We woke at the cold hour of 6am, had breakfast and saddled up for our journey back to Cusco following the exact route in reverse trying and beat our record of 11 pathetic hours on the way in. First off was to get to Santa Maria and rendezvous with the people picking up Colin and Gaz's bikes. This was sweet and we really gave it some welly. I recall swapping between my sunglasses and Gaz's spectacles, unable to decided which was benefiting me more. We passed back over the mountains and through some small villages absolutely hacking it. It was such a rush. The computer game fantasy turned into reality.
It was not long before we reached a downward dusty rocky road; at this point I was behind Arthur and Nathaniel trying to keep up despite the trail of dust blinding me. There was not much distance between Arthur and me, and I was just about to pass him. Just then, I felt my front wheel slide; this caused the whole front forks to shake and I lost control. Blood started rushing to my head; my heart was racing and I thought I was done for. Considering we were travelling at about 40Kph downhill and on the side of a mountain, with a drop of about 1 million feet, I thought I was about to become the third and likely most severe casualty of the trip. Thankfully, after my handlebars snaking and the whole bike rattling like a spazing epileptic, I managed to gain control. The whole event lasted about 3 seconds, and during that time all types of horrific thoughts flew through my head. Thank fuck. After this I lagged behind like a nervous child riding his tricycle for the first time, every turn freaked me out and was sweating hard in the morning sun. When we reached Santa Maria to rendezvous with the pickup, I was most relieved.
The guy from the bike rental company was waiting with his mate in the village square. We showed them the bikes and topped up on pety before getting back onnit. The guy and his mate told us we had to wait for them to ride together, but I was keen to get off and I remarked "Fuck that we've paid for today" and we three shot off. This was enough time for me to pull myself together again and we were soon tearing up through the mud roads. Nefs and I took the lead in turns pretty much full throttle all the way. I remember stopping with Nefs and him wondering where Arthur had got to. The roads were perfect for these bikes and flying through jungle surrounded villages was amazing fun. The guys from the bike shop soon caught us after Nefs and I slowed to let Arthur catch up and from then on, it was racing all the way. Eventually we reached the pass but there was a slight complication, the road didn't open until 12 noon and where we had been hacking it so hard, it was only 10:15! We attempted to blag the guard but he was having none of it so we waited. More vehicles showed up and eventually there was a big queue. There would be no way of getting preferential treatment now. A couple of old ladies had a small venture capitalising on the obviously frequent waiting game; they were selling almuerzos of typical soup with chicken and rice. This made the waiting far easier despite the now sweltering midday sun.
We were not so soon on our way again smashing through the unmade roads until we reached the various ladies with their stop/go signs. Some guy in a white, old-skool VW Beetle was leading, power sliding around corners and through the wet mud. I did my best to keep up with him and a couple of times was warned by workmen to slow down. Although, this was tough as my thirst for adrenaline forbade me from letting off. The journey across the mountain peaks did not seem nearly as cold and we cleared it in no time. I had been well in the lead up until this point but then the roads turned to asphalt and Nefs' 400cc's started to kick in. He shot past me and I couldn't keep up with all my efforts. I wished I had my Ducati to cain it down the smooth new roads but alas. Going round some of the hair-pin turns I was still able to get my knee down but the bike lacked any real power. Nefs stopped at the bottom of the mountain and counted about a minute and a half before I finally rocked up. We both waited for the others one guy took about 2 more minutes and Arthur and the bike shop man took a further four odd minutes. Arthur complained he had no experience on these types of roads and the man complained at having to wait for him.
We soon were at the cobbled village of Urubamba and managed to find a small cantina above a mercado vending almuerzo for 3.5 Soles. It were none too shabby neeva. The bike guys didn't join us for food and were keen for us to hurry.
The roads back were long and stretched for miles. This is when the bike really started to show it's inadequacies on the road. My hand got sore from having to constantly hold the throttle as far back as it went. Nefs had to keep slowing to allow me stay with him. No sign of Arthur and the others, even after stopping for about 5 minutes. We finally arrived back and low and behold Arthur was there already having taken a bloody shortcut! Even still, we made it back in just over 5 hours.
Sunday, 29 July 2007
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Machu Picchu
After their decision to nit off the second day of extreme moto, Gaz and Colin had arranged to take an early bus to meet us at Santa Teresa; this meant them waking up at about 5am. I was awoken by Arthur turning my light on at about 6am. There was no aguas calientes in the hostel so we skipped the shower and set off at about 7. Now we could get down to some serious riding!
