Bit of a climb

Ayacucha to Cuzco.

The last days have been some of the most difficult of the trip. As the chart above illustrates we had a few passes to do and most of them above 4000m, in a moment of boredom and egoism we worked out that cumulatively we ascended roughly 10,000 meters in 9 days..... Sean has definitely broken in now/broken down. The last 3 day stretch to Cuzco was the only section that was paved. 

Leaving Ayacucha the road was rocky and poorly graded, it was hot, the landscape was dry and arid for the first day with cactus being the main vegetation to look at. We had a late start and only managed 40km the first day. Along the road we met an American cyclist coming in the opposite direction. He advised us that we had another 50km to climb when we were expecting to come across the pass in about 5km´s. We were slightly ill informed. We came to a bend in the road with a good camping spot just before nightfall and managed to set up camp before a spectacular thunder storm hit us. We found a hut just big enough to shelter us from the rain and ate dinner watching the lightning strike on the horizon.

Continuing up toward the pass the scenery became greener, early morning we came across a huge festival in a tiny village. decided to check it out to see what was going on. A potato and quinua exhibition/festival. The biggest event of the year we were informed. As we entered the site we instantly drew a crowd after wondering around a while we settled down with some delicious fried fish and watched a cow milking competition which seemed to be the most exciting event. The stage started up as the judges began the main event which i think was the exhibition of potatoes. We were invited onto the stage but declined not really knowing what we could bring to a potato festival and headed back on the road.

Cow milking competition at the potato festival, yep.

The rest of the day was a took us through rolling farmland up a small pass and down into another valley eventually the pass was in sight. As we climbed higher the day grew late and we came across an empty shelter only 3km from the pass and decided to call it a day. this hut looked like it was built for us. We relaxed in the cold mountain air and watched the rain roll in under our luxuriously large personal canopy. not another soul insight.

home up on the pass

our neighbours

The next morning we were engulfed in cloud and the cold kept us in our tents untill 8am before we finally plucked up the courage to get out and make breakfast. The next 3 km to the pass felt hard as our bodies were sluggish due to being dragged out into the freezing cold morning. We came to a road closure right at the top of the pass where we had missed the last opening by about 20 minutes and were told we would have to wait untill noon in order to pass. We asked all the workers there if they could make an exception for us if we went with care but nobody seemed to have the authority to answer us. After an hour or so we flagged down a car of road engineers and they allowed us to pass. It was 35km to the next town where we planned to eat lunch. the rain came down hard and freezing and the road with in a terrible condition wet and muddy. I lost all feeling in my extremities untill we got down into warmer temperatures. Upon arrival in Ocros we were shivering cold and Sean especially (who had recently lost his front mudguard) was caked in mud. found somewhere warm and ate some food. It took as the rest of the day to descend down to Puente Pampas the valley floor at around 1800m due to lots of road blocks and a poor quality road in most parts. We came across some asphalt but it was short lived, only lasted about 500m. We stayed in a small town called Ayahuasara at the bottom of the valley. The owner of the hostel was a miserable man probably because 2 filthy gringos had turned up and were smearing mud all over his house. Much needed wash.

a cow

Next morning with the largest pass of the section ahead of us road started in the worst condition yet. We started climbing on very steep muddy roads, some sections were no better than wet sand. It was a challenging morning. After the first couple of switchbacks Seans hamstring started complaining at the worst possible time. A car of road workers approached and informed us they were waiting for us to pass a few switchbacks above before closing the road untill the afternoon in order to blow the shit out of it with dynamite. We pushed on feeling rushed until eventually came across a group of workers waiting for us to pass and anticipating some explosions and could finally have a little rest. The mud was of a consistency whereby it would collect in every orifice of the bike caking the gears and breaks and everything until things didnt work properly anymore. Everytime I came across a stream I would stop to wash my bike. At noon we arrived at Chincheros hungry and ready for a break, we found everything to be closed, not an open restaurant in sight. Realised that it was Easter day so we had to push on another 8km until the next town, Uripa,  luckily from here the road was paved which made life marginally easier.

The afternoon took us to a camp spot at around 3700m. After dinner with our sweet tooths moaning for more we created oatmeal camp cookies with all the suitable ingredients we could find in our depleting provisions. They turned out delicious, relatively, and we excitedly made a whole batch and gorged.

