I stopped in Santa, a small village several kilometers north of Chimbote, to ask about the condition of the road east into the Cordillera Negra range of the Andes, and was told it was in good condition. It was noon, so after a quick lunch I headed east. The road went up the Rio Santa river valley, following the route, more or less, of the old Santa Corporation Railway. The track was largely destroyed by the 1970 earthquake and only in one or two spots did I even see any old rails. The road did make use of the many tunnels which had been carved out for the railroad, and several bridges appeared to be remnants of the railroad as well.
Near the coast, before the road started its climb, it followed the river along the flat valley floor and the road alternated between sand washes, washboard, mud holes, and rocky stretches. Once the road reached the mountains and climbed up off the valley floor, it became more consistently rocky. It followed the river, crossing bridges several times to the opposite side.
At an intersection where the road continued on straight but a bridge crossed over to the other side, I stopped to check my map, didn't pay close attention to where I was stopping, and discovered, too late, I had stopped on a small rise between the wheel tracks. I was able to get my foot on the ground, but the distance was more than I expected, and I wasn't ready for it and the bike slowly leaned over to the right. I couldn't stop it and slowly let the bike down onto it's right side. Because of the slope of the road it was a bit of an effort to get the bike upright, probably augmented by the lack of adrenelin since I hadn't even been moving at the time.
After uprighting the bike, I checked my map and confirmed that I wanted to keep going straight. Not long afterwards I went over a small bump and thought, that something didn't feel right about the way the rear suspension reacted. Another bump and the same feeling. I stop the bike, get off, and walk around to the right side to look at the rear shock absorber. I didn't believe what I saw. The first word out of my mouth was "F**K!". The entire lower shock mounting bracket had broken completely free of the swingarm! The only thing which had kept the rear of the motorcycle from collapsing completely was that the bottom of the shock and the now broken bracket had caught on the flange between the swingarm and final-drive and were supporting the weight of the bike.
And it was only earlier this morning, while riding, that I had been thinking how relatively trouble-free this trip had been so far (mechanically, that is; let's not talk about stolen fanny-packs), and how when people ask, I say no problems, just two flat tires. That thought earlier in the day must have jinxed me.
I was 50 miles from Santa and Chimbote on the coast and had another 50 miles to go until I reached the village of Huallanca and another 20 miles till the larger town of Caraz, which had been my destination for the evening. My only thought now was how to temporarily fix it well enough so I could ride it the 50 miles one way or the other to a town with a welding shop where I could get it permanently repaired. This was going to test my ingenuity.
It was about 3:30 when this happened, and a couple of miles earlier, while figuring my time and distance travelled on this road, I had realized it was going to take 5 hours to reach Caraz, which is what both the guidebook and service station attendant said for a bus. Normally I've found I can estimate my time at half to 2/3 of the time for a bus. For some reason, that was not the case for this road.
I removed the Jesse bags and the Givi topcase, and with a bit of effort, since the rear-end of the bike was sitting quite low to the ground, hefted the bike onto it's centerstand, unloading the rear wheel. The mounting bracket is like a deformed U, with two vertical, parallel arms between which the shock is mounted, and the bottom side between the two arms conforming to the circumference of the swingarm. A closer look revealed that the two vertical arms had broken away from the bottom side of the bracket which was still welded to the swingarm. Two-thirds of one of the fractured edges was slightly rusted which indicated it had been cracked for some time and it was this rough road which applied the finishing touches.
I had about five different size hose clamps available to me any a good supply of stainless-steel safety wire. The two arms of the bracket were connected at the rear by another flat side, and by flipping the bracket 180 degrees and rebolting it to the bottom of the shock, I could rest that flat side on the flat top surface of the final drive and swingarm mounting flange, several inches behind the remains of the broken bracket. Using two hose clamps connected end-to-end I ran the clamps completely around the swingarm and over the top of the remains of the bracket and the lower mounting eye of the shock, and tightened everything down. Another small hoseclamp encircled the mounting bracket, shock mounting eye, and the other hose clamp to keep it from slipping off the bracket. As a final measure I took about 4 feet of safety-wire and wound it through the bracket and around the swingarm about 15 times. I just hoped my temporary fix didn't end up causing more problems either to the final drive/swingarm mounting flange, or to the bottom end of the shock where the hose clamp wrapped around it.
