13.10.: Cachicadan - 3,100 m -

13.10.:

This day was really a Friday the 13th. No catastrophes or irregularities, but there were certain challenges.

Huamagucho is showing its best side this morning. Blue sky, and the city looks polished. Well – it may be different in other streets. But I'm staying at the plaza mayor, which already inspired me to take some photos yesterday.

The shower is really hot. A treat, because the room is cold. The day can begin.

I have a rough idea of the route I want to take today. According to the map, it looks like I have to leave the 3N, and I don't know what kind of road quality to expect. The police are the ones who know this best. The police station is also at the plaza mayor. I want to have clarity before breakfast on what to expect today. The police officer on duty listens to me, but doesn't have much interest in doing road research and sends me one door further. I still assume that I am dealing with a colleague of hers. But it quickly becomes clear that it's the tourist office. I explain my request to the lady, but she goes through her routine first. First, I have to sign a book – with passport number and suggestions for improvement for Huamagucho, then she comes with a lot of brochures and tells me what there is to experience in the town and surroundings. From Inca ruins to a thermal bath to a museum in the city. I also want to leave early today, so as not to get caught in the afternoon rain, and I try to politely interrupt her speech, but there is no stop button. So I practice patience.

After I expressed my request, she grabs her phone and tells me she will call her companion, who knows the area. I have my map of Peru with me, but I forgot my glasses and quickly go back to the hostel to get them.

The description of the companion is such that I decide to stay on the 3N for 70 km and then reorient myself.

I have breakfast in a small cafe. A vegan toast with a healthy topping, freshly squeezed pineapple juice, and a cafe con leche.

While I pack, I hear trumpets and drums outside, but I don't think much of it yet, because it happens often. There is always some occasion to celebrate. But when I pack the vespa, I glance out of the gate and see a demonstration parade with many colorful mototaxis adorned with balloons.

The city is paralyzed, the outskirts are marked with barrier tapes. Finally, I have the opportunity to photograph these three-wheeled vehicles with passenger cabins in mass. But there are also three-wheeled motorcycles with cargo beds. Do they also belong to the taxi association? I have seen them often with many passengers who were driven to the countryside for field work. I always assumed that it was their own vehicle.

Of course, I take pictures of the colorful spectacle, then finish packing and want to leave. The hosteñor stands in the driveway and also watches the hustle and bustle. When he sees me, he signals me to wait until the convoy passes. I count to 10 and slowly approach him. He turns around, understanding my impatience, and opens the big gate. I drive past the line, but quickly realize that the barrier tapes are on my route. I stop. Should I commit a traffic violation and sneak under the tape or wait and wait? I decide for the former, and a passerby holds up the tape for me. Very accommodating.

Then, on a steep road, there is a traffic jam of ordinary road users. The vespa easily climbs the hill, I pass by, and wonder why there is no oncoming traffic until I reach the cause. An extra wide excavator and a truck have to pass each other on this narrow road with a deep rain gutter. It's a tight fit and a special challenge for the excavator driver not to get stuck in the rain gutter with his right front wheel. I wait patiently until it continues, but I can't overtake the truck because the opposite lane is occupied. Then it's done. I easily overcome the popular speed bumps, but the traffic jam won't be resolved quickly because other trucks also have to move across this obstacle with difficulty. They emit a strong diesel odor, and I notice young parents with a stroller who have to move the stroller forward on the narrow sidewalk in this smell. We are quite spoiled in Germany.

The route ahead of me is easy to ride. It's steadily uphill, the sun has disappeared again. Soon we will reach the treeline. Once again, I have a great panorama and make good progress. My destination, which is only 70 km away and is estimated to take an hour and a half to reach, is called Cachicadan. We are probably already over 4,000 meters high and it keeps getting higher. The traffic is insignificant, the landscape is barren, in the distance construction machinery works in the mountain slopes and show colorful rock layers, but otherwise it is bleak, cold, and windy.

The clouds hang low. I am not prepared for this cold and begin to freeze. At least the heated grips keep my hands warm. The 3N is showing its best side, and I am confident that I will take my first break in Cachicadan.