The route, again, was pretty simple: go straight. It took about twenty or so minutes to get comfortable on the bikes again but we were soon hacking it through the rough, off-road terrain. Gaz had kindly lent me his spectacles so I was able to see with precise clarity; although Gaz suffers from astigmatism and wearing the glasses made me feel slightly nauseous; I decided the increased vision outweighed the nausea, in addition, whenever I removed them it felt like I was even more blind than before.
We asked some local earlybirds if we were heading the right way to Santa Teresa and in typical Latin American style the directed us with flailing arms which seemed to guide us to outer space, to be fair when we pointed for them, they would either nod or shake their head. The road led us along a river and up a completely rocky and unmade road which led nowhere. Luckily, an old man and his boy were out early carrying logs or something and the old man angrily flailed his arms directing us in the other direction; we U-turned and found a fork in the road allowing us to ascend.
The road curled round and round the mountains carrying us higher and higher and the dawn views were magnificent; as the sun veered it's head, the mountains turned from a cool blue ice into a glowing solid gold. I had spent most of the day before standing on my foot pegs which, due to the slow pace, meant that I could manoeuvre more freely and could pretend I was a professional motocross star in a computer game! Furthermore, it prevented me from getting saddle-sore. However, due to the increase of pace this became impossible.
Again we took turns in taking the lead, I hated being behind; it felt unsafe and also I could see fuck all due to the dust people in front would create. The only way to avoid the dust would be to slow down meaning you ended up quite a way behind and feeling like a loser in the computer game. On the other hand when you were in the lead, you could really power and break way ahead from the pack.
Nefs and I used to go riding when we were back in the UK and he, being the far more experienced rider, would always egg me on encouraging me to go faster "you ride like a girl" he used to say. Now bearing in mind I was a novice riding a Ducati or effectively a rocket on two wheels after just a month of passing my test, at first I would shit myself trying to keep up. And me being the competitive swine that I am, found this very difficult to deal with. So, to hear Nefs advise me that "We should really go so fast" was like music to my ears! I remember cracking up when I heard this. "I can't believe you're telling me to slow down for once!" HAHA!
As we snaked up the mountain we passed through numerous waterfalls flowing over the road; one in particular had created a pool about half a meter deep. At this point, Arthur decided to find out if his bike was waterproof. He seemed to drop in slow motion. I was in front and had already passed through the pool and there was no way I was getting wet. I shouted at Jon to get off the back of Nefs' bike and rescue him- he hesitated but I was later told that Nefs also gave his encouragement and so Jon went to his rescue! Nefs and I both cracked up at this sight. The bike wouldn't even start after her swim but eventually came to life- those Japanese sure make reliable bikes. On we went and soon arrived in Santa Teresa. It took us a little over an hour in total.
As soon as we arrived, we bumped into Colin and Gaz who were negotiating a bus ride to Aguas Calientes. We parked and ate a simple breakfast of bread, marmalade, Mate de Coca and our new invention of Coffee de Coca. Jon and Arthur bought some socks to replace their drenched ones and off we went again. We could ride only so far until we were stopped at a hydroelectric plant. At the plant lay a guarded checkpoint, the guard took a little financial persuasion before eventually letting us store our bikes for the day and the rest had to be undertaken on foot. Colin and Gaz were waiting to meet us on a nearby bridge.
The journey after, consisted of following a train track all the way to Aguas Calientes. Colin was limping from the hole in his leg but did well to keep up. Along the way we came to a bridge crossing a white water river, it was completely rusty and made funny noises as we walked across. Someone should really renovate that bridge. The walk wasn't particularly pleasant to be honest, there was no proper path next to the track which meant for most part we had to walk on the rock covered tracks which was most awkward and painful on the old ankles. As we draw close I noticed a redundant train stationed next to some huts on an old unused track, this area smelt absolutely disgusting. As I passed the train and looked back to see a massive of mountain of refuse hidden behind it! Interesting technique for waste disposal, I thought.
