Peru, Llama Land. Its a country which conjures so many images, Inca ruins, snow capped mountains, rich indian cultures, and of course the llamas. Everyone thinks of the same things when thinking of Peru and we're no exception. However, we've added a few extra images to our list since we've been here. Robberies, terrifying mountain roads, freezing nights and insane bike chasing dogs. There's no question that we love Peru but either we've made it hard for ourselves or its just hard full stop. For the first time on our trip we've really planned where we want to go rather than just wandering North, East, South or West as we normally do and the planning has paid off. We've been to some incredible places but as ever our maps give no indication of how hard it is to get there. A nice red or grey line on our map denotes a major highway (all 4 of them) so we've stayed well away from those. We've wanted to see the Peru the tour buses don't go to and it seems we've succeeded, but its come at a price in the form of exhaustion, battered and bruised bodies and a bike in a similar state.

Going where the tour buses don't means sticking to the dirt roads and in the last 2000 miles 1650 of those miles have been on dirt. Our first planned destination was the ruins of Kuelap, a pre-Inca city perched high on a mountain ridge where few tourists get to. The road from Chachapoyas in the north of the country is an easy if slow climb as it hugs the mountain sides, going from valley to valley with stunning views all the way. We reached Kuelap at mid afternoon so we pitched our tent in the middle of what serves as a car park at the end of the road so we could be up at first light to have the place to ourselves the next morning. The rain had us in our tent by 6:30 pm and we expected a quiet night but for the first few hours our tent was a magnet for well meaning people. Each time we would settle down there would be a call of "Amigo, amigo, mucho lleuva................." We would open the tent door to be greeted by a concerned local, dressed in a waterproof fertilizer bag inviting us to stay the night with them out of the rain. Each time we were touched by their hospitality but each time we declined knowing that our tent was dryer and warmer than their home in all probability. The visits continued for a few hours off and on until the rain finally stopped. Dawn came and we were up early for the short walk to the ruins, accompanied by the concerned locals from the night before all out to check if we'd survived the night. As soon as they ascertained that our health was in tact they disappeared to check on their pigs and goats and we found ourselves alone in a ruined city of round stone houses within an impregnable fortress of stone walls upto 12 metres high. Very little restoration work has been done and the roofless dwellings are now in an orchard of trees and air-plants that it seems time has forgotten. We find that the spirit of most ruined cities we've visited has long been driven off by tomb robbers, restorers and tourists but here it was in tact. No stretch of the imagination was needed to see the people going about their lives, children playing in narrow twisting allies thick with the smell of pigs, dogs and cooking fires. We spent 4 hours soaking it all up in what seemed like 10 minutes. Its a place we selfishly hope few people will find out about and one day we will will return to, finding it to still be at peace.

Impregnable stone walls of Kuelap

Round houses in Kuelap

We packed up our tent and got back on the road by midday knowing we had a long ride ahead of us but we were hijacked by Mr. Alec Spicer half way along the road down the mountain. We had shared many a beer with Alec at Ricardo Rocco's in Quito and as we had stopped on one side of a bend to take a photo he had stopped on the other side with the same intention. We met mid bend and proceeded to stand in the middle of the road for nearly an hour swapping greetings and tales.

Mr Alec Spicer - Adventure motorcyclist Extradinare

We parted again knowing we would either see each other in Cusco or Ushuia for more beer and stories and set off for somewhere to call home for the night, but thanks to Alec (couldn't possibly be our fault) we found ourselves on another dirt road which wasn't on our map as we tried to find our way round a huge landslide. In heavy rain and in the dark we found ourselves standing beside a bike lying on its side wondering where the hell we were. Adventure always seems to sound romantic but sometimes its just crap really. Wet and cold we left the bike where it was and said "sod it" before spending the night in our tent on the side of the road. We did have hot chocolate with us though so all was not lost. The following morning we picked the bike up and started riding for the ominously named 'Black Mud Pass". A high pass of 3680 metres that makes the long way round to Cajamarca a much shorter ride of only 3 days or so. We had heard stories of Black Mud Pass that didn't inspire confidence but we thought we'd give it a go. Apparently impassable for much of the year, cold, windswept and a hard slog all the way we were very taken aback when we looked at our map to find we had ridden through it and not even noticed at the time.