But then the comfort is over. The GPS, which has been showing the course of the 3N so far, tells me that I have to turn right. But there is no road in sight where I could turn right. The GPS recalculates, and eventually there is actually a road to the right, which I take. It seems strange to me – but I keep going and end up in a mountain village after half an hour, which is inhabited by mine workers and was only built for this purpose. Very narrow roads, paved with concrete slabs and wide joints, and very steep. The vespa struggles. I find myself in the middle of this town, which is simply ugly and very, very poor. There are also stone houses, but the majority is made of corrugated iron. The weather is gray and everything looks inhospitable. The GPS does its best, and soon I find myself back on the road I came from. The GPS wants to offer the shortest route and leads me back to a junction, one road leads to Huamagucho, the other to the coast. I don't want either.

I meet the two German cyclists again, whom I already greeted on my way here. They want to go to the mining village. I advise against it. It is really cold now. The two of them find a kind of restaurant, where we get a hot soup and chicken with rice. I take the opportunity to dress warmer and order a hot tea for the three of us. Our spirits are lifted. The two of them have been cycling from Quito, have had jungle and border experiences, spent three days in bed with a stomach bug, and are happy that it is cold. You can dress against the cold, but not against the heat. There were water supply problems and the fear of getting heatstroke.

We say goodbye, and I ride the route I just came back from. There should be a turn-off to Cachicadan. Yes, there is. But it is only signposted from one direction. And now the challenging part of the ride begins. I have the 3N again, and it shows its other side. It's easy to ride on the straight stretches – it starts going steeply uphill again - the asphalt in the tight hairpin turns is riddled with potholes. So I slow down to 20 km/h and with effort work my way back up to 50 km/h after each hairpin turn. Then the next hairpin turn comes, and the game starts again. I curse endlessly and resign to my fate.
At some point, the asphalt ends, and it becomes gravel, potholes, mud softened by rain, hairpin turns, and frantic pickup drivers in oncoming traffic. The rain subsides, further south the sky opens up, and the mountain panoramas are absolutely amazing!!! I take only a few photos, but now I can't resist.

So I bump along. The estimated arrival time is 5:30 PM, there aren't many kilometers left. Along the way, I have to help two motorcyclists with tools. They have a hole in their rear tire. It's slowly getting dark, and I hope I can continue quickly. The village is already in sight. It is located on the other side of the gorge, very high up. The road surface improves on the last kilometers, and I make good progress.

The rugged mountain world shows its best side

The mountain village welcomes tourists warmly. That's nice, I think, then there must be hostels or hotels. I try to reach the plaza mayor first, ask around, and end up in front of a big pile of stones. I can already see the plaza...

A lady knows where a hotel is, not far away at all, I go to the given location, but there I am told by a motorcyclist that there is no hotel here. It's already dusk and soon it will be dark.
He would know one, though, and leads me there. No success here either. The manager is not there, and the lady, who finally appears after a long knocking and calling, says she can't decide. It would have been perfect, because there is a large gate entrance with parking space for the vespa. The knocking and calling brings life to the previously quiet narrow street. There is a tienda across the street. I engage in conversation with a man who also offers his help and tries, with his native charm, to convince the lady from the hotel opposite. The boss can't be reached, she doesn't have his phone number. It is already dark. The street lamps here are also dim yellow. Then a young girl joins us and offers her help. Because right across from the mentioned hotel is also a type of hotel that I didn't notice due to its modest signage. It belongs to the parents of her friend, and I can certainly get a room there. She disappears to ask her friend. Both come back, and it takes some persuading until she agrees to give me a room. I'm puzzled why it didn't work on the first try. Now the vespa also needs to be taken care of. No problem, she says, I can leave it in the hallway of the house. No chance. The hallway is too narrow, and even if it would fit, I could only drive the vespa in if there were ramps to overcome the curb height of at least 30 cm. Another idea is born. I could park the vespa in a tienda. It just has to be outside very early tomorrow because the shop will open. I agree to everything. The girl is currently taking care of ramps when the man, who was already active at the hostel opposite, arrives with the news that I can store the vespa at the mechanic a bit further up the street. It just has to be outside again at 7:00 a.m. the next day because that's when work starts. That seems to be the best solution, and that's where it is now.

Friday the 13th with some challenges and very nice, helpful, and flexible Peruvians.