The town of Aguas Calientes was probably the most modern I had seen in all of South America. It was clear that it was a cash-rich area and not surprising after we discovered that since our copy of the Lonely Planet had been published, the price to visit Machu Picchu had quadrupled to 120 Soles per person. Plus the coach was 30. Fucking liberty. We ate lunch at one of the hundreds of touristy restaurants. Mine was meat and rice and was okay but Arthur ordered Spag Bol which turned out to be overcooked spaghetti with tomato ketchup and slices of beef - mmmm
I didn't enjoy the bus journey, the road was narrow and the drop fierce. I decided a sleep would be in order. When we got their however none of us were disappointed. Machu Picchu was set in the most amazing spot I think I have ever had the privilege of experiencing. The sun seemed to be close enough to touch from the highest peak. Words really will not do the views justice. The misty mountains completely encircled this 550 year old and 2000 metre high city were truly astonishing. Thankfully the Spanish never discovered it and so it largly remains unscathed. One of the first sites we visited was the sacrificial stone; a huge flat-topped table with small stairs leading up. We all admired it trying to imagine times passed of virgins being sacrificed to the mountain gods. Incas believed the mountains were gods and the earth 'Pacchu Mama' was there lord. If the gods were angry, sometimes in the form of erupting volcanoes, they would need offerings in the forms of young and pure girls.
We then walked to highest point where the classic postcards are taken. The group split up at this point and I bumped into Colin and Jon sitting near the top of the site. We just sat contemplating and staring in awe of the beauty. I jokingly decided to make a ceremonial pentacle in an effort to talk to the gods as the weather became very windy. I called upon the sun god to calm the weather and just as I did so, the wind amusingly stopped! I then tested the reverse and requested wind, sure enough the gods spoke and the winds once again became high; I tried this again and it ridiculously worked. The views were really out of this world and the scene made one feel totally euphoric; maybe it partially due to the altitude. The three of us including Colin sporting a walking stick and a unusual newly procured pink child's bonnet (see photos, they pretty much show these events in order, although you'll have to be my friend on facebook.) walked towards the North side where the residential quarters lay. On the way we passed a middle aged women sitting in a half lotus position meditating (obviously could manage the full lotus). This made me laugh. I mean please. I'm sorry, but I can't stand shit like that; yeah, each to their own and 'n' all that shit but some fat lesbian sitting as if she had found Nirvana in Machu Picchu just seemed ridiculous; call me a cynical bastard, I don't care, I just wanted to throw a bucket of water over her. Plus, she had her eyes shut and I swear I turned around and caught her off guard catching them open; then she shut them again quickly.
We continued through the main town area to find a garden of Lamas. I broke off a branch of leaves and approached them; most fled at the sight of me but one didn't seem bothered by my presence and ate from my hand allowing me to pet him/her. Nefs apparently had tried to coax one off the side of a cliff! Qualitly. One black and white one was not so friendly and growled at me when I approached him attempted to spit at me. As I left the garden area a dumb Barby looking American woman asked me if they were friendly. I pointed at the black and white one and said "Yeah sure, he is." I walked off chuckling. The sight of a stupid blonde running around trying to catch the lamas was classic. Even the friendly one hated her. We climbed up some stairs and decided we'd had enough of the Machu Picchu experience. Colin was really suffering at this point; a mixture of the altitude and his leg hole had caused him to become incredibly weak and he and I though he was gonna faint. I helped pull him up some steps and we made our way back to the bus stop.
By this point it was about 4pm. Jon had decided he would join Colin and Gaz in their bus journey home which meant that Nefs, Arthur and me could smash it all the way back. Oh yes. But first, we had to get back to the bikes, which meant returning along that 2 hour train track journey on foot. It would be dark soon and we had no torches. Off we trotted. I initiated a jog and we were soon cruising along back along the awkward track. It reminded us of that film Stand by Me and we started singing "lollypop lollypop oooo lolly lollypop do do do do!" No one new any of the other words so we just repeated until we got bored. On the way to Aguas Calientes we had passed through a tunnel which was about a half way point. The tunnel still hadn't arrived. We got worried. It was now dark. No sign of the tunnel. Shit. After talking about how harsh it would be to be doing this in pitch black darkness, we eventually came to the rusty bridge, eh? Where was the tunnel? Turns out we had completely missed the tunnel by getting dropped off early on the bus back from Machu Picchu. Thank fuck. We were safe; almost. We reached the end of the track and bumped into a couple of stranded Israelis. He he heee. Part of me wanted to leave them there but I - unlike their nation - consider myself a humanitarian. I jest of course they aren't all rude pricks. And one cannot condem a whole nation just by the actions of their government. Anyway, we took them back. I pillioned a girl of about 22 on my bike. I felt very unsafe. I did luckily have Gaz's glasses so I could see, but having the life of another as my responsibility made me uncomfortable, especially as we were covering highly dangerous roads at night and next to the roads lay certain death in the form of us plummeting thousands of feet. Anyhow, to make myself feel better I spoke to her about her travels; where she'd been and where she'd be heading next. This worked and we chatted for the whole way back. She was nice and promised to buy me a drink when we got back. We got back to Aguas Calientes and to be fair she was very thankful, in fact she said absolutely love it and wanted more! I offered her a trip back to Cusco (obviously joking) she uncomfortably said no, not understanding my superior humour. We said our goodbyes and assured them we'd hold them to that drink.
