The Joys of International Air Travel

December 29th and 30th, 2011

I had only spend a few minutes looking at flights when I got to Santiago, since I was more concerned about getting Curiosity shipped and I didn’t want to leave until the bike was gone. That didn’t quite work out, and as I was dropped off at the airport in the early afternoon (my flight wasn’t until 10, but I didn’t want a rush and the hotel check out was noon) Curiosity was still on the ground and I was getting annoying emails about this and that. My opinion of DHL, which had been high, was dropping fast.

Getting my boarding pass and getting through customs was easy, and I found a place with power and wifi to sit and people watch. I haven’t flown much in the last decade or so, but I am convinced there is little difference the atmosphere of an airport, although the old guy watching porn with neither discretion or concern was amusing.

I passed on the pisco, never acquired the taste.

Dinner was in a Ruby Tuesday, though they didn’t have half the stuff on their menu so it wasn’t quite like home, then I walked over to my gate.

Got on the plane and sat for another hour waiting to take off. Actually, we only really took off a few minutes late. It was supposed to be a nine and a half hour flight, and there were little TVs we could watch if we wanted. I planned to sleep as much as possible.

Around the time I woke up. There was a dinner and breakfast, but I had eaten before getting on the plane, and the food-goo in the little dishes wasn’t appealing.

I had given myself two and a half hours for the first connection, in Mexico City. We landed about 20 minutes late, so I was already behind schedule. I also had forgotten boarding was earlier than departure, so I lost more time. Then I learned I had to go through immigration into Mexico.

Lets just say I got to the Continental desk for my boarding pass about the time the plane was taking off.

Props to them, though, since they quickly had me on stand-by for the next flight so I would still make my next connection in Houston. If I hurried anyway. So I did. I had planned on lunch in Houston, something smoked and covered in tangy sauce, but it was not to be. Still I managed to make the connection (after re-entering the USA and, for the first time, having to take my shoes off to go through security).

Milwaukee. Cold, raining, and the coke tasted funny.

Once I was on the ground, had showered slept and eaten real food, It was time to refocus on Curiosity. In the end , the bike flew out on Sunday, so that’s good, right?

I sent an email on Wednesday asking the status of the shipment, and the next day received one saying the bike had shipped, but there was no tracking number or other information. Friday morning I called the Milwaukee DHL office to ask if it had arrived. They told me they had no idea where the bike was.

What?

I expressed my opinion on this news for a few minutes, and the person on the other end assured me she would track it down and let me know later where it was, and would an email be okay? I guess I was being cranky.

Later in the day I got a message that they had found Curiosity, in a storage warehouse in Milwaukee. A final bill was being emailed me, and I had to pick the bike up no later than Monday or face storage fees. It was 2pm, and I was 3 hours from Milwaukee. Customs closed at 4:30, so there was no way I could get the bike that day. Customs in Milwaukee wasn’t open on weekends, so I had to wait until Monday.

Unlike all the other customs places I had passed through (Aduana, if you are ever looking for the sign in a Spanish Speaking country), the customs officers here did all the paperwork for me. I just handed over title, airbill and passport, waited about half an hour, and was all set.

Oh, and this is Mark

 

And his truck and trailer, which were here to help move Curiosity to my storage locker until I am ready for the rebuild.

It didn’t take long to figure out why the price had jumped so high.

Two bikes could have fit in that crate, and since when was it even going into a crate? And it got better.

They had run the straps through the bottoms of the wheels, which had completely failed to hold the bike up (both the side and center stands were up when I got it), and it fell over inside the crate. Not hard, all that happened was mirrors being knocked loose, but what a crappy job.

Mark had thoughtfully packed a couple hammers and I took out my frustration on the crate, which wasn’t up to the abuse as soon came apart. Then the bike and the crate bits went into the trailer.

Blue discussed some finer strap-down points with Mark

And we were off to the storage. I completely forgot to take a picture of the bike put away, but it is kind of sad anyway so I am okay with skipping it. This trip is on pause for now anyway so instead I will close out with one of my more favorite trip pics.

Shipping and Santiago

December 26th through the 28th, 2011

Monday morning I had a simple plan – arrange shipping for Curiosity back to Milwaukee. Looking at Horizon’s Unlimited there was only one air shipment listed out of Santiago, from LAN Cargo back in 2004. So I tried calling LAN.

