Ahhh Peru! We’ve been dreaming about this country for so long and now we’re here, sat in Cusco and debating whether to take the bandit ridden jungle road through the Amazon or the crazy mountain road out of town. Our other big decision of the evening is whether to go for the 70p 3 course menu del dia at the hole in the wall next door, or join the other hordes of sun burnt and altitude-groggy tourists for a happy hour pisco sour and ceviche at one of the world class restaurants in one of the incredible colonial buildings on the plaza. Yes, we’re well on the gringo trail for a few days and loving it, but appreciating it all the more so for the brilliant back road journey we took here from Bolivia….
It took us 12 days and some semi-serious browsing of flat rental websites, to finally prise ourselves away from wonderful La Paz. We were ready for a break after 3 months of riding and the city gave us the perfect combination of home comforts (English Pubs! Chips and Gravy! Duck-down duvets!) and a crazy new place to explore.
The whole city seemed like one big market with makeshift stalls spilling on to the streets and winning the battle with the traffic for space. A walk down one street might start with traditionally dressed women sat atop a pile of pineapples, their pleated skirts merging with their produce, take us past witchcraft stalls with dried lama feotus dangling, and end with a selection of knock off hiking boots for the backpackers – all soundracked to the sound of fake DVDs (usually WWF wresting or a dubbed Adam Sandler!) blasting out.
Fresh king fish and ipsi, all washed down with some illuminous green fizzy pop
We did manage to take a break from munching our way across the city to squeeze in a few side trips. With the bikes happily abandoned at a mechanics for some repairs after the juddering roads of Bolivia, we did a 3 day trip to climb Huyana Potosi – at just over 6000m the highest either of us have ever been and a taste of mountain climbing that got us wanting more.
Then we went the other way! With jelly legs from Huayna Potosi and our flimsy rucksacks stuffed, bungee corded, and taped up with 3 days of food and camping gear we, did the El Choro trek, taking us down a beautiful valley from 4900m to 1300m. It started in the barren mountains, at the turn off to the infamous Worlds Most Dangerous Road, through harsh windswept fields that reminded us of our ride through Cumbria last year, and down down down until suddenly everything got green and humid. The jungle forest came alive with the sound of birds, monkeys and insects and our gorgeous camping spots were filled with the sounds of birds, monkeys and insects. All very enjoyable until a big green snake slithered across the path in front of me! My open toed walking sandals quickly went back in the rucksack….
When it was finally time to leave La Paz, we somehow bundled all our stuff into a taxi to take us out of the bowl of La Paz and set off from El Alto in the direction of Lake Titicaca and the border with Peru. A botch Job from the mechanics crippled us at the roadside after a few miles, the words of Toms biggest karaoke fan in Ororo ringing in our ears. “La Paz is my home. Beautiful city” he slurred as he steadied himself with one hand on our table, and a beer sloshing in the other. “But El Alto…..dangerous. Be careful”. As usual the only bother we got was a few inquisitive hellos, and soon enough we were off again, out through the bustling streets and smells of street food cookimg tempting us to stop for lunch.
A dull ride Huarina and a new leader in our “worst hotel room ever” rankings (a particularly lovely floor to ceiling concrete effect) was brightened by us meeting another biking couple in the room next door, who were heading in the opposite direction. This was all much to the amusement of the owner who had never had a gringo stay before, let alone 4 particularly smelly, tall and sweaty ones. Stories swapped, it was time to hunt for the local fried chicken shop….usually the only thing on offer in a Bolivian town after 3pm and the hot bed of social activity and gossip. It’s always a game of odds of hunger vs food poisoning….so far, we’re winning!
Things got a lot prettier as the lake came into view and we felt like we were cycling in the Mediterranean. Much to my delight the temperatures have been getting hotter in the day and we found ourselves snoozing in the sun after our picnic lunch, and the jumper and wooly gloves finally came off for the first time in months!
Riding along the high ridge of the penninsular to Copacabana with the lake by our side
A quick hop on a boat to cross a channel, and the best empanada of our trip so far waiting on the otherside.
