May
23rd,
2018
Sunny
and very hot. Little cloud. Windless. Cold descent as Sun is behind
mountains.
It
is cold when I wake up at 5:30 a.m. There is no cloud as the light of
dawn grows brighter and not a breath of wind. Thick condensation on
the windows. How different to the last week. Back to the mountain
climate once more.
The
usual heralds for a new day, dogs, are announcing it's arrival.
Looking at a map of the route, which follows the 3S road all the way
to Abancayo, I can see that today will be more of a plunge into this
deep, steep-sided valley. Tomorrow, well that's another story and
will involve two to three days of pushing the bike up the 6,000 feet
ascent. I will try not to think about that. Hey, come on, be positive
Gary! You did just that on a dirt track a month ago. Yes, I did,
didn't I? Barba Blanco to Huanza Similar height difference, similar
distance and this time I will be doing it on a smooth tarmac surface.
OK, point taken.
I
take a look at my feet and decide that some alteration is required to
the boots. My left big toe has blood and lymph coming from underneath
the nail and is painful. The front toe area of the shoe is going to
have to come off. I have seen fast bowlers such as Flintoff and Broad
do this. There is a large blister on a smaller toe. Memories of my
daughter, Rebecca's wonderful blister on the little toe when we
travelled around Italy together in 2005. She named him and
I have a photograph of it with a small blue butterfly sitting upon it
whilst we waited for the sensational Palio event in Sienna one
extremely hot day. Nothing I can do about this one. I'll leave it be.
The right big toe has a cut across the knuckle joint and here I cut
the leather of the shoe to allow it to give more room to this area.
Alterations made, time to pack and get ready to move on.
Mariabella
and children are on the steps as I come out. Adios to them all, I am
off down their dirt track road to the nearest shop where I buy two
large bottles of orange juice. Everyone in the shop wants to know
about my companions so I tell them.
After about five miles
and after having refused the offer of a hostel in one village, the
road leaves the river and starts to climb. A steep road takes me past
avocado orchards, fenced off with padlocked gates. By now it is 11:00
a.m. And it is very hot and sunny. No breeze like yesterday to keep
me cool. I can feel my upper arms start to get sunburnt.
I
stop to cut the shoe leather some more. Both big toes are very
painful and I don't dare take my socks off to have a look at the
damage. Shoes back on, I carry on.
Birds are scarce in the heat. Scrub Blackbirds are back, as are a couple of Black-backed Grosbeaks.
A flock of parakeets fly over, around twenty of them, Mitred.
The usual butterflies are to be seen as I push hard up the hill. A
dead tarantula species shows me what could be found in the roadside
scrub. Watching the cliffs and roadsides I spot a large cat, about
lynx size making it's way across a well vegetated cliff. It only
allows me a few seconds to watch before it disappears into the
undergrowth. Now what sort of cat was that?
The
road passes parts where there has been substantial landslip and
debris covers an area of road on numerous occasions. My feelings tend
to be a tad nervous when I am pushing past such areas of high erosion
and I imagine an earthquake occurring and burying me. It's one of
those hard days when I struggle to stay as positive as usual. They
happen every so often. I am human and must fight step after step.
Maybe I should have had a rest day at that hostel a few miles back.
The
kilometre posts number my progress, coming in twos. It is really
useful to have these black and white posts, either every kilometre or
every two. They have 3S on the top of each one yet the S is laterally
inverted, as if it is seen in a mirror. At least I know I am on the
right road and I like to know how much distance I have travelled and
how far to the next destination I have to go.
Speaking
of the next village. I pass the hundred and fifty kilometre mark
since leaving Ayacucho and wonder where the village marked on my list
has got to. Chincheros should have been here by now according to my
figures but it isn't. The road seems interminable with it's dog leg
turns and steep angled ascent.
After
stopping for some lunch, banana sandwiches again, some dried corn and
juice, I continue for another mile or so when I come across a grassy
bank that looks to lead up to a small grassy field. It does and is a
perfect place for to camp. It is 2:30 p.m. and the heat is oppressive
and debilitating. I decide that as the bushes to the side of the
long, green grass is creating some shade, I will camp up and give my
feet some rest, as well as myself. This perfect spot cannot be seen
from the road. Cicadas serenade my afternoon siesta.
Looking
at a Mapometer map, showing my route between Huancayo and
Ollantaytambo, I note that I am half way. The route shows 500 miles
and I have just past the 250 mile mark. There, that's a reason to be
cheerful. All done in thirteen days. If I can do the next half of
the route then I will arrive at Ollantaytambo around the sixth of
June, a very important date in my life. It was on that day, back in
1994, that I met my wonderful, so beautiful, green eyed late wife, Karen.
Green
Year list : 196 birds average new birds to list per day : 3.70
birds
Distance
walked, pushed and cycled : 28.37 miles
elevation
: up 4,328 feet, down 5,422 feet
altitude
: 8,153 feet Low point of the day when crossing river . . . 6,404
feet. I haven't been this low for over a month!
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