The next morning the road continued on gently climbing on asphalt. We reached the top by mid morning. The roads were quiet and the fog engulfing us created a beautiful silence. It was a cold and wet at the top but generally a very enjoyable decent down to Andalahayas mostly on paved roads, which allowed us the luxury of speed and hands that were not in a perpetual state on cramping from braking constantly. We arrived in Andalahuyas and found in the plaza some of the best street food I can remember, stuffed peppers tagliatelle and a pork salad. We ate much and then sat around in the plaza with bare feet for an hour or so to allow our shoes and socks to dry a little after the mornings wet decent. We then cycled half way up the next pass, bought some beers and made a quina egg salad - it was bloomin´ lovely. 

The next morning after peaking the pass, the bastardly dirt road reared its bastardly dirt face again. We stopped for lunch, in a one horse town, where the locals bored holes in us with their stares. Some children crowded us and began to ask saccharinely strange questions, such as ´do you have dogs in England?´, ¨do you know what a phone is?´....´have you ever heard music before?´, it got a tad incessant, one kid just asked the same question over and over again. Answering with sincerity became numbing, so we both got a little facetious - ´what is this music you speak of, is it ´dogs´ that make it?´ We had been riding all day - politeness wanes when your cream crackered.

The next stretch was 80km all down hill on the aforementioned bastardly dirt road. Because of the bumps and cracks on the road it felt like we were riding a pneumatic drill with wheels, the road seemed to be a template for infinty, switchback after switchback after switchback, the city of Abancay remained aloof for hours, it just sat there in the vista like a little lego model. After 7 hours of cycling we made it to the bottom of the valley, 15km climb shy of Abancay, so we got a cheeky taxi ride as it was pitch black.

Eddie Hector and I

As we moseyed around searching for the cheapest hostal two men approached us; Eddie, a stocky brazillian cyclist fella, the other Hector, an affluent chap with his fingers in all sorts of pies, but most importantly a host for Casa de Ciclistas (Casa de Ciclistas is a network of cyclists that host cycling travellers). He saw our bikes and immediately invited us to his restraunt where he treated us to a chifa buffet (basically chinese food) and an inordinate supply of fresh lemonade. Eddie was also being hosted by Hector, he had been cycling for 5 years in the Americas and had clocked up an impressive 70,000km (though his bike didnt really cut the mustard; it weighed 90 kilos and had 3 gears......didnt really seem to be equipped for the Andes). He was.....a character. After our bellies burgeoned from the buffet, Hector gave us a key to an empty and roomy apartment, he told us to grab a shower and meet him at his bar later. He bought us drinks all night and invited us for breakfast the next morning. We were being spoilt, almost to the point of suspicion, though paranoia was silly, Hector didnt seem to have the gumption to groom us, he was just a ruddy nice guy. 

After breakfast, suitably enough, Hector invited us for lunch. We both ran some errands on our rest day, and later ate at his restaurant again for dinner.

Our arteries clogged with chifa, we set off the next morning in the rain up a very steep 40km climb, his hospitality continued to the next valley/town as he had a house there, we slept in some top notch beds that night. Cheers Hector. That night we had a nice chicken dinner, made a big brew and ate a packet of oreos.

Another early start to the next day gave us time to spend a couple of hours at a natural hot springs down in the riverbed of the valley, we had it to ourselves. It was nice, and was just about worth the gruelling climb back up to the main road. Afterwards was, not to carp on, but a horrible stretch of deceptively steep climbing due to the absence of switchbacks, which some how gave the illusion that the road was flat, which, well was a bit of a head fuck. It was difficult to get into a rhythm.

The last pass

We got to the next town of Limatamba for a very late and very nice lunch, we both had a little nap and just about managed another hour of climbing after lunch which by that time was nearly getting dark. We found some land that apparently was owned by a gang of dogs. We made some pasta and some more quasi oatmeal cookies.

The next day saw us to Cusco! Finally. Where we have been taking advantage of the smorgasbord of amenities and luxuries made available for the herds of gringos that visit this beautiful city. Seans eyes were bigger than his belly after he found dairy milk bars and a cafe that dose a really good carrot cake. He now has chronic indigestion.

A lovely family who gave us some water somewhere along the way

arriving in Cuzco

Chewing coca leaves up on a high pass

Met this guy on the road

Main plaza in Cuzco

Never ask directions!

