Traversing the Andes

Welcome to Huanaco, home to the city that boasts the claim to best climate in the country.  This large town is nestled between moderately steep mountains, in a valley just over 6,000 feet.  The cycling to get to this point has been incredible, remote and challenging.  Lets begin by saying that we are travelling with a tourist map of Peru purchased in Lima, that contains a majority of the larger cities, and roads that are color coded supposedly corresponding to a key.  What our map doesn´t detail is first and foremost, elevation, and second the condition of the road- containing patches of rocky, sandy, bumpy, muddy, single-lane raddle-the-filling-out-of-your -mouth ¨road.¨  I am not one for complaining, but there were a few strecthes when I wondered what we got ourselves into.  The travel to this point has been a bit tough.  Intermittent battles with ¨mal comida¨ or bad food is a common place here, as I had my second bout with feverish symptoms and violent vomiting. 

Many things we learn that we take for granted back home, become so obvious when travelling and living in such conditions.  The first is sanitation- most importantly the water, secondly the air.  There are no exhaust regulations and within the larger cities the fumes are enough to give you an upset stomach.  In addition to the environmental conditions, I am reminded how nice a real towel feels, having dried off from a fair of my showers with a handerchief.  I am travelling with a travellers towel that is not much larger that a hand towel, so in splurging on a bit nicer room here in Huanuco, we were rewarded with a full sized white bath towel, and a complimentary bar of soap and roll of toilet paper (you bring your own toilet paper everywhere, public bathrooms do not have any toilet paper or toilet seats – only a bowl).  The last thing I miss from back home is some good ol´ American breakfast- flapjacks, waffles, omelets, muffins, granola, give me anything but a piece of bread or rice.

I am excited to see some of the Central Highlands of Peru, possibly the most missed part of the country by travellers and tourists alike.  We will be climbing from here up to Cerro de Pasco, a city at 14,2o0 feet, just hoping we don´t get any spotty weather.

!Justino¡

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When we departed from Huaraz on Friday (August 26, 2011), I had butterflies all over again about riding into the unknown.  Huaraz had become a familiar home – I had identified the best bakery, the good restaurants verus the ones that put you in a hospital, the cheapest local grocery store, where to get medical help, and so on.  But Justin was antsy to get on the road, and the minute I sat back on my bike,  I was excited to be on the road as well.  Such a freedom to travel at your own pace – transporting by bus or taxi can be quite a miserable experience here, as we endured trying to get home from our Santa Cruz trek.  If there are not enough people, you are not going anywhere.  The car must be filled to the gills… and it will not stop if you have to use the restroom.

Kindness in Conococha

We arrived back in Conococha, the town we celebrated successfully climbing up to from sea  level a week prior, at about 4:30pm and gently rolled along the one road town made  up of about 20 houses/stores looking for a place to stay.  There was one hospedaje (hostal) along the “strip” but the woman who ran it was asking 15 soles per person which was pretty outrageous to us seeing as we just spent 8 days in Huaraz for a little over 60 soles.  There were no bathrooms, and it was one dark room with a few dusty beds.  We declined and continued down the road.

“Let´s go to the 1 sole egg sandwich lady so I can eat a sandwhich while we debate where to sleep,” I told Justin.

15 seconds later we rolled up to her doorstep.  Egg sandwhich lady remembered us and smiled when I asked for three more fried egg sandwhiches.  Her friend, who had a store across the street, came over to chat with us as well.  They both knitted away (boy, can Peruvians knit fast!) as we talked to them in broken Spanish and I scarfed down the delicious sandwiches.  Justin asked if camping would be a possibility around here.  Even though we are saying the translation for camping correctly, often times, many people we talk to have still never heard of the term.  We demonstrated setting up our tent and explained it was a home and finally the lady from across the street understood and welcomed us to sleep on the roof of her home!  Her house, like all homes along this tiny town, was made of mud bricks and was adjacent to the mountain side. We climbed up a side stairwell to the roof and began to unload our stuff on our sweet pad for the night!  Her 13 year old  son,  Arrnon, quietly helped us with all our gear and was thrilled to set up our tent with us.  After getting our gear situated, the three of us hiked up the mountain side to watch the sun set over Peru´s second tallest peak, Yerupaja.

Conococha is known as a truck stop on the main road between Lima and Huaraz that sells cheese, chocolate, and beer.  But no local drivers ever stop there for the night.

“Hace demasiado frío aquí” (It is too cold here for them) Arrnon said proudly, smiling that he lives on a high mountain top many deem unlivable, this is the highest city in the country.

Indeed it was a chilly night.  We tucked into our tent around 7:30pm and tried to fall asleep to the lullaby of the loud motors of big rigs forcefully shifting down to second gear to slow down for the two speed bumps in town.  When dawn broke, our tent sparkled with frost and our breathe could easily be seen swirling around the tent.  But that didn´t matter.  The sunrise was beautiful and our family for the night greeted us on the rooftop, checking to see how we made it through the night.  I ate one more egg sandwhich,  bought some cheese and water from our host, we all shared hugs, and off we went towards the sunrise.

Dancing with the Bulls

Justin and I are both indecisive and have trouble making decisions.  We discovered this on the Pacific Crest Trail last year.  At nightfall, we always had the most difficult time deciding where would be the best place to camp or whether to go on a few more miles.  Well, about an hour after riding off into the sunrise, we found ourselves at a fork in the road.  Should we continue on the main highway, or turn off to see the town of Chiquian which was preparing for a festival the next day?  As we scratched our heads and looked at our maps,  five construction workers, both men and women, came up to chat with us and ask what on earth we were doing on bicycles.  Justin proceeded to ask questions about the roads, seeing as our map is terrible and shows no topography, but we were quickly ushered to the side of the road along the outside corner of a mud house.