The three of us then went took a dinner of alpaca steak, which was ok but a little tough, and treated ourselves to a nice bottle of red. The Israelis turned up in the restaurant and at first actually blanked us. They then saw us and pretended it was for the first time. They came over and shook our hands although no grtuatous drink manifested. We of course didn't mention it. It was then bed time.
Saturday, 7 July 2007
Extreme Andean Moto
We arrived in Cusco and all felt instantly relieved. It was as though we were finally in Peru. We checked into a basic cheap hostel in Placa da Armas, pleasant green square of grass and flowers, with two Spanish colonial churches either side. Cusco was the capital of the Inca Empire and is located at about 3500 metres above sea-level. The altitude made us all feel weird and sleepy, although I personally didn't feel sick.
After spending a couple of nights checking out the local gringo bars, we decided we would hire motorbikes to get to Machu Picchu. The only complication with this was that Colin and Gaz had never ridden motorbikes before and weren't too sure how they would manage. Arthur had ridden but only a couple of years ago and didn't have a licence. Jon had recently completed his CBT but did not feel confident enough and so Nefs offered to pillion him. It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Gaz and Colin bit the bullet and agreed on the premise that we took them for lessons first.
The following afternoon we hired three 250cc bikes for the day and drove to a deserted road for a few hours of lessons. They both seemed to pick it up pretty quickly and by the end of the session had gained enough confidence to venture into the Andes. While I write this I realise it sounds slightly insane although at the time it seemed perfectly reasonable.
We arrived at the bike rental shop for about 8:30 am to pick up the bikes. To be honest by this point I was feeling slightly nervous on behalf of our newly learned companions. The guy in the rental shop was saying it was a tough ride and only for experienced riders although we did not let this deter us. Nefs and I assured the boys that we'd take it slow for them and give them all the support they needed. After faffing about for an hour we set off following the dude from the shop I went last as to keep an eye on the boys upfront. About 50 metres away from the shop we were met with our first right turn which led onto a steep hill. I watched closely cringing as Gareth attempted to manoeuvre round the corner. As he did their were a number of pedestrians crossing the road. Gaz looked as though he panicked and had not really been trained on the important of the horn. I tried to shout "USE YOUR HORN GAZZZZZ!" but he didn't hear me through our helmets. I don't know for sure but I think he just slammed on his front brake because the next thing I knew, Gaz lying in the road with his bike next to him. He still had hold of the throttle and it was fully pulled back. This made quite a scene. As I passed and stopped I noticed Colin just a little way ahead, he was still on his bike but had driven straight onto the pavement! This sight made me chuckle but concerned. I parked and ran down to Gaz. He was unhurt but flustered by the event cursing the stupid pedestrians. I picked his bike up and parked it. There were police either side of the road, guiding the busy rush-hour traffic, although, instead of attending the accident and checking details, they seemed more amused "Ha haaaa, gringos stupidos." Next problem: Colin's bike wouldn't start. This didn't exactly instill Colin with much faith and he doubted his chances of successfully completing the long journey which lay ahead. I went back to the bike shop and we eventually got it replaced. This took a big hunk out of our day and left us pressed for time. We had to get to a mountain pass by 2pm latest. Basically, part of the road was under development and was only open between 12 and 2pm everyday, if we didn't make that, it would mean renting the bikes for an extra day.
