Cusco Peru
to
Sucre Bolivia
Listening to Ball and Biscuit White Stripes
Cos I'm oldish I don't get too exposed to what's happening
music wise these days. So there I am, flipping through the DVDs
at JB's, on special, three for twenty bucks...ever notice you can only
ever find two you like...and this song's belting out. Who is this? A
sheepish question to the tattooed girl at the counter and I've forgotten
the DVDs and headed home with the Elephant album by White Stripes!
Awesome, and now the De Stijl album also graces my collection.
Paying my way out of Cusco.
If there's a place I wish I'd organised Marianne to meet me it would be here. It's a tourist mecca. Lots of places to eat and lots of places selling stuff you'll look silly in if you wear it at home. Perfect. Now the Machu Picchu thing. Well it's complicated. You can't just lob at the gate, buy a ticket and head in, oh no. The Peruvians know they have a winner here and have fine honed milking the tourist. Firstly there's a limit of 2500 people been put on the place...which, so I'm told, the Peruvians then made the tickets for only half a day, so 2500 in the morning and 2500 in the afternoon. All train tickets to the nearest town are crazy prices and strictly controlled. Then there's the cab fare to the train station, and another ticket to the gate, and then entry and then and then and then. There's ways around it if you have time and want to hike for kilometres or ride for hours to different trains and towns etc buut I just wanna get there have a look and leg it. So, best I could find, for a day trip from Cusco...two forty US. Hmm. I hate tourist places and I would have just started the KLR and legged it but my wife and daughters would be horrified so...let's do it.
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| This is the courtyard at the Hostel Estrellita. It's a really basic hostel but a bit of a meeting place for bikers and treddly crazies. |
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| I am constantly put in the shade by people doing much grander things. This is Ed and Gaye from Victoria riding from Alaska to Ushuaia. Check them out at www.epicrides.com.au |
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| Cusco is touristy to the hilt but kinda cool with lots of lanes and steps and alpaca photo opportunities round every corner. |
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| One of the squares in Cusco. Going by the amount of US tourists you might by forgiven for thinking it's a Disney theme park! |
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| Goodness...forget the fountain get a shot of that bluish sky! |
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| Plenty of places to purge your sins way back when. |
Seeing Yourself
I'm sleepin in cold rooms
I'm eatin alone
the wifi's not workin
the wifi's not workin
there's no telly or phone
It's a deep telling moment,
seeing your soul stripped bare
gotta keep throttlin down south
towards those for whom Icare
Dean
gotta keep throttlin down south
towards those for whom Icare
Dean
It's three thirty in the morning. I'm standing alone in the street outside my hostel rugged up against the high altitude crispness. A couple of stray dogs hurry past in the dawn light, heads down tails up on a date with a garbage bag somewhere. A half hour passes...where's the bloody bus...I'm getting the shits on. Finally a minibus rounds the corner, flashes it's lights, pulls over and I clamber in. I'm handed an envelope full of tickets and after doing the rounds of nearby hostels we're off on the two hour trip to Ollantaytambo train station. It's a bone crunching crazy drive through the Andes in the semi light as we're clearly running late. When we reach the station it's all aboard Inca Rail for a quite spectacular train ride to Aguas Calientes which sits below Machu Picchu. When we arrive and meet our guide it's determined that the travel agency has messed up my entry. Everyone else has the morning tour except me. My ticket says afternoon only...er no. I dig my heels in and let them know I'm not concerned who stuffed up but I'm going to Machu Picchu right now. After much buck passing and head scratching by everyone but me, I know I'm going in, I get let in with all sorts of warnings etc.
OK... Machu Picchu... it's worth it!
Yep I liked it immensely. If there was one thing I could pass on it is make sure you get a guide. These people are great and turn a pile of stones into an living Inca kingdom. It's in a gobsmacking location and the preservation of the site is amazing. I finally got back to my hotel room at nine pm totally stuffed but totally glad I did it. I'll let the photos tell the the rest of the story.
