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Date:
March 08, 2002
Hello All !
I hope this message finds you well. I am in Cuzco
,Peru. Cuzco is a city of over 300,000 people is
southeastern Peru.
Since leaving Piura many things have happened. This
may be a lengthy email.
Between Piura and Chiclayo is a 220km stretch of
barren windswept desert. The Pan American Highway
turned inland and the temperatures in the sun soared
to over 120 degrees. There were a few small towns
where a well supplied water but these consisted only
of clusters of mud and stick houses. The terrain
varied from moonscape-s to vast open plains of sand.
My only friend ( other than Scott ) were the gnats
that swarmed whenever I stopped riding. I rode this
section of Peru in 2 days. On the morning of the
second day I stopped at the only intersection of two
paved roads between Piura and Chiclayo. I asked the
owner of the restaraunt if I could purchase water that
I badly needed. The next source of water was 70km
farther south. The owner refused to sell me this
valuable desert commodity. She gave it to me for free
out of her limited supply.
As I continued south through the cities of Chiclayo
and Trujillo the limitless alien landscape was
interrupted more often by small towns. As I approached
Lima the population and traffic continued to increase.
This was also accompanied by what became a daily stiff
afternoon headwind. Because of the spacing of the
major cities my mandatory 100km days ended with a few
hours into this debilitating wind. Mentally for me the
most difficult part was the sight of the few meager
plants that struggled to grow along the side of the
road. They were permenantly bent at a 45 degree angle
due to the power of the wind. With riding conditions
deteriorating I chose to board a bus to Lima with the
intent of taking a second bus to Cuzco. Good idea ?
My bus trip to Lima started well. My bike was safely
stowed in the luggage compartment and un expectantly
the bus almost departed on time. It was soon after the
bus began it‚s 8 hour overnight trip that I realized
that I was ill. The air was stagnant on the bus that
was filled capacity and a Jean Claude Van Damme movie
played at a high volume. I arrived in Lima feeling
miserable. I was hoping to find a easy confection to
Cuzco but in Latin American cities there are no
central bus terminals. Buses arriving from the north
disembark at separate terminals than the buses
supplying services to other parts of the country.
Normally this only entails traveling a few blocks to
the next station but not in Lima. Lima is a sprawling
,polluted city of 8 million people. After 3 bus
terminals and an hour and a half of frustration I rode
south through central Lima to catch a 9am bus to
Cuzco. The eerie cloud of smog that hovered over the
freeway stung my eyes during the 5km ride. I arrived
at the bus station and this traveler ( me ) trotted
quickly to the bathroom with little time to spare.
Feeling weak and sleep deprived I completely
disassembled my bike, checked my luggage and boarded
my bus. I soon found my simulation leather seat. The
air conditioning dried the beads of perspiration on my
forehead. I was elated to find a footrest and a seat
that reclined to almost a horizonal position. My plan
was to sleep all the way to Cuzco.
It was 31 hours later that my bus finally arrived in
Cuzco. For unknown reason my bus toured the southern
half of Peru. The route took me close to Chile and
Bolivia before it turned north along the western shore
of Lake Titicaca. My simulation leather seat had
transformed my behind into genuine leather. I was
greeted in Cuzco with a heavy raw rain shower. The
rain started suddenly on the short ride between the
bus station and town. In street clothes I was quickly
drenched. At this moment I was collectively ill,
dehydrated, sleep deprived, hungry, cold and
emotionally exhausted. Then by grace I received what
I needed.
The balcony that was partially protecting me from the
rain turned out to be a hotel. The woman who managed
the hotel helped me into a spacious room with a hot
shower and brought me a steaming cup of Mate de Coco.
( The local tea to which I am now addicted ) A few
hours later I reflected upon the two worst days of my
adventure. I did this as I melted into a warm bed with
the flavor of a wood roasted chicken diner lingering
in my mouth. I again realized that it is the basic
things in life that are the biggest blessings. Food,
shelter and the kindness of a stranger should never be
taken for granted. As I drifted off to 10 hours of
blissful sleep I knew in my heart that I was a very
fortunate man.
Cuzco is the city that most travelers and tourist use
as a base to tour the world famous Incan ruins at
Machu Picchu. As a result hoards of tourist pass
through the city each year. For me the
commercialization obscures the charm of the city.
There is a bustling central market where the locals
sell their wares and a huge Peruvian lunch can be
purchased for 50 cents. I try not to look too closely
at what parts of the chicken are floating in my soup.
The Plaza de Armas is a spacious public area that is
surrounded by stunning architecture. At night the
cathedrals are lighted beautifully. The Plaza is also
" Ground Zero " for the tourist trade. If I stop to
appreciate my surrounding I am endlessly hassled to
buy anything from a shoe shine to drugs. The sales
pitch here is not , " Will you by this ? ". It is, "
Why haven‚t you bought this !". I have been grabbed,
pulled into a reataraunt and sworn at by a 4 year old
girl for just saying, " NO ! ".
I was reunited with some of my balloon tossing friends
that I met in Cueca, Ecuador. Leanne and Danielle form
Canada and Mat and Kat from England helped me enjoy
Cuzco‚s night life. I also crossed paths with Ryan who
I met in Costa, Rica. Since San Jose Ryan has arranged
a home stay in the Cuzco area. The family he is
staying with manages the hotel I stumbled upon during
the rainstorm. More proof that it is a very small
world.
My tour of Machu Picchu was unparalled by anything I
have experienced on my journey. My day started with a
4am wakeup call and by 4:30 I was hiking in the
predawn darkness along the Riobamba River. I then
ascended an endless flight of steps to the park
entrance where I grudgingly paid my $20 US fee. I
continued to climb through the thick early morning fog
and by 7am reached an overlook where I chose to rest.
I thought I was lost. When the rain started I turned
to Scott and asked, " Why would the Incas worship the
sun god here !? ". An hour later it happened ! The sun
burned through the clouds and Machu Picchu appeared
below me ! I felt like an explorer who just
discovered it‚s existence. Soon the entire valley
appeared. All of the hassle, time and money was
instantly justified. For the next 5 hours I hiked,
shot photos, investigated and meditated. The ruins are
interesting. The intricate stonework for which the
Incas are famous has endured a 1000 years of weather
and earthquakes. What really made Machu Picchu unique
was the awe inspiring views. The drone of the raging
Riobamba river that emanates from the valley far below
combines with the grandeur of the mist shrouded Andes
Mountains that rocket into the sky in all directions.
The pure unit erupted vastness of these vistas promote
a sense of mystical power. After the 1 hour hike to
Hauyman Picchu I sat alone with my thoughts as I gazed
down upon Machu Picchu. It is an indelible memory.
If you are coming to Machu Picchu I suggest staying in
the close-by town of Auga Calientes and then hiking up
in the early morning for the sunrise. By late morning
the park becomes more crowed. The early morning
silence is ruined by tourist who lack respect.
From Cuzco I ride south through Puno and on to the
Isla de la Sol in Bolivia. I hope to arrive in a week.
I miss you all !
Dennis
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