After the initial hiccups we managed to get out of town fairly smoothly and in convoy. From out of the town, the route was simple: just drive forward. The journey from Cusco to Aquas Calientes (the town nearest Machu Picchu) consisted of just one long road. Once out of Cusco the country just seemed to open up and scenery was breathtaking. The road cut straight though huge stretches of green hills, lined with a border of snow capped mountains. It was hard to focus on the actual road with so much beauty surrounding it. Me, Nefs and Arthur took turns in taking the lead and going at the back. About an hour passed before we stopped at a roadside clearing to admire the view and have a drink, we were all happy and back on track. There was a huge snowy mountain in the distance and I laughed about this being our destination; it seemed so far away and an impossibility. Nefs was concerned we were going too slow and that Gaz didn't want to get out of second gear, although to be fair to Gaz it was his first proper day's riding any mechanically driven machine and he had already had one accident. Poor Gaz. The main problem he was experiencing was clutch control, he was letting the clutch slip causing the bike to jump and this freaked him out a bit. I told him he had to treat the clutch like a pussy and be more gentle with it. After about 10 minutes we were back on our way.
The road eventually met the foot of a hill and we began climbing. The hill was not too high and we soon crossed over it where we were met with our first town. We stopped off to fill with petrol at the first place we found. I was last to set off again and again trailed behind Gaz. The town was filled with tuctucs and the traffic was moderate. One tuctuc stopped to give way to us but seemed to grow impatient after the first three as when it came to Gaz's turn to get back on the road he ploughed straight into him. Crash 2. This was slightly more severe and Gaz somehow landed painfully on his hand. Which soon swelled like a balloon. The bike must have dropped on it. He was not happy and the tuctuc just bolted off- probably driven by a small Peruvian in fear of his life as this large western man started jumping and shouting in the middle of the road, seemingly more angry than hurt!
We were now lagging. It was about 12:30 and we only had another hour and a half to make the pass. The road turned into cobble and was becoming far more narrow. At this point Colin decided it was his turn. Crash 3. Luckily it was not serious and although he damaged the bike slightly by snapping the break lever, he got back on and off we went again. The cobble led to Urubamba an ancient Inca village and the largest in the Sacred Valley of the Incas. I asked at a tourist information point how far it was to La Paz and the guy looked at me as if I were mad "Que? La Paz, Bolivia?" He then told me that we couldn't ride any further on bikes but he luckily had tickets for the train! Great bloody help. It amazes me how lying is such an intrinsic part of the Latin American tourist industry. It seems Peruvians have absolutely no ethical problem with lying. He didn't seem to know about the closed road or even if he did, he didn't want to tell me. I asked another girl how long it would take to reach Santa Teresa and she told it was approximately 5 hours. It was now passed one o' clock and we needed to get a move on. The landscape changed dramatically as we climbed the mountain, we started to separate. I think partially out of impatience although there was never too much distance between us. We often stopped to band together and admire the stunning scenery. The mountains were so beautiful and again changed colour from grassy green to a kinda of murky, more muddy complexion. I really started to start enjoying the ride and relish pushing myself to lean and get my knee down when going round the hair-pin corners of the mountain road. We reached the top and began our descent. This was just a tastier and we soon were met with an even larger mountain. There was still no sign of the pass and it was now gone 2 o' clock. Th group had now disbanded. I was in the middle for most part making sure I kept everyone in sight. Nefs and Jon were way ahead and Colin was way behind. We began to climb the snow-capped mountain of Chicon, which peaks at about 6km and it was getting colder by the second. Finally we reached the check point and stopped in the freezing clouds. Colin was not happy. Along the way, he had had a near death experience almost resulting in him falling thousands of feet off the side of a mountain. He was more distraught at the fact that we had left him behind "to die" as he put it. He mainly aimed his aggression at Nefs who had "completely nitted him off!" We promised to all remain in closer proximity going forward. Their were three young boys playing who came to investigate, they were of indigenous decent and must have lived in the small houses nearby. They kept their hands in their pockets at all times and all sported rosy-red, frost bitten cheeks; the effects of living in such a harsh climate. Arthur quizzed them about the