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| This is the gate at Machu Picchu after a crazy winding bus ride from Aguas Calientes. |
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| My new Canadian mate Darren did nicely here making sure my socks and sandals are nicely out of shot. |
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| The classic Machu Picchu shot. |
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| Photos can't convey how big this is and how well preserved it is. |
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| Trying to give an idea here of how steep the terrain was that the whole thing was built on. |
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| This might be where they sent wearers of socks and sandals to ponder the consequences of life. |
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| Our guide...Jorge or um Jose...anyway a great guy and warmed to his task once he figured we were really interested. |
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| A little weekend patio work for the Incan handyman perhaps. |
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| If you haven't been become one of the 2500 morning people... or one of the 2500 afternoon people...and check your ticket! |
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| More old stuff! |
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| Yep even I have days when it doesn't rain. |
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| It's in seriously challenging terrain and there's a great story of it's discovery. |
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| I think these terraces are for gardening.Imagine if your dad asked you to help him out making some new plots! Seriously tough people. |
I knew there was a song with Inca references and it's
been bugging me and here it is. Words are pretty cool.
Owe this one to Google.
Back on the road Bolivian bound.
I have to say that my favourite part of Cusco, except for Machu Picchu was the day I left. I just wasn't comfy at the hostel and wandering about touristy places is just not me. I met a Dutch couple Karin and Matt who are travelling on BMW GS650s.They have come from Alaska and are riding towards Ushuaia before heading home to Holland just before Christmas. They are a great pair and we did the burger thing at the legendary Norton pub. Hopefully we'll catch up down the track. On Tuesday I hit the road to Puno on lake Titicaca, a reasonable distance of around three sixty K's. The weather is great and the road opens up to an easy cruise after the non stop curves dished up by the Andes before Cusco. About half way I spot another KLR parked near a roadside restaurant.I pull over and meet Samuel, a thirty three year old Austrian lad heading for La Paz. We have a friendly chat and head off to Puno together. It's a hoot riding with someone else and we knock over the remaining one eighty k with ease. After trying an overpriced hotel off Ioverlander I head to a budget hostel with him. Hmm. We're in a four bed dorm with a Moroccan couple and erm...I'm the oldest guy in the hostel again. I'm gonna have to learn hostel etiquette as it seems I'll have to use them for a while. It's a whole different world filled with mostly young American backpackers and I feel a bit out of place... The next day I opt to head straight for the Bolivian border and Samuel heads around the lake to Copacabana. He wants to check out the floating islands at Copacabana plus this way affords him easier access to La Paz. Samuel lost his credit cards way back in Colombia and is hoping new ones await him at the post office in central La Paz. Me, well, I'm kinda impatient now to get further south. This way hopefully lets me access southern Bolivia easily and then head down to Argentina.
Across the border into Bolivia's not so welcoming arms!
I cross the border at Desaguadero. Unfortunately the main road through town, which leads to the border, is closed leading to an hour of mucking around before I actually find the border itself. When I get there I'm the only one crossing and the exit and entry on both sides is totally stress free. I zoom around lake Titicaca and head towards La Paz. A monster sand storm erupts with a freezing crosswind and I'm down to sixty Kph as I enter La Paz. I can see snow capped mountains way in the distance and it feels like the wind is coming straight off them. I really need cash and fuel badly and the entry to La Paz is to be honest depressing with garbage and dust blowing everywhere. I enter a crazy main street still on the outskirts with kerbs packed with market stalls and oddly multiple banks within walking distance. It's still freezing and I ditch the bike and walk from ATM to ATM. It takes a stressful five ATMs before one gives me some cash.
Now I need fuel...how hard can this be.
I battle the traffic back out of town heading towards Oruro thinking I'll grab a servo on the outskirts and fill up. My optimism is severely dented as I get knocked back several times before literally begging for fuel and finally getting some. The rudeness of the pump operators almost annoys me more than no fuel. The local fuel rate is 3.7 Bol a litre and the international one is 8.62 Bol! (Au $1.60) I actually don't mind paying it if that's the law...whatever. However maybe because of the paperwork involved not many operators are interested. I know there are stories all over the net on how to bargain for fuel, maybe this has pissed a lot of vendors off. I dunno. That night I make a village called Patacaymaya and get a bed for only 40 Bol which is about Au $7.60. So swings and roundabouts, lose there win here. Oddly I walk into town for my serve of chicken and rice when the restaurant I choose completely fills with Bolivian Army personnel. One guy in black Alpine Star Gorotex...twenty guys in camouflage! The next day I fuel up again at Oruro which seems a grubby mining town with the same rudeness and hassle and set out on the three hundred and sixteen K to Potosi. I cross a vast flat straight plain about 3800m high before heading into a bare beautiful mountain range rising to 4300m before Potosi. There are Llamas everywhere near the road and they seem quite skittish so I ride with caution. I'm worried about fuel with the wind and the high altitude so I pull into a small village and ask about fuel. I get directed to two ancient women on the kerb siting with a pile of plastic containers. Hm...oh oh. They pour some fuel out of one filthy container into a ten litre jug using a trusty litre coke bottle cut in half as a funnel. Thirty Bol...which is cheap...buuut OK I need it so into the tank it goes. I arrive at Potosi in good spirits despite the fuel hassles...come on...
