Advertisement
Published: November 2nd 2009
Edit Blog Post
Video Playlist: 1:
17 secs
2:
27 secs
3:
53 secs
This "little" stretch of the journey was the toughest thus far. It came as quite a disappointment to us that the roads were not roads, but dusty tracks which really put our bikes to the test. We soon arrived at a small town called Chincheros, where we attracted a fair bit of attention mainly from the youth of the town who were once again, mesmerised by the rugby ball. Unfortunately this meant that we had a relatively substantial audience for yet another inner tube fix. Due to the pressure from the prying local eyes, a swift and precise execution of the changing of the inner tube was required and we hastily continued up the ever-meandering bumpy road. We began to get tired and hungry, and there was no sign whatsoever of the Abra Saracchocha, a pass of 4150 metres so we decided to look for our next camp site. We attempted what looked like an intelligent short cut, pushing our weighty bikes up a very steep path, straight up, so as to avoid more winding roads. Nearing the top, we were informed that there was no through route to our destination so reluctantly we ditched the "short-cut" and carried on up
Rustic market
One lady was selling very tasty donuts the mountain. Local farmers we passed were not too excited by the idea of a tent on their property and each person we asked, merely pointed up the mountain. So with a degree of desperation as light was fading and morale was low, we hurridly scouted out several potential spots before settling on a less than adequate resting place where we settled down to yet another exctiting taste explosion that was chicken flavoured noodles. Today progress was disasterously slow and the impending water problem was praying on our minds to the extent that Ross cycled off in search of a stream from which we could boil some water and add some flavour of the mountain to our already exciting supper.
Our progress the following day was very positive, partially thanks to a slow truck we managed to grab onto for a particularly steep section. This relief was VERY short lived as, due to the very poor state of the roads, riding a bicycle with one hand whilst the other tenuously grapples to the truck was probably more of a challenge than cycling that section of the ascent. We soon realised that this was not the best option...Ross took a
tumble, the first of the trip. Surprisingly unscathed, Ross dusted himself down and began diagnosing the wounded bike. A broken pannier holder and a snapped brake lever demanded the very best from Ross´s mechanical mind. They were both hastily patched up and we continued our water-less ascent. We put in a fairly gruelling stint after the fall and the rubbish roads and increasing lack of oxygen did not seem to hamper us as we halted just shy of the top to have a well earned lunch. Unfortunately our lack of water led to desperation and our bowels would not forgive our decision to drink stagnant water for quite some time (the situation not aided by the loss of Ross´s water filter). The remainder of the day was spent tentatively descending to Andahuaylas. We stayed the night here in a hostel and Ross was delighted to find the broken brake lever miraculously embedded between his foot and his sock.
Slightly refreshed, we set off with yet another mountain pass ahead of us. It was another baking hot day but this time we were not to be caught out by the lack of roadside stops so we stocked up on excess
water and started pedalling. Having lost most of our body weight in sweat after a good morning session, we pulled over in the shade and cooked up some lunch. This was to be the first time we had come across a white person travelling in a similar way. This guy made us look like mere amateurs. He was French and must have been about 50 years old, cycling on a very rustic looking bike on his own. He had been doing this for 2 and a half years. He gave us some words of wisdom and a slight inferiority complex. But we managed to convice ourselves that his journeying was taken at a much more leisurely pace with plenty of rest days...Shortly after lunch, Ross had his second crash, again thanks to some nasty potholes. Unfortunately we were not near a town, so stableisers for Ross would have to wait. Yet again we powered up the mountain until about 5 o´clock which is when we usually start looking for a decent camp site. What we found for the night was definately our best site yet. Our altitude was just below 4000m so naturally we were fairly isolated from any locals
and the view from the mountain side was awesome. We made a ferocious fire and sat beside it sipping from a small bottle of local whiskey whilst being treated to an immense thunder storm over the mountains in the distance, reminiscent of Mount Doom (for any Lord of the Rings fans). For the first time so far, we were greeted in the morning to an intense shower, but fearful of our lack of time, we braved it and once again headed for the top. We made it in good time, though visibility was less than 10m, so we did not spend much time admiring yet another conquered mountain pass, but ploughed on, excited about some more well earned down hill. We still had some work to do however, if we wanted to have that Cervesa in Abancay and through some fairly spectacular scenery we pedalled up and down winding through the valleys with Abancay firmly in our cross hairs. This descent to Abancay was miserable. We could not go faster than about 13km/hr for fear of breaking the already furiously rattling bikes. We could see the town below us, and the GPS reliably informed us that it was 15km away,
as the crow flies...It took us about 6 hours to get there, as the road took us from one end of a valley to the other still relentlessly pounding our bikes. We arrived in Abancay just as night fell having torn up just under 100km of rubbish rocky Peruvian road in one successful day. Standard annoyances plagued this tough section of the trip, such as the ever present threat of noisy chasing dogs and lack of water, but the friendly Peruvian lorry drivers would always give us a toot on their horn and an encouraging smile and a wave. The beer in Abancay was well received.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.102s; Tpl: 0.023s; cc: 6; qc: 46; dbt: 0.0525s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Clare Sawers
non-member comment
Don't drink the water!
Another two stages done; another two exciting blogs - always good to read about things AFTER the event - falls, breakdowns, WATER issues....ahhhh, keep hydrated guys...water over food! We are all gripped and waiting for the next instalment.... x