I took the bike off the centerstand and tested the suspension. It seemed to function reasonably well considering. Because the shock was attached farther back, the bike now sat lower to the ground, reducing ground clearance, but then I wasn't going to be motocrossing either. I loaded my gear back onto the bike and continued on, having decided to continue east into the mountains rather than return to the coast. The quality of the welding shops was going to be about the same in any town I went to and I never like to go backwards.
The repair had taken just over an hour and it was now 5pm and I didn't know how much light I had left in the day. Over the past hour it had occasionally sprinkled a few drops of rain and a steady warm 80F wind had been blowing up the valley. The entire time I had been working on the bike only two pickup trucks had passed. They hadn't stopped and I had made no attempt to get them to, figuring I had things under control and not wanting to complicate the situation with other proposed solutions and a language barrier. About half the way through my repairs, two campesinos, a father and son, had walked by and had stopped to talk and see what my problem was. They confirmed there were welding facilities in Huallanca, Caraz, and possibly another village before Huallanca. While talking with them, I went to get my Peru map out of my mapcase on top of my tankbag, and it was gone! The mapcase has a velcro closure along the side and it had opened somewhere over the last 10 miles and the map fallen out. Under other circumstances I might have gone back to look for it, but decided not to since I had another poorer map and the maps in my guidebook.
I kept my speed at or below 20mph to try to minimize the beating my repair would take. Several miles up the road I passed the father and son and they gave me a thumbs-up sign as I rode by. I stopped after 5 miles to check how my repair was holding up. It had shifted considerably and the shock spring was lightly rubbing the tire but it appeared to be in a stable position, so I continued on. About 5 miles later, at a stretch where the canyon walls closed in on the road and towered above with the river raging alongside the road I stopped again for a photo and to check the shock. It hadn't shifted since the last check, and that was the last time I checked it the rest of the day.
It was becoming dusk and the road continued to climb, eventually passing through the mountains which had been visible from the coast to reveal even higher peaks beyond. I had decided to try to make it to Caraz, even if it meant riding after dark. Caraz was bigger and I figured there would be more options there. Also there was a hostal run by a German couple and I figured they might know where to take the bike. I passed through the small village before Huallanca which the campesino had mentioned. There was a police checkpoint with a gate across the road, but he waved me through and said it was about an hour to Caraz.
I continued on, and by now it was dark, and I had uncovered and turned on my PIAA lights to illuminate the road better. Actually the road had improved and was now graded dirt much of the time. The PIAA lights did a superb job of illuminating the road, and it was easy to anticipate oncoming traffic, of which there was little, because of their headlights.
In the distance I saw the lights of Huallanca nestled in the valley ahead. The main street through town was paved and I asked directions to Caraz. There was one hotel in town but I decided to continue on. At the far end of town, beside the logistical and administrative facilities for the large hydroelectric plant farther up the valley, the road switchbacked up the side of the mountain, to return to the river's side farther up the valley. On this stretch, I passed through about a dozen tunnels, and then ahead, up the river to the left of the road loomed the massive concrete structure of the dam. It was a bit eery seeing it at night with the lights and hearing the thundering water.
For some reason, my Kryptonite U-lock, which I have mounted to the back of the right-side Jesse bag, quite regularly kept falling off. It happened 3 times tonight. Fortunately I also have it "tethered" with another cable, so that when it came out of the Kryptonite bracket, it would drag behind the bike until I'd notice the wierd sound and stop. But the plastic coating on the lock took a beating. The original intention of the tether was to prevent someone from stealing the lock, but it also kept me from losing the lock on these occasions. It took 3 times before I got smart enough to hold it secure with a nylon strap to prevent it from falling out again. The reason it's been falling out is that the spring mechanism in the bracket is gunked up with mud and dirt and doesn't exert sufficient pressure any longer.