And tried calling LAN.

And tried again to call LAN.

Maybe it was the post-holiday thing, but I was completely unable to get in touch with anyone in their cargo area. They seemed to want to sell me passenger tickets, which I would need eventually, but not right now. After 4 or 5 tries I started to look for other shippers.

There were a fair number, both listed on Horizons Unlimited and a quick Google. Right across the street from the hotel (sort of) was a large DHL building. Most overlanders had nothing good to say about DHL, but that was mainly about parts and when the destination was off the beaten path. So I gave them a call, cheating a little and calling the Milwaukee office so I got to speak in English (in retrospect, a system I should have used for LAN).

The Milwaukee staff was friendly, and quickly had me in touch with an English speaking local DHL employee. The quote was done in an hour or so and was surprisingly low, which should have been a clue.

There was a lot of restrictions, no gas or oil was the largest issue, since I had planned to ride the bike to where it needed to go. “No problem,” was the reply, “we will come and pick it up.” Really?

I was wondering a little when they all showed up in the little van, but Curiosity is small (and they knew the weight already). The bike was already drained and battery disconnected, so it was a smooth operation.

At the airport (they asked me to come with, but I didn’t do anything other than take some pictures) I guess they didn’t want to lift the bike back out.

Once the bike was unloaded they wheeled it into the warehouse, assured me it had security cameras pointed at it, confirmed they were just going to plastic wrap. I got a return trip, just to show me the plastic.

Well, and I admitted to have left matches in one of the bags and they wanted me to take them out. Since they might explode, I guess. They also asked me to remove the disconnected battery, which I did assuming I would have to get a replacement in the USA (annoying, but it wasn’t like I could ride away), but instead it was taped inside a box and strapped to the seat, with bungie cords. Not really sure what that was supposed to accomplish, other than making it more likely to spill.

With me finally thinking I had the bike sorted out, I decided to head to downtown Santiago and see something of the city before leaving. I didn’t know the airport was actually no where near the rest of the place and the taxi ride was rather long.

This is the Presidential Palace, where President Allende died during the 1973 coup.

I was dropped off on the Plaza de Armes (I think every town from Mexico south has one) near a monument

 

and arranged for the taxi to pick me up from there several hours later.

I didn’t really have a plan, other than just to walk around and see stuff. There are several parks and monuments (Chile seems to like monuments) so I just soaked up the atmosphere.

And of course churches

There were several pedestrian only roads, which were generally packed with people who I guessed had off for the holiday. I walked through a park for a while before looping back towards the Plaza de Armes. I had heard good things about Santiago pizza, and had been keeping my eye out for a pizzeria, but the pizza wasn’t that good. Odd sauce, way too much cheese, perhaps my palate just isn’t set up for South American Pizzas.

One place I wanted to go, out of a certain morbid curiosity, was the National Museum. It was right off the Plaza, but I had decided to wait until later in the day to go. The building is pretty nice.

Technically, you aren’t supposed to take pictures inside the building, just in the courtyard, so I don’t have very many.

This last picture is of a 17th century sleeping bag. It’s all leather and just rolls up to go behind a saddle. Didn’t look that big, but I guess people used to be shorter.

This was the morbid reason I wanted to go to the museum

President Allende’s glasses, found next to him after the coup. All the news reports stated he had committed suicide, and in a radio address a few hours earlier he had said “These are my last words, and I am sure that this sacrifice will constitute a moral less that will punish cowardice, perfidy and treason.” Sure sounds like a goodbye. Either way, Chile had some dark days ahead.

Back out in the sunshine Blue decided to climb on things.

Say hello to my little friend.

Then we went looking for dinner.

(I have to be honest, the McDonalds made me feel a little nauseous), then met the taxi for the ride back to the hotel. I had gotten an email letting me know the bike, which was supposed to have flown out on Thursday (the 29th) was now more likely to fly out on the 3rd of January. The original arrival date had been Sunday the 1st, but now was “I am not sure.” Either way I had already bought my ticket and decided to trust DHL knew what they were doing.

IT’S ALIVE!!! (Sort Of)

December 23rd and 24th, 2011

I optimistically repacked the bike in the morning, figuring if it started I could go right away, and if it didn’t I had all day to unpack it again.

It did fire right up, and sounded terrible. But it ran and I headed back out onto the road working my way south.

