Machu Picchu by the Backdoor!

After spending a few relaxing days in Cusco wandering the streets, eating tasty food and checking out the Incan and colonial stone architecture, it was time to make it to one of the new ‘7 wonders of the world’ – Machu Picchu. Some people travel all the way to Peru, just for the ‘MP experience’, but for us it was (not) just another destination on our long journey. Machu Picchu  receives up to 4000 visitors PER DAY – people arriving there by train $$$, by foot on the famous Inca Trail $$$ or, as we did it, ‘by the backdoor’ $.

It was a convoy of 4 motorbikes that left the hostal Estrellita (little star) on a drizzly Cusco morning. We had been riding with Zach, from California for the past week or so, south from Huaraz in the Cordillera Blanca, and we’d just met up with Frank (Florida) and Alex (Austria) in Cusco. It was a little tricky negotiating the wet, cobblestoned, one way streets, but once we were out of town and on the way, the rain cleared up and the roads dried off.

bikes in the Cusco hostal

Our travel buddy, Zach

Our route took us through the Sacred Valley where we had  a coffee break in the quaint but touristy town of Ollantaytambo, and then climbed almost 2000m over a spectacular pass surrounded by snow -capped mountains and glaciers.

coffee break

up the mountain pass

 As soon as we crossed the pass into the next valley, the weather changed into a misty rainy mess, so it was a slow careful wind 3000 down to the valley floor, to the dusty jungle town of Santa Maria. Luckily by this time, the weather had cleared again and it was a dusty, but not muddy 30km of dirt road winding high above a river canyon to that nights destination of Santa Teresa.

weather turned nasty

road to Santa Teresa

There was nothing particularly special about the town of Santa Teresa, but we had heard that there were some especially nice hot springs nearby. We parked up the bikes in the hotel lobby, grabbed our towels and headed to the baths.  Now, we have seen some awful thermal baths on this trip, and some barely acceptable ones, but the Santa Teresa ones were wonderful! Sparkly clear water in natural rock and stone pools, surrounded by towering green mountains. We stayed until we were wrinkly!

after a long days ride

The next morning we said goodbye to the bikes, and caught a 30 minute taxi ride to ‘hydroelectrica’, which, as the name suggests, is a hydro electric plant  but also the end of the railway line that runs from Cusco to Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu village).  The is a walking path that follows the railway line for 12km through a lush jungle setting all the way to Aguas Calientes.

walk along the railway tracks

 We arrived in A.C. a little after midday, and after stopping for a cold drink, found an abode for the night. A.C. was by far the biggest tourist trap we have seen on this trip. Think.. super inflated prices, touts in front of every restaurant (which all had identical menus), and bands playing loud obnoxious pan pipe renditions of 90’s hits, to which overweight, slightly intoxicated package tourists were dancing in the streets! But.. it was set in the most spectacular of locations – deep in a narrow valley of towering jungle clad mountains, atop one of these which Machu Picchu was perched.

The alarm clock went off at 4.30am, as Mark and Zach planned to hike up to the summit (basically an Incan stone staircase 600 metres high) for when the gates opened at 6am. I couldn’t think of many activities I would like to do less at 4.30am, so I opted for the overpriced bus trip to the top. The first bus departed at 5.30am, but by 4.50am there were already about 100 people in line in front of me! Mark and Zach encountered the same phenomena when they arrived at the gate to the walking path which opened at5am – at least 100 in front of them and even more behind. They likened the climb to a race up the mountain!

the view to the valley floor from the top. 600m, Mark climbed this in 40 mins and kicked Zach's butt!

Having said all this, we were still among the first 100 or so through the entrance, and got to enjoy some special moments of tranquillity from a high vantage point overlooking the ruins, with absolutely no people in sight. Watching the mist swirl in and out, revealing different vistas and backdrops was surreal.

Good Morning!

 At one point we got to enjoy watching two white alpacas race around the grassy courtyard, as if playing tag before the masses arrived when they would have to act regal and subdued.

alpaca play

Most people in the developed world know of Machu Picchu, and could bring to mind an image of the site if they were asked to. It is as familiar to many as the pyramids in Egypt or the Eiffel Tower in Paris. So the actual view of Machu Picchu didn’t come as a huge surprise to us, but the location and setting blew us away – words can’t really describe this special place, and pictures can only do it partial justice. Overall we agreed that it exceeded any expectations we had.

We spent a total of about 5 hours wandering the ruins, which were in pristine condition – not a piece of litter, trinket seller, or even an interpretive sign in sight. We managed for the most part to keep ahead of the crowds, and I read snippets from the guidebook to interpret the broken rocks as best we could, considering no one really knows what purpose Machu Picchu served. I think the mystery of the origin added to the overall mystical ambience of the place. Definitely a highlight of the trip so far!

THE shot! Had to be done

look at all those people....

having a sneaky breakfast

'hitching post of the sun'

Zach and Mark climbed up for the view! and the challenge.....

Caraz to Cusco

First off let me warn readers that there will be an excessive amount of photos of mountains in this post. Not because we have taken up climbing, nor due to any new-found enjoyment of the cold but simply because I am an Australian. A place where the highest ‘peak’, and I use this word loosely, barely scratches the atmosphere above 2000m above sea level. Now here I find myself in the Cordillera Blanca, or the White Mountains. It sounds very ‘Lord of the Rings’ like and some of the scenery would give that cinematography a serious run for its money (sorry Kiwi reders). But I will let the pictures speak for themselves……

This area was always marked for a hike or two. Carlie wrote about our warm-up day-hike to Laguna 69 in a previous post. Now it was time for the main attraction, a 4 day unsupported walk along the Santa Cruz route. First up was two days up a monster of a glacial valley passing icy cold and amazingly turquoise blue lakes of snow melt. Take the backdrop of 5000m+ mountains away and you could almost think of a tropical island. Until the wind kicked up and reminded the weary walker that it was time to don the third layer of thermal clothing!

