Quick Stats
1000 km of travel by bike thus far!
Flat tires ~ Justin 2, Melissa 2
Intestinal Infections ~ Justin 3, Melissa 2
14,000 ft plus passes ~ 4

 When we first arrived in Huanaco, we struggled to get our bearings.  Riding our bicycles, dodging taxis, and horns in every direction, we asked locals to point us towards the town´s center so we could find ourselves on our lonely planet copied map of the town.  Justin, frustrated at the situation, yelled to me while we rode, ¨It feels like I am looking at the wrong city!!¨

He finally asked a police officer to help us and lo and behold… the officer pointed out, ¨This map is of Huancayo, not Huanaco!¨

Well we are excited to announce we´ve made it to Huancayo, the third largest city in Peru and home to a Pizza Hut.  The map works beautifully here.  The trip to get here was much longer than planned but it was sprinkled with new friendships and unparalleled kindness.

~Family in Huariaca~

Our Second day out of Huanaco, we decided to stop early for the day as Justin was still getting his bearings after another intestinal showdown.  In a town that took me five days to figure out how to pronounce (Wahr-e-a-ka), we saw a pretty, yellow hostal a street down from the main drag and decided to take our chances.

I found myself needing to go to the bathroom every few minutes after dinner, and by the next morning, I could hardly move from my bed.  We upgraded to a room with a bathroom, and there I stayed for three nights (Justin even bought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers!!).  Although cursed with an intestinal infection, I was blessed to immerse myself in the loving community of Huariaca.  News of a sick Gringa spread fast and soon there was an angel, Rosa, at our doorstep with tea to help my stomach (little did I know it would clean out gunk in my intestines from back in my teens!).  Rosa and her husband, Ricardo, who run the hostal Rosa Nautica, became increasingly concerned with my condition, and brought me soup and tea daily. 

On the third morning, still lousy, Justin decided it was time to visit a clinica.  We walked in the early monrnig fog to the clinic´s door and immediately I was sketched out by the smelling bathroom and blood stains on the floors and chairs.  Our stay there did not last long and when we arrived back at our hostal,  Ricardo saw the tears swelling up in my eyes.

Minutes later, his sister Matrisa knocked at our door.  A nurse at the local hospital,  she immediately went to work fixing me back to normal! She even brought food for Justin as she worried about our tiny appetites.  On our last day in Huariaca,  Matrisa made us a delicious lunch at her home and we learned more about her family and life in Peru.  We were so blessed to have met Rosa, Ricardo, and Matrissa who helped us in our vulnerable time of need.

~The Aussie Gals!~

After a delicious, filling lunch at Matrisa´s, we rolled our bellies back to the hostal to finally pack and get moving again.  When we arrived, we were shocked to find two Gringas there! Growing up in a melting pot of cultures in California, it is funny to me how shocked every person is here to see someone who is white.  I laughed at myself when I realized I probably made the same face as most Peruvians when seeing the two Aussie girls. 

We immediately hit it off chatting about life on the road.  Megan and Jules are also riding their bicycles – they have been for 15 months.  Their travels started in Alaska, and by the time they made it to Vancouver, they decided to get married before continuing on through North, Central, and South America!  We all packed our gear on Tuesday morning and set off together on another 5,000 ft climb to a 14,500 ft pass.  We loved sharing stories, us from the trail and them, from the past year on bicycles.  Unfortunately I was still struggling with my illness and could hardly stomach even a saltine cracker.  Climbing in altitude was not helping my cause either.  I dug pretty darn deep to keep climbing, and the Aussies were great motivators.  Around 6pm, as the sun waved goodnight along the mountainous horizon,  we found ourselves high on an altiplano, in the extreme cold.  To camp or find a hostal (there is no question mark on this keyboard!). Justin asked a family in the small truck stop town we found ourselves in where a hostal may possibly be.  There was none.  It was cold.  And we needed to make a decision fast.

A woman came running from a home and invited us to sleep in the upstairs of her house.  She said it was way too cold to camp, and while we all knew we had the gear to do it, we felt no reason to decline the invitation – especially myself who was running on an empty stomach and feeling quite ill.  We had a fun slumber party, with even extra mattresses to sleep on, before falling asleep for the night.  My stomach would not stop gurgling, my nose continued to drip, and I fond myself tousing and turning until the sun rose the next morning.  Did I even sleep (again no question mark).

