Sea mist was forming as I walked uphill from the center of town to return to my hotel, sated after a dinner of parilla de res (grilled beef). Mollendo is a small seaside town on the Pacific coast where I arrived on Sunday; but I am getting ahead of myself.
Saturday morning it was raining lightly as I left Pisac, the first time on this leg that I have woken to precipitation. The night before two additional bikes rolled into Hostel Wilicamayu, a couple of 250cc Honda rentals piloted by Maja and boyfriend, Stefan, on a 10 day fly-in trip from Serbia.
The lip on the narrow ceramic tiled courtyard walkway was difficult to skip up onto in the wet, it needed to be attacked at a 90º angle which was impossible without going through the door of my room. The tires just skated on the slick edge. Eventually, after a push back from Stefan, the moto grabbed and hopped up. Stefan took the video as I left.
The rain ceased after an hour, but more was to come later in the day. The 240 miles to Chivay, the gateway to Colca Canyon, was covered with a mix of excellent blacktop and 70 miles of generally decent unpaved sections, the longest stretch being 60 miles on PE34E.
PE34E climbs up and then down the altiplano, where I set a personal best altitude of 15,742ft. Things became a little dicey while on the altiplano, a thunderstorm formed, with abundant lightening. The altiplano is not the place to be when it is storming. I kept my eye out for a farm building near the road to take shelter, but it is better to be lucky than good and every time I seemed to be heading towards the storm the road turned away. The route skirted the storm for 30 minutes, with just 5 minutes of rain and lentil sized hail. The area to my northwest was getting hammered, the white seen on the hill in the picture below is a result of hailstones.
After passing the storm I stopped for a bite to eat in a pleasant spot just 30 miles from my destination. Sandstone cliffs appeared as if from nowhere.
Chivay is a small town, well maintained as a result of the tourist industry, but retaining its charm. The main area has a number of statues celebrating the local culture, the most curious of which is El Chanchamacho, a jester (but could have been a WWF wrestler based on the costume).
It is likely Chanchamacho had a hand in the design of the bathroom at the Rumi Wasi Hostel, a tight fit that offered the potential for 'baňo' multitasking. The room and hostel were otherwise very pleasant, though at an altitude of about 12,000ft the night was cold, dropping close to freezing. Nonetheless, I slept well swathed in a mass of blankets in the unheated room.
The payoff of the cold night was a brilliantly clear morning, I departed at 7am heading into the canyon in search of condors and the road beyond.
T2
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