...it hasn't rained in two days woo hoo!
How to get and pay for what you didn't ask for and having to keep it!
I need a back tire. The Metzeler I had fitted in southern Mexico has been excellent but it's almost worn out. There's a guy highly regarded in Sucre about a hundred and forty K out of my way who may have the tire I need. I figure I can get him to flush my brakes as well while I'm there and maybe see if I can finally get the rear brake to work properly. Sucre is regarded as one of nicer Bolivian cities and the road there is a complete gem and it only takes a couple of hours to arrive. I ride straight into a total traffic jam as for some unknown reason the centre of Sucre is closed off for a couple of hours. I finally find the bike workshop and all the work can be done including an oil change, tire fitting and brake fluid flush straight away. Awesome. Now I'm anal about servicing my bike. I hate other people touching it. I go for a walk for a couple of hours so I don't have to watch and come back to find Rattles serviced, washed and ready to go. I pay, we shake hands and off I go to stay at the Celtic Hostel for the night. (Which I like a lot.)
Now the fun bit...
The next morning I'm having a chat to Marianne on face time whilst sitting looking at the bike...hmm...that tire looks like a Pirelli as ordered but...
aargh...it's not....it's some sort of copy...ah shit.
Back to the shop I go...blah blah none to be had blah blah these are OK blah blah my employee didn't tell me etc etc. Now I'm between a rock and a hard place. I can't source a decent tire, I can't really put the old one back on and oh, why did I pay Pirelli price for a Rinaldi. Sooo I leave it on, get a small refund (I still think I'm way out) and all sorts of useless apologies. Can't say I'm in any way happy as I really don't trust this tyre...hmm...will have to be careful...or take a loss and get another down the track...hmm just great...
Listening to F!@$ing Perfect Pink
Yep just f!@$ing perfect. Hmm. Deep Breath. Ah what the
hell. I'll be back on the road tomorrow on a new tyre...
Sucre
Oddly despite the fuel and tyre hassles my spirits have lifted since leaving Cusco. Might be that it has only rained once since. Sucre has a beautiful centre square and some great eating places. I'm staying in the Celtic Hostel which is run by a German guy and it's clean, comfy, and reasonably priced. There's only one other guy in my dorm and he seems to have an endless hangover and sleeps all day. As in many South American cities the streets in Sucre are way too narrow for modern traffic and getting around is a super slow process. Just travelling the 1.2k back to sort...or half sort the tyre situation was a long and stressful grind. On the plus side I had breakfast this morning in glorious sunshine overlooking the city at a cafe just above where I'm staying. Although I had the shits on about the tyre...aah what hell...if it doesn't dump me on my ass maybe it'll be OK.
Hmmm.
Reality Check No.14
Well I've got about five weeks to go. I've done about 20,000k so far. It's been a long long haul and small things are starting to fall apart. My tank bag zipper is dying, my boots are looking and smelling seriously secondhand, my air seat is starting to fall apart, Rattles is getting rattlier, my helmet feels loose and worn and my lungs are lusting to get back down amongst some oxygen rich air. Except for the scenery the basic daily grind of travel, accommodation and finding food hasn't changed too much for a long time. Bolivia is the poorest country so far and feels maybe just a little meaner because of it. Just little stuff.
Yep will be glad to cross the next border.
Next Blog
I visit the salt flats at Uyuni and then
swing down into Argentina. Rumour has it that the steaks there are to die for...
Yeh nah I'm not gonna miss chicken and rice!
Thanks for the comments and great to
get some from some new people!
