"wood here, your son. i am in cusco, peru, after 4 hard days of travel--from the desert heat to the frigid high plains, and back up and back down and up and down and.....it was a long journey, but good. peru is rather large, but more than that, it is the mountains and the bad roads that make travel so long. on one particular 12 hour day i covered somewhere near 175 miles. that was quite the day....i ended up spending 10 days in a town called huaraz--it is situated in the valley, between the cordillera negra (the old mountains), and the cordillera blanca (the new, jagged, glaciated, granite peaks). i really enjoyed huaraz, mostly, of course, because of the people. there is an excellent coffee shop there, owned by a minnesotan man and his peruvian wife. real nice folks. i was staying at a hostal called, ¨jo´s place¨, which is run by jo, an english ex-pat, and his peruvian wife (seems to be a trend here....)"
ummm, don't get any ideas Woodstock...
"on sundays i partook in the family volleyball game. good fun. hiking, or ¨trekking¨, as they refer to it in the mountains, is endless. being that close to the glaciers and the peaks made me feel like going for the tops--another day, perhaps. also while there in huaraz, chris (the owner of cafe andino, the minnesotan) sent me to meet simon. simon is an english ex-pat (yes, with a peruvian wife) with a restaurant and two ktms--a superenduro and an adventurer. an interesting fellow, simon, with much bike experience in peru. so this is where that 12 hour day began.....with conversations with simon. i was heading for cusco, and the main road runs along the coast, through lima, and then inland and up to cusco. i had no real desire or need to go to lima, as i was able to find a new front tire in huaraz, so staying on secondary roads in the mountains was appealing to me. simon and i mapped out a course, and come bright and early on that monday morning, after coffee with chris in the street below the cafe, i headed into the mountains."
"it was, indeed, the most beautiful scenery that i had yet seen. we began climbing (on dirt, of course) and didn´t stop climbing until we had reached nearly 16,000 ft. this was, and still is, the highest i have ridden. the road was all dirt, and not necessarily good, and the switchbacks were gruelling. i started to lose power around 13,500 ft., with the slow speed and heavy load. to get around those corners i was having to rev high and ride the clutch--not good and it had me worried the entire way up, enough to think about turning around. but finally, after 100 hairpins, we made it to the top, crested, and began descending. soon after beginning the descent i realized that one of the bolts connecting the two sides of my pannier frame, had sheared off. some adjustments, zip-ties and wire, and we were off again. 20 minutes later the other bolt sheared off. so i got a bit more creative with some rope, and the problem was solved for the time being. it was already, at this point, after noon. thankfully i found some fuel before i got to the bottom of the valley (climbing really sucks the gas), and we continued on, finally reaching the valley floor and thawing out a bit. by now it must have been 3pm, and judging by the gps, huantar, my destination for the night, was only 40 miles away. i didn´t truly understand what this meant at this point, as i was enjoying the scenery, watching the road, and basking in the sunlight. shortly after 3, i came around the bend to find a number of buses and vans parked, and an old man on the side of the road waving his finger and shaking his head. landslide. i moved up to the front to see a covered roadside and a mountain that was still throwing rocks down from above. there were people removing the big ones, always with one eye looking up the slope, ready to run when anything more than a pebble came into speeding view. i parked and walked through the rubble, beginning to help and dodging when necessary. the people on either side of the slide were constantly watching the mountainside, and constantly yelling ¨cuidado¨(careful!) so began what was similar to ¨crying wolf¨, which as we all know, is not a fun game to play. it was after the 20th time of hearing ¨cuidado¨, that i stopped paying close attention to the yelling. you can guess what happened next. the wolf came down the mountainside; a rock roughly the size of a large footstool. i picked my line through and ran, and as i looked over my shoulder i saw the boulder fly by and land, with a dull thud, in the grass below. so with that out of the way, apparently the road was clear enough for travel."
