May
13th,
2018
Hot
and sunny, no cloud and very hot
Packed
and ready for the day, I have twenty or so miles to cycle to the next
destination, a village called Quichuas further down river towards
Ayacucho. The internet site I use for maps, mapometer, keeps telling
me, as I plot my route, that the road doesn't go all the way to
Quichuas and that I have to go over the mountains and many a mile to
get there. That just can't be the case as I can see the road does
exist when I look at the satellite image on Google maps. I wonder
why? Maybe there is a large ford just as there was just over a week
ago when no cyclist could get across. Mind you mapometer told me that
that was crossable and it wasn't. Oh well, no matter, I will just
risk it and see what happens.
The
hotel owner wants photographs of me with the bike for some reason and
after the usual self-conscious pose I bid adios and go to the village
plaza. My favourite bread roll lady is already out selling here wares
and so I buy four and a tin of tuna.
Over
the bridge I turn right and I am off downhill. The road is mostly
downhill but progress is slow because of having to meander through
the myriad of potholes. The views are stupendous and the road follows
the course of the raging river. Occasionally it goes uphill for a
while but not for long. Three young boys are walking down the road,
one carrying a large bundle of some sort of green plant. I stop and
say hello and give them all of the fruit in my rucksack. They look as
though they have a long way to go and will need it.
I
reach a village where the tarmac is totally decimated and push the
bike along the village's main street. There is a large, modern
concrete and glass municipal building and a series of concrete pools
empty of water built into a small cliff by it's side. When working
the resultant cascades must be quite attractive but not today. The
village has a large and colourful statue of a hummingbird feeding
from a flower and a gold statue that reminds me of George and the
Dragon. The houses look Spanish and at the far end of the village a
large bridge takes me over the river. Just as I reach the end of the
bridge I am passed by a motortaxi, the motorbike sort with a cabin
and a trailer. Riding inside the trailer is a woman who waves and the
three boys I gave the fruit to. Mum has picked them up. I wave back
and laugh.
The
potholes are relentless but I am enjoying the ride. I stop
occasionally to photograph the hills and wonder how on earth the
people can cultivate crops on some of the steepest slopes. Even near
the summit of some of the hills there are squares of crops.
Incredible and all done without recourse to machinery.
The
valley opens out a little and avocado orchards appear. Small,
waxy-leaved trees with bidding avocados on them, fascinating to see
where they come from. After another village there is a more prolonged
uphill section which ends with a tunnel. After another half a mile
there is another tunnel. Maybe they are the reason why mapometer
thought that the road was impassable. The river here has slowed and
is a green colour. There must be a dam ahead. Two miles later I come
across it and sit looking down towards it and have some lunch.
After
lunch and having counted how many kilometres I have cycled, 40, I
come across Quichuas. Brilliant. I had forgotten to see how far it
was from Izcuchaca and am pleased in the heat to have reached it.
There is a large crowd of people sitting around a football pitch and
one team is warming up. I find a spot on the concrete bench that goes
the whole way along the top end of the pitch and meet Juan and
Fernando. Fernando supports the team in orange tops, Juan the team in
blue. The match begins. The standard is quite good and I can see that
the blue team has the slightly better quality. Mind you the orange
team have an excellent player up front, aggressive and skilful. The
blue team are playing towards us in the first half and score half way
through it. The crowd to the left go bananas! Moments later the left
winger in blue goes into the penalty area and does a spectacular
dive. “Ronaldo!” I shout. The referee dismisses penalty claims.
Into
the second half, after half time ice cream for the lads, the orange
team's striker takes the ball from the right, goes past three or four
defenders and bangs the ball in from a tight angle. What a fabulous
goal! 1 – 1.
The
second half seems interminable in the heat and after the blue team
hit the bar and in the last minutes score from a free kick, I am glad
to hear the final whistle. It has been a good game but sitting in the
hot sun makes me want to move, I never was any good at sunbathing.
Down
into the village itself there are three hostels and a hotel to choose
from. The hotel has a Wifi logo on their sign but on accepting a
comfortable room I am told there is no internet in the village. No
problem, this is what I expected. I leave the bike in a storeroom, my
other things in my room and head off downhill to look for birds in
the mid-afternoon heat. Finding only a few Spot-winged pigeons and a
fair number of hummingbirds; Sparkling Violetears, White-bellied and
Giant, I return to the village. I am stopped by a young woman at the
door of a small house. Answering the usual questions she tells a
young boy with her to go inside and fetch something. He comes out
with a plastic bag of beetroot and potatoes. For your meal she tells
me and refuses the money I offer for it. Kindness to a stranger.
Green
Year list : 191 birds average new birds to list per day : 4.44
birds
Distance
walked : 22.80 miles
elevation
: up 4,075 feet, down 4,917 feet
altitude
: 8,842 feet
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