Cheers Dean
I have to say that my favourite part of Cusco, except for Machu Picchu was the day I left. I just wasn't comfy at the hostel and wandering about touristy places is just not me. I met a Dutch couple Karin and Matt who are travelling on BMW GS650s.They have come from Alaska and are riding towards Ushuaia before heading home to Holland just before Christmas. They are a great pair and we did the burger thing at the legendary Norton pub. Hopefully we'll catch up down the track. On Tuesday I hit the road to Puno on lake Titicaca, a reasonable distance of around three sixty K's. The weather is great and the road opens up to an easy cruise after the non stop curves dished up by the Andes before Cusco. About half way I spot another KLR parked near a roadside restaurant.I pull over and meet Samuel, a thirty three year old Austrian lad heading for La Paz. We have a friendly chat and head off to Puno together. It's a hoot riding with someone else and we knock over the remaining one eighty k with ease. After trying an overpriced hotel off Ioverlander I head to a budget hostel with him. Hmm. We're in a four bed dorm with a Moroccan couple and erm...I'm the oldest guy in the hostel again. I'm gonna have to learn hostel etiquette as it seems I'll have to use them for a while. It's a whole different world filled with mostly young American backpackers and I feel a bit out of place... The next day I opt to head straight for the Bolivian border and Samuel heads around the lake to Copacabana. He wants to check out the floating islands at Copacabana plus this way affords him easier access to La Paz. Samuel lost his credit cards way back in Colombia and is hoping new ones await him at the post office in central La Paz. Me, well, I'm kinda impatient now to get further south. This way hopefully lets me access southern Bolivia easily and then head down to Argentina.
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| So ya think the farmer's just taking you for a fun ride in his ute eh....lookin cute's not gonna work either. You could actually order a Llama pizza in Puno! |
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| Blue skies, good paving, easy curves...what's going on? |
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| Samuel and I outside the Cozy Hostel in Puno. Team KLR. |
I cross the border at Desaguadero. Unfortunately the main road through town, which leads to the border, is closed leading to an hour of mucking around before I actually find the border itself. When I get there I'm the only one crossing and the exit and entry on both sides is totally stress free. I zoom around lake Titicaca and head towards La Paz. A monster sand storm erupts with a freezing crosswind and I'm down to sixty Kph as I enter La Paz. I can see snow capped mountains way in the distance and it feels like the wind is coming straight off them. I really need cash and fuel badly and the entry to La Paz is to be honest depressing with garbage and dust blowing everywhere. I enter a crazy main street still on the outskirts with kerbs packed with market stalls and oddly multiple banks within walking distance. It's still freezing and I ditch the bike and walk from ATM to ATM. It takes a stressful five ATMs before one gives me some cash.
Now I need fuel...how hard can this be.
I battle the traffic back out of town heading towards Oruro thinking I'll grab a servo on the outskirts and fill up. My optimism is severely dented as I get knocked back several times before literally begging for fuel and finally getting some. The rudeness of the pump operators almost annoys me more than no fuel. The local fuel rate is 3.7 Bol a litre and the international one is 8.62 Bol! (Au $1.60) I actually don't mind paying it if that's the law...whatever. However maybe because of the paperwork involved not many operators are interested. I know there are stories all over the net on how to bargain for fuel, maybe this has pissed a lot of vendors off. I dunno. That night I make a village called Patacaymaya and get a bed for only 40 Bol which is about Au $7.60. So swings and roundabouts, lose there win here. Oddly I walk into town for my serve of chicken and rice when the restaurant I choose completely fills with Bolivian Army personnel. One guy in black Alpine Star Gorotex...twenty guys in camouflage! The next day I fuel up again at Oruro which seems a grubby mining town with the same rudeness and hassle and set out on the three hundred and sixteen K to Potosi. I cross a vast flat straight plain about 3800m high before heading into a bare beautiful mountain range rising to 4300m before Potosi. There are Llamas everywhere near the road and they seem quite skittish so I ride with caution. I'm worried about fuel with the wind and the high altitude so I pull into a small village and ask about fuel. I get directed to two ancient women on the kerb siting with a pile of plastic containers. Hm...oh oh. They pour some fuel out of one filthy container into a ten litre jug using a trusty litre coke bottle cut in half as a funnel. Thirty Bol...which is cheap...buuut OK I need it so into the tank it goes. I arrive at Potosi in good spirits despite the fuel hassles...come on...
...it hasn't rained in two days woo hoo!