distance remaining and they told us it would take two hours to reach the next town. Off we went again. My hands were sooo cold but all I could think about was comparing them to my first and failed motor cycle examination which I took in the middle of winter. During the test my hands were so cold that it took about an hour of running them under a hot tap to thore them out. These mountain conditions were hardcore but didn't match that test and this thought kept me positive. The climb had been dark and the mountains had shielded the sun which added to the cold; it was completely different on the way down and remember lifting my hands up in an attempt to warm them in the sun. It worked and I soon began to feel more comfortable. The roads became clearly unfinished which for me was good fun but it meant we slowed even more. The terrain once again changed dramatically as we passed over the mountain and the sacred valley became visible; we stopped again to admire the beauty: two immense, hazy-blue coloured mountains sliced open with a snaking river. I remember wondering whether this was the sacred valley. Never have I experienced such sharp changes of scenery, literally like passing through four seasons within four hours. By this time we were all pretty famished and so stopped at a strange little group of houses amongst the road works; a small community with a population of about 10, which blatantly emerged to supply the workers with their lunch. Unfortunately, the two restaurants were both closed, so we were forced to make do with a flamboyant lunch of crackers and water. After lunch became a little disjointed once again and ended up splitting up. Eventually, Arthur, Nefs and me stopped at another restaurant to wait for Colin and Gaz. We waited. No sign. Oops. After 20 odd minutes we decided something must have happened. Nathaniel volunteered to go scouting. Arthur and I sat chatting over a coke about what could have happened. The suspense was killing me so I went in search myself. The traffic was being controlled by women with CB radios and stop 'n' go signs every 200 yards. I was halted for a good 10 minutes before seeing Gaz and Colin following Nathaniel down the hill. I turned back and waited with Arthur. When they pulled up it was clear that Colin was distressed. He came over and showed me a big hole in his claret covered leg. Crash 4. He had apparently lost control going down a gravelly hill and come off landing on a rock which had somehow punctured his kneecap. Nefs (being the sympathetic guy he is!) had found him and told him to stop being a girl and get back on. After about 5 minutes - probably due to his nerves and stress - he hit another rock and went flying over his handle bars. Crash 5. Poor Colin. Looking back I'm sure he will laugh at this but he really shaken up. I bandaged him up with my handy medikit and we continued with our journey. At least we weren't having to rush for the pass anymore but time was drawing on and the sun was setting. The plan was to heads to get to Santa Teresa, a town neighbouring Aguas Calientes were we would stop for night however we were going far too slow. Once the sun had set, the riding got even more challenging, even for me due to my lack of glasses. We stopped for the night at quaint little village named Santa Maria. Accommodation was 5 Soles each for the night (about 75p) and we took a meal of meat, rice, chips and salad for 4 Soles each. Chips and rice seem wrong but the meal was delicious although not enough to fill us so we ordered a couple of chickens and chips. This was perfect and altogether with beers we each paid a total of about 1.50! After dinner we went across the road to get some ice-cream, where a family were watching Bruce Lee's Game of Death dubbed in Spanish; this made me chuckle. Back at the hostel Colin and Gaz made the decision that they were never getting back on motorbikes again and would opt for the bus to Santa Teresa the next morning. Arthur called the bike company who informed him that it would cost $100 each for the bikes to be collected. It was then time for bed. After this roller coaster of a journey, we all unconscious within seconds.
After spending a couple of nights checking out the local gringo bars, we decided we would hire motorbikes to get to Machu Picchu. The only complication with this was that Colin and Gaz had never ridden motorbikes before and weren't too sure how they would manage. Arthur had ridden but only a couple of years ago and didn't have a licence. Jon had recently completed his CBT but did not feel confident enough and so Nefs offered to pillion him. It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Gaz and Colin bit the bullet and agreed on the premise that we took them for lessons first.
The following afternoon we hired three 250cc bikes for the day and drove to a deserted road for a few hours of lessons. They both seemed to pick it up pretty quickly and by the end of the session had gained enough confidence to venture into the Andes. While I write this I realise it sounds slightly insane although at the time it seemed perfectly reasonable.