 

The bag weighed 20kgs!

On day 3 we crested the pass at 4750m, surrounded by white mountain monsters (possibly home to the Latin Yeti), unfathomably clear skies and a group of 18 walkers on a tour complete with donkeys carrying their entire luggage, food and bicycles! 

Yea, we climbed around 2kms UP for this photo!

The tourists could have at least carried the bikes themselves! I don't think the donkey knows how to ride.

 Then it was into another valley for one of the coldest nights I care to endure before gratefully completing the walk and hail the next bus back to town. Our driver now sporting the fuzzy, downy moustache of one to whom it is a novelty.  And we were about to descend what is to date one of the most amazing roads I have ever seen!

That's our road just there!

Not sure what to write here apart from the pic simply does no justice!

Back on the bike and it was off now to Huaraz, 80kms down the valley to meet up with Zach, a fellow motorcycle traveller I met online. Our journey appeared to converge for the next 1500km so we thought to join forces with another intrepid soul and share the journey. I have to admit that this was not my first online date. I had dabbled in the dark side of internet dating once before with mixed results, my experience this time was one of pure enjoyment.

Zach proved himself an infectious source of optimism and adventure, not to mention numerous travelling luxuries including travelling slippers, a real folding chair and to my own joy, nutella! For the following 6 days we found our way through the Peruvian Andes along some amazing road through some even more amazing scenery. Again, I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

Yup, it's a two way highway!

Traffic jam, Peruvian style

Camping was high on the agenda, however for the first 3 nights we found ourselves unable, terrain, population or climate forcing us into the grittiness of Peruvian city life. Our first night was in the outstanding Huanuco, outstanding in its utter confusion, smog and overabundance of casinos! Next night was Conception, our choice of hotel so inspiring I wrote a story about it! Third time lucky we stumbled across a nice place in Ayacucho and the bikes even managed to evoke some jealousy from both Zach and I by spending the night in a fully stocked liquor store!

We asked if we could sleep here too!

The next day we hit that ever-present scourge of Peruvian trails, road works. This time forcing us to spend a night where I have no hesitation in boasting that we were the first Australians/motorcyclists/white people to call home for the night. Again, enough to evoke a story from me!

We had quite the sizable audience that night!

Due to the road block we had to be up and past the barricade before 7am. This was to prove to be a long day in the saddle. If I was to tell you in kilometres I would lose credibility immediately. However just after lunch the road turned to dirt until 5pm. Then the town we planned to stay in gave ‘decrepit’ a new meaning and we shot for a camp site supposedly 15kms further. 25kms later we were still searching, 40kms later we realised we were now over 4000m high and it was now too cold to camp and to enhance our enjoyment, the sun had set. We ended up camping on a basketball/football court out of sight of the road! 

Camp? Basketball? Football? Hide from locals? This place had it all! And that's Zach on the left.

Next day we made our triumphant entrance into Cusco, our destination, full of our own piss and wind, high fives all-round. We were kings (and queens) of the Peruvian Sierra. There were now pubs to navigate and beer bottles to trade for handlebars.

The Bridge!

Approaching the bridge my mind was more on the low reading fuel gauge and the GPS to the next town than the quality of workmanship that went into the actual structure. So far we had spent the last one and half hours on one of the best paved roads through some of the most amazingly photogenic canyons of the trip so far. Why would the bridge fall short of these lofty standards? But that’s a beginner question that really belies the experience I often pretend to hold. Because this is Peru, where things are unfinished and workmanship last as long as the inspectors lunch break.

 

So I took what, in many educated motocyclers’ opinion, would constitute an appraisal of the situation at hand before proceeding. The bridge was around 60 metres long, its foundations cement, its steelwork freshly painted orange, slats horizontal to my trajectory, two wheel ruts vertical.

I committed.

Within 15 metres three things became clearly apparent. The horizontal slats were a wheel swallowing 20cms apart and the vertical slats were loose, many of which were conspicuous in their absence and that riding at 60km/h really means you are unable to gauge any cross-wind. I had come to a halt, my path now unsure and the wind now physically moving 340kgs of man, machine and luggage violently and unpredictably to the left.

Carlie had alighted before embarking on to the bridge to walk it. Now she stood on the right hand side realizing my uncomfortable predicament, her own panic rising with each gust of wind. Wearing full motorcycling gear and helmet even her five foot statue was presenting a sail to the ever-present torment of the wind. Now down on all fours the helmet intercom a static of whimpers and sobs I knew to be accompanied by tears behind the sunglasses.

20 metres below us, clearly visible between the now non-existent deck, raged the Rio Santa. This river, which drained a 200km stretch of very wet Andean mountains, roared over large rocks within a small canyon. It was not a sight I was ready to enjoy but one I was unable to ignore.

I was now forced to move inch by inch along a wobbly plank about the width of my hands, of which now held brake, clutch, accelerator and handlebars in a vice-like death grip. As I gingerly balanced on toes and timed my movement of the wind gusts, I reassured Carlie that things would be just fine as she fought her own battle three metres to my right.

With literally only centimetres to play with I slowly moved the bike forward, one over balance, slipped clutch or poorly aimed footfall would be my undoing. I was not ready to have poor Peruvian engineering my epitaph.

Once I had laboriously negotiated the worst of it I took one more look at the river and gunned it, the sound of rubber crunching gravel never sounded so good.

One kilometre into the dusty collection of mud huts and my hopes soared even further. Not only did I survive the crossing, but they even had reasonably priced fuel!

NOTE: there are no photos of this adventure, more pressing matters were at hand!