 
From Cajamarca and my previous post I continued south towards the town of Cajabamba. That irritating cyclist knee had come back with avengence and i was once again hobbling up a hill in the late hours of the day in order to make it to the next town. I made it to a town called San Marcos, a hot, sweaty, ugly looking town but i cant say i wasnt pleased to be there. After getting stuck in a beer trap with two locals in the plaza I found a cheap bed and was out cold. Despite this early bedtime I woke up at 11.30am the next day which really confused me as my natural body clock almost always draggs me out of bed by 6am. I made it 4km before realising I was not well, I had zero energy and felt nautious. I rolled back downhill to the hostal and hardly left the bed for four days. Diarrea nautia and feverish dreams tormented me untill i almost went crazy from the stench of my cheap room and though still sick decided to make a dash for Lima on the bus in order to meet Sean who was due to arrive that weekend.
I Spent a great few days in Lima recovering and catching up with some good friends I had met it Haiti.

Leaving Lima was certainly an unpleasant experience. A full day cycling on 5 lane highways battling with the heat the smog and not really noing where the hell we were. It took us most of the day to get out of the city after some faffing around in the morning repacking seans bike. by the afternoon we were both spent and checked into a cheap hostal. called the sunset inn, the ceiling had a huge mirror on it and we realised in the morning that we actually had to pay for the extra hours we slept in. I dont need to explain what kind of place it was. The next day was almost as unpleasant, slowly climbing up through dirty subburbs back up towards the mountains. half way up a heard a thud and was pulled backwards. My rack had come unattached from the frame and fell back bending my derailer into the wheel and ripping out two spokes. this proved rather annoying as did the fact that all the bicycle shops where either closed for lunch or seemed to not really exist. We spent a good couple of hours on a wild goose chase before eventually finding a guy who was open in a small neiborhood off the highway.

That afternoon took us up to a town called Santa Aulalia where we were invited by my friend Claude to stay at his mothers place up in the mountains. We met Claudes mother Silvia in the plaza and she led us up the steep 3 km track leading to her place in her landrover on route my derailer decided to plunge back into my wheel and turned everything into a mangled mess, I took my chain off bend the drailer back and was kindly tugged up the rest of the way to Silvia's place. A stunning house and a stunning location, we couldnt quite believe how lucky we were to have such hospitality and we made the most of it for a rest day and I took the opportunity to sort out my bike.

Off again up the busy narrow Carretera central, the only road directly into the mountains from Lima. There was absolutley no space for a cyclist and far too much traffic so after climbing  a good 40km and countless near encounters with  extremely large aggressive vehicles i decided that it really was not worth it as we had a 5000m pass ahead of us on the same road. We decided to hitch a ride to La Oroya and the hope of a friendlier road. Luckily an empty  truck stopped for us and for a small fee carried us over the 5000 meter pass. We sat in the back of the cab chewing on coca leaves as a storm rolled in and felt as if we had made the right choice.We only had to put up with the torrent of very odd questions belted at us with excessive decibels that i have become accustomed too by now. The driver insisted on addressing me as `gringito` despite having introduced ourselves several times.

We arrived still in shorts and tshirts at night in the mountain village of La Oroya and made a quick shivery dash to the nearest hostel where we found a very cosy room for around 6 quid. dethawed ourselves and cooked up some lentils on tha camp stove.

The following 2 days were a breeze. From La Oroya to Jauja was 95 km of flat or slight downhill asphated road running along side a river. The scenery was beautiful and we made excellent timing as the cyclingt felt almost effortless after the previous few days. The climate was cool and the sun was out. The second day took us to Huancayo by lunch time, A large sprawling uninspiring city. We made for the main plaza and a plate of Chuafa (fried rice) and escpaped the midday head for a few hours.

From Huancayo the climbing started again, leaving the city behind in the mid afternoon we started to climb out of the valley towards the town of Pampas. The road prooved to be one of the hardest i had yet experienced which muct have been quite a shock for Sean for whom this was his first week of cycling in the Andes. Some parts of the road sucked the energy out of out as they seemed in a hurry to reach the top and ignored the very convenient switchback method that most roads adhere to. after 25 km we decided to make camp Luckily just as we arrived we met the land owners a family of herders coming down from the higher plains and we were able to ask permision to camp out. They happily agreeed and we set up camp in a nice sheltered spot up on the hill. We watched an angry looking storm perform in the distance and placed bets on whether it was coming for us or not. Luckily it spared us but the atmosphere was fantastic as we watched it from a distance the thunder roared and the lightning lit up the sky.
 

