Day off Machu Picchu 17.6.12

It has been about a 25-year wait for me to finally get to Machu Picchu. I can't remember the exact date that I first heard about this ancient ruin, however it was an article in the National Geographic sometime in the mid-80s, that captured my imagination and it went on the to-do list at that point. So it was with some excitement that I woke at 4.30 this morning with a knock on the door with the early morning wake-up call, followed by a shower, breakfast, and a walk down to the train station at 5:30 AM. I had hoped we would be to get up onto Machu Picchu before sunrise, and more importantly, before the tourists flood the place, however this was not to happen with this only being possible if you stay at the small town of Aqua Calientes. We had not thought to pre-organise this, and everything was booked well in advance. Nevertheless we were on the train ready to roll at 6 AM. It started to feel like a bit of the Disney ride, as there was an announcement in numerous languages including English talking about the Inca Trail and the ride to Machu Picchu. There were numerous tourists on the train.

The train ride was one of the slowest I have ever had. They drove the train as fast as they could safely, I suspect however this was not very fast as the track is far from straight, or smooth. We enjoyed the view out the window as the train followed the river, which seem to be a constant tumbling cascade of rapids, which I could not help but wonder how you could kayak down. There was trap after trap in the rapids that we could see. As the journey continued the country became more and more steep and eventually showed signs of being a rain forest also. After about 2 hours the train pulled into Aqua Calientes, and we quickly exited and made our way to the buses that take you up to Machu Picchu. We tried to select a driver that looked sober and not too badly affected by coca leaves. The bus bounced down a rough road and eventually crossed the torrent of a river before mounting the zigzagging track that climbed up the sheer cliffs of this valley. The location really is very spectacular with high sheer cliffs rising straight from the riverbed on both sides. This is a very tight valley and there is no sign of Machu Picchu from the valley floor. The bus winding its way up the series of switchbacks, on a relatively good road. It was impossible to ignore the precipitous drop that the bus was driving very close to. It was particularly difficult ignore this drop when 2 buses were passing.

The bus pulled into the final stretch of road and stopped at the main entrance. Because there are no toilets and Machu Picchu and are not allowed to take food or water, our 1st priority was to visit the toilet in a pre-emptive strike to prevent the need to exit early off the site. This is a typical tourist trap and the cost for using the toilet was one solas. Fully prepared we entered the site and walked up through the paved paths into the Inca sanctuary.

Machu Picchu was built sometime during the Inca rein which was relatively short, lasting only around 100 years between the mid 14 hundreds and the mid-15 hundreds. Machu Picchu was built sometime during this period, and then abandoned. There is not very much known about it, as the Incas did not have a written history, as they had no written language. A lot of stories have developed over the years however and you can hire a guide to tell you all about the place. Our feeling was that it was most likely fictional and that we could make up our own minds as we went round as to what, and how things were. We wandered up to get the picture postcard that most people think of when viewing Machu Picchu. Then wandered across the site to the entrance to a very steep climb up onto another level at Wayna Picchu. This is a climb that approximately 400 people do per day, however not all of them return with approximately 10 people falling from this path per year. If you fall from anywhere on Machu Picchu and in particular Wayna Picchu, then you will be falling for the rest of your life. Hax was the only one keen to do this walk. He pretended to be very disappointed when he discovered that his ticket would not allow him to go at this level. I also pretend to be disappointed, as I have the same ticket (but no one bought this). We spent an hour or 2 wandering around the various locations in Machu Picchu and marveling at the dry stonewall construction. There are numerous grades of stone wall construction with some blocks being smoothed, shaped, and then fitted together, and that other areas of rocks fitted together in their more natural form. There were a large number of tourists on site, however it is such a big site that we still felt able to look at things fairly uninterrupted. Almost all of the tourists were posing for photos with the ruins in the background, generally striking a pose of quiet contemplation and reflection, however this pose was only maintained for a few seconds while the photo was taken, then they were back to their same state of rushing around. Others were posing like professional models. I thought I saw Derek Zoolander doing blue steel at one point. We decided to take a more “3 Amigos” approach to our posing, including holding the walls up, leaning against the walls in a lackadaisical manner, and of course planking. Unfortunately I discovered that my core strength has not been improved by 2 weeks on a motorcycle, which led to some fairly non-straight planks.

After we'd had our full of looking up and around the main Machu Picchu ruins we decided to go for a walk along the Inca Trail to the main entrance to this part of the valley. The Inca Trail was paved with stones that have been placed together and walls that had been created against the steep country once again to make a very smooth gradient up to the saddle. It was hot and we were all getting very thirsty. After a bit of time looking back at the ruins from this main entrance, we wandered back down and had an ice cream and a drink, before taking the bus back down the road. We were sitting in the back seat of the bus on the way down and this led to a very bumpy, bouncy and exciting ride, with the driver seeming in one hell of a rush.

