After a few days in Huanuco and feeling I’ve reached the apex of my cold I push on to Huancayo. Sitting at 11K ft the city is the largest so far in my Peru route. The bike’s oozing fork seals get a reprieve as the route is mostly good pavement and a cold driving rain cleans them up nice. The addition of 14K ft passes throws a monkey wrench into recovering from the worst cold I’ve had in years. I arrive in Huancayo with a shiver that shakes me to my core. The first hotel I find is way out of my budget at $40 per night. I find a more economical stay close to the main square and after some persuasion convince the manager to allow me to put my bike inside the lobby. Unfortunately their understanding of aguas calientes and mine differ greatly. When I hear the phrase I expect the water to actually posses some warmth. Perhaps they thought I asked if they had aguas frio?
After my arctic shower I hit the centro for dinner and proceed to lose my bankcard, I suspect I left it at the ATM machine as that’s the only time I take it out. After some denial I determine I have enough cash to survive for a few days including fuel to Ayacucho. I should have had a lot more cash but I dipped into my USD stash in Ecuador and haven’t replenished it. On a positive note I did have an excellent pizza at La Lena’s where instead of dough they use a chicken breast for the crust. Yummm!
Wanting to get some distance from the city I hit the road for Ayacucho the next morning. The landscape is beginning to look like the desert southwest I’ve grown to love in the states. More colorful sandstone and wind blown rock formations mix with the greener more wet terrain I’ve been on. I’m met with blue skies and no rain this day but lots of red mud remains. Mindful of the bike’s loud aftermarket exhaust, I creep the bike down the cobblestone calles and enter the main square of Ayacucho. The colonial influence is remarkable as the small city hosts 33 historic churches, each representing a year of Jesus’ life. The parque is crowded with the usual Sunday visitors and I find a convenient place to stop where I can get a lay of the town. I spend the next half hour with a gathering crowd, mostly Peruvian tourists, talking about my trip and fielding questions about my bike. One of the benefits of traveling alone is people aren’t afraid to confront you so you meet lots of people. One of my new friends recommends Hostal Florida where I stay. The Zevallos family run Hostal Florida in their nicely preserved colonial home and their hospitality make for a great hostal experience. I enjoy my time there.
The next morning I spot someone riding a KTM 525 the exact model as the one I sold before leaving the states. It turns out his buddy owns a Honda moto shop two blocks from my hostal and races. The next thing I know I’m on my SE following him to the shop. We pull the forks and change the oil. Vlad has only Yamaha seals in stock and we agree my seals are not scored and just need to be cleaned. Vlad does have an O-ring in stock that fits the site glass of the SE’s rear brake cylinder so we repair it and top off with 5.1. The gang at the Moto Shop is a blast to hang with I’m thankful I meet them.
Citibank shocks me by getting a replacement card to me (remember I’m in Ayacucho, Peru) in under a week, awesome service from the big mega-bank. I eat some of the best pasta I’ve tasted at Antonino’s and eat there most nights. Perhaps seeing my gnocchi made in front of me in a 500 year old Spanish building makes it taste better? After the cascade of recent events Ayacucho restores some equilibrium to my travels and I reluctantly leave. Next up my route takes me through Abancay, the last stop before Cusco and Machu Picchu.
