Two miles high and climbing.

From Trujillo, it was a blast down the coast before cutting inland to start the climb back up in to the Andes. The coastal road was quite dull, but as soon as I turned off the Pan-Am towards the mountains, the traffic disappeared and the scenery returned. The destination was Huaraz, perched high in the Peruvian Andes, surrounded by some of the highest peaks in South America. From sea level to Huaraz was to be a climb of almost 2 vertical miles in the space of just a few hours. It was great riding, the road snaking its way up the valleys through little villages, with the occasional angry dog taking up the chase.

The road continued to rise and rise; a check on the GPS altimeter read 2 miles high. It must crest soon and drop me down into Huaraz? Right? The mist began to close in and spots of rain began to pepper my visor; nearly 2 and a 1/2 miles up in the sky now, I stopped to put on my rain gear. This simple act at this altitude had me slumped on the bike gasping for breath. Onwards and upwards and finally, I rounded a corner and what little breath I had left was robbed by the view. There was Huaraz, over 1/2 a vertical mile below me, with towering snow covered mountains standing sentinel above and around the town.

Finally I started to descend and could breath again, although at almost 2 miles high, the air in Huaraz is thin. This is a town where people come to go trekking in the mountains, or mountain biking or other such healthy outdoor pursuits. Not for me; after only a couple of nights it was time to ride again.

               

The road out of Huaraz followed a high valley which opened out onto a high plain, again climbing to around 2 and a 1/2 miles high, giving more amazing views of the brooding mountains. It then turns towards the coast and plunges down steep valleys. More blissful riding. The mood broken (temporarily) when I was pulled over by 2 policemen on a quiet stretch of road. I pulled onto the gravel shoulder by the roadside where the bike slipped from under me; first time I've dropped the bike on this trip. One of the cops helped me lift it up before pointing out that my front headlight didn't work (caused by the drop??). Fair enough. He then gets out his little book, saying "billete, billete" (ticket); buying time, I politely ignored him and set about replacing the bulb. The mutual language barrier is useful in these situations as it is easy to feign ignorance. OK, my light works now. To my surprise, he then shakes my hand and off I go; he's given up on his tea money from this stupid gringo.

Finally, the coast arrives and its back on the Pan-Am. Again running on fumes, no petrol stations in sight on this new stretch of road. A quick detour down a dirt road to a small village and the guy won't fill the tank, but enough to get me to Lima. Maybe.

A fast run along dual carriageway until about 20 miles short of my destination and the worst traffic yet. The Peruvians take no prisoners on these roads. A slow crawl into the city proper, where the traffic actually improves. I get on to the city centre motorway where a man in a flash car yells at me, gesticulating wildly. Hmm, I don't think bikes are allowed on this road. Off at the next exit before the police see me and I eventually wash up in Miraflores district, Lima, for a well earned pint or two.

Northern Peru.

Being a restless soul; after a couple of days at the beach in Mancora, I was itching to get back on the road. A bike trip needs momentum and stopping in one place too long leaves you adrift. It really is the journey, not the destination. I'm not really a beach person anyway. Although, weirdly, Mancora had the best Thai food outside of Thailand, I have ever had. I also got to see a few of the rugby world cup games. Where can I buy a Japanese rugby shirt?

So, ever south. The road followed the coast for a while before winding a little way inland. The oil derricks nodded at me as I passed as if to say, "keep rolling"; I nodded back and pressed on. Northern Peru, at least this coastal strip, is very arid, dry and dusty. Some irrigated rice paddies and palm trees give an almost South-East Asian look in places. But these along with the sugar cane plantations thin out to scrubby land which in turn gives way to sandy desert stretches with long, straight, featureless roads. A vicious cross wind made for a testing days ride.

My fuel consumption has been poor for the last 2 or 3 tanks; maybe its poor fuel (gasohol?), or the strong cross-wind, but the bikes fuel economy has dropped dramatically. I've adjusted the "Kev mod" fuelling thing, which was way off its usual setting. Hopefully this will cure the problem.
Stopped for the night in Chiclayo, my first proper Peruvian city. What an initiation! It really was a free for all, dog eat dog chaos. Just dive in; great fun! One night stop only, just as a convenient place to cool the wheels before continuing south to Trujillo and some culture.
On the way to Trujillo, I was stopped by the Peruvian police. I'd heard many stories about spurious "fines" being imposed for imaginary traffic violations, so I took a deep breath, thinking "here we go......" but, a quick check of my documents, a shaking of hands and off I went, with all my Peruvian Soles intact.
Once in Trujillo, it was tourist trail time: Chan Chan; the largest pre-Colombian city in the Americas, largely reclaimed by the desert now, but a large section had been partially restored/preserved to give an idea of what it was originally like. Also the spectacular Las Huacas Del Sol Y De La Luna, the remains of two mud brick pyramids from around AD500. Fascinating places to wander around to feel the history and listen to the ghosts of all the poor souls sacrificed there to placate the gods (beats sitting on a beach any day). Archaeological/historical stuff interests me. Trujillo itself is a nice place too; yet another South American city with a strong Spanish colonial past.