We enjoyed a stone grilled pizza for a late lunch, and then went for a soak in the hot pools. These pools looked very dubious with the water being very murky, and pretty smelly. After being in the water approximate 20 min we noticed a sign in Spanish that seemed to describe small fish in the water that Senor's should be aware of, that can swim into your bladder. Why these fish only pick on men, I have no clue, and why the sign is beside the pool rather than at the entrance to the pool, before you bought a ticket I also do not understand. At this point we decided we had had enough and we got up and showered and then headed back to town for a wander around the trinket shops etc.

Another slow train ride back to Ollantaytambo in a train that was much larger than this morning's train and absolutely full. I was sitting next to a young man who fell asleep and ended up with his head on my shoulder, which his friends thought, was a great laugh. Harry took photo and e-mailed it to them who no doubt will get great mileage out of this. A couple of beers on the way home and to bed particularly exhausted and satisfied with a good day out. Good to finally tick this one off the list. (The list is still pretty long though)

Puno to Ollantaytambo 16.6.12

Ride across the Alte Plano. Over into the sacred valley, via the Inca gates to Cuzco, which was a strategic defensive site. Crazy buses dominated this part of the ride, no wonder the crash stats are bad, for buses. Left into the Sacred Valley, and things rapidly changed to cultivated ground, more lush, and affluent looking (relative). Harvest is going on, with stooks stacked in paddocks drying, and straw threshing via horses happening. We passed several places where there was a circle of straw with two horses being made to trot around a tight circle on the straw, by a man in the center holding the reins and using a whip to keep the momentum up. Presumably this is stomping the grain out of the heads. Stopped for lunch at tourist restaurant with Lamas, cats and dogs and heaps of tourists. Nice buffet lunch. Down the valley to Ollantaytambo. Steep sided valley with light bouncing off the steep ravines and high cliff tops. Houses lining streets, most of the way for the last 60km with children playing in the street. Arrived in Ollantaytambo, an ancient Inca town, with crowded streets, tight alleys with buses and trucks navigating their way through making for further slow progress. Historic town with cobble stone paving and narrow alleys and Inca walls and fortifications. Dinner at a very nice restaurant, stuffed trout. A long day in the saddle.

Moquegua to Puno and Lake Titicaca 15.6.12

We started at 1410m altitude and went straight into the climbing, twisting and turning road inland. This road steadily climbed with a relentless series of sweeping and tight bends. The vegetation changed once more from the oasis of green around Moquegua, to sandy desert, then tussock land with numerous Lama and Alpaca (some sheep also) then into sandy dessert again. I was bothered by abdominal pains and diarrhea again which I had just recovered from, which took some of the fun out of it. As we climbed the temperature slowly dropped for the balmy conditions in Moquegua to more and more alpine temperatures. The sun beat down on us the whole time of course. At one point there was sudden drop in temperature as we climbed through some sort of thermocline. We stopped at the top to rug up and peat the cold, which was now really bighting in on us. We were at 4500m altitudes. Another stunning climb. Geert caught up and we raided the truck for the jacket liners and winter gloves. I used the convenience at this very basis hill top set of shops. There was a series of small huts with open doors all facing the same way to a view of the mountains in the distance, with a hole in the concrete floor. Very smelly and dirty but lead to great relief all the same.

We continued along a high plateau and into a thermal area with a geyser with pink and white deposits all around it and the associated river flowed under the road through a natural land bridge. After a few photos of this area we just pushed on to Puno at he shores of lake Titicaca. We had been on the road for a good four hours by the time we stopped and we were all over it. This is a bit too long to ride in one stretch for me, as I start to daydream and loos focus, which is potentially dangerous on a bike. We fueled up, found the hotel and changed then off for some lunch. We were very excited to see a photo of a real espresso on the door menu, but on inspection the machine was cold. We wasted no time in getting the thing turned on. Sadly once again the end result was very disappointing. Geert seems to be correct in his opinion that despite the fact that they grow coffee they do not have a clue how to make the stuff.

We wandered down to the lakefront to go on a boat trip out to the reed islands. A few vital statistics were divulged, this is the highest navigable lake in the world, with a steam ship having been bought in from the UK in pieces and assembled to ply the waters here. The lake is 160km long, 60km wide and 270m deep. Bolivia is on one side and Peru on the other.