Several more tunnels and several more gated checkpoints followed before I arrived in Caraz at about 7:30pm. I'm not sure what function the checkpoints served. They were manned, generally by a National Policeman, but I would simply say I'm going to Caraz and they would wave me through.
Hostal Chamanna, run by a German couple, Ute Baitinger and Reiner Urban, and their 4 year-old daughter, was located just outside of town and after stopping several times to ask directions I finally homed in on it. The low speeds in getting here, coupled with my use of the PIAAs had drained my battery to the point where it almost didn't start the last time when I had stopped the motor at the town plaza. So I left the bike running, while I rang the buzzer on the door. To add insult to injury at the end of a long, rough day, before anyone answered the door, the bike rolled off the sidestand. I got it upright and reparked in a more stable position before Reiner answered the door, followed shortly by his wife Ute and their daughter Ailyn (sp?). Ailyn just loved motorcycles and she wanted to sit on the bike, so I sat her on the seat and that made her day. It took some convincing talk by her parents to get her off the seat so I could pull the bike inside. Once parked inside Ailyn was all around the bike, looking at it, asking about it, and at one point made a comment about it being "caliente" and hurting her finger, but no more fuss than that. She asked if she could sit on it again so I put her up on the seat.
It soon became clear that the price range of Hotel Chamanna was slightly higher than the guidebook had implied and higher than I normally select, though still very cheap by US standards. They're not set up for solo travellers, as they readily admitted, and the room they showed me, one of five, was very spacious with a large double bed, and very nicely decorated with locally made throw rugs and sheep-skin rugs on the floor, two small tables with colorful Peruvian woven tablecloths, fresh flowers strategically placed, and two of the walls painted with colorful abstract designs. Normally they charged S25 (US$10) for the room, but they said since they liked motorcycle travellers I could have it for S15. They just asked that I not tell other guests, of which there were none at the moment, what I was paying. I had paid more than that in Chiclaya, and at that price it was a bargain.
The hostal had a restaurant, of which they were the chefs, and they gave me several options in several price ranges to choose from. I had beef filet medallins topped with wonderful sauces, and spagetti in garlic sauce on the side. It was wonderfully prepared and presented and I dined by candlelight, with flowers as a centerpiece, while listening to a selection of blues and jazz, and talking with Ute and Reiner and their daughter. It was a very enjoyable dinner.
They had been in the restaurant business in Germany, and had first visited Caraz on a backpacking trip through South America 14 years ago. They opened this place about 3 years ago. I learned they had "5-star training" in Europe and it clearly showed in the way they ran their hostal. A very nice change from the normal dreary hotels and residencias I usually stay in and I'd definitely recommend it to anyone travelling in the area.
The morning was bright, sunny and warm, and before breakfast I walked around the grounds a bit. There were beautiful gardens full of wildflowers and other plants, small ponds and a small stream running through them. Way out back was a corral with several horses which were available for hire, and I also met their one pig. To round out their menagerie they had one cat and three dogs (black labradors I believe), one of them a small puppy.
Breakfast was served on the rear patio, under an arbor of flowers. Again the table was nicely covered in a colorful Peruvian-woven tablecloth, with fresh flowers as a centerpiece. Freshly brewed coffee and freshly made banana juice/milkshake. There was freshly made croissants and other rolls served with homemade plum jam and locally bought Eucalyptus honey. Delicious. Scrambled eggs with onion and tomatoe and sliced avocados on the side. Another relaxing dining experience in a beautiful setting.
During breakfast Ailyn would wander by occasionally, and at one point she holds up her finger for me to see. The tip has a 1/4" blister on it from where she had touched my motorcycle, evidently the exhaust, the night before. I was actually impressed with her. Many kids would have been crying when that had happened. Her reaction had simply been to pronounce that the motorcycle was caliente, then to resume looking at the bike and asking to sit on it. That's my kind of kid!
