Subject : [aroundforpeace] War in La Paz, Norton`s in Cuzco and Happy Birthday in Peru
Date : Wed, 19 Mar 2003 02:48:40 -0000
New Adventures in Southamerica, 2002 - 2003
TO READ THE WHOLE STORY OF THIS TRIP, VISIT: www.andesmoto-tours.com
War in La Paz, Norton's in Cuzco and Happy Birthday in the Mountains
and desert of Peru
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
I arrive at the city of La Paz, Bolivia, a couple of days after a
bloody battle between Police and the Army, besides plunders and
destructions by inflamed demonstrators, leave the city with visible
signs of the popular unrest. The peoples fury amplified by the
inoperance of the police and the savagery of the army, can unleash
violence in outrageous ways, causing death and innumerable property
damages; practically all the public buildings in the city's downtown
area are destroyed and / or burned down. Don't they know that they
are destroying their own property?
The weekend before the local Carnival, things calm down. I take a
Sunday off to rest, the though Paraguayan and Bolivian roads, besides
the high altitude, have given me a beating. Monday morning, I have to
take care of my faithful motorcycle, Ushuaia, and I also have to
visit the Prensa newspaper, for a promotion interview of my book.
After the interview, I go to my great friend Walter Nosiglia´s Honda
dealer. Walter is a multiple time Bolivian motocross champion, that
always has given me a hand in my previous trips and that is known in
the world of the motorcycle travelers, for the great help that he
provides here in La Paz. Walter greets me with sincere appreciation
and has a very nice surprise: he shows me the promotional material
for the 2002 Bolivian Moto Caravan, which every year he organizes. In
the promotional poster, magazine and leaflets a great photo of me
riding the Honda Dominator appears, bike that I rode in South America
2 and with which I participated in the 2001 Caravan.
My motorcycle KLR 650, affectionately nicknamed Ushuaia, gets fresh
Bel Ray oil, eliminating the gear box problems that she started
having in the dusty dirt roads of the altiplano. Also she gets new
brake fluid, to see if that eliminates the annoying overheating of
the brakes and a carburetor high altitude calibration, expertly done
by Freddy, the veteran mechanic who has helped me here in previous
opportunities. The motorcycle is perfect again and ready for the last
part of this tour, my third trip around South America.
Leaving the city, riding on the highway that emerges out of La Paz,
towards El Alto and after passing by the destroyed toll boots
(shattered by raged rabbles protesting for the government new tax
policies) I get to the confusion, disorder and filth of the "high"
part of the Bolivian capital. With relief, I take the highway that I
suppose heads directly to the border with Peru, at Desaguadero. I
take the wrong route and when I realize it, I´m already riding
towards the Copacabana's peninsula on the shores of mighty lake
Titicaca. This slip-up will increase many kilometers to today's
route, that will take me to the city of Cuzco, in Peru, but the
beautiful landscapes and the good time I'm having riding this twisty
roads, make me at ease with life's mistakes.
When I arrive at the border, new for me, I obtain without problem the
Bolivian exit stamp in my passport, but in the customs office, they
demand from me the motorcycle´s entry document, which, of course, I
do not have. (If you remember, I entered Bolivia from Paraguay in a
no men's land.) A little persuasion plus some kind of prepotency, and
the big size of my body, seem to convince the customs official to let
me go out of Bolivia without giving me more B.S. After formalizing my
entry into Peru, I pass by Juliaca's city and later I stop in Puno to
get some fuel. Upon leaving the gas station, my totally deflated rear
tire forces me to look for a tire repair place, which luckily is only
half a block away. It´s curious, but the last time I entered into
Peru, close from here, I also had to repair a tire, only that time
was the front one, and as well, the only flat tire of the whole trip.
Would this constitute my "Inca tax" to enter their ancient
territories?
The fast paved route is a relief, after more than 1.000 km. of hard
dirt tracks in Paraguay and Bolivia. In spite of the Sunday rest that
I took in La Paz, I still feel tired and a bit "burned out" of so
many hundreds of kilometers traveled in consecutive days. This trip,
which began without schedule or itinerary, must come to an end, it
has taken me more time than I thought, the "little side trip" to
southern Brazil, was indeed not programmed. It's not my fault if I
did run up with the " most pretty " Brazilian city, in every sense.
A long day of 4th.y 5th. gears, riding the excellent highway that
passes by lake Titicaca, overcomes several high mountain passes and
majestically descends into the Inca´s sacred valleys that surround
the city of the Cuzco, leads me directly to the Plaza de Armas, to a
cozy hotel and to the bar of my great friend Jeffrey Powers, Norton`s
Rat Tavern. Jeffrey is cooking a delicious spaghetti, which invites
me to share, being perfect for my empty stomach and wallet.
After dinner, at the Norton's Bar, we meet two motorcyclists from
Canada and the United States. The first one, had serious problems to
get to Cuzco in his BMW. He tells me that the bridge over the
Urubamba river has been destroyed by last week's heavy rains and that
he had to transport his heavy motorcycle on a truck to be able to
overcome the detour, constituted by a muddy mountain road. The second
rider, says that he burned off the clutch of his BMW bike in the same
section. Both coincide that with my KLR, being less heavy and more
suitable for this kind of roads, I have a good chance of overcoming
this sinuous and steep muddy road. They better be right!