The Indians that live on the reed islands were forced there over 500 years ago by the Incas. They made a life for themselves out there building floating islands of reed roots, layered with criss crossed reeds on top which need to be topped up every 15 days as they rot down. The islands are anchored at four corners to prevent them from sailing away. Reed boats are also used for transport, and their houses on the islands are made from reed also. They have the houses on an extra high piece of reed bedding which keeps it comfy, and four people can pick the house up to move it. I guess they did not get the memo about the downfall of the Inca Empire and just kept living on the reed islands. It is now mostly a tourist attraction and are they set up for the tourists. We took an old boat out to the islands, with a purring ford V8 engine pushing it along at a very leisurely pace. The steering failed on the boat and it started on its own ours at one point which necessitated the captain coming to the back of the boat (stern that is) and steering the boat manually with a lever that was attached to the rudder.

On docking to the designated island we were given a lecture on life in the islands, there are about 88 islands al together. The president of our island described the manufacturing process of the island and their maintenance requirements. He then talked to us about going on a boat ride to another island for a fee but before this happened we got thief hard sell of their crafts and a lecture on how important it was for them to have the crafts sell so they can buy medicine for there arthritis and abdominal problems that are apparently common. We were then separated and taken into the houses. I was offered traditional clothes to put on in the presidents bedroom which had me questioning what the motives were, Harry had the same treatment and we both had photos taken. Hax was sadly left out of this ritual, I guess his tour guide thought he wouldn’t fit. We then got sat down and offered various arts and crafts to purchase. The choice was limited by the family that was talking to us, I was interested in an embroidered rug that told a story of the islands but no that was a different family, so had to settle for the one of the Inca gods. I was OK with that.

Off we went on our reed boat trip in a big circle then landing on the island that was right next door to the one we had been on. You could have jumped. Still it was a neat experience and three young schoolgirls sung a series of songs in various languages that they had been learning at their school. For a tip no less. These guys are masters at the up selling. Very cute all the same. The island we landed on was the shopping mall version of these islands, with numerous stalls selling more crafts and food etc.

The sun was getting low on the horizon so we headed back on the now repaired boat, that seemed to have fully functional steering now. 

Putre to Moquegua 14.6.12

Ride down, past Geerts memories of disaster on the road of hot engines going up, and hot brakes going down.

If you are a Harley Davidson V rod type rider, who likes getting out on the tarmac with your long mustache flapping in the breeze, in your jeans and tee shirt and scantily clade girlfriend on the back cruising up and down the main drag looking cool, then this is a terrible road for you, however if you are a coffee drinking, chillier eating adventure biker then this road offers plenty of thrills with numerous buttock clenching corners and flat out straights to keep your interest up.

We stopped at an interesting café – ostrich, earth oven, museum items and mediocre coffee. Chile to Peru customs etc. pretty smooth this time. Geert could hardly believe how well it went, only taking about 1 hour of stamp collecting and inspections.

Across desert to Tacna, for fuel up and lunch. Ceviche (raw fish) very nice. Ride to Moquegua through the Atacama Desert, big sand flats, rolling hills, straight road with monoliths of power transmission poles with sagging arms holding the wires up beside the road. Straight and flat, just what you think riding through the desert should be like, perfect V Rod country (perhaps I should have grown a mustache after all).

The oasis of Moquegua was our stopping point. Historic town, people in plaza at night, including children just hanging around socializing and taking it easy. BBK dinner followed by pisco sour in an excellent bar with 80s music. Very cool art around the bar and full of knick nacks from the decades gone by – art, vinyl records and covers, vintage coca cola cooler, bottles, ropes, historic photos of city and deceased notables, lamps, stereos, signs, and all with saloon doors on entry (now I needed the mustache, spurs on my boots and a 10 gallon hat). Great night out, we all felt a bit Piscoed I think.

Coroico to Putre via the “Death Road” 13.6.12

Big day in the saddle. Kurt was buzzing around at the breakfast mentioning that he needs to survive and doing random acts to try and win favour, such as moving my helmet from one table to a chair where I was sitting, and saying at the same time “I’m just trying to survive man”. Sadly all of my Bolivians are gone so I was not able to give a tip on leaving, Harry did give him a 10 boli tip. Of course the other staff at the restaurant were at least as diserving.