Dropping from the sky: from mountains to beach.

Leaving Banos, the road once more climbed up into the Andes and away from the Amazon basin. The temperature dropped over the high passes; but this was a day of up, down and around as the road wound its sinuous way via Riobamba south to Cuenca. Gorgeous riding yet again, barely a straight line all day, just curve after perfect curve. It was back to the single rather than dual carriageway for most of the day, with very light traffic. This is the "Pan-American", right? Give me more!

 

And so to Cuenca, third largest city in Ecuador and another Spanish colonial masterpiece. But this is a bike trip; my thrills come from the road, not from the tourist trail (pretty though it undoubtedly is). One night and then a morning of taking in the main sites (more churches) and it was load up and head off back on the road.

 



South and West dropping out of the Andes (for now) towards the coast and the border with Peru. Another beautiful run, although the tarmac was a work in progress in places. From Cuenca, to the border town of Huaquillas, there is an over one and a half mile drop in altitude. The heat rising as the mountains dissipate to the coastal plain. Lush vegetation takes over and banana plantations appear.

A night in the dull border town of Huaquillas, so that I would have plenty time to cross the border into Peru the next day (as I'd heard it could be slow). No petrol stations on the way to the border; OK, fill up in Peru, as I'm running on fumes now. Stopped at the first border post and was waved through to the one up the road where you stamp out of Ecuador and into Peru at the same desk. This was slow, the queue barely moving and only one person stamping people out the country, and she was in no hurry. As I reached the front of the queue, an efficient border official took over (where were you an hour ago??). Anyway, I'm out of Ecuador and into Peru, yes!! Ehh, no. "Go back to Ecuador", while I had officially crossed the border, my bike hadn't. Back to the first border post (where I was waved through earlier) to get the bike stamped out. Back to the Peru border post to get the bike stamped into Peru, but not before they sold me obligatory motor insurance. All in all about 2 1/2 hours doing the border dance and I was free to head for the beach: Mancora, surf city, Peru! Make that more a surf shanty town full of hippies and trustafarians. Still, there are worse places to relax for a few days.

 

 

Ecuador: Quito and Banos.

As I had my bike officially imported into Ecuador, I asked about temporary motorbike insurance; "we don't have that in Ecuador" came the reply. Best not crash then I suppose. The first notable thing about riding in Ecuador is that, unlike in Colombia, bikes are charged at the Peage (road tolls). It is only US$ 0.20, but still, it's the principle.
The second notable thing is the absolutely spectacular scenery; lush mountains peppered with the odd volcano. Combined with perfect weather is making for great riding.

With an alarming reputation for violence, I was unsure whether to go to Quito or not. But to come all this way and miss it would be dumb, so I booked a hostel in the Mariscal district and headed south. At some point I crossed the equator, but failed to realise this at the time; the sublime landscape was just too diverting. I approached Quito with some trepidation, managing to find a bizarre back road into the city proper. It wound its cobbled way up a narrow valley, over rickety bridges towards the tower blocks visible on the ridge above. Then into the city, surprisingly little traffic, to find the hostel at the third attempt (damn these "una via"/ one way streets!).
The hostel was gated off with barbed wire across the top of the walls; a couple of druggies sprawled in the street outside didn't inspire confidence. With the bike safely behind the barbed wire, I ventured out to nearby Foch Plaza. Lots of police on motorbikes around for security as this is where gringoes and locals alike come to drink and dance. To be honest, it felt perfectly safe, the scariest thing was the prices some of the bars were trying to charge for a pint (£6!!!! You're not in Singapore people!). Other bars were more reasonably priced; took some trial and error to find them though.
I survived the evening without being mugged, although my budget took a beating.

Next day was tourist time. Wandered down to the Historico Centrico (UNESCO world heritage status, no less). It was impressive, the colonial Spaniards knew how to build. The highlight was the Basilica del Voto Nacional; if only for the great views over Quito. Another clear day showing the city at its beautiful best.

Could have spent longer in Quito, but the pull of the road was too strong and I continued south the next day towards Banos. The road climbed out of the city to give great views of snow capped volcanoes. Cotopaxi was still belching gas from its recent eruption. This blew across the Pan-Am for a lot of miles; the people living there having to wear masks. Once I was out of the ash zone, the view of Cotopaxi, half its dome still snow covered, the other just a cloud of ash, were stunning. Even the locals were stopping to take photographs of this awesome display of natures power.

The road continued, now a 4 lane highway in places. The turn off from the main road to Banos dropped through increasingly lush countryside as this was where the Andes begin to give way to the Amazon basin. Banos sits perched between the two, surrounded by volcanoes. A beautiful spot, where all the pubs were closed (I arrived on a Sunday), probably no bad thing. Spent the next couple of days doing the tourist thing: looking at waterfalls, hiking up mountains and I even rode down into the Amazon basin proper for a look. Did I mention how stunning this country is?