After breakfast I put my dirty clothes back on and unloaded all the luggage from the bike. The battery was discharged enough that it wouldn't start and I had forgot to put it on the charger last night, but found out this morning that even if I had remembered it wouldn't have mattered since they use 220V here and my charger is for 110V. I tried kick-starting it, but was only able to get a couple of burbles out of it. The temperature was warm enough that I think eventually I would have got it going, but instead we pushed it outside to the street which had a slight slope and on the first try got it bump-started.
Before riding into town I gave Ailyn a short ride up and down the street. She was in heaven and put up a fuss when her mother came over to take her off the seat in front of me. We had to convince her that I would be coming back later; she thought I was leaving for good.
I rode back into town to the gas station to try to find a welding shop. Ute and Reiner don't have a car and didn't have any specific knowledge of where I could get the bike worked on. But I soon got directions to a "taller" (workshop) that did welding, and without too much effort got the bracket welded back into position. My experience with weld quality south of the border has not been particularly good and clearly the quality of this weld was not up to the standards of Brian at Advanced Welding in Mtn. View where I have all my welding done, but hopefully it will hold up. I'll just have to keep an eye on it so I catch any future problems early before another total failure. The charge was S10 (US$4) and I spent more time at the shop talking with the men and boys there about the bike, my trip, and my engineering job, than we actually spent on the repair itself.
After a mid-afternoon lunch at a restaurant the men recommended, I returned to Hostal Chamanna, where I made repairs to the bash plate on my centerstand. Because the bike had been riding lower with my temporary fix, the bash plate had taken several good hits, and one of the straps holding it on had been completely ripped off, and the other partially. I fabricated new straps out of hose-clamp strap and I think it's better than new now.
Dinner that night was a large Caesar salad, followed by brown rice and trout topped by another wonderful sauce. I splurged and had a half bottle of white wine. After dinner, as it had the night before, the pisco, a well-known brandy from the city of the same name in southern Peru, flowed liberally, and as the night before there was a chocolate Bon-Bon on my pillow when I returned to my room.
This is the rainy season in the Andes, but typically, if it's going to rain, it will be only between 5 or 6 in the evening and 6 or 7 in the morning, and not continuously at that. The days are usually sunny and warm. The last two evenings and during the night we had some rain.
After another wonderful, mid-morning breakfast, I slowly got my gear together and back on the bike, and it was after noon till I was ready to leave. My bill for the two nights, dinners, and breakfasts, and a load of laundry was S109 (US$22/day) which was by far the most I've paid per day in Peru, but still well under my pre-trip target of US$30/day. And it was worth every cent. I'd highly recommend Hostal Chamanna to anyone. A first-class operation. Ute and Reiner have plans, over the next year, to add private baths and terraces to several of the rooms, and possibly a pool and sauna. Combined with the spectacular surrounding mountain scenery, it would make a wonderful honeymoon spot. Did you hear that sweetie? Now if we could only figure out the kid-thing.
The bike fired right up and I took Ailyn for another ride up and down the street. She was smart enough to figure out I was leaving and didn't want me to go and really cried as I pulled away. It was almost 1pm.
The road south from Caraz, continuing along the Rio Santa up the valley, was paved. Clouds had started to move in around noon, and I had a few sprinkles but nothing significant. The clouds however prevented me from seeing the surrounding peaks, including Peru's tallest, Volcan Huascaran at 6768m. At several places I could see the snow-covered slopes and, at a couple spots, glaciers, peaking out from below the covering clouds. Throwing water was back in vogue and coming through Carhuaz I got doused. Fortunately I was wearing my complete Aerostich.
I only rode less than 2 hours south to Huaraz, the largest city (80000) in the Callejon de Huayles, the name given to this valley between the Cordillera Negra to the west and the Cordillera Blanca to the east. As I arrived in the main plaza, there was some kind of celebration going on and the streets around the Plaza Aramas were lined with people. It was also beginning to rain heavily which was all it took to convince me to end my day early, and after getting money from an ATM machine I got a room at Hostal Quintana for S10 with shared bath.
Later I walked downtown to the Restaurant Tabariz, where the Menu Ejecutivo was soup, salad, rainbow trout and rice, almost what I had last night. While the presentation wasn't up to the standards of Hostal Chamanna, it was almost as delicious and the price at S6 couldn't be beat.