..................................................
Today's aim is to get to Lima to celebrate, in a decent way, my 44
th. birthday. It will not be an easy task, from Cuzco to Lima it's
nearly 900 tortuous kilometers, overcoming several high steps
mountain passes, that in this time of year, have an unpredictable
enough climate. The rest will be the on the heavily trafficked Pan-
American highway that follows the Pacific Ocean coast, in long
straights that alternate with sinuous sections that edge the deep
cliffs, winding among enormous sand dunes.
Hands on: clock alarm at 5 a.m. Leaving the imperial Inca city at 6
a.m. sharp. Highway to Abancay, asphalt surrounded of beautiful
scenery, incredible asphalt snails to descend to the Urubamba's
valley, the road winds on itself one curve after another in an
endless adrenaline ride. A hearty breakfast is provided in some
hamlet on the route, while a parishioner confirms to me that the
bridge over the Urubamba river is effectively down and that a
tenacious detour has to be taken to overcome the mountains
surrounding the river. I feel butterflies in my stomach.
I continue descending towards the bridge, with a full belly and
renewed energy, but the butterflies continue fluttering happily in my
gut. As I see, am going to need this energy, since before the bridge,
the asphalted surface is interrupted and a dirt sideway must be
approached. The detour sinks towards the deep bed of a creek, its
chocolate brown waters presaging mud in big quantities. Before
sinking in the muddy riverbed, I think about it twice, but I don´t
have alternative, it´s this or the return to the Cuzco and the much
longer ride down to Arequipa to get to Lima. Ushuaia shares my worry,
since she wants to quite out and forces me to accelerate her hardly
enough in order to overcome the deep muddy waters. We go out towards
a small bridge and to a pronounced uphill from where the muddy water
descends in streams. The motorcycle tosses and slides but her
powerful engine pulls us up the climb towards more mud and rocks. A
slow light truck doesn't let me pass, even if I apply an overdose of
horn. Finally, the driver goes aside and I can get to the top of the
hill. There, I meet another medium size truck caught in a swampy
quagmire. I manage to ride through the small space left by the stuck
vehicle and ride on, sliding in about every maneuver, finally, after
a long rocky downhill, the bloody mud disappears and the blessed
asphalt appears.
I`m sweating, but feel a big relieve of having overcome without a
fall this dam muddy detour! The first mountain pass of the day is the
one that climbs from the Urubamba valley to Abancay's city. It begins
with thick fog and then, with torrential rain, and it´s only 10 in
the morning! Lastly, after a long up and down in a wet and scenic
less road, the route descends towards the small city of Abancay, to
where I roughly make it, since in a closed curve, diesel or oil,
dangerously diluted in the wet pavement, almost extracts the
motorcycle off my hands.
After Abancay, an approximately 20 kms. section of dirt road gives
step to a brand-new asphalt highway, which follow capriciously the
bends of the Apurimac river. Is a very fast 4th. and 5th. gear ride,
hardly 3rd. to save the innumerable bridges, and switch direction
between one and the other tortuousness shores. Ushuaia provides good
speed, between 80 and 90 miles per hour, in the attempt of winning
time to get to Lima early enough, to improvise a decent birthday
party. Happy Birthday Rocco! And as a perfect gift of the moment, the
road finally separates from the river and begins a delirious climb
towards the Andean summits. Curve after curve of adrenaline emotions,
I cannot avoid but to stop several times to photograph this maniac
highway that twists as a maddened snake while climbing over hills,
gorges, cannons, up to almost rub the rocky summits and arrive into
the majestic high plateau, the mighty "paramo".
The high plateau spreads, magnificently, filling all the horizons,
finished off by bare blackish summits. In all directions, dark clouds
presage rainy weather, but on this spot of the highway, the Sun
shines intensely, slipping past loaded clouds. I advance at full
speed in a straight line while I wonder how long my good luck, of
avoiding the rain, is going to last. The response comes to me in the
shape of thick rain drops that throb on top of my helmet, as
preventive little punches .
I decide to stop and stuff myself into the rain suit before it´s too
late. Not that I really need it, my Aerostich is weather proof, but a
wet suit is colder than a dry one, for sure. I park to the side of
the solitary road, sit down in the gutter to put on the rain proof
trousers while enjoying the last beams of the warm high altitude Sun.
Meanwhile, dark clouds hover over Ushuaia and me. Just in time, when
I get on the motorcycle, thick ice drops fall down of the sky
frantically, a tremendous hailstone covers the black pavement and
inside my helmet, I'm listening to a deafening concert of out of tune
percussion.