"my bike is unlike anything most people down here have seen, and because of this, they believe that it is a super machine capable of super-machine feats (like flying, i am convinced). when i ask for directions, i always ask in duration of hours, as distance means little. the answers are always the same--on a bus, 5 hours, but on that bike, 1 1/2 hours. so being that my bike can fly, it was only logical that i go through first--and as i have learned, it is best not to think very much at all before attempting something difficult on a motorcycle. over-thinking brings bad results. so i straddled, started, and began. the stretch of slide was about 60 meters in length, with rocks varying in size from small to basketball sized, making moving difficult. i got hung-up at one point, with my rear tire behind a big rock and my front behind another--all the while, looking up the mountain, watching small rocks tumbling. we made it, though, to a cheering crowd on the other side. onward. climbing once again, i ran out of fuel and stopped to break out my first reserves--3, 1 liter, msr fuel bottles. there were roughly two hours of daylight left, and at this point, according to the gps, huantar was 18 miles away. recall what i wrote earlier, that distance means little.......shortly after this stop it began raining, and then hailing. i was, however, warm and dry inside the aerostich suit, and sure that i would make it to huantar before dark. once down in the next valley, i entered a large town that was not on the map or gps. i had to ask many people for directions out of the town, and when i asked for huantar, there seemed to be a bit of confusion on faces. finally out, however, the road was paved for the first time since 8am, however it was in terrible shape with large sections missing. and now it is dark. as i continued on following the river and heading in the direction of san marcos (a town near huantar), i knew i was getting close. gps was telling me 5 miles. suddenly, out of the darkness, came the first sign all day, with an arrow for san marcos, and an arrow for huantar. so we began climbing once again, this time, running out of fuel half way up. to reach my other reserve tank (the 4 gallon), i have to unpack the entire bike. i really wish that i would have bought the big aftermarket tank for the bike before i left, lesson learned. i was so tired at this point, that i did it very slowly and without much aggravation, after all, huantar was close and there was a nice hotel, simon had told me, on the west end of the plaza. when i had reached the top, i arrived at a dark archway; and upon entering, was greeted by dark streets. i found the plaza but there were no lights and certainly no hotels. i pulled up next to a kid sitting on the sidewalk, eric, and asked him what the story might be--apparently there are two huantars in peru, and i was in the second. before long there was a small crowd around me, and people offering help and directions to a hostal and a secure place for the bike. in conversation i learned that i was the first gringo in this huantar since 1982......you just never know where you might end up."
ummm, don't get any ideas Woodstock...
"on sundays i partook in the family volleyball game. good fun. hiking, or ¨trekking¨, as they refer to it in the mountains, is endless. being that close to the glaciers and the peaks made me feel like going for the tops--another day, perhaps. also while there in huaraz, chris (the owner of cafe andino, the minnesotan) sent me to meet simon. simon is an english ex-pat (yes, with a peruvian wife) with a restaurant and two ktms--a superenduro and an adventurer. an interesting fellow, simon, with much bike experience in peru. so this is where that 12 hour day began.....with conversations with simon. i was heading for cusco, and the main road runs along the coast, through lima, and then inland and up to cusco. i had no real desire or need to go to lima, as i was able to find a new front tire in huaraz, so staying on secondary roads in the mountains was appealing to me. simon and i mapped out a course, and come bright and early on that monday morning, after coffee with chris in the street below the cafe, i headed into the mountains."