I figured Santiago, which was my new destination, was about 500 miles away. I was hoping to cover that distance in two days, but it was going to be very much up to the bike. I learned it wouldn’t go much faster than 45, but I tried to keep it under 40, and closer to 35. And I took frequent stops to let the engine cool (desert and all)

I had only been on the road for a couple hours, when I pulled in the clutch for something and it felt a little funny. I pulled it in again and

Fortunately I have had a spare cable (for all the cables, actually) threaded through Curiosity’s frame since leaving on the trip, so the swap was quick and easy, but I was still wondering what the vintage bike gods had against me the last couple of days.

Back on the road, and still heading south, and still stopping often for engine cooling.

Curiosity was still leaking oil, though it was a little hard to tell from where and if it was new oil or dripping from the previous problem. After it went on for a while I decided it was probably new, but still couldn’t work out the where part. I decided not to top off unless the engine was completely cold, since overfilling (even a little) would probably be very bad.

I stopped in La Serena, mainly because I saw a grocery store and the days stop and go riding and depleted my food supply, and decided I had gone far enough for the day. I was then discouraged by how expensive all the hotels were. I didn’t want to rough camp in case Curiosity wouldn’t start again in the morning, so I wandered around some until I found somewhere that was underbudget (I had spent a lot while doing the rebuild) and had secure looking parking.

I wasn’t allowed to have the bike near my little cabin, and talked down the rate because there was an all-night party scheduled. They might have been loud, I slept right through it.

The next morning I was back headed south.

The beaches looked really nice and I wondered about my choice not to find one to sleep on. I again kept my speed down, and took breaks, but today the road did something different – turned inland and went over a pass.

It had been hot near the coast, but the real furnace kicked in when I left the shoreline behind. And the pass was only 2500 feet, I would barely have noticed it before, but Curiosity struggled up the incline in first or second gear, and I was stopping a lot more often to let the engine cool.

Pretty yellow flowers, but they had a bite

As the sun was sinking towards the mountains I reached the northern edges of Santiago (where the air port was, thank goodness). Curiosity hadn’t really recovered from the pass, and was now topping out at about 35, which I didn’t want to push it too. I followed the airport signs and looked for a hotel. In the end the only one I could figure out how to reach was the Hilton, which was definitely not under budget, but I knew it was the second cheapest hotel in the area so I took it. Curiosity left a nice oil puddle outside the front door, and I pushed it to the underground parking before taking a long shower and passing out on the bed.

562 miles in two days, on one piston ring.

A Little Rebuilding

December 20th through 22nd, 2011

So here’s what happened. I had topped off my oil after lunch, but hadn’t replaced the oil cap. As I was riding along, the oil was spraying out of the little hole, which I hadn’t noticed being distracted by the scenery and my thoughts. I know someone who made a similar error once, but noticed it right away. She moves her feet around on the footpegs some while riding, but I don’t. So I managed 30 miles before noticing anything, and by now I figured most of the engine oil was no longer in the engine, and I didn’t have a cap so when I started the bike I would be in the same fix.

The next city or town, Vallenar, was 60 more miles to the south, so the decision to turn around and go back to Copiapo was pretty simple. I had seen a motorcycle mechanic on the way through town, and where I was stopped there was even a place to do a u-turn, something of a rarity. I had some oil, between 3/4 and 2/3 of a liter, which I added to the engine. I fashioned a new cap out of a water bottle cap and tape (it didn’t last very long), fired the bike up and turned around.

I had been doing about 60mph on the way south, but tried to keep it around 30 for the ride back. Not really sure why. And I coasted, engine off, down hills, of which there were a couple. The bike still sounded back when I got back to town, found the mechanic, and got a replacement cap.

I added a liter of oil, which brought the level in the window to the “full” mark. That meant I still had about 0.3l left in the motor when I got to the mechanic, I took that as a good sign.

And the bike wouldn’t start.

The battery was good, gas was flowing out of the tank, the starter was cranking, there was spark but I changed spark plugs anyway. Nothing. The mechanic, who hadn’t been all that interested in the beginning, didn’t seem to get more interested as I fiddled with stuff and kept trying. Finally, more than a little stressed, I pushed the bike down the street to a hotel I had seen.

The giant naked chrome lady out front had helped catch my eye.

In case you were wondering about the chrome lady -

I had other things to worry about though.