We fearlessly headed for the “Death Road”. It works out that this is actually a fairly dangerous road. There is a grewsome history with huge fatalities in the past with buses going over the side. Hax mentioned that 100 people died in one crash a couple of years ago with two buses colliding and both of them going off the road. Going off the road is not so good on the death road it works out as at places the road is only 3-4m wide and has a 600m shear drop, with no form of barriers to help keep you on the road. If two vehicles meet at one of these points then someone has to back up, which is when most of the damage occurs. Thankfully the road rules are different for the Death road, you drive on the left. Why? This is so that the driver is on the outside aspect of the road and can judge more acuratly how close to the edge they are. We were going up and this meant that we would be on the inside aspect the whole way. Geert was worrid that we would have difficulty remembering the stay left, but no fear, my history of being bought up in NZ driving on the left and my natural fear of heights allowed me very naturally to stay away from the edge. The road itself was very similar to a south island club ski field with a mixture of gravel, ruts and rock, the only difference being the void that was on the outside of the road. There was no other traffic and essentially so long as you did not look at the edge it was pretty easy going on a bike. It would be teriffiing in a bus.

The vegetation was beautiful with tropical bush gradually transitioning to more alpine bush as we ascended. It was very steep country. Several waterfalls fell across the road with the overhanging cliffs that the road is cut out of, and this did lead toa bit of water on the riders, and the pleasre of riding behind a waterfall. We stopped several times to admire the scenery and take in the environment which is spectacular.

Towards the top of the road we met the first mountain bikers. Tourists rent mountain bikes and free wheel down the Death Road, which ends up being a 3500m decent. Geert wanted us off the road before they started as he says they are super dangerous, as they are not in control, and go all over the place. Not surprisingly this includes gong over the edge, and 15 mountian bikers have died on this ride since it started. Looking at the standard of the riders this is no surprise, theey are not experienced riders. I would be anxious riding down this road, as it is pretty rough in places and your breaks would eventually give out with heat, as unlike a motorbike there is no option for engine breaking, and I do a relatively large amount of down hill mountain bikeing. As we exited onto the new road and ncontinued up, the number of mountain bikers increased massively with numerous vans dropping people off and numerous groups of riders coming through. Crazey.

Once again it went from Banana to Llama as the environment changed over the 3500m altitude change.

Rode into La Paz with less drama than previously, picked up Harrys bike, and then once again had an escort out of town by the bike rental guy who had a short cut for us. Nice terrain in southern La Paz, with a variety of green areas and a canyon area to contrast this. Stopped for lunch, a quick bite, then we opened the taps headed for the border. Spectacular view of the volcano Suger//// as we approached from the other side to previously. At border it took two hours in bitter cold, I mean Cold, or COLD or…, it was really cold. It was getting dark when we arrived at the border control, which is at 4500m altitude on a plateau beside an alpine lake. The wind blew down from the snowy peaks around us and there was nothing to stop it. We had no shelter as we lined up for the border formalities, and the wind stripped the heat out of us. There were numerous hoops to jump through with getting the vehicles over the border. We wondered out loud what these people did wrong to be posted up here, it seemed like Siberia.

Eventually after about two hours we were away in the dark, very cold, and looking forward to a warm hotel in Putre, Chile, about 60km away. This was a slow 60km though as it was mostly road works and gravel with a lot of trucks on the road. There was one lollypop man that stopped the traffic for an age and when it was time for us to go he stood chatting to his mate that had just driven through and held us up for several more minutes than nesesary, really annoying in this cold. I left my engine running for the 15min or so that we waited just ot get the heat coming up. Ultimately the night ride into Putre was an adventurous end to a big day in the saddle. We went to the usual hotel, but it was full. We waited while Geert found an alternative hotel then met up with him at the restaurant on the Plaza that we ate at previously (alpaca steak) and a couple of bottles of wine later and life was rosey again. I was a bit wobbly on the bike getting to the hotel, must have been exhaustion.

Coroico day off

Up first thing (about 9am) had a leisurely breakfast in the hotel admiring the view and relaxing. Hax and I were leaning out the window looking at the view and the garden when I noticed a small green bird in the garden and then realised that it was a hummingbird with the wings going flat out as it ducked from one flower to the next. In between the flowers it flew much like any bird flies, but when it got to the flower it was really very spectacular with its wings turning to an invisible state as the beat frequency went off the charts, and the birds body was absolutely still while it probed the flower for nectar. Harry has noticed that there is a zip line in the area. This is a massive flying fox, that stretches in three stages over 1.5 km and goes from one ridge to another over valleys several hundred metres below the line. It is simple for me, I am very cautious with heights (terrified), so I said up front with no reservations I would be less than keen and may have even described the likely result in my gastrointestinal reflexes mid cannon, however as El Bastardo knows I am easily swayed with peer pressure with these things, and I would be able to launch myself into the abyss of certain doom, with little expectation of enjoyment, just to avoid feeling like the odd one out, or to stop the eye rolling about my cowardess. Hax however, even now with the day having passed, I do not know where he stands, he just maintained his silence when we were talking about this, looking thoughtful. Harry did notice thought that whenever the topic was raised Hax took himself off to the toilet for his upset tummy. Eventually Harry stopped talking about it and we all relaxed. Kurt the resident guy of interest, who came here and never left and has been living here for two years with free board and food in exchange for some work on the breakfast menu etc., He has a demeanor that spells laid back and burned out hippy with limited functional brain capacity after too much of something illegal, but generally harmless and helpful. Kurt spent a big chunk of time telling me all about his woes and even asked me for US$2000 which he needed to be able to leave Bolivia, when met with a stony silence he added “I was only joking”, I am not sure he was.

