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.