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.
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