Turmoil

August 16th 2024 – Ollantaytambo, Peru

It was a pleasure to head out on clean and newly serviced bikes. We climbed steadily for more than 100 kilometers until we passed 4.000 meters. We stayed above that altitude for the remainder of the day.
Late morning we stopped for a cup of coffee and a bite at one of the many small eateries along the road. The place was run by a charming elderly couple. Before we left they wanted to have their pictures taken with us and the bikes. That happens often. Many Peruvians ask to have their picture taken with us and the bikes whenever we stop during the day. They are always polite and curious so we don’t mind.

We stopped by Neby’s Hostal in Carhuamayo to see if they had a room for us. A young man on the first floor reacted to our knocking and told us that the place didn’t offer rooms anymore. We continued to Junín, the next town 30 minutes down the road where Neby apparently had another place up and running.

The yearly festival in Junín made it a bit of a challenge to reach the hostal. Some of the central streets were reserved for stalls and other activities. The rest was clogged with traffic. Eventually we made it and a phone call summoned Neby himself. He had a room for us and the bikes could spend the night in a banquet hall connected to the hostal.

Despite its relatively small size the town is the capital of the Junín Province. The festival was a big event and the place was crawling with people. Surprisingly it made getting something to eat a challenge. You would think that everyone with a restaurant would take advantage of the opportunity to make an extra buck – but no. Most of the restaurants in town were closed. The ones that were open didn’t have enough food or staff to serve all the potential customers. After a couple of futile attempts at places where we would die of old age before being served, we ended up at a place with plenty of staff but currently no food available. All their ovens were packed with chickens being prepared but it would take awhile before they were ready. They had reduced the menu to one thing: Grilled chicken with french fries and salad.
We grabbed one of the last tables and settled in to wait. About an hour later our patience was rewarded.

The sun was setting when we rejoined the festivities in the streets with full bellies. The temperatures dropped with the sun. The locals were dressed for the cold and didn’t seem to mind. Live bands played on the stage at the central square. People were dancing and a dozen stalls selling moonshine had been set up. Eventually we succumbed to the cold and retreated to our room at the hostal. Not that the room was much warmer (I can’t remember the last time we stayed at a place with heating) but we could stay warm covered in blankets.

Despite a really cold night we had been comfortable under our pile of blankets. We postponed our departure to let things heat up a bit. The puddles were still frozen when we went out to get breakfast at 8.30. It was a beautiful morning with the kind of deep blue sky you only find at high altitude.

For the first time on this trip the bikes didn’t fire up on the first try. Both bikes behaved exactly the same and required a bit of throttle to get going. After a few seconds they idled fine. It was most likely a combination of near freezing temperatures and low oxygen level.
It was nice riding from the word go. Great roads through magnificent alpine terrain.

Traveling through a canyon we arrived at a line of cars and rode to the front. The road was blocked by a tow truck trying to recover an overturned lorry. Everyone present helped out the best they could. It was quite a spectacle. After about half an hour the road was clear and we could continue.

The great riding and scenery continued all the way to Huancayo where we had booked a nice apartment. We had dropped almost 1.000 meters during the day.

We went for a walk in town to enjoy the pleasant temperatures and do a bit of shopping. First stop was a Honda dealer to restock the oil filters we had been unable to procure in Huànuco. When I gave the sales clerk the part number he immediately knew they had the parts in stock and fetched them for me. It was a welcome contrast to the incompetent Honda dealer in Huánuco.

Huancayo turned out to be a bustling city. It was big enough to have restaurants with something other than traditional Peruvian food or Chifa on the menu. Neither is bad but becomes a bit insipid after a while so we enjoy every opportunity to eat something else.
The apartment we had rented was so nice that we had to stay for a couple of nights before moving on.

We had a long day ahead of us when we set out from Huancayo. The morning provided us with well-surfaced twisty mountain roads. It was fun!

PE-3, that we followed all day, deteriorated as the day wore on. The sections with gravel and dirt became longer and more frequent. This kind of mixed road conditions is where the Hondas really shine. It’s almost like cheating compared to riding a bigger bike.
Despite being on a main road we encountered few other vehicles outside the towns. We appreciated that, as the conditions were dusty and passing other vehicles was a challenge in many places. I remember one place in particular. We were catching up to a 18-wheeler on a gravel road cut into the side of a mountain. A section of the road was so narrow that the outside of the dual wheels was hanging in the air over the chasm to avoid the other side of the trailer to hit the rock face. It was insane.

It took us around 8 hours to cover 260 km. We had enjoyed the long day on the bikes. Prince Hospedaje in Ayacucho was to be our home for the next couple of nights.
There was some kind of festival going on when we arrived in town. They had been at it all day. We encountered several very drunk people in the streets when we went out for dinner. One was kind enough to spew vomit all around him just as we walked past. I had to wash my shoes and pants when we got home. Apart from that episode, Ayacucho gave a positive impression with a nice atmosphere and charming old buildings.

In the morning we were treated to a huge and delicious breakfast that was included in the 54 soles/$15 we paid for the room – a nice big room with private bathroom and a proper warm shower. We also had free use of a cozy rooftop terrasse and the staff did everything they could to make us feel comfortable. It was the best deal on the journey so far.
We spent most of the day exploring the city where the festivities were still in full swing.