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| Samuel has a habit of eating anything the locals are selling. Here he downs some sort of pink frozen stuff in a plastic tube...yech. |
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| Yeh yeh another bloody Llama blocking the view of Lake Titicaca |
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| Riding with some else is a hoot. Rounding up traffic and jumping topes! |
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| And into Bolivia. After finally finding the border I was the only one there. Everyone on both sides were super polite. |
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| Still haven't seen anybody wearing a gooby hat like mine! |
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| Aaand into Bolivia. This is on the way to Oruro. |
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| Whoa how different is this after Peru! |
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| Ten litres of crap fuel, two teaspoons of dirt and a cup full of water... Merrrhahahaaa...I'll mix it up for free... that'll be thirty Bol....Bargain! |
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| Was a time when I was excited to see llamas. Now I'm almost running them over. Go on git! |
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| It's a pretty forbidding landscape which supports very few people. The run from La Paz to Potosi went from high plains to mountains. |
I need a back tire. The Metzeler I had fitted in southern Mexico has been excellent but it's almost worn out. There's a guy highly regarded in Sucre about a hundred and forty K out of my way who may have the tire I need. I figure I can get him to flush my brakes as well while I'm there and maybe see if I can finally get the rear brake to work properly. Sucre is regarded as one of nicer Bolivian cities and the road there is a complete gem and it only takes a couple of hours to arrive. I ride straight into a total traffic jam as for some unknown reason the centre of Sucre is closed off for a couple of hours. I finally find the bike workshop and all the work can be done including an oil change, tire fitting and brake fluid flush straight away. Awesome. Now I'm anal about servicing my bike. I hate other people touching it. I go for a walk for a couple of hours so I don't have to watch and come back to find Rattles serviced, washed and ready to go. I pay, we shake hands and off I go to stay at the Celtic Hostel for the night. (Which I like a lot.)
Now the fun bit...
The next morning I'm having a chat to Marianne on face time whilst sitting looking at the bike...hmm...that tire looks like a Pirelli as ordered but...
aargh...it's not....it's some sort of copy...ah shit.
Back to the shop I go...blah blah none to be had blah blah these are OK blah blah my employee didn't tell me etc etc. Now I'm between a rock and a hard place. I can't source a decent tire, I can't really put the old one back on and oh, why did I pay Pirelli price for a Rinaldi. Sooo I leave it on, get a small refund (I still think I'm way out) and all sorts of useless apologies. Can't say I'm in any way happy as I really don't trust this tyre...hmm...will have to be careful...or take a loss and get another down the track...hmm just great...
Listening to F!@$ing Perfect Pink
Yep just f!@$ing perfect. Hmm. Deep Breath. Ah what the
hell. I'll be back on the road tomorrow on a new tyre...
Sucre
Oddly despite the fuel and tyre hassles my spirits have lifted since leaving Cusco. Might be that it has only rained once since. Sucre has a beautiful centre square and some great eating places. I'm staying in the Celtic Hostel which is run by a German guy and it's clean, comfy, and reasonably priced. There's only one other guy in my dorm and he seems to have an endless hangover and sleeps all day. As in many South American cities the streets in Sucre are way too narrow for modern traffic and getting around is a super slow process. Just travelling the 1.2k back to sort...or half sort the tyre situation was a long and stressful grind. On the plus side I had breakfast this morning in glorious sunshine overlooking the city at a cafe just above where I'm staying. Although I had the shits on about the tyre...aah what hell...if it doesn't dump me on my ass maybe it'll be OK.
Hmmm.
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| The Hostel Compania De Jesus in Potosi. Great place for eighty Bol for both Rattles and I. |
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| On the side of the road to Sucre. All diesels blow ridiculous amounts of smoke at these altitudes. |
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| The centre square in Sucre comes alive at night with some good reasonably priced restaurants all around. |
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| One side of the centre square. |
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| Not a bad place for breakfast when you've got the shits on about dodgy tyre deals. |
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| Rattles seems to do alright in the backpacker hostels and is regularly invited in to sleep in the foyer. |
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| The brown door on the left is the Celtic Hostel. I'm spending a couple of nights here after the tyre debacle...and there's good food just down the road! |
Reality Check No.14
Well I've got about five weeks to go. I've done about 20,000k so far. It's been a long long haul and small things are starting to fall apart. My tank bag zipper is dying, my boots are looking and smelling seriously secondhand, my air seat is starting to fall apart, Rattles is getting rattlier, my helmet feels loose and worn and my lungs are lusting to get back down amongst some oxygen rich air. Except for the scenery the basic daily grind of travel, accommodation and finding food hasn't changed too much for a long time. Bolivia is the poorest country so far and feels maybe just a little meaner because of it. Just little stuff.
Yep will be glad to cross the next border.
Next Blog
I visit the salt flats at Uyuni and then
swing down into Argentina. Rumour has it that the steaks there are to die for...
Yeh nah I'm not gonna miss chicken and rice!
Thanks for the comments and great to
get some from some new people!
Cheers Dean