After our hectic mornings start, we decided to head into town for coffee. Hax read in the lonely planet that there was a café that serves the best coffee in town, La Senda Verda, but we couldn’t find it. We asked a local guy where we might find it, and after a moments thought he said up there around the corner (in Spanish). We went up there around the corner and still couldn’t find it. Just around the next corner was the town info site, and we asked in there, “no they closed” we herd, the best coffee is over there, on the other side of the Plaza, so off we went to the newly recommended café. The gastronomic explorer ordered a coffee that we did not understand and Harry and I ordered a Cappuccino. Hax made the right choice once again with his coffee what ever it was called being a Ristretto pour with a small amount of milk. A long macchiato really and tasted very good, the cappuccinos on the other hand were over extracted, bitter and disappointing, 4/10. We noticed some young tourists walking down the street with ridiculous clothing that they probably thought was Bolivian dress, bright cotton shirts, baggy pants also very brightly coloured and with some sort of hat that looked like a turban also brightly coloured, with non of these bright colours particularly matching or complementing each other. I noticed some local men leaning against the opposite corner dressed traditionally in trousers and shirt and collar, looking at them pass and laughing to each other, then another traditional Bolivian man walk past in shirt collar and tie and trousers while another Bolivian women and local walked past in the other direction in an Adidas track suit. Perhaps these tourists were trying too hard.

I enjoyed looking at he very colorful art in this café, and asked the lady behind the counter if the art was for sale, she no English, me no Spanish, eventually established that the art was not for sale. We moved on to the next Coffee house via the postal agency which was based in the front room of a lady called Gloria, who had a couple of dogs that she shooed away with much hilarity before serving us and selling me a post card and Harry and Hax a bunch of stamps. I wrote the Post card at the next café while we tried another couple of coffees, and some cake this time. I followed Haxes lead this time and ordered something that neither of us recognized and Harry, to establish the industry standard, stuck with the Cappuccino, these ones were not bad, Cappuccino in a tall glass with a layered coffee and milk and the ones Hax and I ordered were double strength of the same. We noticed some local girls buying frozen bananas with chocolate coating so finished off with one of these, very nice.

Went for a walk around the town. Cobbled streets, very narrow with a variety of small shops selling produce, clothes and general supplies. People hanging around and taking it easy. Outside one café a little boy came out onto the street dropped his pants and peed in the street. I latter noticed people throwing buckets of water onto the street, and it runs away only so far then soaks through the cobbles to the ground below. Generally a relaxed and happy seeming town. We wandered back up the steep hill to our hotel and changed to go for a walk to see the waterfall that is rated as being worth the walk. It took a fair bit of effort to find the track up passed a church high on the hill that was walking access only and around a pipeline. The track was overgrown and looked down on the local agriculture with Coca, bananas and a variety of vegetable crops being grown. After about one hour we worried that we were going to run out of light so decided to jog for a while then after a km or so came around the corner to the most disappointing water fall. It would have been picturesque enough except it had a concrete dam at its base, to gather water and was surrounded by rubbish and a high barbed wire fence. Above this the waterfall cascaded beautifully and no doubt previously was very nice. We turned around and jogged back to the part of the track where it became too overgrown for jogging and walked back to the village from there. We noticed a group of people picking Coca, much in the way tea is picked with large bags on their backs, plucking he leaves one by one.

I headed back down to the plaza to see if the postal lady had her doors open after the siesta, which she did, and posted my post card. I thought that painting in the café earlier really was nice, it must be for sale, and she just probably did not understand me. I went back again to try to purchase the painting but no this time there was no doubt about it, the painting is not for sale. Even showing her the colour of my money did not sway this decision. It must be the good stuff.

Back to the hotel for a shower and a pleasant evening having a few refreshing ales and a pizza from the wood fired pizza oven. Very relaxing day, much stronger at this altitude.