Jaen, Peru to Yungay, Peru
Aug 21, 2014 – Aug 29, 2014

Respecting lunchtime

After several hours of riding dusty roads, we reached the tiny border post nestled in the mountains right at lunch time. What’s the big deal you ask? Well most administrations in South America tend to not function from 1 to 2pm. Nothing official of course but good luck trying to get any document stamped in that time frame. With nothing else to do, we sat next to our aduana officer, wished him a “bon provecho” and ordered a random soup.
Shortly thereafter he was back at his keyboard. Although given his abysmally slow keystroke per minute, one might question whether he really had ever seen a keyboard before, or for that matter, the form he was supposed to fill to let our DRs into Peru. Several hours later we found ourselves riding into country #12, Peru. We happily discovered a nicely paved road. Little did we know that the introduction of pavement would mean roadworks. Many miles of roadworks.

Not just another mountain road

Our first mountain town was the uninspiring Jaen. It offered us little more than a giant nail that deflated the Zebramobile’s rear shoe overnight. From there we aimed towards Chachapoyas. We reached the turn off to the capital of the Amazonas region early in the day and decided to push a bit further to Leymebamba. We followed a narrow strip of asphalt that dove into the Utcubamba river before fighting the rocky mountain side to carve a path at its side. The long trail to the Kuelap fortress looked like too much work and we instead visited the Mummy Museum where we learned more about the ancient tribes of this region. After a good night sleep, we went looking for gas and discovered what would become the norm for gas stations, an old man with a funnel and a 1 gallon jar, refilled in the dark recesses of his hut, hopefully with actual petrol. Our DRs did not seem to mind and we begun our climb to Celendin. It took us forever! Not because the road was bad, but rather because it was so beautiful that we stopped every few minutes to take more pictures. This was quite possibly the most dramatic stretch of road from the whole trip.

Down the mountain, up the mountain

A jug of Chicha Morada later, the traditional drink make of fermented purple corn, we were off to Cajamarca. The town is the capital of the region and features gorgeous Spanish buildings. Our favorite was a small motorcycle shop where we found two Pirelli tires for less than $70/each, yes, we are bike nerds. We left the town early morning heading for Santiago de Chuco via Cajabamba. The dusty road took us over mountain crests and down narrow valleys, daring us to enjoy the breathtaking views at the risk of missing a turn. We compromised by switching the bikes off and freewheeling down the hills, enjoying the sound of our tires crunching through the sand and stones. It was dark when we reached Santiago de Chuco, with the now slick rear tire of the Zebramobile skidding around like it was in a supermoto race. We followed the fancy pick up trucks of construction workers towards the only hotel in town and promptly put the Wolf to bed. He was feeling poorly and quickly started shivering despite the warmth of several blankets. His condition deteriorated overnight and by the next morning was curled up in a little ball in bed. For the first time since I’ve known the Wolf, he spent the whole day sleeping in bed, almost certainly the victim of salmonella poisoning.
Luckily sleep and water did the trick and he was ready to go 24 hours later. After changing the Zebramobile’s tire (never before did I wish I was strong enough to get the tire changed on my own) we set off for Tauca.

Rinse and repeat

Another day, another descent, and another climb. We did this for several hours, until the last set of switchbacks landed us in Tauca. Our GPS maps had no indication of a hotel or hostel, but we were sure there had to be something, and we were right. What we did not expect however, was that all 3 hostels in town would be full. We were finally sent to one that was under construction, and they offered us a room, with no shower, but at least a toilet and a bed completed. It was here that the Wolf’s compromised immune system decided it was not satisfied with the state of affairs, complaining loudly with a violent allergic reaction, covering the poor Wolf with a rash and a constricted throat, scaring us both badly. Tauca is very remote. By morning the Wolf was still rather itchy, but breathing better, so we decided to keep moving. As we were loading the bikes, our friend Peter rolled through town, apparently having been on our tails for a few days. After a happy reunion, we all started riding South.

Enough dust already

Our GPS teased us with the trace of what seemed like a direct trail to Huallanca, the last town before the Cañon Del Pato. After consulting with the locals we were recommended to cross Yupan, leave Corongo to our left and turn at Tres Cruces toward Yuracmarca. Needless to say this resulted in more dust, more switchbacks, absolutely unbelievable lunar landscapes and, a very upset Englishman forced to ride at night. We found Huallanca busy celebrating some random saint with live bands, folk dances and shiny tinsel. Unfortunately for us this also meant that, once again, every single hotel in town was full. After much negotiation we ended up paying an arm and a leg for the last two tiny, dusty rooms available in town. A place to sleep secured, we strolled around town after dinner enjoying the festive ambiance. Things became less fun when the bands were still going at 4am. The famed Cañon del Pato made us forget how tired and dusty we were (although it’s still a mystery as to why it’s called ‘Duck Canyon’ since there is nothing but rocks to be found there.) When we finally pulled into Yungay, our first stop was a carwash, where we attempted to pressure wash away a week’s worth of dust and exhaustion.