It rained most of the night but the morning dawned bright and sunny and the views of the surrounding snow-capped mountain peaks was stunning. Plaza Aramas was crowded with people enjoying the warm morning sun and the shoe-shine boys and other vendors were out in full force. One young lad had his white llama which for a small fee he would let you photograph or be photographed with. Of course my telephoto lens let me get my photo for nothing.
I basically enjoyed the nice weather, people watching in the plaza, and strolling around town. I got information on roads across the Cordillera Blanca, which I planned to ride in the next couple of days, and visited the headquarters of the Parque Nacional Huascaran which encompasses much of the Cordillera Blanca. In the afternoon I visited the archaeological museum in town.
It was sunny all day until 4pm when a thunderstorm moved in quite quickly and it rained heavily for an hour. It rained off and on for the rest of the evening.
After a breakfast of chocolate/banana pancakes, I left Huaraz about 8:15. It was sunny but, unlike yesterday morning, clouds obscured most of the surrounding peaks. My goal for the next 2-3 days was to more-or-less circumnavigate the Cordillera Blanca, by riding south to Catac, then head east across the Cordillera Blanca to the ruins at Chavin. From Chavin I would ride north along the eastern side of the Cordillera to San Luis, where I would take another road west, back across the Cordillera to Carhuaz, which I had passed through 2 days ago. At Carhuaz I could either head back south to Huaraz, or make another clockwise loop to the north, crossing the Cordillera 2 more times. The road south from Huaraz was paved and passed through the small towns of Recuay, Cayac, and then Catac, where the road east over the Cordillera began.
I continued south past Catac for 5 miles to the small village of Pachacoto where another road also headed east across the Cordillera. I wanted to make a brief 10 mile trip on this road up the Pumapampa valley to see the giant Puya Raimondi (Rodales de Puya) plants. This valley and 2 other valleys nearby are the only place in the world these plants grow. These plants, which can tower up to 15 feet tall, flower only once at the end of a 50-100 year lifetime. Several miles inside the boundaries of the Huascaran National Park, these giant plants could be seen dotting the hillside alongside the road. I stopped at a natural spring which emmanates from a gaping hole in the ground known as Pumapashimian (mouth of the puma I believe). The hillside on the opposite side of the road had a handfull of the giant plants nearby. During the 10 mile ride up this road, the views of the snow-capped mountains in the distance was spectacular. I saw several small, light brown, hawks along the roadside, but don't know what kind they were. There were also llamas grazing alongside the road in several spots.
I retraced my route to Catac, and then headed east towards Chavin on the other side of the Cordillera Blanca range. The road was graded dirt for the most part and in good condition, with a couple construction areas. As I reached Lago Querococha where the road really began to climb, the clouds moved in and I would have intermittant sprinkles followed by sunshine. I stopped at the lake for a photo. The road continued to climb, and the clouds obscurred any view of the surrounding snow-capped peaks, but I didn't have any significant rain to speak of. At the summit, the road was cut through a large rock face, entering the Cauish tunnel at an altitude of 14927 feet.
When I came out the other side it was raining lightly and 45F. The road descended the Tambillo valley and I had rain down to about 13000 feet. The road then descended through the Rio Mosna gorge before reaching the village of Chavin.
Just before the village were the ruins of Chavin de Huantar, a fortress temple built about 600BC. There are several large temple mounds, only one of which is excavated. Beneath it are numerous underground tunnels, rooms, and corridors. The most famous item is the Lanzon de Chavin, a 4 meter high dagger-shaped stone monolith, intricately carved, and found inside one of the underground chambers. There are many carved stone heads, only one of which is still in-situ on an exterior wall of the temple. The site also contains stylised carvings of the feline, condor, snake and human deities worshipped by the Chavin culture.
As I left Chavin around 3pm it was once again raining lightly and the road was quite slippery in many spots. I rode another 25 miles north to the town of Huari where I got a room at the Hotel El Dorado, just off the main plaza for S6.
