Nevado Chachani was the reason for journeying to Arequipa in
southern Peru, this mountain rises 6,057m above sea level and we wanted to
climb it. However, after contacting a few local guides they explained to us
that we would have to do it as part of a tour and that tour would cost at least
$1000usd. Not to be defeated we decided
on something different, we would hire dirt bikes and ride to the Colca Canyon
where the gigantic elegant condors glide upwards in the hot air thermals that invade
these canyons as the rocky terra heats up, they scour the dry land for a hearty
meal. After testing the bikes out
setting off car alarms and annoying a security guard, we happily agreed on a
price and the next day we would be exploring again.
We leave Arequipa before rush hour and we are briskly out of
the quaint city before long scrambling on the first sections of dirt with the
bloke we hired the bikes from showing us the route for the first few hours so
we did not get too lost. After awhile we were just riding by ourselves through magical
lands that lead to endless daydreaming. Rising quickly into the altitude we were
back on the highway and paved roads, the climate was freshening and getting
cooler as patches of snow lay about lazily. We pulled over for a quick snap and
to lather more layers of clothing on. By mid afternoon we successfully arrived
at the small town of Chivay the largest in the area, where we would spend the
night before heading towards the viewing point of the Colca Canyon. With no
accidents and only one near call, where I was messing around and glanced over
my shoulder to see where the boys were whilst performing this task on a corner I
happened to veer off the road. Whilst my mates thought I was heading for the
inevitable cliff I saw differently and looked back at the road, pointing the
front wheel where I wanted to go and the bike followed.
Wherever we went, my Australian mate would tell the local people
in Spanish that he was our tour guide. They would give him a free meal or
accommodation, and then we would all split the costs making our expedition slightly
cheaper. After a good meal and an accomplished beer, we rested well that night
to wake early, pack our gear onto the bikes and set off through the early
darkness and crisp pre morning air to get to the condor viewing point before
sunrise. We set up just away from the main tourist gathering on the cliff edge
basking in the sun's beautifully warming rays. The Israeli prepared us some
scrumptious coffee from his homeland full of spice and everything nice. This
was my first coffee I have ever drunk and it was the start of an uncontrollable
addiction.
The depth of the Colca Canyon is an astonishing 4,160m,
twice as deep as the Grand Canyon in U.S.A to which is deeper than the height of
some mountain peaks that litter this vast area. As we feel the rocks underneath
us start to gain heat, everyone patiently scouts the air for these prehistoric looking
creatures of flight to begin their ritual daily fly by. Suddenly numerous
pilots graced us, agilely they stay within the confines of the circulating hot
air. If they were to leave the barrier they would drop unless their reaction
speed was quick enough it could spell an impending doom as they fly so close to
the cliffs hard rocky exterior. However, with years of experience under their
belts they know their boundaries and simply glide around the canyon lapping
each other as if it were a race, speedily accurate they manoeuvre direction
wing tip to wing tip they soar with their friends. It seems like the essence of
freedom, to have the wind in your hair and to go wherever the hot air updrafts
could effortlessly take you.
Once the spectacular stunt pilots vacated the airspace, we
surrounded the map and chose to travel a different route back that seemed to be
much the same length according to this detailed cartographic piece of paper. Nevertheless,
as it was it did not show the kilometres of dirt encrusted switchbacks as well
as the reduced speed due to corrugations that have formed from years of weather
induced turmoil and lack of maintenance, it was going to be a long eventful
trip home. Cruising along we would often pass briefly through small communities
that have possibly never have seen white men and to see their surprised
reaction was gold. With the afternoon fast deceasing and our reluctance to be
riding on these maniac dirt roads at night we marched on riding faster onwards,
our tired eyes were beginning to gain a blurred tunnel vision from increased
bumps and lack of rest our bodies ached.
With the sun fast resigning leaving an orange glow that warmingly
lit up the sandy rock cliffs. We raced along the land it felt as though we were
pod racing like in Star Wars, we would slide around the corners and be
squatting on the bikes to provide more comfort for our marriage tackle as we bolted
along these ruts at high speed on bikes that wouldn't even pass a road worthy
check in Australia. Finally we make it to the glorious bitumen just as the sun
was falling asleep and the moon was ready to do it's night shift, However we
still had another dauntingly long three hours left to complete the all in all
twelve hour return journey. With only the Israeli's full lighting system working
on his bike he was then positioned intelligently at the back and with our
fingers crossed we set off nervously.
(A small town we passed through with a pretty cool statue/water fountain)
We successfully arrive back in the city of a couple of
million people with no accidents, just witnessed the best of the crazy South
American drivers along with mad viscous thin unkempt dogs leaping out in front
to try and topple you away from their unknown home. It was an absolute accomplishment
to make it back in one piece considering we were riding at night and with hardly
any lights working or safety gear. My helmet did not really fit nor could I use
the visor at night as it was so scratched so when I arrived my air blasted eyes
were as red a tomato from riding at 80km/h for three hours whilst squinting dodging
bugs and shrapnel. Near misses were
certainly bound to happen, such as a bus overtaking us on a blind hill on a
narrow section of road along sections of cliff that line their way to the city also
we could barely see thirty metres ahead with our reluctant dimming lights. This
was an extremely fun adventure, one we would remember for a long while to come.
(We arrived safe and sound....just)
After the Australian
navigated us through the extensive chaotic night traffic to where the bike's
belong, we learned that the owners had gone out searching for us fearing that
we might have crashed and that we might
have been hurt or even dead, just kidding they were only trying to make sure
their failing bikes were ok. We caught a taxi speedily straight to town, being
late at night only a few restaurants were open, one being an empty Chinese
place. We stumble in covered head to toe in ample amounts of dirt with clumps
of dust puffing off us with every step; my eyes looked as if I had been staring
at the sun all day with our clothes torn and smelling worst than ever. It was a
very successful trip, on the budget as always extremely eventful. Once again, South
America shows that you can travel, explore and have vast amounts of adventurous
fun with little money.
(We found this chef by himself, couldn't resist the happy snap)
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