The following day was incredible we continued climbing, the road a rough rocky steep affair but not quite as steep as the previous evening. We took the backroute for this stretch to avoid the busier roads and I think we definately made the right choice ( i`m not sure if Sean would agree with me on that) there was no denying the tranquility and isolation of our road choice. After reaching the small town of Pazos where we ate lunch under the shelter of the empty village market place and spoke with a few bewildered locals about our trip. One old man wanted to buy Seans camera from him ( a brand new dslr) I am not sure if he really knew what it was but i told him if we ever returned we would consider it. After this sleepy town we made our way towards Pampas, Onroute i was advised of a shortcut which would supposedly cut off a few kms. The road was of an even rougher grade and narrower cutting into the side of the mountain. It was stunning and the only traffic we encountered was a gang of school kids on their way back from school, we cycled together for about an hour exchanging thier native toungue quecha with  our english. We arrived after some steep sections to their village where one kid was very excited to offer to fill up our water bottles. From this small village we waved goodbye to our little friends and battled up a very steep road to meet the main road from whcih we had taken the shortcut. By this point we must have been high, way above 4000m vast open high altitude plains stretched out around us and the road danced along a ridge for about 15 km before reaching an exhilerating and bone jarring decent back down into the town of Pampas at around 2500m. Upon arrival cold beer was all we could think about and after searching everyshop in town and not finding a single refrigerater we found some cold ones in a restaurant and sat in the park to enjoy them.

After a good rest the next morning we were on the road bright an early, the road lead us ever so gently back up to high altitute cutting into the side of the mountain, we were rarely passed by motor vehicles the climbing was very comfortable and the scenery breathtaking. unfortunately after 40km of steady climbing Seans Ham string injury got the better of him as we decided to try to hitch a ride Ayacucha which was the next city in order to take a few rest days. The first truck that passed us stopped and though he was completely filled with toilet paper and confectionary the driver, a friendly man nicknamed Saba boca (toad mouth) agreed to take us to "the top of the pass" from where we could supposedly roll down to the next town and catch a bus to Ayacucha. We somehow stuffed our bikes and Sean in the back of the truck a top of the piles of merchandise, It was another hour in the truck before they dropped us as far as they were going. Thinking we were just an hours rolling from the next town we had a leaisurly lunch up on the pass and slowly set of. After 2 more hours of climbing, the sight of the road sprawling endlessly up ahead of us and the arrival of the worrying altitude headache we stopped to munch down on some coca leaves and consider the fact that maybe toad mouth was a little bit wrong.

In a small ghost village now only inhabited by 2 families all of whom came out to stare at us we decided to give hicthing another bash. The sun was slowly setting and there didnt seem to be a vehicle in sight but eventually a truck came by and agreed to take us to the next village named Chonti. We were in the back of the truck for a good hour (how wrong toad face was) along with some concrete a few boxes of chickens and 2 piglets tied in a burlap sack screaming their heads off. We arrived just before sunset and one of the drivers very kindly offered us a room in his house. We were to share a bunk bed with his two kids who fired ridiculous questions at us all night and just before going to bed told us a story about the last gringo who passed through who was apparently battered with sticks and stones (i think the kid was just a bit weird)

Woke up and it seemed as if we would be rowing to the next town from the relentless rain all night. Outside the mountain tops were dusted with snow and it was freezing cold. we shared a ride to the town of Churcampa (the place that supposedly was just an hour from the pass the day before) which took a further hour and a half by car and was far from downhill. We passed landslides from the night before which would have been a nightmare to cross on a bike. After breakfast in Churcampi I stopped to fix a surprise overnight puncture in the town square and drew quite a crown of silent whispering onlookers. We were told there was no bus to Ayacucha so we would have to ride to Haunta which again was supposedly all down hill though this time we took this with a pinch of salt. after 10km of boneshattering downhill on very rough roads my stempost decided to snap in half and i almost went flying into a bush. My bike was rendered useless I could barely push it without becomming frustrated. We were yet again, after giving up on walking through the mud on the side of the road waiting for a truck to pass which didnt happen for a good hour. luckily the first vehicle that passed was a pick up truck and agreed to take us to ayacucha which was a great relief. The town we were told was just down the hill turned out to be 2 hours away and included some pretty decent climbs. We have definately learned not to pay a whole lot of atention to the directions of locals. I think that some people just tell you what you want to hear and not what you need to hear.

We have now had two days rest here in Ayacucha enjoying the comforts of the city. We are here now in Samana Santa (easter) so there is alot of energy in the streets and a great atmosphere plus lots of good cheap street food.