Even the tourist buses get involved (backpackers hop across on a speedboat)
A port in Italy or a sleepy Bolivian village at 4000m?
From Copacabana beach in Rio to a slightly less booby and boozy Copacabana in Bolivia, our arrival was a bit of a shock to the system, full of tourists, tour agencies and bars (though too many bars for any of them ever to have a decent amount of people in!). But where there are backpackers, there are pizzas! We duly obliged, happy to give the KFC dinners a miss for a few days, and did the done thing of a boat trip and walk along pretty Isla del Sol.
Saturday in Copacabana – Bolivian families get their car blessed at the church (with a healthy dose of beer involved!)
Hiking Isla del Sol
Then it was time for Peru! An easy hop across the border, a thirst inducing pic with a giant can of my favourite South American beer and it was on to the town of Juli for our first Peruvian sleepover.
Welcome to Peru!
First impressions were good, a beautiful 16th century church, cheap=but-good places to sleep (surprisingly even a bit cheaper than Bolivia), and a plaza that came to life as the Saturday evening set in. We were slightly disappointed that the chicken shop still seems to be the only dinner option (and even more disappointed when after an hour of waiting we somehow only end up with a plate of egg, rice and chips!), but Peru redeemed it’s culinary reputation with the next mornings visit to the market. All kinds of fresh and cheap fruit & veg everywhere, and busy stalls offering up fresh fruit smoothies, and hot breakfasts. It might take a while until we eat breakfast like a true local (caldo de cabeza – head stew!), but we got involved and munched on a delicious plate of hot liver and potatoes, crouched on tiny stools at the side of a cart on a street. I thought back to the first time I went to Mexico and was taken out for 6 weeks with food poisoning on the first day….oh how far I’ve come!
After another pizza fuelled gringo stopover in Puno, we had a choice of routes to get to Cusco. Fast and flat(er) along the main highway, or a longer route along dirt roads and bigger hills. We almost went for the first, but were immediately glad didn’t as we turned off the main road from Puno on to the dirt, and spent 6 beautiful days getting a proper introduction to the Peruvian countryside and people.
We visited our first Peruvian Inca ruins at Sillustani and got held up by a perfect picnic spot overlooking the lake.
Lunch spot at Silustani, Inca funeral towers overlooking the lake
Then rolled through peaceful countryside and fun little towns that kept us for lingering lunch breaks with 5p ice creams pretty plazas to laze on in the sun.
Held up by too many helado stops, we arrived in lovely little Lampa at dusk to find all the hotels closed. Thankfully we were whisked through the pitch black streets by a local lady and escorted to a slightly-too-fancy-but delightful b&b. We sat in a shop and drank warm api for dinner to make up for our slightly indulgent accomodation, and felt generally very happy with life.
Lampa kept us from leaving with its beautiful morning and empanada sellers, but eventually we left for our first big climb in ages. Through a gorgeous valley, following a river – the first truly flowing river we could remember seeing on the bikes since Brazil!
Up and up on rough roads through small villages and farmland.
The pass turned out to be a few hundred metres higher than we thought which meant a bit of high camping at 4700m! The wind gave way to a beautiful still night, woken by warm sunshine at 6am and a lazy breakfast in the sun.
A last bit of breathless climbing and dodging of chinchillas sprinting across the road, and then it was onto rolling hills, with hardly any cars, just the odd motorbike and a few herds of lamas to navigate.
Traffic on the highway
My love of dogs was put to the test a few times as we got regularly chased and one took a good bite of my back wheel.
Techniques to avoid being chased – stop , spray water, cycle faster, bark back, speak soothing Spanish. All tried and failed so far!
In El Decanso our ice cream habit escalates when we discover Sublime ice lollies, the frosty version of our favourite chocolate bar. We accept that we now have a new addiction that must be fed regularly and develop an eagle eye for spotting the yellow freezers that indicate their prescence.
