The Trouble with Peru
Us and the Volcano. We are standing at 4500m here so we have no idea how high that mountain is.
We are leaving our comfortable digs in the madness that is La Paz, Bolivia and heading west to face who knows what. Traffic in the city is truly mind blowing. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, buses, pedestrians and dogs all battle tooth and nail for the same potholed, broken piece of tarmac. There are no road signs, even less road rules and just the occasional traffic light. Often at intersections JC will pull his bike sideways across the oncoming traffic to allow the rest of the group to pass. All this to a constant chorus of blaring horns and shouting. It is hilarious mayhem. If you think peak hour in your city is a bit crazy, think again. It is the most civilized thing in the world by comparison.
There has been considerable civil unrest in southern Peru meaning the border from Bolivia to Peru is closed so we hatch a plan involving crossing back into northern Chile then entering Peru from there. It is not clear if this will work but it is our best shot. It involves renewing our visas (Chile is the only country in South America that requires us to have visas). After a nervous wait the last visa arrives at the eleventh hour and we ride out early the next morning attempting to beat the rush but the rush in La Paz is constant. Once out of the mayhem the road is smooth, fast and just twisty enough to be a total joy. We climb inexorably into the Andes, eventually reaching the border at the tiny village of Tambo on the RN4.
It is generally recognized that the Kunjerab Pass on the Karakoram Highway between Pakistan and China is the highest border crossing in the world at 4706 m but our GPS’ all register 4750+ here at Tambo. Regardless of the finer details we are all gasping for breath while the border guards show barely disguised sadistic glee as they make us remove all luggage from the bikes and haul it about 100 metres to the X-ray machines. Satisfied that we are not smuggling bombs, drugs, fruit and veg or other fun stuff into the country we are turned loose onto a spectacular road through a ridiculous landscape of towering dormant volcanoes, lava fields, briny sulphureous lakes and moonscape vistas that assault the senses at every turn. We tumble and twist from our mountain vantage like horses released into the wild until we emerge triumphant and elated at the beautiful coastal town of Arica, just a few km south of the Peruvian border.
We rise early, determined to be at the border before the rush but alas we find several hundred others lined up before us. There is a large group of protesters, mostly Venezuelan refugees so the border has been closed until sufficient security personnel can be moved into place to render it safe for us to pass. As we sit in the rapidly increasing heat Duncan finds a piece of chalklike rock so begins idly doodling on the road. I slump on the road feigning death, so he draws a line around my “corpse”.
We later hear a rumour of a death at the border and wonder if we are the cause of said rumour.
Forensic outline.
After five hours and without warning the border is suddenly opened and we are signaled frantically through the melee by distressed security personal with riot shields holding back the angry horde. Later that night we discover that we were filmed by a local TV news crew as we ran the gauntlet and our images are broadcast all over Peru and Chile. So much for keeping a low profile.
We hole up in the small city of Tacna, Peru a few km from the border while the next extraordinary phase of the journey is plotted. To our consternation it is decided that it will not be safe for us to continue riding between here and Lima nearly 1500km away. Little did we know that the Compass crew had been beavering away in the background organizing the near impossible to get us safely around the worst of the troubles. An enclosed semi-trailer with timber floor is hired along with the driver, makeshift anchor points are screwed to the floor, the bikes are forklifted on board and strapped down sardine style.
The semi and our support truck, driven by Juan will travel in convoy with military escort through the danger zone while we sit in air-conditioned comfort at 30,000 ft sipping complimentary drinks as we wing towards Lima.
We stay a couple of nights in an extraordinary converted 60 room mansion in the fashionable Miraflores district of Lima while we wait for the arrival of our bikes. While there we are joined for dinner by a colleague of Paul’s who was born not more than a hundred metres from our accommodation but now lives in Geelong, Victoria, Australia. His old house is now a Starbucks. The world truly is too small! We take time to explore this beautiful city with long walks along the shoreline and leisurely lunches in funky cafes. We learn that Lima is one of the driest places on Earth with average annual rainfall of around 5 mm! Yes five! On learning this a nagging feeling I have that something is wrong here is suddenly resolved. There is no guttering on the buildings, no down pipes, no storm water infrastructure of any kind. It’s just not required. All water is piped from the mountains many miles to the East. Lima is also very geologically unstable and despite having a population of nearly 12 million few buildings reach more than 10 floors high.
Meanwhile JC (our guide) and the https://compassexpeditions.com/ team have worked feverishly to rearrange our schedules so we don’t miss any of the massive attractions we have so been looking forward to. So we fly to the Peruvian Amazon town of Puerto Maldonado where we are then met and taken 30 minutes up the Rio Tambo in long motorised canoes to stay in a fabulous eco lodge in the jungle.
Such a small fish, but look at the teeth!!
We fish for piranha, watch giant otters catch their own fish, watch alligators watching us, watch monkeys avoid us and nearly avoid seeing the macaws at all. Another flight and we are back into the Andes and the ancient Inca capital of Cusco. This may well be my new favourite city in the whole world.
The guy behind Paul looks excited to be here!
There are many open squares and plazas to explore, the food culture is fantastic and the architecture is awe inspiring. Much of the city’s built environment is Spanish colonial but built on top of Inca ruins.
Inca foundations with Spanish upper level
Many buildings have a first floor of perfectly engineered Inca stone then a second and subsequent floors of more modern materials. We find that if we avoid the more public areas we are not assaulted by the relentless onslaught of hawkers pedaling their wares which are usually something to do with a Lama, a massage or women in traditional dress with a baby llama, trying to charge you money to have your photo taken with the tiny bundle of cuteness.
From here we are bussed through the Sacred Valley to Ollyantatambo and then by train to the ancient Inca citadel, Machu Picchu.
Evidence of Inca and pre-Inca occupation of the area is everywhere and spectacular. The mind boggles hopelessly when trying to comprehend the scale of the engineering that went on here. Rivers were diverted, mountains levelled, hundred ton stones transported many miles and perfectly cut to fit specific purposes. Inca cities of 20,000 people or more were built every 20 km along the valley and trade networks were established that would rival the fabled Silk Road of Eurasia. All this brought undone by a handful of Spaniards who used a tactic so foreign to the Inca that they had no defence. Basically the Spaniards lied… Through deceit and rat cunning the Spaniards were able to convince the Inca that they were just the beginning of a vast, invincible army of invaders all mounted on “giant llamas” and carrying “thunder sticks” so the Inca either surrendered en masse or fled into the jungles. In truth it was a bluff and the vast army actually numbered just a few hundred conquistadors. By the time the Incas realised that deceit was an actual thing it was too late and the Spanish had assumed control of all Inca territory, plundered much of their reserves of gold and silver, spread new diseases like syphilis and smallpox and basically put an end to hundreds of years of successful civilisation. Sometimes it would appear mankind has learned nothing from history as this madness and greed is repeated time and again around the world still today.
We land back in Cusco and find ourselves slap bang in the middle of a major cultural festival. Bands from all the villages for many miles around, all in traditional dress and pounding feverishly at drums, playing flutes, pan pipes and other unidentifiable instruments, dance around the central plaza in a nonstop riot of noise, colour, movement and alcohol. This joyous mayhem continues all night and well into the next day. In fact we don’t know if it ever ended as we had to fly out to our next destination before any sign of a reduction in the madness became evident.
By now word has come through that Juan has arrived safely in Lima along with the semi and all of our bikes. We are so looking forward to getting back on the Tiger to complete this epic adventure. At least that’s what we hope will happen but as Robert Burns said all those years ago “The best laid schemes of mice and men often go astray” (or something like that!)