"it was, indeed, the most beautiful scenery that i had yet seen. we began climbing (on dirt, of course) and didn´t stop climbing until we had reached nearly 16,000 ft. this was, and still is, the highest i have ridden. the road was all dirt, and not necessarily good, and the switchbacks were gruelling. i started to lose power around 13,500 ft., with the slow speed and heavy load. to get around those corners i was having to rev high and ride the clutch--not good and it had me worried the entire way up, enough to think about turning around. but finally, after 100 hairpins, we made it to the top, crested, and began descending. soon after beginning the descent i realized that one of the bolts connecting the two sides of my pannier frame, had sheared off. some adjustments, zip-ties and wire, and we were off again. 20 minutes later the other bolt sheared off. so i got a bit more creative with some rope, and the problem was solved for the time being. it was already, at this point, after noon. thankfully i found some fuel before i got to the bottom of the valley (climbing really sucks the gas), and we continued on, finally reaching the valley floor and thawing out a bit. by now it must have been 3pm, and judging by the gps, huantar, my destination for the night, was only 40 miles away. i didn´t truly understand what this meant at this point, as i was enjoying the scenery, watching the road, and basking in the sunlight. shortly after 3, i came around the bend to find a number of buses and vans parked, and an old man on the side of the road waving his finger and shaking his head. landslide. i moved up to the front to see a covered roadside and a mountain that was still throwing rocks down from above. there were people removing the big ones, always with one eye looking up the slope, ready to run when anything more than a pebble came into speeding view. i parked and walked through the rubble, beginning to help and dodging when necessary. the people on either side of the slide were constantly watching the mountainside, and constantly yelling ¨cuidado¨(careful!) so began what was similar to ¨crying wolf¨, which as we all know, is not a fun game to play. it was after the 20th time of hearing ¨cuidado¨, that i stopped paying close attention to the yelling. you can guess what happened next. the wolf came down the mountainside; a rock roughly the size of a large footstool. i picked my line through and ran, and as i looked over my shoulder i saw the boulder fly by and land, with a dull thud, in the grass below. so with that out of the way, apparently the road was clear enough for travel."
"my bike is unlike anything most people down here have seen, and because of this, they believe that it is a super machine capable of super-machine feats (like flying, i am convinced). when i ask for directions, i always ask in duration of hours, as distance means little. the answers are always the same--on a bus, 5 hours, but on that bike, 1 1/2 hours. so being that my bike can fly, it was only logical that i go through first--and as i have learned, it is best not to think very much at all before attempting something difficult on a motorcycle. over-thinking brings bad results. so i straddled, started, and began. the stretch of slide was about 60 meters in length, with rocks varying in size from small to basketball sized, making moving difficult. i got hung-up at one point, with my rear tire behind a big rock and my front behind another--all the while, looking up the mountain, watching small rocks tumbling. we made it, though, to a cheering crowd on the other side. onward. climbing once again, i ran out of fuel and stopped to break out my first reserves--3, 1 liter, msr fuel bottles. there were roughly two hours of daylight left, and at this point, according to the gps, huantar was 18 miles away. recall what i wrote earlier, that distance means little.......shortly after this stop it began raining, and then hailing. i was, however, warm and dry inside the aerostich suit, and sure that i would make it to huantar before dark. once down in the next valley, i entered a large town that was not on the map or gps. i had to ask many people for directions out of the town, and when i asked for huantar, there seemed to be a bit of confusion on faces. finally out, however, the road was paved for the first time since 8am, however it was in terrible shape with large sections missing. and now it is dark. as i continued on following the river and heading in the direction of san marcos (a town near huantar), i knew i was getting close. gps was telling me 5 miles. suddenly, out of the darkness, came the first sign all day, with an arrow for san marcos, and an arrow for huantar. so we began climbing once again, this time, running out of fuel half way up. to reach my other reserve tank (the 4 gallon), i have to unpack the entire bike. i really wish that i would have bought the big aftermarket tank for the bike before i left, lesson learned. i was so tired at this point, that i did it very slowly and without much aggravation, after all, huantar was close and there was a nice hotel, simon had told me, on the west end of the plaza. when i had reached the top, i arrived at a dark archway; and upon entering, was greeted by dark streets. i found the plaza but there were no lights and certainly no hotels. i pulled up next to a kid sitting on the sidewalk, eric, and asked him what the story might be--apparently there are two huantars in peru, and i was in the second. before long there was a small crowd around me, and people offering help and directions to a hostal and a secure place for the bike. in conversation i learned that i was the first gringo in this huantar since 1982......you just never know where you might end up."
-- luludilly
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