I was wondering if the battery was too low for the bike to start, and tried a few bump starts on parking ramps (By the way, despite the bike being small and light, packed it is really hard to push up parking ramps) without success. After lunch I got on Skype and called my mechanic back in Milwaukee in The Shop. We covered a few potential bad things, most of the less bad ones I had already eliminated. I also didn’t have all the tools he seemed to think I should have brought along (or the trailer to carry them in), but the biggest item I needed and didn’t have was a compression gauge, so the search was on.

I went to the motorcycle mechanic first, since he seemed like a logical choice. He just suggested, with a shrug, “Vende moto.” (Sell the bike). It was something I would hear a lot. He didn’t have a compression gauge, nor did any of the car mechanics I stopped in. But one did point me towards the local version of Harbor Freight, where I picked one up at last.

20psi on the compression test. I had already rechecked the valves, I had just done them a few days earlier and they were still in spec. So this wasn’t looking good.

I got back on the phone with The Shop, thinking he was going to tell me what all the locals had been – “Vende moto,” (but in English, since I don’t think he speaks Spanish), but instead he was massively full of enthusiam. “Dude, we’re gonna totally fix your bike!” It was probably what I needed to hear, and I was off on my first top end rebuild…in a parking lot…with minimal tools and no replacement parts or gaskets. Woo Hoo!

I set the GoPro up to take a picture every 60 seconds, and ended up with hundred of pictures of me working on the bike.

Eventually it ended up looking like this -

I shared this picture on Facebook and it generated some helpful advice

But really the problem was here -

Part of the piston had melted, which caused the rings to stick. The Shop’s suggestion “Use a knife and just cut away the melted part of the piston until the rings are free again.” Right.

So I spent the next day and a half working on the piston, until eventually the top ring was free. The bottom ring was even more stuck than when I started, but at least the bike would run…probably.

So now it all had to go back together, with liberal application of RTV sealant and torque.

The reassembly was easier than I thought, thanks to helpful tips I got over the phone. Once it was done I resisted the urge to fire it up right away (the RTV needed to set), took a long shower and ate, then went through my luggage to see if there was anything I could drop. I wasn’t very confident on the bike starting in the morning, and saw myself shopping for a bus ticket the next day. The Shop was completely confident, but he always had been. The morning would tell.

Sand, Hand and a Little Oil

December 18th and 19th, 2011

The desert I had been riding through for what seemed like weeks is called the Atacama, the driest place in the world.

Rainfall here is one millimeter a year. So, it’s a perfect place to put up a sculpture of a giant hand.

The sculpture, technically called the Mano el Desierto, was done by a Chilean artist and is supposed to represent loneliness and helplessness. Not what I think of when I see a giant hand, but it is still cool. And covered in graffiti.

Back on the road and riding south the landscape didn’t change much.

My planned route had me going through the Pan Azucar National Park, but I couldn’t find the road to turn on and ended up in Chanaral.

I spent some time trying to decide whether to ride back into the park and camp again or find a room, and opted for the room. Even though I had showered before leaving I felt pretty gross, but I guess riding through a desert without mesh gear will do that.

The next morning I noticed something pretty cool -

Green growing stuff! It felt like it had been a long time, although really it hadn’t been. It cheered me up, and I even saw more as I kept riding south.

I stopped in a town called Copiapo for lunch, which was in a restaurant next to a gas station. The place was standing room only about 15 minutes after I got there, so I guess they knew Blue was coming. After lunch I checked my tires and oil, and seeing the oil was a little low added a bit. My oil use had gone up in the heat.

Back on the road I headed south again, thinking about the miles and realizing I would be in Santiago before Christmas. Jeremy, from the Isle of Man, had said he was going to be there then and I wondered if I could find him. Then I noticed the bike was running rougher, and when I pulled in the clutch it died. I drifted over to the side of the road, and saw -

Chile is Hot

December 14th through 16th, 2011

Southern Peru and Northern Chile is desert, one of the more arid places on earth. Hot during the day, cool at night, and with weird sculptures.

The main route south runs along the coast, and I decided to stay on that, mainly for cool ocean views like

Of course, there was also a lot of this

Chile meant I could easily camp again, and the beaches were good for that sort of thing, and as I rode south the terrain changed a little so I got more variety

Met this little guy on the side of the road

I distinctly remember taking a picture of him chatting with Blue, but there is no sign of it now. Maybe all the fresh air was messing with my brain.