 Ahead of us between here and Cuzco we have a series of 5 major valleys and 5 passes above 4000m to content with. Today we have been researching about the terrorist activity in the valleys ahead of us which was setting to major conflict back in the 80s is still occupied by rebel militia nowadays it is a major area for growing and exporting cocaine.We were told at the tourism office that the route we are taking avoids the danger areas which settled us a little.

From the jungle to the clouds

I am now back on the road again after a short side trip without the bike into the jungle. As i was so close to the Amazon i felt it would be a shame not to become aquinted with it. From moyabamba where i had been staying I took a short bus ride and a long boat ride to a small town accessable only by boat called Lagunas. Lagunas is the gateway to the Pacaya Samiria national reserve,a dirty little town on the banks of the Amazon ( or a tributary to it) 10 hours by boat from ther town of Yurimaguas which is accessable by road. On the boat I met a man who offered me his services as a tour guide. He offered the cheapest price i had been able to find and he had impressed me with his apparent knowledge of the jungle upon our first conversation. I later learned that he was a little bit of a fibber. I first realised this later on at his house when another traveler had asked him if he knew any plants that could sooth a headache. He said he had an oil from a local tree that can help`, i walked in on a very spiritual scene whereby our guide, lets call him Kleva, was rubbing this oil on the head of the headache bearing traveller. i looked on the table to see an open pot of the south american equivalent of vaporub. I found this hilarious but didnt confront him on it. We were also told of crocodiles 20metres long and pikes weighing over 400kg which i am quite sure is not true considering i weigh around 75 and i have never seen a pike even as big as my leg. Anyway I was luckily put in the safe hands of another guide in Klevas family named Pedro who didnt feel the need to fib so much to impress me, the dumb tourist. We spent 3 days together exploring the jungle in small winding tributaries in a dug out tree trunk canoe. It is the rainy season so everything is flooded and mostly only accessable by boat. We went hiking one evening in the dark into the jungle in order to spot some of the local fauna. We didnt find much but the sound of the jungle at night was deafening, I really enjoyed knowing that within metres of my could have been anaondas or crocodiles and many other creatures capable of taking me away into the night never to be seen again. It was also interesting to see the culture of the locals that lived in the area. some so remote that they are only reachable by days on a ferry and more days in a small canoe. Though our plastic guzzaling culture has still managed to reach them, I see from the big boat small conoes cemerging from deep within the jungle to meet us and stock up their handcrafted boats with luminous coloured fizzy drinks and sugary sweets. It hit me as a strange contrast.

After having most of my blood taken from me by the relentless swarms of mosquitos that hassled me every single hour of my stay in the jungle I returned to Moyabamba to

Tarzan

collect my bike, say my goodbyes to my new found friends and shitty ducks and by on my way again.
From Moyabamba the road was kind to my over rested and possibly under used legs, gently rolling through flat coffee plantations for about 100km The rain came down most of the day but it was a blessing as at an altitude of around 800 the heat was quite real. The following day was not quite as easy, I was climing all day and i must have slept an around 3000m though i cannot be sure. The road was paved but quiet and I enjoyed both the change of climate and the change of scenery. Winding up into old growth forests green,wild and inviting to the small boy in my that stills wants to be tarzan. After climing around 60 km I found a lone house on the side of the road and asked if i could camp on their land possibly under their roof. They accepted and were very kind, after question time they even fed me up the staple meal of rice, pasta, patatoes and platains plenty of carbs for the next day.
Following day took me to Chachapoyas 130km from where I slept in the mountins and my biggest day yet. 80 of those including a 50km section of cruisy decent took me to Pedro Ruiz  where I found my cheapest lunch yet 2.50 soles which is about $1 for a big bowl of soup and a meal of rice veg and a fillet of fish and a drink.The last 50km very slightly climbing along side a beautiful river winding through the valley bed on a gravel road it seemed occupied by me, myself and my bike and not alot else. part way up the last climb to chachapoyas my i realised i had lost a bolt from my rack and my panniers were swaying around like a dad at a disco and doing some harm to the bike. I managed to bhitch the remaining few kilometres with a truck full of campesinos who filled me to the brim with coca leaves and a homemade alcohol from pure sugar cane which tasted like it was about 100% alcohol. Upon arriving at Chachapoyas i felt great due my successful day and mostly the substances that had recently been forced upon me I found a lovely hostal called 'Chachapoyas backpackers' run by probably the nicest couple in Peru.
The next day was a short one up the same road by the river to the town of Tingo where i stayed and Hiked the next day up to over 3000m to the site of Kuelap A pre incan arcealogical site very seldom visited for being second in size only to Machu Piccu. The 3 hour hike up to the site was beautiful I didnt see another soul until reaching the top.
The roads I have been travelling are some what more remote and less travelled then the roads i was riding in Ecuador. I am received by the locals usually by looks of astonishment  and a friendly 'hola' some times just 'Gringo' followed by some laughs, often I am just gorped at and my greetings are ignored and sometimes people just look absolutely terrified of me, a long haired bearded gringo, on several occasions children have run away from me screaming. On chatting with my friend in Moyabamba who has lived in Peru in remote communities for years I discovered that there are some tales or myths about gringos obviously started as silly stories by grandparents or great gantparents but over the years have become somewhat real in the eyes of their beholders and though we now live in a very connected world there are still some places that live in ignorance of reality. One such myth encountered in a very remote village was that us gringos come to the villages to steal children, we take out the childrens spines in order to extract a very valuable oil which is then used to create rocket fuel. It sounds absurd but it is probably not far from the kind of ignorance of the outside world that is encountered in england whereby anybody wearing a turban has come to blow us up.