We arrived at the bike rental shop for about 8:30 am to pick up the bikes. To be honest by this point I was feeling slightly nervous on behalf of our newly learned companions. The guy in the rental shop was saying it was a tough ride and only for experienced riders although we did not let this deter us. Nefs and I assured the boys that we'd take it slow for them and give them all the support they needed. After faffing about for an hour we set off following the dude from the shop I went last as to keep an eye on the boys upfront. About 50 metres away from the shop we were met with our first right turn which led onto a steep hill. I watched closely cringing as Gareth attempted to manoeuvre round the corner. As he did their were a number of pedestrians crossing the road. Gaz looked as though he panicked and had not really been trained on the important of the horn. I tried to shout "USE YOUR HORN GAZZZZZ!" but he didn't hear me through our helmets. I don't know for sure but I think he just slammed on his front brake because the next thing I knew, Gaz lying in the road with his bike next to him. He still had hold of the throttle and it was fully pulled back. This made quite a scene. As I passed and stopped I noticed Colin just a little way ahead, he was still on his bike but had driven straight onto the pavement! This sight made me chuckle but concerned. I parked and ran down to Gaz. He was unhurt but flustered by the event cursing the stupid pedestrians. I picked his bike up and parked it. There were police either side of the road, guiding the busy rush-hour traffic, although, instead of attending the accident and checking details, they seemed more amused "Ha haaaa, gringos stupidos." Next problem: Colin's bike wouldn't start. This didn't exactly instill Colin with much faith and he doubted his chances of successfully completing the long journey which lay ahead. I went back to the bike shop and we eventually got it replaced. This took a big hunk out of our day and left us pressed for time. We had to get to a mountain pass by 2pm latest. Basically, part of the road was under development and was only open between 12 and 2pm everyday, if we didn't make that, it would mean renting the bikes for an extra day.
After the initial hiccups we managed to get out of town fairly smoothly and in convoy. From out of the town, the route was simple: just drive forward. The journey from Cusco to Aquas Calientes (the town nearest Machu Picchu) consisted of just one long road. Once out of Cusco the country just seemed to open up and scenery was breathtaking. The road cut straight though huge stretches of green hills, lined with a border of snow capped mountains. It was hard to focus on the actual road with so much beauty surrounding it. Me, Nefs and Arthur took turns in taking the lead and going at the back. About an hour passed before we stopped at a roadside clearing to admire the view and have a drink, we were all happy and back on track. There was a huge snowy mountain in the distance and I laughed about this being our destination; it seemed so far away and an impossibility. Nefs was concerned we were going too slow and that Gaz didn't want to get out of second gear, although to be fair to Gaz it was his first proper day's riding any mechanically driven machine and he had already had one accident. Poor Gaz. The main problem he was experiencing was clutch control, he was letting the clutch slip causing the bike to jump and this freaked him out a bit. I told him he had to treat the clutch like a pussy and be more gentle with it. After about 10 minutes we were back on our way.
The road eventually met the foot of a hill and we began climbing. The hill was not too high and we soon crossed over it where we were met with our first town. We stopped off to fill with petrol at the first place we found. I was last to set off again and again trailed behind Gaz. The town was filled with tuctucs and the traffic was moderate. One tuctuc stopped to give way to us but seemed to grow impatient after the first three as when it came to Gaz's turn to get back on the road he ploughed straight into him. Crash 2. This was slightly more severe and Gaz somehow landed painfully on his hand. Which soon swelled like a balloon. The bike must have dropped on it. He was not happy and the tuctuc just bolted off- probably driven by a small Peruvian in fear of his life as this large western man started jumping and shouting in the middle of the road, seemingly more angry than hurt!
We were now lagging. It was about 12:30 and we only had another hour and a half to make the pass. The road turned into cobble and was becoming far more narrow. At this point Colin decided it was his turn. Crash 3. Luckily it was not serious and although he damaged the bike slightly by snapping the break lever, he got back on and off we went again. The cobble led to Urubamba an ancient Inca village and the largest in the Sacred Valley of the Incas. I asked at a tourist information point how far it was to La Paz and the guy looked at me as if I were mad "Que? La Paz, Bolivia?" He then told me that we couldn't ride any further on bikes but he luckily had tickets for the train! Great bloody help. It amazes me how lying is such an intrinsic part of the Latin American tourist industry. It seems Peruvians have absolutely no ethical problem with lying. He didn't seem to know about the closed road or even if he did, he didn't want to tell me. I asked another girl how long it would take to reach Santa Teresa and she told it was approximately 5 hours. It was now passed one o' clock and we needed to get a move on. The landscape changed dramatically as we climbed the mountain, we started to separate. I think partially out of impatience although there was never too much distance between