Mountains around Black Mud Pass

We couldn't believe how easy it had been to cross the pass and were immediately lulled into a false sense of security for what was to come. Granted the road wasn't muddy anymore but we would much sooner have had the mud than the sharp boulder strewn road we found ourselves on with vertical drops of 100's metres just a couple of feet to our side and only wide enough for one vehicle at a time. For 3 days we battled along the road wondering what would be on the other side of the next bend and if either they or us could stop before meeting head on. So often we've seen the aftermath of a meeting of vehicles on these roads and its not pretty. 8 of 13 people were dead in the last accident we came across and we come across them almost daily it seems!

With relief we made it to Cajamarca only to find that despite being described as a lovely Colonial city it is in fact a run down, uninspiring city that offers little to the tourist. With one rest day we were back on the road again and were immediately on the wrong road. So often there is no indication which is the right or wrong road. The fact that it isn't paved means nothing and asking people along the way often doesn't give much of a clue. Winding across high altiplano we enjoyed taking in the life we were passing by. Women sitting with their sheep along the side of the road as they spun wool, men drying mud bricks in the sun and donkeys hauling wood back to the village. People would wave to us or hide depending on their level of shyness. Crisscrossing the antiplano were narrow Inca canals once used to irrigate crops but are now relegated mostly to history and the handful of people still eking out a living in the de-forested landscape. As the villages became less frequent and fewer indians were seen to be trying to hide from us we were having serious doubts about which road we were on. Rounding a steep muddy bend the back of the bike overtook the front and once again we were standing beside the bike as she lay on her side.

A slippery patch

Moments later a toothless old man came riding up the road (track) and simply pointed down the road and said "no passé!" and rode on.

Local man

We had a good idea that was the case so picked the bike up, turned round and rode back the way we had come. We made it back to the last village and asked around for the right road. A helpful shop lady and several customers told us to go back to the Inca canals and turn right. There we would get onto a road that lead to Magdelena and from there we would be on the right road for the coast. It seems that the people of Peru think we are super-human, no obstacle being too great for us and a Honda Africa Twin. How we wish that was the case. From the minor road we had been on we turned onto the even more minor road past the canals and began a steady descent towards Magdelena. For some reason, when riding in the Andes 'down' always feels right when you're looking for somewhere. People live in valleys and therefore roads are in valleys. It felt good to us anyway so on we went. By the time we realised the local people thought we were super-human it was too late though. We found ourselves on nothing more than a mule track with no surface to speak of and only a few feet wide at best. We tried to turn the bike round several times but the track just wasn't wide enough. There was only one way and it was to continue on. For 7 hours we rode, pushed, walked and skidded for 30 miles into the valley of Magdelena, a decent of 3,600 metres and terrifying all the way. We had seen our fare share of frightening roads before and since, but this track was like nothing else. We had to clear several landslides by hand to move the bike on, put the bike on its side and drag it round steep, loose bends by the front wheel before lifting it upright again and moving on. It seemed that every few metres there was some obstacle to negotiate and each time it took a little more out of us. We had no time or inclination to even consider the beauty and remoteness of where we were, only the need to push on. To find ourselves in such a situation was a lesson we will not forget. Its no exaggeration to admit that things could have turned out differently and tragically but with far too many heart stopping moments we made it to Magdelena much to the surprise of the people there seeing which way we had come. Neither of us have ever been so elated to see a paved road in all our lives!