As I started to get close to Antofagasta the bike started to miss and generally run rough. I quick inspection on the side of the road didn’t show any problems so I decided to get a hotel (I really needed a shower anyway) and pull my carb and air filter off for some cleaning. After cruising up and town the coastal strip a few times I found a place and got to work

As usual with this sort of thing, I didn’t find anything wrong, but taking everything apart and putting it back together fixed the problem. Once I was done I went for a walk

Looks like I could have camped here too.

As the sun set I found some dinner and called it a day. Still lots more desert to go.

Heading for Chile

December 12th and 13th, 2011

I left Puno and headed generally towards Chile. I know most Overlanders at this point head for La Paz in Bolivia, but I was feeling like some beaches. The road had lots of entertainment.

That is still Lake Titicaca in the background, my route took me along the coast for a while.

I probably shouldn’t have spent so much time taking pictures, since as I rode I got higher and the weather got worse.

\

That would be snow. It was snowing worse, enough for me to start to worry some, but by this point it had stopped, and the road was in pretty good shape. Good place for a picture. The other side of the pass was pea-soup fog (which I didn’t take a picture of, since what would be the point?), not the best riding. I thought a few times about looking for wild camping, but had constant visions of out of control trucks, somehow careening uphills and around corners, or the fog burning off and the seclude spot I found being not very secluded at all. And then I would keep riding.

Eventually I reached Moquegua and found a hotel. Most of the ones in town didn’t have parking so I ended up out on the edge, but the view was nice.

The bike was due for service, and the food was really good, so I asked about staying another night in the hotel, but they were out of rooms for the next night and I had to pack up in the morning and ride on.

I reached Tacna but early afternoon, and honestly felt like I had been riding all day. So I decided to stop, found a hotel (again, parking was an issue. Does no one travel with cars or such in Peru?) and went for a walk around town.

This fountain -

was designed by some French guy named Eiffel. I guess he did some tower thing in France too, but I haven’t see that yet.

He does like his naked ladies though.

Tacna apparently also has a really cool train museum, which I found out about several days after leaving. I had even walked near it, but not quite far enough in the right direction.

In the morning I did the valves on the bike, packed and hit the road. I wasn’t far from the border and reached it without any problems.

Lake Titicaca and some Floating Islands

December 10th and 11th, 2011

I left Cusco thinking it would take me two days to get to Puno, it wasn’t crazy far just further than I thought I would want to go.

The sky was gray all day, and it got surprisingly cold in the afternoon. I hooked up the heated liner for the first time since…Alaska maybe. It had been a while. And the miles just flew by. I was approaching Puno before I knew it, though as I ended the city night fell and it started to rain.

I got lodgings, and signed up for a boat tour of the floating islands the next day, then I took a hot shower (yay for hot water), ate Alpaca, and went to sleep.

Morning was sunny, and warmer.

My tour boat looked a lot like this one, but this wasn’t it. And it wasn’t a three hour tour, either, so I figured I was pretty safe.

Puno’s nicest hotel, recently dropped to 4 stars and straight out of the 60s. It was on a strip of land jutting out into the bay and well away from the rest of the city. To be honest, a lot of Puno was run down and looked half-built. It’s the second most popular tourist city in Peru (after Cusco), and there was tourist money around, but I don’t think it was filtering down very well.

The boat ride was pleasant,

and before long we were among the reeds.

There was also a checkpoint we had to pass, but it only involved the boat crew. No one asked us anything.

Once on the other side of the checkpoint, things got a little more homely.

We pulled out of the channel into a larger, open area, surrounded by the floating islands and filled with local reed boats.

The women in the bright clothes lined most of the islands, and waved as we went past. I think there were there to attract the tourists who were using the ferry system, rather than those of us on tours.

Long ago, the Uros people found they could weave islands from the totora reeds (which are also partially edible. I tried one, edible it may be but flavorful it is not). They made themselves some island and floated out on to the lake to flee another local tribe (The C-somethings, I didn’t take good notes) who were increasingly violent.

Since the 1970s the floating islands have become a popular tourist destination, with some even allowing homestays. Tourist companies abound, but many rip of the people on the islands. The island culture itself has changed, going from basically a subsistence to tourist-based economy. There are even rumors that some of the island people actually return to the mainland at night to sleep.