us. We often stopped to band together and admire the stunning scenery. The mountains were so beautiful and again changed colour from grassy green to a kinda of murky, more muddy complexion. I really started to start enjoying the ride and relish pushing myself to lean and get my knee down when going round the hair-pin corners of the mountain road. We reached the top and began our descent. This was just a tastier and we soon were met with an even larger mountain. There was still no sign of the pass and it was now gone 2 o' clock. Th group had now disbanded. I was in the middle for most part making sure I kept everyone in sight. Nefs and Jon were way ahead and Colin was way behind. We began to climb the snow-capped mountain of Chicon, which peaks at about 6km and it was getting colder by the second. Finally we reached the check point and stopped in the freezing clouds. Colin was not happy. Along the way, he had had a near death experience almost resulting in him falling thousands of feet off the side of a mountain. He was more distraught at the fact that we had left him behind "to die" as he put it. He mainly aimed his aggression at Nefs who had "completely nitted him off!" We promised to all remain in closer proximity going forward. Their were three young boys playing who came to investigate, they were of indigenous decent and must have lived in the small houses nearby. They kept their hands in their pockets at all times and all sported rosy-red, frost bitten cheeks; the effects of living in such a harsh climate. Arthur quizzed them about the distance remaining and they told us it would take two hours to reach the next town. Off we went again. My hands were sooo cold but all I could think about was comparing them to my first and failed motor cycle examination which I took in the middle of winter. During the test my hands were so cold that it took about an hour of running them under a hot tap to thore them out. These mountain conditions were hardcore but didn't match that test and this thought kept me positive. The climb had been dark and the mountains had shielded the sun which added to the cold; it was completely different on the way down and remember lifting my hands up in an attempt to warm them in the sun. It worked and I soon began to feel more comfortable. The roads became clearly unfinished which for me was good fun but it meant we slowed even more. The terrain once again changed dramatically as we passed over the mountain and the sacred valley became visible; we stopped again to admire the beauty: two immense, hazy-blue coloured mountains sliced open with a snaking river. I remember wondering whether this was the sacred valley. Never have I experienced such sharp changes of scenery, literally like passing through four seasons within four hours. By this time we were all pretty famished and so stopped at a strange little group of houses amongst the road works; a small community with a population of about 10, which blatantly emerged to supply the workers with their lunch. Unfortunately, the two restaurants were both closed, so we were forced to make do with a flamboyant lunch of crackers and water. After lunch became a little disjointed once again and ended up splitting up. Eventually, Arthur, Nefs and me stopped at another restaurant to wait for Colin and Gaz. We waited. No sign. Oops. After 20 odd minutes we decided something must have happened. Nathaniel volunteered to go scouting. Arthur and I sat chatting over a coke about what could have happened. The suspense was killing me so I went in search myself. The traffic was being controlled by women with CB radios and stop 'n' go signs every 200 yards. I was halted for a good 10 minutes before seeing Gaz and Colin following Nathaniel down the hill. I turned back and waited with Arthur. When they pulled up it was clear that Colin was distressed. He came over and showed me a big hole in his claret covered leg. Crash 4. He had apparently lost control going down a gravelly hill and come off landing on a rock which had somehow punctured his kneecap. Nefs (being the sympathetic guy he is!) had found him and told him to stop being a girl and get back on. After about 5 minutes - probably due to his nerves and stress - he hit another rock and went flying over his handle bars. Crash 5. Poor Colin. Looking back I'm sure he will laugh at this but he really shaken up. I bandaged him up with my handy medikit and we continued with our journey. At least we weren't having to rush for the pass anymore but time was drawing on and the sun was setting. The plan was to heads to get to Santa Teresa, a town neighbouring Aguas Calientes were we would stop for night however we were going far too slow. Once the sun had set, the riding got even more challenging, even for me due to my lack of glasses. We stopped for the night at quaint little village named Santa Maria. Accommodation was 5 Soles each for the night (about 75p) and we took a meal of meat, rice, chips and salad for 4 Soles each. Chips and rice seem wrong but the meal was delicious although not enough to fill us so we ordered a couple of chickens and chips. This was perfect and altogether with beers we each paid a total of about 1.50! After dinner we went across the road to get some ice-cream, where a family were watching Bruce Lee's Game of Death dubbed in Spanish; this made me chuckle. Back at the hostel Colin and Gaz made the decision that they were never getting back on motorbikes again and would opt for the bus to Santa Teresa the next morning. Arthur called the bike company who informed him that it would cost $100 each for the bikes to be collected. It was then time for bed. After this roller coaster of a journey, we all unconscious within seconds.
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