Today marked the end of the 1st 6 months of my trip, with a little over 15000 miles put on the bike in that time. Nothing really when I think about the 10000+ miles in 8 weeks I did on my '92 Alaska trip. This is a different kind of trip.
I got up early and was out looking for an open restaurant by 6;30. Restaurant Los Angelas around the corner was just opening up. In this area of Peru, a typical breakfast is a sandwich (sanduche) of either eggs, carne, or cheese. I experienced another case where you think you're asking something really basic and easy, but something seems to get lost in the process and it leaves you wondering what the other person thought you said. I asked if they had huevos (eggs) and the waiter says no, that there is only sanwiches of carne or queso. However I didn't really feel like meat or cheese this morning, and persisted in asking several more times if there really were no eggs, and after several queries, there were eggs. I asked for scrambled eggs (huevos revueltos), but was told that was not possible, only fried eggs (huevos fritos) were available. OK, I'll have huevos fritos, but it left me wondering if they were left over from yesterday or something. However, when they were served, they were freshly made, so I'm not sure why they mysteriously became available. The coffee was the typical Nescafe instant coffee.
I left Huari (3150m) by 7:15 and covered the 64km to San Luis in just under 3 hours, making numerous stops to take photos and just to soak up the views. Initially the road was wet and slippery from last nights rains, but it soon dried out with the morning sun. The road crossed a pass at 14200 feet, with several alpine lakes nestled among the peaks which had interesting parallel strata of rock interspersed with green grass. The temperature was 48F. At the pass it was overcast, but by the time I descended to San Luis at 3130m it was sunny again.
At San Luis, the main road continued north, but I was planning to take the road which headed west across the Cordillera from San Luis. There was another, more heavily travelled, road west across the mountains about 30 km north, but the road I planned to take crossed a higher pass and appeared to be more challenging, both reasons contributing to my desire to take it.
In remote towns like this roads are not marked, and as I rode through San Luis the turn-off was not obvious. On the other side of town I stopped at a large complex of brick buildings arranged around a dirt plaza, where I saw a number of men working, and asked directions for the road to Carhuaz, the town across the mountains. The man, who was in the process of carving a figure of Jesus on the cross, pointed up the mountainside behind the buildings to where a road was visible climbing along the mountainside, and said it turned off from the main road at the plaza in town. I asked him about the condition of the road and he said it was good, but that there was some snow at the pass, but only "poco" (a little) and that it should be no problem with the bike, that it was only about 3 inches deep and was only for about a kilometer on either side of the pass. I asked if busses took this route, which is my standard metric for judging the passability, although I don't know if it applies to snow conditions, and he said yes.
I asked if I could take a photo of him carving and he said yes. He then led me inside his workshop to show me other pieces he had done. They included several musical instruments resembling guitars, but smaller, with intricately inlaid designs on them. Also other figures and ornate picture frames carved from wood and several small statues carved from marble as well.
On my way back through the plaza I asked another man about the roads condition and got pretty much the same report. He added that if there was a storm while crossing the pass, conditions would be more difficult, but it was sunny and there didn't appear to be any major clouds in that direction, so I headed west.
The road climbed up the Rio Chucpin valley. In a small village with muddy quagmires for streets, the more heavily travelled route continued on straight to the village of Chacas. I turned right, onto another muddy quagmire of a street, continued past the town square and continued on the road which would take me across the Cordillera. At about noon I came to the National Park boundary with a closed gate across the road. There was a sign facing the other direction which said the road was open from 6am to 10pm, so I opened the gate, rode through, then walked back and closed the gate. The elevation here was 12200 feet.
Words can't do justice to the next three hours of riding. Actually only part of that time was riding since I stopped for many photos. The road climbed up the Quebrada (stream) Pataca valley and passed below Nevada Contrahierbas (5900 meters) with a large glacier looming high above. Each view seemed to be a bit more spectacular than the last. The weather added another factor, as you never knew if the summits were going to be obscured or not, so when they weren't obscured you were really inclined to snap the photos.