One thing that is true is the Uros people, as a distinct local tribe, have vanished. A version of the their culture does remain, though, and you can see and learn about it by visiting the islands.

We went to this island-

Where we were given a well-rehearsed explanation of life on the island, and the lives of the islands themselves (They only last about 30 years, and need a new layer of reeds added every week or so). There were even props.

After the little lecture we got to walk around the island and look in one of the family’s house. I got my picture taken with a silly hat.

And, yeah, they had a pink girly blanket. At least it made me feel like they really lived there. The island “mayor” had a solar panel and a radio.

After the look in the house and the picture we were offered the chance to buy craft items. I usually pass on that sort of thing, since I don’t have a lot of space on the motorcycle, but I know the craft sales were what really supported the islanders (since I didn’t think the tour company was paying them a lot). Then we had another brief talk, and were offered a ride on the island’s boat to the next island. The boat looked…bad…and I passed.

The next island was much more of the ‘tourist center’ with a restaurant, bathrooms (the islanders have a special ‘bathroom island’ they use, the individual islands don’t have bathrooms) and more crafty stuff for sale.

Lonely Planet actually suggests eating here, if you can. It’s run by the community and the money goes directly to the islanders. I didn’t, mainly since it was still early and I wasn’t hungry (free breakfast at the hotel).

This island felt like a museum gift shop, and not a very good one. We were stuck there for a while, probably on purpose, before the tour boat was ready to take us back. So I got to see a lot more local boat on the lake.

I think using a powered boat to push is cheating. And I met the local cat,

And watched them stuffing new reeds under one of the buildings (remember a new layer has to be added every week)

Then the boat was ready to leave and we all got back on. The ride back was less entertaining, since we weren’t allowed on the viewing deck anymore. I still saw this

which was the island’s look out tower all decorated up. Pretty cool.

Once back on land it was still early afternoon, so I decided to walk around Puno a little.

There was a parade going on, though I missed most of it.

And went looking for food

I still couldn’t quite bring myself to eat the guinea pig.

Machu Picchu

December 9th, 2011

The big problem with going to Macho Picchu from Cusco is getting up before 5am. If there was a bit of good news it was that I didn’t have to drive or ride anywhere. A taxi picked me up at the hotel just as the sky was starting to lighten. The same taxi driver would be waiting for me when my return train got back in the evening. He confirmed how to spell my name, so he could do a sign.

The train stations was comfy, and filled up as the departure time approached. Most of the announcements were in Spanish, but easy to figure out. Oddly, once I was on the train the announcements were in Spanish and English, and I wondered why the ones inside the station weren’t.

I spent a little time looking out of the window

Then I ate the provided snack

There is a higher class of train, about 3 times the cost, with actual meals. And nicer seats too. After the snack I took a nap. I am not a morning person.

I didn’t nap long. The train ride from Cusco to Machu Picchu (Technically from Poroy to Aquas Calientes) is supposed to be one of the prettiest train rides in the world. On the way back it would be dark and I could sleep more then.

The train ride didn’t disappoint.

At the destination station we all got off, and I just followed the crowd.

There wasn’t actually a way around the market, which I guess shouldn’t have surprised me.  Since I still needed to get a ticket to Machu Picchu itself, I went and took care of that instead of standing in line for a bus ticket. I had thought about just walking up to Machu Picchu to save the money, but that was before I saw the mountain.

From the top, looking down. Sorry, no private vehicles allowed.

Obviously I made it up to Machu Picchu.

This is what the Inca Trail looks like as it descends into the city.

I had some time to wander around, and went for a hike to see the “Incan Bridge,” which was on a rough trail along the end of a mountain.

Yup, that was the trail. I had to sign sign a ledger before I started, with the time, so if I took too long to come back they would know to go looking for me, probably somewhere in the valley below.

There is the bridge, though a guide was quick to point out the wood was “not original.” I guess the bridge was intended to be similar to a drawbridge. When enemies attempted to use the path (this wasn’t the Inca Trail, but a different way into Machu Picchu), the bridge was pulled up or dropped and the gap could be defended. There were no guide rails. and the drop was impressive.

I headed back, and into Machu Picchu proper.

I wonder if this is the first picture of me on this trip without biker pants on. And I should have worn my new shirt.

