Across the Cordillera Occidental

My map is wrong. Patently the people at Insight Fleximap measured the distance from Nasca to Cusco using knotted string, or they just guessed it.

I couldn't be bothered to rent a plane and fly over the Nasca Lines, it seemed like a waste of cash to see what was effectively a bunch of early crop circles and probably put there by the same kind of bored youngsters, albeit a thousand years ago. If I was stuck in the desert with no TV, that's what I'd do too. So I left Nasca around 10am thinking I had 460Km of quiet mountain road to get to Cusco. The first sign I picked up outside Nasca said "Cusco 660Km". That would be a long day on a straight dual carriageway, on secondary roads through the mountains I would end up in Cusco around 11pm.

After several thoughts along the lines of do I really want to go to Cusco or Machu Picchu, I got on with it and made good time for 20Km or so, until the road surface disintegrated and the road wound round tight bends to climb into the mountains. I was treated to the incredible sight of the Cerro Blanco, one yellow mountain amid all the rock, at over 2000 metres high the biggest sand dune on Earth. The road got steadily worse until about the 140Km post it was closed altogether. It was 1pm and it had taken me three hours to get that far.

There was a small queue of cars and me, the locals were all hassling the roadworks team to be let through. A few people took an interest in the bike, and as usual asked me the capacity. Peruvians are fascinated by big bikes. One of them explained to me that the road was closed now until 4pm. I was short on fuel, and didn't have enough to make it back to Nasca. The nearest fuel was in Puquio, past the closed road, along with the nearest water which I also urgently needed. Three hours without a drink in that heat wasn't going to happen so I more or less pleaded with the road crew in mixed Spanish and hand signs to let me through as the bike was so narrow. To my amazement it worked, and I was allowed through past all the heavy machinery making a mess of the road. I felt terrible for the locals, stuck there all afternoon. It wasn't like they could nip to the shops and buy a newspaper!

I got to Puquio and had never really seen a town like it, the road may as well not have been there as it was really just a wide track in the mountain side covered with sand, dust and gravel. Riding on it was a nightmare. The town itself looked like it had seen better days and was essentially just a few old buildings in a dust bowl. I got fuel but the open 24 hours shop attached to it was shut ;) So I went a block further and found a corner shop which served me two bottles of water with a thick coating of dust. The shopkeeper wiped them down for me, and the seals were intact, so I left town fully prepared to get all the way to Cusco.

The road that left Puquio could have passed for a decent UK road, I was amazed at the difference. It finished climbing pretty quickly and soon I was on high altitude plains, yellowish grass and a few peaks here and there, but mostly completely flat. My altimeter was showing just over 4000m. This was the Pampa Galeras, and it was full of Guanacos (or Llamas, or maybe Alpacas. I can't tell which is which ;) ). The road opened up and I put the hammer down, although I was careful to keep an eye on the wildlife. Eventually the plains climbed to a maximum of around 4500m, just under 15,000 feet, effectively the beginning of the Cordillera Occidental. The sky was deep blue, all hints of white gone, and it contrasted with the tufty yellow grasses. There were occasional lakes which looked almost black. Dotted around were pink spots on the lakes, Flamingoes going about their business. The sun beat down but didn't seem to carry any warmth. I felt closer to it, like I could reach out and touch space.

There were farms too, with Llamas penned in by stone walls. The indian farmers were dressed in layers of blankets and wore wide brimmed hats, which seemed to keep them warmer than my bike gear was keeping me ;) It occurred to me that between the indians living in that thin air and the small shacks I saw in the desert, it was very naive of me to think that people in Alaska had lives as far removed from mine as they could be.

I'd been more or less flat out across the plains and thought I should stop to take a picture, but when I got off the bike I felt very wobbly and got on again without unpacking my camera. After a short distance I felt like I was falling asleep, that horrible too tired to drive feeling where you are fighting to keep your eyes open. It was the middle of the afternoon though. I found that shaking my head cleared it a little, and when the road finally plummeted down into a low valley, the feeling went away completely. I followed the river valley, still riding pretty quickly, until sundown when I had to slow considerably. I was still 50Km from the nearest town, Abancay, and 250 from Cusco.

I was reminded of the time I thought it would be a good idea to drive 600 miles to Edinburgh after work one Friday evening. This was nearly as stupid, and I could see myself riding all night at the speed I was going. As I approached Abancay the stars were appearing and I noticed again how little I knew of the Southern Hemisphere constellations. I needed a map ;) As I was passing through the centre of town I saw an hotel and they had secure parking, internet access, and decent rooms by chance.

Cusco could wait another day.

Frase.