We rolled along the altiplano Wednesday together,  admiring the Alpaca and llamas, desolate atmosphere, large lake in the distance, and small towns.  Justin and I still did not still feel quite right so when we arrived in the town of Jugnin and hung out while Megs changed a flat, we decided to take it easy and stop early for the day.  In Huaraz, we met a gentleman by the name of Brian who works for the Peace Corps at a nice cafe.  He told us he had a friend who could show us around Junin and connected us through email.  Fortunately, we saved Reilly´s number and called her along the main drag of Junin.  She was less than a block away and was our savior for the evening.

%Melissa%

 ~Peace Corps Friends~

The beauty of cycling is that we get to enjoy the culture at a much more controlled pace, inviting us to enjoy richer encounters with locals.  In Junin we managed to square up with a Peace Corps volunteer named Reilly. Reilly was recommended to us by another volunteer, Brian, in a coffee shop in Huaraz.  Reilly just completed her first year living and teaching in the Central Highlands at just over 13,000 ft.  She lives with a host family and opened up her floor space for us.  We enjoyed the English conversation, as well as the Jiff peanut butter her family had recently left with her when they came to visit.  While spending the afternoon in search of some food in Junin, we were thankful we weren`t out riding in the terential downpour that insued.  We enjoyed the hospitality and a look into living with a host family in Peru.

A kind woman told us that we would be safe to find a campspot in town and all that separated us from relaxing for the evening was a wooden cable bridge.  The crossing was a first with our heavy bicycles and midway through, it crossed my mind that there may be a weight limit and our combined 500ish pounds might be enough to send us plumiting into the swiftly moving cloudy water.  Fortunately that was not the case and a few stairs separated us from the town plaza where our puzzled looks made our presence obvious.  After a short break and conversation with a small tienda owner, we decided to walk around the plaza in search of a place to rest.  A few locals sat out in front of another shop and upon asking, Raul, introduced himself and told us that camping is possible indeed.  His wife,Rosa, shook her head, and then said NO!, the reason, too cold!  He said there are no hostals, but his wife would open up their storage place for us to rest.

We made our way down the dirt path and into a concrete room filled with bags of grain, or rice, and a perfect place to rest our heads.  Rosa then brought us a thermos of hot water for tea, and Melissa cooked a red sause pasta meal before we called it a night.  The morning brought warmer temperatures and excitement we edged closer to the provincial captial and hopes of delicious food.  Our desires became reality and after 20 hours in town we are ready for the open roads and quieter surroundings.  Hoping that the rains hold out as we are on the shoulder of summer, the wet season?

Welcome to Huanaco, home to the city that boasts the claim to best climate in the country.  This large town is nestled between moderately steep mountains, in a valley just over 6,000 feet.  The cycling to get to this point has been incredible, remote and challenging.  Lets begin by saying that we are travelling with a tourist map of Peru purchased in Lima, that contains a majority of the larger cities, and roads that are color coded supposedly corresponding to a key.  What our map doesn´t detail is first and foremost, elevation, and second the condition of the road- containing patches of rocky, sandy, bumpy, muddy, single-lane raddle-the-filling-out-of-your -mouth ¨road.¨  I am not one for complaining, but there were a few strecthes when I wondered what we got ourselves into.  The travel to this point has been a bit tough.  Intermittent battles with ¨mal comida¨ or bad food is a common place here, as I had my second bout with feverish symptoms and violent vomiting. 

Many things we learn that we take for granted back home, become so obvious when travelling and living in such conditions.  The first is sanitation- most importantly the water, secondly the air.  There are no exhaust regulations and within the larger cities the fumes are enough to give you an upset stomach.  In addition to the environmental conditions, I am reminded how nice a real towel feels, having dried off from a fair of my showers with a handerchief.  I am travelling with a travellers towel that is not much larger that a hand towel, so in splurging on a bit nicer room here in Huanuco, we were rewarded with a full sized white bath towel, and a complimentary bar of soap and roll of toilet paper (you bring your own toilet paper everywhere, public bathrooms do not have any toilet paper or toilet seats – only a bowl).  The last thing I miss from back home is some good ol´ American breakfast- flapjacks, waffles, omelets, muffins, granola, give me anything but a piece of bread or rice.

I am excited to see some of the Central Highlands of Peru, possibly the most missed part of the country by travellers and tourists alike.  We will be climbing from here up to Cerro de Pasco, a city at 14,2o0 feet, just hoping we don´t get any spotty weather.

!Justino¡

——————————————————

When we departed from Huaraz on Friday (August 26, 2011), I had butterflies all over again about riding into the unknown.  Huaraz had become a familiar home – I had identified the best bakery, the good restaurants verus the ones that put you in a hospital, the cheapest local grocery store, where to get medical help, and so on.  But Justin was antsy to get on the road, and the minute I sat back on my bike,  I was excited to be on the road as well.  Such a freedom to travel at your own pace – transporting by bus or taxi can be quite a miserable experience here, as we endured trying to get home from our Santa Cruz trek.  If there are not enough people, you are not going anywhere.  The car must be filled to the gills… and it will not stop if you have to use the restroom.