Ushuaia's windshield is filled with ice and the heavy hail seems to
perforate my gloves and the skin of my hands. But it is so good to
have good equipment, the Aerostich suit provides the indispensable
protection to face this crazy weather. I´m not even cold and only the
scanty visibility and the frozen road prevent me of riding faster. As
we head towards the west and as the high plateau decreases in
altitude, the storm calms down, the hail turns into light rain and
after a wide curve that surrounds a paunchy hill, the weather dries
off and the road starts descending dizzily towards a series of dry
valleys. There below, is the population of Púquio and the longed
petrol that already skimps, making me ride in F.S.M. (Fuel Saving
Mode)
Once re-supplied of petrol and protein fuel, incautiously I prepare
myself for the final descent towards the coast. What coast? We still
have to ride over the Pampa Galeras, a 4.800 meters high plateau,
spreading between my current position and the dry Peruvian coast. The
road wanders among rocky mountain slopes, while I'm trying to
predict, always wrongfully, where the hell the road is heading. It
crosses from a mountainous branch to a deep precipice again and
again, as if the darn road is undecided on which direction to take to
cross the immense mountain chain. Finally, after a million curves, we
come to what seems to be an immense high land, which is totally
immersed in thick fog.
A road sign confirms that we are in Pampa Galeras and that this is a
natural reserve for the Vicuñas, the gracious little cousin of the
Llamas It rains intermittently, but the road begins to descend
gradually, one more time, and the fog remains up above, allowing me
to see hundred of graceful vicuñas, only that this cute suckers
sometimes seem to want to cross in my path when they get scared with
the noise of the motorcycle and start running in a frantic stampede.
I continue descending and the high plateau dries off and gradually
turns into barren sandy hills.
The late afternoon hovers on the western spurs of the Andes and an
almost transparent luminosity wraps everything. The solar light seems
to bounce in the stony hills wrapping everything in a vaporous halo.
The road begins another session of twisting on itself, to turn and
return around increasingly lower hills. The Sun light bounces on the
high mountain chain and an unusual phenomenon takes place: the night
and the day face each other in an unequal struggle. I stop for a
moment to observe the intense landscape, behind me, towards the high
mountain, the day reigns with majesty and sheen, whereas towards the
other side, towards the ocean, the night plants her glooms with
possessive rapidity.
Finally, the highway sinks into a deep canyon and the green of the
vegetation announces the nearness of some river, houses and
plantations appear and the road yields with the Pan-American highway
right in the entry to the city of Nazca. It's 6 o'clock, has been a
12 hour ride from Cuzco, one of the best rides of my life and I still
have many kms. to go before Lima. Happy Birthday Rocco! I decide to
continue, I am not lacking energy and I`m not too tired neither. I
take the Pan-American northwards and after some distance, already
with the full night over the desert landscape, I run up with the
signs that indicate the famous arqueological Lines of Nazca. I stop
for the obliged photo and to cover with adhesive tape, the air filter
box vent, the motorcycle is calibrated for high altitude and at sea
level she can feel the lack of fuel that might overheat her engine
up.
Certainly, my auxiliary driving light does not work. Why is it that
these useless devices never work when one needs them? The head light
of the KLR is not too bad and provides decent illumination, but when
there are vehicles coming the other way, with their powerful
headlights, it is hard to see the road and I must decrease the speed
drastically. The traffic is intense tonight in the Pan-American
highway, my eyes burn and my body starts denouncing the need of
nourishing energy.
I get to the city of Ica, cross the boisterous and crammed downtown
area and find a small restaurant that provides me with a badly needed
dinner. While I eat, the young man of the restaurant asks me usual
questions, being one of these, which always putt a strange face on
them: are you traveling alone? I answer that yes, I travel alone, but
that I was traveling with a North American friend, his Peruvian wife
and his little dog in Brazil. Amazed, he asks me if perhaps the dogs
name is Punky! It turns out that Lew, his wife Achi and famous Punky,
stopped here to have lunch a few months ago, and since a couple
traveling aboard a motorcycle with a dog are hard to forget, the
young man remembered them right away. It is such the commotion of the
guy, that calls his girlfriend right away, to tell her about it and
she appears in the restaurant a few minutes later. She's accompanied
by several girlfriends friends and they sit with me to talk. When I
realize it, it's already 11 o'clock. I try to say goodbye, but they
offer me more coffee and we continues chatting.
When I tell them that today is my birthday and that I want to get to
Lima, they make me realize that I still have to cover 300 km., that
the road is very dangerous at night and that even if I make it, I
would arrive into Lima probably at Dawn. I realize my stubbornness,
then relax and remain awhile with them. One of these girls, is very
nice. She has a very beautiful face and an agreeable smile, her skin,
tanned by the desert Sun, shines with healthy luxuriance, her
vivacious green eyes look at me with intensity and she blushes when I
tell her that she has a perfect body and that she should be working a
fashion model. It seems that she liked my compliment, because she
asks me to take a photo of her with my motorcycle and later she says
to me that I should stay and we can go out to celebrate my birthday.
Go out? This birthday boy is tired down to the bones, all my clothes
are dirty, to go out where? With a wink of an eye she goes back
inside the restaurant, says goodbye to her friends and hops up on my
dirty motorcycle.............
RICARDO
Return to PERU ROADS TO THE COAST
or return to PERU HOMEPAGE or BOLIVIA HOMEPAGE