From there it was time for another climb and we opted for the route that will take us via Lake Langui with a bit of lovely tarmac. Bumping into a group of motorbikers on a Charley Boorman (the one that isn’t Ewan McGregor on Long Way Round/Down etc) led tour, I got a bit fan-girl when we almost meet the man himself on the way up. . Except that Charley broke both of his legs jut before the trip and couldn’t make it! So we settle for his lovely second in command Billy “Biketruck” Ward, and later Claudio, the cameraman from Long Way Round who we pass up near the lake who I think I almost make fall off his bike by screaming “Claudio!!!!” at him as he speeds round a switchback.
Star spotting over, the lake is rather lovely…
….as is the dirt path we have to take afterwards to meet back up with the back roads that avoid the main highway.
An unexpected climb leaves us camping next to a dry river bed and the first rain we’ve had in 65 days, with a little dose of lightening for good measure. I try to remember tips for how to survive a lightening storm, and am fairly sure none of them involve camping in the open, really high up, and having a litre of pressurised gas in your tent. Five mins of drips and a few flashes later though, we’re left with another starry moonlit night to cook up our gourmet tuna-pasta by, and the thunder is replaced by the sound of gunshots (thankfully just coming from the Sopranos boxset we settle down to watch).
Beautiful sunny 6am morning – after the freezing mornings in Argentina its great to feel the warm sun when we crawl out of the tent
The next morning we get our reward for the climbs and know we have over 1000m to go down before Cusco. We soar down trough valleys that feel Alpine in a winter sun that sits low in the sky, and unexpectedly hit ashphalt after 30km which gives our bums a much needed break.
Ready to zoom down the valley
We politely turn down an offer of Caldo de Cabeza for breakfast in Yanuca, despite the old lady demonstrating its contents assuming we didn’t understand. “Eyes, lips, ears” she says slowly in Spanish, pointing at the corresponding facial feature. We opted for the rice and veg option instead. One day….
The day gets better and better as we join up with a road that takes us through 4 more beautiful lakes before finally we can’t avoid it any longer and zoom down to join up with the main road to Cusco through the sacred valley.
Lakes, lakes and more lovely lakes
The main highway road is still gorgeous, following the Urubamba river, just with a few more lorries and a lot of beeping (the Peruvian get out clause for “If I hit you, its not my fault – you were warned!”) to contend with.
Lunch spot on the Urabamba off the main highway
We overnight in Andahuayallas and sneak into its colonial church at mass. Knackered after the ride, we decline our hospedaje’s owners kind invite to join his daughters birthday party, which at 8pm looked like an awkward family gathering. By 4:30am, we’re regretting that we didn’t join in, as the music is still blaring, from the room below us and we ‘re trying to persuade the 3rd stupendously drunk visitor to our bedroom that we are not the hostng the afterparty! When we surface at 8am on a sunny Sunday morning, the beer is still flowing, and I’m tempted to get involved as I feel like I have the hangover without any of the fun.
Saturday afternoons and Sundays are my favorite days to ride. In the rural towns and villages, the men have their day off from work, the beer comes out before the sun goes down and flows through the rest of the weekend. Sunday markets come to life – in one town it might be local sheep sale, the next is fruit and veg, and the next full of bakers with big bags of fresh bread for sale.
Restaurants fill with middle class families out for long leisurely lunches of whatever the local specialty is, and all of this makes for great fun and lots of temptation when riding through.
Sunday riding through Oropresa “National Capital of Bread”. As we average about 10 rolls a day, this felt like a true pilgramage. Best smelling town ever.
Our last days ride into Cusco was timed perfectly for a boozy lunch stop of chicharron (fried pork) and adobo (a pork stew only cooked on Sundays) in Saylla, some of the best food or our trip so far. A string of roadside villages all famous for a spefic dish dot the last 40km into Cusco, and we passed up the cuy (roast guinea pig) of Tipon and the pato (duck) of Lucre to munch on salty pork scratchings washed down with icy Cusqueña beer. We scoffed it down before taking any pics, so here’s a statue of a woman serving a roast platter of Guinea Pig instead…
It was a slightly squiffy final ride into Cusco, along a well timed cycle path feeling brilliant in the Sunday sun. Now for a few days of being tourists and a hunt for a real coffee! Starbucks is looming just around the corner….please let there be another way!
Grrrls On Tour 