Kindness in Conococha

We arrived back in Conococha, the town we celebrated successfully climbing up to from sea  level a week prior, at about 4:30pm and gently rolled along the one road town made  up of about 20 houses/stores looking for a place to stay.  There was one hospedaje (hostal) along the “strip” but the woman who ran it was asking 15 soles per person which was pretty outrageous to us seeing as we just spent 8 days in Huaraz for a little over 60 soles.  There were no bathrooms, and it was one dark room with a few dusty beds.  We declined and continued down the road.

“Let´s go to the 1 sole egg sandwich lady so I can eat a sandwhich while we debate where to sleep,” I told Justin.

15 seconds later we rolled up to her doorstep.  Egg sandwhich lady remembered us and smiled when I asked for three more fried egg sandwhiches.  Her friend, who had a store across the street, came over to chat with us as well.  They both knitted away (boy, can Peruvians knit fast!) as we talked to them in broken Spanish and I scarfed down the delicious sandwiches.  Justin asked if camping would be a possibility around here.  Even though we are saying the translation for camping correctly, often times, many people we talk to have still never heard of the term.  We demonstrated setting up our tent and explained it was a home and finally the lady from across the street understood and welcomed us to sleep on the roof of her home!  Her house, like all homes along this tiny town, was made of mud bricks and was adjacent to the mountain side. We climbed up a side stairwell to the roof and began to unload our stuff on our sweet pad for the night!  Her 13 year old  son,  Arrnon, quietly helped us with all our gear and was thrilled to set up our tent with us.  After getting our gear situated, the three of us hiked up the mountain side to watch the sun set over Peru´s second tallest peak, Yerupaja.

Conococha is known as a truck stop on the main road between Lima and Huaraz that sells cheese, chocolate, and beer.  But no local drivers ever stop there for the night.

“Hace demasiado frío aquí” (It is too cold here for them) Arrnon said proudly, smiling that he lives on a high mountain top many deem unlivable, this is the highest city in the country.

Indeed it was a chilly night.  We tucked into our tent around 7:30pm and tried to fall asleep to the lullaby of the loud motors of big rigs forcefully shifting down to second gear to slow down for the two speed bumps in town.  When dawn broke, our tent sparkled with frost and our breathe could easily be seen swirling around the tent.  But that didn´t matter.  The sunrise was beautiful and our family for the night greeted us on the rooftop, checking to see how we made it through the night.  I ate one more egg sandwhich,  bought some cheese and water from our host, we all shared hugs, and off we went towards the sunrise.

Dancing with the Bulls

Justin and I are both indecisive and have trouble making decisions.  We discovered this on the Pacific Crest Trail last year.  At nightfall, we always had the most difficult time deciding where would be the best place to camp or whether to go on a few more miles.  Well, about an hour after riding off into the sunrise, we found ourselves at a fork in the road.  Should we continue on the main highway, or turn off to see the town of Chiquian which was preparing for a festival the next day?  As we scratched our heads and looked at our maps,  five construction workers, both men and women, came up to chat with us and ask what on earth we were doing on bicycles.  Justin proceeded to ask questions about the roads, seeing as our map is terrible and shows no topography, but we were quickly ushered to the side of the road along the outside corner of a mud house.

“What is going on?” I asked in english as I turned my head to see a herd of bulls running towards us.

“Para el festival!” one of the workers explained.  They were herding the cattle into a small pen to start bringing them down to Chiquian.  Everyone laughed as I jokingly hid behind one of the workers.  It took about 10 minutes as we all quietly watched the cowboys wrangle the angry bulls into the pen.  Twice, some escaped, bucking wildly in every direction, sending goosebumps down my body.

We decided to go the longer route to see the town of Chiquian.  STEEP downhill led us to the pretty town by 10:45 am.  In small towns, lunch is served promptly at noon and dinner is at 6pm.  None of this early cooking business for odd hour customers!  Bummed, we bought a few mandarins, skirted around the bustling town, and decided to continue on.  About two hours later we were questioning whether our decision to go the Chiquian route was a good idea or not.  Over 15 km of road was being worked on, freshly tarred gravel turned to loose gravel and on to dirt and sand.  After skidding out one too many times, we had to dismount and push our bikes the rest of the way.  We were pooped to say the least.  When we arrived back to the main highway, three locals leaning in the shade of a house cheered us on and told us less than 6 km until the next village!  Food and sleep for us Hoorah!

