A tar pit and Machu Picchu

I started getting false warnings on the GPS around the time I entered Peru, usually a sign wires are shorting in the cradle. The cold rain and high passes before Huancayo officially did it in, no power. I run on battery power now and leave the unit powered off until it’s needed. I have my usual desayunos of pina, café negra, pan, and revueltos prepared at the hostal, one of the little routines that evolved out of my stay here. I will head to Abancay today taking in the Andahuaylas on the way.

I eye the map enthusiastically noting the squiggly lines connecting me to Abancay. A series of rocky switchbacks lead me out of Ayacucho and I notice immediately the improved handling of the bike, servicing the forks pays off. A couple hours into the day’s ride I catch a couple of adventure cyclists deep into a big ascent and think, now that’s a mode of travel I can appreciate. All of their belongings condensed into front and rear panniers, propelled by human power, much respect. I also met a German riding solo in southern Ecuador heading for the La Balsa border crossing. You won’t run into your average tourist out here, one of many reasons I prefer this route over the much traveled Pan Am.

The rain came just before the Andahuaylas, the usual cold penetrating stuff. I planned to stop in the pueblo to take in what is supposed to be one of the better markets in Peru but the weather waved me off. The road out of the Andahuaylas was interesting to say the least, a near vertical climb up rocky hard pack, the kind of trail I’m accustomed to riding in Arizona. The SE’s carbs let me know they weren’t liking the lack of oxygen and the engine nearly stalls. After a lot of clutch slipping and throttle feathering I get out of the valley and continue on my way.

I spend the rest of the day ascending and descending mountain passes in varying degrees of rain, hail, mud, and construction. It’s only now that it dawns on me, the clock is ticking on the secluded beauty of this part of the country. A year from now this route will most likely be paved and bustling with commercial traffic. I suppose I should be encouraged by the progress but the thought of Ayacucho getting added to the pavement grid leaves me hollow. I’m unloading the bike in Abancay when I notice it, me and the bike are covered in TAR. The standing water and mud must have concealed the tar pit I apparently road through in one of the construction zones. For those of you unfamiliar with tar, it’s not easily removed from skin, clothing, and gear. The hotel manager gets a small container of gasoline and I do my best to remove the tar from me and the frequently used areas of the gear and bike. It’s all I can muster after a long day on the bike when all I want to do is get a shower and a bite to eat before going to bed.

I run into a Canadian (Ray) at the hotel, he’s riding a BMW GS Adventure and heading to TDF as well. I get up early the next day and spend an hour at the grifo bathing the bike in gasoline and trying to remove more tar. The light of day reveals there is more tar on the bike than I could see the previous night. I will spend the next several days discovering the areas I missed by backtracking from the tar as it appears on my hands. Ray and I hook up for the ride to Cusco, an easy day of good pavement and mountain passes. It turns out Ray is using a Go Pro camera for his trip as well so we shoot some video on the way.

Cusco is the tourist Mecca of Peru, not surprising since it’s the jumping off place for Machu Picchu. In spite of this I’m able to enjoy the city’s offerings and prepare for the trip to Aguas Calientes, the town that hosts Machu Picchu. Perhaps one of the larger misinformation campaigns in Peru is how to get to Aguas Calientes. Depending on who you talk to, the road is flooded, closed, under construction, or there is no road. Ray and I spend a couple days gathering intel while taking in the sites then point the bikes north to Ollantaytambo. We take a dirt route to Urubamba that allows us to visit Maras, famous for its Pre-Incan salt mines.

I get yet another front flat after Urubamba and the trusty bicycle pump I’ve been carrying on the trails for 5 years fails. A Brasilian couple stop and offer to drive me to the nearest llantaria where I can get my tire aired up. The flat sets us back an hour or so but the weather is nice and we meet some nice people so it’s all good. We arrive in Ollantaytambo and befriend a man who offers to let us leave our bikes at his brother’s hostal/restaurant in Santa Teresa where we can catch a bus to Aguas Calientes the following the day.

We follow the Urubamba river out of Ollantaytambo optimistic our plan will get us as close as possible to Machu Picchu by motorbike. We hit a lot of rain and fog on the first couple of mountain passes. Judging by the amount of water running off the mountain it’s been raining regularly for a number of days. We reach Alfamayo and receive some disheartening news. Road Closed for construction. The road opens 3 times a day and we just missed the 2PM opening by about an hour. It looks like my flat tire took us out of the window. The next opening was not until 6PM and that would mean we’re riding a rough section of road after dark. Ray speaks good Espanol and no amount of persuasion, $$ or otherwise, convinces the police officer to let us by.

We head back to Ollantaytambo a little discouraged but still playing the hand we’re dealt. We find a local hostal owner to keep our bikes and gear for the night, have some dinner, and catch the last train to Aguas Calientes at 11PM. In spite of getting little sleep we’re on the mountain early in an attempt to beat the rush of visitors who assault the tourist attraction each day. Machu Picchu is called the “lost city” because the Spanish didn’t find it during their colonial hay day. Not surprising given the difficulty in reaching the site still today.