long it will take us. We usually disappoint. The most reliable indicator of a difficult road ahead is the laugh-o-meter. Leaving the town of Ollantantambo we counted no less than five spontaneous outbursts of laughter as people in the villages realised where we were going. The highest we
encountered in India was eight and that took five days.
The ridiculousness of the road soon became clear and after six hours we eventually could look back and try to decipher where on the spaghetti of road below us we had wound our way to the top. At the top we were greeted with cheers in the clouds from construction workers who were building the road ahead. and had passed us on the way up. To this point the road had been brand new tarmac smooth and easy to climb. The downhill side was gravel, dirt, deep mud and rivers flowing down the side of the mountain. Hurry up, they told us at the top it´s a long way to the town. We had reached a familiar time of day - iut was 3.30pm again. We didn´t need telling twice as we bombed down through thr cloudline. In the afternoon and evening light the landsacpe changed before our eyes. the barren mountainside opened up into a lush valley as we dropped below the cloudline and as the day faded vines were hanging from the trees as we entered the high jungle.
Bouncing down the track over rocks and
potholes a feint pop followed by a hiss followed by an expletive hailed our first punsture of the journey. We huriedly stuffed a new tyre into Jac´s wheel and not having noticed that the outer tyre had filled with grit in the dark it was not long before the same wheel had gone again and we were sat by the rodside once again donning head torches and lights. The tyre held this time and we reached the first village in darkness where we were told that the next accommodation was 25km away and we were offered a lift in a bus. Our pride took over - we had never taken a lift before - why start now? We plunged intothe darkness as the road deteriorated further. We could hear from the strange noises in the bushes and the increased humidity that we were entering the jungle but could see nothing of it. Hitting pot hole after pothole our kingly bus came t our rescue. Driving behind us he lit up the road. We rounded corners into the darkness waiting for the bus to follow and show us the way. After many downhill twists and turns an uphill came and we
couldn´t keep up. The bus passed and dakrness came once again. It was a thankfully short ride to our tin shed of accommodation after 136km and a climb in altitude of almost 2000m.
The next day we rose to find ourselves in a tropical town, the music was different and the atmosphere had become languid and relaxed, it suited our mood. A much shorter day lay ahead but we left for another twisting climb short of water expecting the same abundance of villages as we had found opn the way down. None of it, the burning hot sun we sweated out what was left of our water but eventually reached a village at the top and bottles and bottles of water. Then an awesome downhill to the town of Santa Theresa and glorious hot springs where we sat and soaked the next morning´s aches and pains away.
Our final stretch was into Agua Calientes along the railway line. To get there we needed to negotiate a river crossing in a basket the size of a shopping trolley. With one of us at either end we tied the two bikes into the basket and with everything crossed we sent
them off into over the river. Fortunately we all crossed in one piece to struggle over the railway sleepers. We could just about ride and it probably took us longer than walking but eventually arrived at our destination.
The historic Inca City did not disappoint shrouded in cloud and disappearing entirely before being lit up with sunlight in the afternoon it was more magical than cuold have been expected and all the more so for the adventure we had had getting there.
There was one final twist as we booked our ticket for the train back. No bicycles on the tourist train they said. Rules is rules and they would need to be put on the local train where we were not allowed at whatever price. We trusted the girl in the ticket office - after all she had promised they would be there. After an anxious journey we turned up at the railway station. The security guards were expecting us - she had kept her word and telephoned through the train arrived exactly on time our bikes were in perfect order. The relief was huge and a celebration was in the offing.
We seem to be
ready to leave after that celebration now, you can draw your own conclusions about the lenght of this but Jac is on the Pepto Bismol.
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Dad
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Hi Dere!
keep the blogs coming!! sounds interesting to say the least! I'm back from Saudi but your countries are mprobably even more interesting. excelente photos! mld