There was a lot to see in the ruins, and in truth I could have easily spent more time there. The sense of age was palpable, but it also felt like everyone had just left. I guess good stonework lasts.

You have to admire the views, too.

Unlike the Maya, who just liked to have green spaces, all the available land inside Incan cites was used for agriculture. So there were no “parks” per se, just very small farms.

In the end I did spend more time wandering around than I should have, and didn’t have time to eat before the train ride back to Cusco. I ran into one of the 400 convenience stores to get a couple extra snacks (there would also be a snack on the train), and got to the station in time.

The station was a lot more crowded. Apparently many people hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, and then take the train back. Also, while I was on the Vistadome train (which has the snack and larger windows), there was an Expedition trail (the cheapest one) leaving a few minutes later. Since the announcements were, once again, all in Spanish, there was a fair amount of confusion amongst the mostly-non-Spanish-speaking crowd. It all worked out okay in the end.

By some fluke I ended up in the same train car as the one I had ridden out to Machu Picchu in that morning. This time, though, the rest of the car was filled with a group of travel agents, on a tour of the sites and hotels in the area.

They were an upbeat lot, despite going to a different hotel every night, and they all disembarked at the halfway point, leaving the train car almost completely empty. Night had fallen and I couldn’t see out of the windows, but I also had a hard time sleeping.

My taxi was waiting, as promised, and the ride back to the hotel uneventful. It was pretty late, but I still hadn’t had dinner and went to a place I had heard the other riders had been going to, Norton’s.

It was awesome. Sadly, I hadn’t brought my camera with, so all you get is this picture of the the menu, take the next day when I dropped off a Tim Sticker

But they are on the Plaza in Cusco, and if you make it there you need to check the place out. Just Saying.

The Road to Cusco

December 7th and 8th, 2011

As I headed up into the mountains things didn’t quite go as planned. I think I had a bad choco and got very sick on the way to Cusco, and I stopped for several days in the city of Abancay to recover.

In Abancay I found a new hotel, still under construction, where the friendly owner took pity on my condition and fed me bland food and tea while I got better.

This was as I was leaving in the morning, and she didn’t appreciate the timing. It was a nice hotel, too, though it was off the main drag (not that Abancay has much of a main drag)

The hotel’s restaurant actually has two rooms, but she emptied out one so I could put the bike there. Her help, who I didn’t get a picture of, is a member of the indigenous (non-spanish speaking) peoples, who often wander into the larger cities looking for work and are frequently exploited (Lonely Planet mentions girls as young as 12 knocking on hotel room doors). She is hoping to send him to school to improve his Spanish (He speaks some, reads and writes little), pays him a fair wage, and is thinking about getting him a motorcycle for Christmas (which is a major purchase here – like buying a car).

I took very few (none, basically) pictures of the ride from Nazca to Abancay, at least much after lunch.

Cerro Blanco, the largest sand dune in the world at over 5000 feet. It was larger than most of the mountains in the area.

After Abancay, when I was feeling much better, I enjoyed the ride to Cusco. The road, after going over a mountain,

the road along the river was pleasant to ride, though it was only occasionally paved.

I reached Cusco in the early afternoon, and after a few hotels I found the Casa Grande, which is apparently where all the cool people hang out.

Since I wasn’t completely better I decided to take the rest of the day off, and spend the next day looking around Cusco and arranging the trip to Machu Picchu.

I slept in, something I am always a fan of, then went for a walk around town.

That statue is actually someone dressed up. You can put money in his cup for pictures.

It was a holiday, although really it seems like it is always a holiday around here, and there were groups of people carrying statues from churches and throw flower pedals at them. Oh, and people dressed up as puppets.

There was a lot of history around too, including several surviving Incan walls.

The wall on the left is from the palace of the last Incan king, and the one on the right is from the Temple of Virgins (dedicated to the sun god). Ironically the temple was converted to a convent after the Spanish took over.

After looking around at more of the architecture

An actual street, not just pretty arches.

After lunch I spent the rest of the day arranging my train ride, bus ride and taxi ride for the next day. I couldn’t get an actual ticket into Machu Picchu because of the holiday, but despite the daily cap on tickets sold Friday had a lot left (there is a website you can check the number of tickets sold for any given day – how cool is that?) so I wasn’t worried.

Since I would have to get up a just a bit before 5am, I had a early dinner and hit the sack.