The next day, another short cycle, took my to a town called Leymabamba the site of a museum hopusing 219 mummies that were discovered in a cave in the surrounding mounatins only a few decades ago. After a late start and a broken chain on the road I arrived later than expected and the museum was closed. Though while eating lunch i saw abnother cyclist come into town wet and muddy as i was, a frenchman going in the opposite direction as myself. We were probably the only two tourists in town.We spent the evening talking routes and bikes over a couple of beers.

a dead thing

In the morning i had the museum to myself and spent an hour getting acquiented with the dead fellas and reading about the pre incan and incan cultures that have used the surrounding land in eons long gone.

i was hoping they just ran out of money and used the downhill sign the other way up

old growth forest

rock wall hanging over the road

rolling along the river

broken chain

steps up to Kuelap

the road narrow enough for only one car and a frightening drop off the other side of that non existant barrier

reinforced rack

The afternoon was spent climbing another 30km up to around 3500 (or more i am not too sure) where i had to pull out my gloves and i could see my breath and then decending a further 60km to camp at 800m on the bank of a river I slept naked with no fly and the door unzipped in a puddle of my own sweat haunted by the mosquitos in my ears but enchanted by the fireflies around me competing with the distant stars in the clear night sky. I awoke at 5am in an attempt to pack up camp and start climbing out of the valley before the sun had a chance boil the valley and sap my energy. I only made it 2 km and had climbed not at all before the my rack fell victim yet again to the rocky road and buckled in 3 places making it impossibly to ride. I then sat in the very heat i tried so hard to avoid for 2 hours waiting for a vehicle to pass capable of carrying me to the next town of Celendin. I made it there around lunch time after hailing down a bus and to my delight the first metal shop i found but a block from the bus stop was both able and willing to weld alluminium. I had him reinforce the thing in order to prevent another snap somewhere down the road. I think I have spent more repairing this bloody rack than I bought it for in the first place. I used the remaining hours of light to start the next climb up to Cajamarca and made it 15km before finding a nice flat pasture and with the permission of the land owner set up camp for the night. Quite a contrast to the night before, I pulled out my big jumper and had to use my sleeping bag plus clothes but was far more comfortable. I fell asleep at 8pm and awoke at 11pm thinking it was morning, didnt get much sleep after that as i felt well rested enough to start riding again not untill the dawn when I fell in to a deep sleep and didnt want to wake from it. This led me into another late start for the following 40km climb to the next valley of Cajamarca. I found a roadworkers camp an hour up the road and had a second breakfast as my little bowl of oats wasn´t doing the job. The road was mainly unpaved but wide and empty, rough in patches. There was about 20km of asfalt upon which in the peak of my day i was able to over take my fist motor vehicle going uphill a heavily laden motortaxi, this made me think that the bicycle really is the best mode of transport available untill they zoomed passed me again 30 meters up the road. The last few kilometeres of the climb i had to walk as an increasing pain in my knew hindered my ability to ride but the at this slower pace i felt i coult absorb even more of the stunningness sorrounding me. It was then a partly rough and rocky and party asfalted decent do the City of Cajamarca completing a bang on 100km day. A town which to my delight hosts is abundant with decent cheese and some cheap wine luxuries unknown to me for some time.