 Our Two Adorable Shadows

Well… 6 km turned out to be about 10km but we were still exstatic to see the town of Pachapaqui.  As we turned along a bend in the road, the valley opened up to the small mining town.  Far off in the distance, children were playing futbol, an extremely common occurrence around these parts, on a dirt court (It seems every town prides themselves on their church and their futbol field).  I could hardly make out their tiny bodies but amazingly enough we heard in the distance “GRINGOS!!!” 

“Did you hear that?! Are we THAT white?  How can they tell from that far away?!” Justin laughed.

The locals asked where we were from and in turn we asked where the town´s hostal was located.  For a whopping 6 soles (around $2.30), we stayed in a small dark room.  It fit our bikes and we were happy to be in a quite, little mining town for the night – the first time we had been in a room with beds since the hospital.  The electricity only comes on between 6 and 9pm here and when you turn on the one outdoor faucet… well, water comes when it feels like, whether it be a minute or ten minutes later.

Suddenly we noticed two sets of eyes peaking into our doorway.  We invited in our new friends, two precious girls who lived next door – Mirella (6) and Natalie (5).  They were quite adorable and followed our every move.  They liked touching our bikes and looking at all of our odd equipment. 

“¿qué es eso”  Mirella asked as I went outside and pressed our Spot.  I tried to explain with grand hand gestures that it sends a signal to a satellite to contact people but Mirella just looked at me like I was crazy.

We played with their kitchen set which was a few small plastic kitchen utensil toys in a cardboard box, and then Jacks.  Justin also impressed the girls with a few magic tricks.  They decided to join us for our evening preparation for bed as well.

They flossed, possibly for the first time since they did not have a clue what to do with the odd minty string.  Mirella sifted through my bags on the bed and asked what I used a big white bottle for.  I explained it was for my face, that I have dry skin, and of course they both gave that a try as well.  It was hard to say goodnight, but they finally understood and headed back to their home next store. 

In the morning, we gave them big hugs, as they sadly waved goodbye, and we were off again up the road.  Over 3,000 feet and my second flat tire later, we made it to the top of a 15,300 foot pass.  It was another unbelievable feat.  Truckers and bus drivers honked and gave us two thumbs up as we caught our breaths at the top.  It was all downhill to our evening stop for the night! Wa hoooo!

 An American Dream in Haullanca

 We stopped in the pretty town of Huallanca for lunch at about 1:15 and to thaw our frozen digits after a chilly descent.  I had the BEST lomo saltado yet – this dish consists of french fries, onions, tomatos, and carne cooked together in a brown sauce with a side of white rice.  Most “menu” meals start here with Sopa (soup) and then a choice one from 3 to 5 dishes offered all for usually about 4 soles.  Lomo Saltado has become a favorite for me. 

Anywho, after lunch we rolled down the bridge to exit the town, enjoying big cones of ice cream simultaneously, when we passed a white man on a bridge who said, “You must be from the States.”

I was quite surprised that he knew this, but from his accent, we knew he too was from the States.  New York to be exact.  Dave and his dear wife live in Peru.  His wife manages farms that grow a local grain called Maca (which we have eaten for breakfast most mornings! Delicious grain like oatmeal which is yummy with honey, milk, and raisins).  Dave plans to make a new energy bar using Peruvian grains such as Maca and quinoa.  We are both very excited for his adventures to come and hope to stay connected!

They kindly offered us a cozy home for the night but we decided to push on, since we still had many hours of daylight, to the town of La Union.  Man do I wish we had taken them up on their offer! La Union was a rough town and we did not feel a warm welcome.  It took us over an hour to find a place to stay as most hostals wouldn´t allow us with bicycles.  Some towns just give you a creepy feeling, and this was one of them.  We were back on our bikes and out of there by 7am.

Sickness once again (Oy!) in Huanaco

After another crazy climb to 13,000 ft, and a 7,000ft STEEP descent (Wahoooo!!) we made it Huanaco.  I have been suffering from a sinus infection that has gone into my upper respiratory and I was excited to get a little medicine for comfort from a pharmacy.  Our first night in Huanaco led to yet another food poisoning disaster.  Justin again fell ill to possibly a fruit shake we had, and spent the night with a high fever and throwing up.  Fortunately, the fever subsided the next evening just as my head cold decided to get worse.  We have been dealt some pretty hard cards healthwise these first couple of weeks, but between the challenges we have enjoyed spectacular views, food, and new friends.  Back to healing I go now!

**Melissa**