As I approached the pass, clouds moved in and it began misting lightly, which turned to flurries as I continued to climb in altitude. Soon snow appeared alongside the road and as Imade the final climb to the pass there was a foot of snow along the road, but the road itself was only wet. At the pass (15518 feet) the road made a 90 degree turn and passed through a large cut in the rock, 50 yards long, with high, vertical walls. Within this narrow cut, and for about a half a kilometer down the other side, there was 6-12 inches of snow on the road except for the tire tracks which were slush. Of course I stopped for the required summit photo in the snow. The temperature according to my REI mini-thermometer was 40F, though I'm not sure I believe that thermometer any more. Within a kilometer of the summit on the other side, the road was void of snow again, and the weather cleared up, the sun came out, and treated me to spectacular views of the surrounding snow-capped mountain peaks rising to 19-20000 feet, and numerous glaciers. I stopped for a timer photo of myself and the bike, looking back up to the pass. I had to scramble down some rocks to get back to the bike before the shutter snapped and almost scrambled myself over a 6 foot ledge. But I got the photo and that's the important thing! The weather would remain clear, sunny and warm the rest of my ride to Carhuaz.
From the pass the road switchbacked down the other side. The view of the road at one point looking down, resembled the rungs of a ladder as the road executed 10 or so almost perfectly symmetrical switchbacks down the mountainside to the Quebrada Ulta valley far below. Looking across the valley I was treated to views of Nevada Chopicalqui (20846 feet) and Nevada Huascaran (22132 feet), the tallest mountain in Peru.
Once down on the valley floor, the temperature became quite warm, and the road pretty much followed the Quebrada Ulta all the way to Carhuaz on the main paved road, midway between Caraz and Huaraz. I got a room in the Hostal La Merced, just off the plaza. I wanted to take a shower, but the water wasn't working, so I skipped it, hoping to take one later after dinner.
About 5:30 dark thunderheads moved in and we had a prolonged thunder and lightening storm, accompanied by a torrential downpour which lasted well over an hour. About 7pm I ventured out to get dinner and the streets around the plaza were literally rivers, even though the rain had pretty much stopped a half hour ago. Both sides of the streets had 6 foot wide streams running down the sides 3-6 inches deep. People were hanging out on the sidewalks, and walking down the narrow "dry" section in the middle of the streets, unable to cross without getting wet feet. One enterprising young lad was making some money by ferrying people across the street on his 3-wheel bicycle. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and easily downed teo bowls of soup, a half chicken, and two orders of fries. By the time I finished dinner, the streams in the street had subsided and getting back to the hotel was easier.
Rides like todays ride are what this trip is all about for me. Todays ride is one of my alltime favorite rides. The scenery was spectacular, moreso in my opinion, than rides in the Rockies or Alaska. Words can't begin to do it justice. And anyone who rides to Peru on an enduro-type motorcycle and who doesn't spend several days in this area, the Callejon de Huaylas, should have their head examined.
Oh, and for anyone planning for and packing for a similar ride, I have some advice: don't bother bringing extra jets for the altitude, at least if you have the same set up as I do. The bike ran perfectly all the way up to 15500 feet. There was a bit of power loss, most noticable when starting out. I assume that there would be power loss at higher speeds as well, but at these altitudes on these roads, that's not a problem. FYI, I did bring extra jets but haven't used them and don't anticipate needing to, although there are some higher passes in Chile I hope to hit.
After last nights deluge, today dawned bright and sunny with spectacular views of the snow-capped mountains to the east. I don't know if it was my imagination, but the peaks seemed whiter, brighter, and with more snow than yesterday.
I wanted to bag another 15000 foot pass today, specifically the Portachuelo de Llanganuco pass, 15643 feet, on the road between Yungay on the west side of the Cordillera and Yanama on the east side. I had decided against doing another loop across the Cordillera and back which would have taken 2 days. Instead I'd ride up to the pass and then turn around and ride back.