Lost and tired in central Peru

We spent the night in a rundown hostal, sleeping well on a lumpy mattress before pushing on to the coast and to Trujillo. Trujillo is an industrial fishing city shrouded in sea fog and smog. It was nothing more than a place to stay for the night as we continued to push on to the Cordillera Blanca and it was just as well. We booked into the best hotel in the city and the best hotel in the city was a damp, carpet stained, smelly hovel. Other than having a bank Trujillo is nothing more than a place to land tons of fish each day and erase from memory as quickly as possible. Onto the Cordillera Blanca we went with haste and we soon found ourselves back in mountain paradise again. The Cordillera Blanca is the mountaineering centre of Peru where craggy, snow capped peaks of 5,500 metres plus are the norm. When the cloud lifts and the snow is revealed it's an awe inspiring place of beauty and elemental forces. We found ourselves beside Laguna Paron at 4140 metres sharing a welcome mug of cocoa tea with Marriano before camping beside the crystal blue lake for the night. Marriano has been a mountain ranger up at the lake for the last 25 years and likes the peace and quiet up there away from his wife and 4 children down in the valley but for someone who likes his peace and quiet he could talk the hind legs off a donkey. For hours the cocoa tea and the conversation kept on coming but it turns out he's also a pretty good businessman too. Slightly high but with no fear of altitude sickness it was only when we got up to pitch our tent beside the lake that we found out he wanted 1.50 soles for each cup of cocoa tea we'd had. It didn't matter, we'd have paid that just for the conversation. Laguna Paron is a glacial melt lake nestled between some of the highest peaks in Peru. Stunningly beautiful milky blue waters lying in contrast to eye watering white snow capped mountains and only us and an old mountain ranger with a drug induced high to enjoy it.

Laguna Paron - outside Caraz

We spent the first of many nights to come camping in temperatures well below freezing and were up early to be greeted by blue skies and heavy hoar frost. We walked along the lake side as the sun came up wearing every piece of clothing we had to keep warm but still enjoying the remoteness of the place nevertheless. Both a little breathless in the thin air we spotted what we thought were a couple of vicunas (similar to llamas but wild and pretty rare) and set of in excited pursuit. They were a long way off and by the time we got close enough to discover we'd been duped by a couple of cows our lungs were bursting and our lips were as blue as the sky. It was disappointing as we've both seen cows before! We made our way back to the tent, shedding clothing as we went while the sun began to gather strength and beat down on us. Once we'd shaken Marriano off again with his flasks of cocoa tea we packed up and rode off having first to bump started the bike due to a flat battery. By lunch time we were in Caraz for a much needed shower and shave (both of us!).

The road to Caraz

Caraz is a lovely little town trying to serve the tourist as best it can with little in the way of infrastructure but now with a few good low budget hotels. As souvenirs of our visit to Caraz Liz picked up a nasty dog bite on her leg and I got a bout of worms as big as anacondas! A few days later we moved on to ride further south between the stunning mountains of the Cordillera Blanca and Huayhuash. For once we were on a paved road and the scenery seemed to fly past too quickly to be able to take any of it in until we reached the sobering monument of Old Yungay, A monument to the entire population of a village buried alive in May of 1970 as a earthquake of 7.7 tore central Peru apart killing over 70,000 people. With the current news of devastation in Guatemala and Pakistan the catastrophe of 1970 hits home even harder.

From Old Yungay we made our way back to the coast and into the cold wind and sea fog that shrouds the endless coastal dunes of Peru for much of the year. The PanAm cuts through the dunes like an unstoppable black knife which the dunes are forever trying to reclaim as wind blown sand edges closer and closer to the centre line, only to be blown back to the side by the speeding trucks. Its a surreal landscape to ride through, never really getting to see the sea or the horizon, only sand for mile after mile in different shades of gold, grey and black. Along the side of of the road are thousands of migratory workers reed thatch huts scattered about like spilled lego bricks. The coast of Peru has a lonely beauty about it but its not the place for a beach holiday.