“What is going on?” I asked in english as I turned my head to see a herd of bulls running towards us.

“Para el festival!” one of the workers explained.  They were herding the cattle into a small pen to start bringing them down to Chiquian.  Everyone laughed as I jokingly hid behind one of the workers.  It took about 10 minutes as we all quietly watched the cowboys wrangle the angry bulls into the pen.  Twice, some escaped, bucking wildly in every direction, sending goosebumps down my body.

We decided to go the longer route to see the town of Chiquian.  STEEP downhill led us to the pretty town by 10:45 am.  In small towns, lunch is served promptly at noon and dinner is at 6pm.  None of this early cooking business for odd hour customers!  Bummed, we bought a few mandarins, skirted around the bustling town, and decided to continue on.  About two hours later we were questioning whether our decision to go the Chiquian route was a good idea or not.  Over 15 km of road was being worked on, freshly tarred gravel turned to loose gravel and on to dirt and sand.  After skidding out one too many times, we had to dismount and push our bikes the rest of the way.  We were pooped to say the least.  When we arrived back to the main highway, three locals leaning in the shade of a house cheered us on and told us less than 6 km until the next village!  Food and sleep for us Hoorah!

 Our Two Adorable Shadows

Well… 6 km turned out to be about 10km but we were still exstatic to see the town of Pachapaqui.  As we turned along a bend in the road, the valley opened up to the small mining town.  Far off in the distance, children were playing futbol, an extremely common occurrence around these parts, on a dirt court (It seems every town prides themselves on their church and their futbol field).  I could hardly make out their tiny bodies but amazingly enough we heard in the distance “GRINGOS!!!” 

“Did you hear that?! Are we THAT white?  How can they tell from that far away?!” Justin laughed.

The locals asked where we were from and in turn we asked where the town´s hostal was located.  For a whopping 6 soles (around $2.30), we stayed in a small dark room.  It fit our bikes and we were happy to be in a quite, little mining town for the night – the first time we had been in a room with beds since the hospital.  The electricity only comes on between 6 and 9pm here and when you turn on the one outdoor faucet… well, water comes when it feels like, whether it be a minute or ten minutes later.

Suddenly we noticed two sets of eyes peaking into our doorway.  We invited in our new friends, two precious girls who lived next door – Mirella (6) and Natalie (5).  They were quite adorable and followed our every move.  They liked touching our bikes and looking at all of our odd equipment. 

“¿qué es eso”  Mirella asked as I went outside and pressed our Spot.  I tried to explain with grand hand gestures that it sends a signal to a satellite to contact people but Mirella just looked at me like I was crazy.

We played with their kitchen set which was a few small plastic kitchen utensil toys in a cardboard box, and then Jacks.  Justin also impressed the girls with a few magic tricks.  They decided to join us for our evening preparation for bed as well.

They flossed, possibly for the first time since they did not have a clue what to do with the odd minty string.  Mirella sifted through my bags on the bed and asked what I used a big white bottle for.  I explained it was for my face, that I have dry skin, and of course they both gave that a try as well.  It was hard to say goodnight, but they finally understood and headed back to their home next store. 

In the morning, we gave them big hugs, as they sadly waved goodbye, and we were off again up the road.  Over 3,000 feet and my second flat tire later, we made it to the top of a 15,300 foot pass.  It was another unbelievable feat.  Truckers and bus drivers honked and gave us two thumbs up as we caught our breaths at the top.  It was all downhill to our evening stop for the night! Wa hoooo!

 An American Dream in Haullanca

 We stopped in the pretty town of Huallanca for lunch at about 1:15 and to thaw our frozen digits after a chilly descent.  I had the BEST lomo saltado yet – this dish consists of french fries, onions, tomatos, and carne cooked together in a brown sauce with a side of white rice.  Most “menu” meals start here with Sopa (soup) and then a choice one from 3 to 5 dishes offered all for usually about 4 soles.  Lomo Saltado has become a favorite for me. 

Anywho, after lunch we rolled down the bridge to exit the town, enjoying big cones of ice cream simultaneously, when we passed a white man on a bridge who said, “You must be from the States.”

I was quite surprised that he knew this, but from his accent, we knew he too was from the States.  New York to be exact.  Dave and his dear wife live in Peru.  His wife manages farms that grow a local grain called Maca (which we have eaten for breakfast most mornings! Delicious grain like oatmeal which is yummy with honey, milk, and raisins).  Dave plans to make a new energy bar using Peruvian grains such as Maca and quinoa.  We are both very excited for his adventures to come and hope to stay connected!

They kindly offered us a cozy home for the night but we decided to push on, since we still had many hours of daylight, to the town of La Union.  Man do I wish we had taken them up on their offer! La Union was a rough town and we did not feel a warm welcome.  It took us over an hour to find a place to stay as most hostals wouldn´t allow us with bicycles.  Some towns just give you a creepy feeling, and this was one of them.  We were back on our bikes and out of there by 7am.

Sickness once again (Oy!) in Huanaco

After another crazy climb to 13,000 ft, and a 7,000ft STEEP descent (Wahoooo!!) we made it Huanaco.  I have been suffering from a sinus infection that has gone into my upper respiratory and I was excited to get a little medicine for comfort from a pharmacy.  Our first night in Huanaco led to yet another food poisoning disaster.  Justin again fell ill to possibly a fruit shake we had, and spent the night with a high fever and throwing up.  Fortunately, the fever subsided the next evening just as my head cold decided to get worse.  We have been dealt some pretty hard cards healthwise these first couple of weeks, but between the challenges we have enjoyed spectacular views, food, and new friends.  Back to healing I go now!

**Melissa**