From Carhuaz I rode north on the paved main road to Yungay. Yungay suffered a terrible tragedy in the 1970 earthquake, when 15 million cubic meters of granite and ice from the western wall of Nevada Huascaran Norte broke loose. The resulting avalanche picked up a speed of 300 km per hour as it dropped over 3 km on its way to Yungay, 14 km away. 18000 residents of Yungay lost their lives when the town was buried under the avalanche. Yungay has been rebuilt just north of the avalanche path, and the site of old Yungay has several memorials and a huge white statue of Christ has been built on a knoll overlooking the site. Standing on top of the knoll, looking down at the path the avalanche took it is hard to imagine it travelling that distance at that speed. The forces of nature can be truely awesome.
From Yungay, the road heads northeast up the Quebrada Llanganuco valley to the entrance to the Huascaran National Park. Entrance fee was S2. Once inside the park the valley is lined on both sides by shear vertical rock walls. About 12 km inside the park are the turquoise-blue Lagos Llanganuco, two large lakes formed by glacial morrains across the width of the valley forming natural dams. The lower of the two Lago Chinancocha is at 3850 meters. The road skirts the northern shore of both lakes. From the lakeshore glaciers and snowcapped mountain peaks loom above.
Just past the second lake, Lago Orkoncocha, the road begins a torturous climb up to the pass, and offered great views back down the valley to the two turquoise-colored lakes nestled end-to-end in the valley below. Each switchback seemingly offered a better perspective of the lakes below. Looking up, it was difficult to determine where the road went, and thus difficult to judge if better views were to be had further up along the road. At the same time the weather was constantly changing, one moment bathing the lakes below in sunshine, the next switchback a light rain would be falling and the the view below obscurred through the mist and clouds. I was going to be coming back down this road, but I had learned that, with the rapidly changing weather, if a photo opportunity presented itself, take it. It could be raining and cloudy at the next opportunity. So, as the road climbed and offered successively better shots from higher altitudes, I kept snapping away. The weather was turning cold, cloudy, and a light rain was falling as I gained elevation. At one switchback where I stopped for a photo of the lakes below and hiked in away from the road a bit, there were old stone walls and foundations. I don't know how old they were but they looked like they could be quite old.
As I approached the 15643 foot summit, the light rain turned to a combination of flurries and sleet, but the ground at the summit was void of snow. At the summit the road passed through a large cut in the rock walls. As if on cue, within minutes of arriving at the summits, the clouds parted and the summit and the surrounding peaks of Yanapaccha (5593m), Chopicalqui (6354m), Huascaran (6746m), and Huandoy (6359m), were bathed in sunshine, presenting me with endless photo ops. I was on my last roll of film, so I saved a couple of frames, hoping for better sunshine for the lake views on the ride down. I hung out at the summit for about 45 minutes before heading back down, and was treated to spectacular views of Chopicalqui and the lakes on the way down, finishing out my roll of film.
By the time I reached the valley floor however, the weather had changed once again, and a steady rain was falling. As I passed the eastern-most lake, several waterfowl were feeding along the shore. They resembled geese, but were smaller than Canadian Geese, and were completely white with black tail feathers. Unfortunately I had no film left. It rained lightly most of the way back to Yungay.
Dogs continue to be a nuisance. My apologies to any dog-lovers (I like dogs also, but not when they chase motorcycles), but I scored a direct blow to the head of one mutt with my steel-tipped Daytona boots. Usually the dogs, whether by experience or by luck, stay just out of reach of my boots, but on this occasion the mutt was a bit more aggressive and got close enough that my kick landed home and it let out a howl and quickly gave up the chase.
I had a late lunch in Yungay, then rode back south to Huaraz and got a room in the same hotel I had stayed in 3 nights before. The rains came about 6pm tonight but were relatively light and didn't last long.
My original plans for tomorrow morning were to head back to the coast, taking the road from Huaraz northwest to Casma, where the ruins of the temples of Sechin, circa 1500 BC, are located. Ultimately I still will go there, but looking at my information about the area around Huaraz, I see that there is a road up to Laguna Llaca at 17237 feet, passing the ruins of Willcahuain (circa AD 1000) along the way. I'm not sure how many opportunities I'll have to ride to 17000+ feet, so I think I'll try that first thing tomorrow. I have no idea if there is snow up there or not. I guess I'll find out.