The pacific coastal dunes

Eventually we found ourselves in Lima, an insane slum city where oxygen masks should be compulsory. Running out of daylight and tired from the 400 mile ride that day we stopped at the first hotel with parking only to find that every TV channel in our room was a porn channel and the walls were far too thin. It seemed to sum up Lima for us in many ways and we left as planned the next morning. Although Lima is a sprawling city nearly 50 miles across we soon reached the other side as we kept up with the breakneck speeds of the city traffic. Racing between traffic lights at 70 mph is fun on a bike when you're faster than anything else on the road but not advisable with the missing manhole covers and no lane discipline. It was a clone of Acapulco in Mexico and that was enough. We headed inland again for Cusco.

Picking up the road from Pisco to Cusco we were soon high in the Andes again and what for us is the real Peru. Llamas by the hundreds with ribbons in their hair, wild horses roaming the high planes and descendants of the Incas sitting in the middle of nowhere watching their pigs, cows and goats.

Local people

It took us 5 days to complete the 400 miles of dirt but being out in such a remote area of the world that hasn't changed in thousands of years was incredible. We would bump along at a snails pace for 8 hours a day before pulling off the road wherever we pleased and put the tent up again. Camping beside frozen ponds or on lava strewn plateaus with only the wildlife and silence for company was what we had been seeking and we had found it. Even though we often got up with the sun we found we would be spending our mornings relaxing with a mug of hot chocolate taking in the scenery and remoteness.

A cold but incredibly beautiful place to camp.

The extreme remoteness also proved to be a good place to work on the bike. We used to find a hotel carpark or campsite to do the work but it always proved to be a magnet for the well intentioned curious and small jobs would take three times longer than they should. At 4,500 metres above sea level there aren't too many people around and it serves as the worlds biggest garage with the worlds best view. After 2 days of wild camping and dirt roads we reached the relative civilization of Ayacucho only to find the antiplano is more civilized. We checked into a cheapish hotel for the night with the intention of being on the road again early the next morning for the final run to Cusco. A couple of the staff helped us with our bags and watched over them as we loaded each piece onto the bike before riding off with them waving and smiling. We only made it 200 metres down the road though as we stopped for petrol, there we discovered that all our money had been stolen. Liz had only put the money in her jacket pocket ten minutes before and the only people around in that time where the two helpful staff and ourselves. We turned the bike around and stormed back into the hotel to get our money back. Neither of the two would own up so we called the police and from there 4 hours of statements, searches and arguments ensued. We knew they were guilty, the police knew they were guilty and the hotel owner knew they were guilty but given the conditions of Peruvian prisons they were not going to admit to anything. However, for once the useless box on the South American tourist card that asks you to state your occupation proved to be useful. Owing to a poor translation it states that I'm a Government Minister and therefore a V.I.P. It meant that we were dealt with by the Chief of Police for the Region, we got all our money back and while the police never found the stolen money as far as we know the two individuals now have the opportunity to think over their actions in a Peruvian prison and to be honest, we hope they rot there. Destitute and starving beggars who lift your wallet are one thing and in a country with no welfare state who can blame them. But for two people who have good jobs and eat well every night there's no excuse. We left an outraged city as a result of the 500 passers by Liz had spoken to as she watched the bike while I was in the Police Station and headed off for Cusco again.

Now finally after 3 more days riding the wild dirt roads we are here in Cusco, the country's centre for Inca ruins, culture, trekking, canoeing and 101 other things we're too tired to do or see. We're just sleeping for now. As we reflect on our time in Peru to date, its a fantastic country where its so easy to loose yourself. The people in the remote areas are friendly and welcoming. The people in the cities can be unfriendly or indifferent. The dogs in the remote areas are crazed bike chasing killers who chase us down the road a hundred times a day and the dogs in the cities are too lazy to do anything. Its a country of contrasts, some good, some not so good but it is a fantastic country nevertheless.

Images of remote Peru