The plan was to leave right after breakfast the following day.
Our hotel was located on a main road. There was a noticeable lack of street noise when we woke up and prepared to leave. When we went down to pack the bikes we saw that the road were littered with garbage (even more than usual) and teeming with people. We asked the hotel staff what was going on.
It was a protest brewing. It was related to the government not building roads to the indigenous communities as promised. The protesters didn’t allow any vehicles on the streets and the owner of our hotel advised us against leaving on the bikes.
I was considering if we should follow that advice or not when we, from the roof of the hotel, saw what happened to people who tried to drive/ride on the street. They got chased down and blocked by large stick wielding groups of men. Both vehicle and driver would get a thrashing. All the tires got punctured.
Similar protests in the city last year had ended with the army being deployed. They had killed 10 and injured 66 protesters before order was restored.
We decided to postpone our departure to the next day, hoping that things would have settled down by then.

In order not to waste the unexpected day of rest I decided to visit a nearby viewpoint and go looking for a gym. Katrine didn’t feel comfortable leaving the hotel and stayed home.
I made it to the viewpoint without incidents. Next, I stopped by a couple of gyms. They were either not what I was looking for or closed. My search led me back towards our hotel. Things had calmed down considerably in the area during my absence. I swung by the hotel to see if Katrine had changed her mind and would like to join me for a workout. She had and we found the perfect gym a few blocks away.
We picked up lunch on the way back and enjoyed a pleasant afternoon on the rooftop terrasse.
Things were more or less back to normal when we went out for dinner in the evening.

For once it was a pleasure to be woken up by the sound of traffic. It announced that there was no repeat of the previous day’s protests. After yet another sumptuous breakfast we said our goodbyes and hit the road.
There was a massive police presence throughout the city. We had to wind our way between trash, rocks and other stuff the protesters had used to build roadblocks until we were several kilometers out of town.
With the clutter behind us we could focus on the riding and the scenery. Both were great. We climbed to more than 4.000 meters before the terrain leveled out.

Around noon we dropped 2.000 meters to a river valley full of orchards.
Numerous stalls along the road sold fruit and juice.
We stopped at a place that offered traditional Peruvian lunch consisting of soup and a main course. One meal shared between us is usually more than enough food. Including drinks it costs around 10 soles ($2.50).
The 2 women running the little restaurant were very sweet.
An elderly and clearly poor couple walked by on the street. The man came over and politely asked the waitress if perhaps they had some leftover food? She invited them in, set a table and served them a full meal free of charge.
The cook’s daughter dropped by as we were getting ready to leave. She was probably around 8. When she saw me, her jaw dropped and after a few seconds she exclaimed “WOW, you are tall!” She was very taken by both me and Katrine. She drowned me with questions and spontaneously gave Katrine a hug. Her mother was embarrassed and apologized for her daughter’s straightforwardness.

That lunch break was a heartwarming experience and typical for how we have come to perceive the Peruvian people – sweet, curious and helpful.
With full bellies and a smile on our lips we left the river behind and returned to higher altitude.

Late in the afternoon we rolled into the town Andahuaylas. We found a bed and secure parking by the central square. It seemed like a nice town. Katrine was tired after a long day on the bikes. After dinner she called it a day and went to bed early.

After breakfast the following day we went for a walk to see the downtown area in daylight. It was a cold and beautiful morning.

Around 10 the temperatures had become pleasant enough for us to get on the bikes. We followed road PE-3 out of town – the road that has been our companion the majority of the time since we left Cajamarca more than 3 weeks ago. It has been an interesting acquaintance.
It is one of the main thoroughfares in Peru but has nothing to do with its European or American counterparts.
PE-3 starts at the border to Ecuador and winds its way through the mountains all the way to Lake Titicaca on the border to Bolivia. It’s mainly a surfaced 2 lane road but with several sections of gravel/dirt in various conditions. With a few exceptions near bigger towns, there is very little traffic on the road.
What really makes it stand out is the elevation changes and the surrounding scenery. The riding experience is spectacular. It’s especially the twisty paved sections that put a grin on my face, but there is something for everyone.

The Honda’s are very frugal at altitude on twisty blacktop. We typically average around 40 km/l (94 mpg) without trying.
I imagine that the low oxygen level makes the ECU cut back the fuel to keep the engine from running rich? It reduces power but the bikes run surprisingly well even at high altitude. The power output never restricts us on these kinds of roads.

The bikes got a good workout as we then navigated the rough, steep and congested streets of Abancay to get above the city and out of the valley.

From there on it was smooth (fun) sailing all the way to the town of Curahuasi where we checked into a cheap hotel for the night.

The riding was excellent as soon as we left Curahuasi in the morning. The first 25 km was one long descent to Puente Cunyac that spans the Apurimac River.

It was time for lunch when we reached a high plain covered with farms, fields and livestock.

We left the plain along a northbound railway track. A Canyon led us to Ollantaytambo that marks the northwestern boundary of The Sacred Valley. We passed several Inca ruins as we approached the town.

A hostal near the central square provided us with a cozy room and secure parking.

Ollantaytambo’s old town is an Inca-era grid of cobblestoned streets and adobe buildings. The surrounding area is covered with Inca ruins. It’s a beautiful and very interesting place. Ollantaytambo is also the gateway to Machu Picchu. As a result, the small town is flooded with tourists – and everything is set up to cater for them. We have only seen few foreign tourists since we left Guatemala 6 months ago. It is a bit overwhelming suddenly to be surrounded by tall pale people and hear other languages than Spanish.
We are going to stay here for a few days. I’m sure it will be interesting.