With washing done and a decision made to do the Huayhuash trek it was time to price compare, we didn’t want to take an organised trek, this would be our last resort as it is rather pricey it turns out; our plan was to rent a donkey and a driver to carry our heavy loads leaving us to enjoy the high altitude passes without an un-cumbersome pack to slow us down. After visiting an untold amount of agencies we were left thoroughly confused regarding getting a some donkeys. Prices seemed to vary massively and we were at a loss as of who to trust. In the end with time against us and heads becoming bogged down with the logistics we opted to take the easier, all be it the more expensive choice, we joined an organised trek, our fate was in the hands of ‘Enjoy Huayhuash’. The first day went without a hitch, we were picked up from our hostel, something we were worried wouldn’t happen due to our late confirmation on the trip, we met our soon to be trekking compadres, all of who it turned out were Israeli! Our first day of trekking involved no trekking, we were chaperoned all the way to the first camp where our tents were set up and waiting for us. Well, our tent wasn’t set up, having learnt my lesson in Venezuela we opted to use our own equipment as we knew we could trust it, this did however mean that we would be taking down and setting up our own accommodation each night, the rest of the group would leave this task to the guides, except Stav, an Isralei who shared my love of kit, he had purchased a brand new Hilleberg so would also be joining us in setting up home each night. Over the course of the next 8 days we climbed no fewer than 9 high passes, the highest being 5100m, and camped in some amazing places with the mountains acting as stunning backdrops to our evenings entertainment. Although we still wish we could have found a donkey driver for ourselves we had an amazing time on the trek and being part of a group was a nice change of pace from just the two of us. Now its time to get the bikes ready for the Peru divide, a notoriously tough route through the centre of Peru.
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With the decision to take another rest day we were back on the road hopefully leaving all the ailments behind us. Gradual all day climb and we made it to a lake and decided to call it a day, worst decision with accommodation quickly had us rueing this choice as we were subjected to a curtain for a bathroom door and no hot water as promised. The curtain would have been fine if it wasn’t a shared bathroom with the whole family, or if the curtain actually limited your view into the bathroom! Jess for some reason didn’t mind all these accommodation flaws but she was devastated to find out she had left her favourite shorts in Cajabamba!!! I wasn't sure what the trouble was, she has a spare identical pair at home as she was stupid enough to accidentally buy the same pair twice in Vietnam, unless they have found their way into her sisters wardrobe, i've been told girls clothes can do this! All i know is it put her in a rubbish mood for days to come. We left the next day still bitter with our accommodation choice; some you win, some you loose I suppose but we were adamant that today was going to be good. We carried on the gradual climb and as we got higher couldn’t help but notice the quiet dirt road across the valley running parallel to us. Yeh, the dirt road we should have been on, a quick detour down a mining track and an interesting bimble up the other side and we were back on route with only 5km added. The dirt road was dusty but rideable and we slowly left civilisation behind. Slowly but surely the landscape became more barren and the mountains became, well, more mountainous. It was really beginning to feel like we were getting into the heart of it. This is what I had been wanting to experience from Peru; the feeling of isolation and solitude, just us and our bikes. Ok, so we were riding up a well maintained dirt road, but the lack of traffic and scenery really made it something special. We crested one final hill reaching roughly 4100m then descended to three small lakes, with tired legs and unbelievable vistas we called it a day and found an idyllic spot to camp. This was by far one of the most memorable spots we have stayed and will be hard to beat in the future. One last horrible decent saw us reach a valley and with no energy to attempt the climb that we knew was going to be beyond us with fresh legs we set up camp, this was far less idyllic than the previous night as with a lower altitude brought hordes of face invading flies that made cooking near impossible. These flies, having tasted fresh gringo even came back for breakfast leaving me in a rather irate mindset that was less than ideal for facing the mornings push. The climb wasn’t as bad as we expected and I was spurred on by Jess’ constant talk of how at the top we had a huge downhill. This downhill took far longer to materialise than Jess insisted. After a break for food in a restaurant we came across we finally began the decent. Smooth dirt gave way to tarmac that wiggled its way in a manner similar to spaghetti thrown on a plate down to the river. The whole way down we had a constant reminder of what we may have to climb on the opposite side of the valley, luckily for us though our intended route took us along the river rather than back over the mountains. The river route, though flatter was not to be taken lightly. We had read blogs by various people who had forgone this track with mixed success. We knew we would have to cross the river at least twice and negotiate various landslides, it was also in a very inaccessible area with imposing cliffs rising all around. We agreed to try the route and if it was looking too bum squeaky scary we would turn back no questions asked… We left the tarmac and began a gradual decent down a promising gravel track, quickly being engulfed by the gorge and loosing sight of all signs of life other than old remains of gold mining camps that lay abandoned. The deeper we ventured the more I felt like I was riding into some J.R. Tolkien esq. scene from lord of the rings, to Mordor or the dwarf mines. We rode on and finally came to our first impassable landslide, from here we saw what appeared to be a donkey trail cutting down to the river and so our off road adventure really began. We descended the narrow trail and after eyeing the swift and turbulent waters we opted to camp the night and attempt the river in the morning. Scouting the river I opted for what I hoped would be the slowest section and loaded with two front bags to make my bike lighter I waded in, this was meant to be the easiest of the known two river crossing and I could already feel the force of the water pulling at my legs, to say I was a little apprehensive of the second crossing was an under statement, but after successfully negotiating two bags with little trouble my confidence rose, time to take a half loaded bike, this was a little more problematic and lets just say I’m happy we have waterproof panniers. Eventually both bikes were fully loaded on the opposite bank and we were off pushing in search of a trail that would take us yet deeper into the gorge. Using the donkey tracks as a guide we spied another track leading us up away from the river and onto flatter land. Queue unloading of bikes and once again carrying and fetching the 300m to the top were we reloaded feeling rather pleased with ourselves. One hour in and 500m travelled, we were doing well. We followed our donkey trail and eventually wound our way towards a house. It was here we were informed our expert route finding skills were not as respectable as we thought. We were directed back to the river where we were told there was a road, a road… I think we would have seen a road lady… nevertheless she wrapped her child to her back and led us back the way we came, all the way to the steep donkey trail we had hauled our unloaded bikes up. Adamant I was not spending another 30minutes unloading, carrying and loading again we opted to manhandle the bikes down the trail. With a definitive point we were exactly back were we started trying to bounce our bikes over the boulders in search of this road the lady spoke of. To call what we found a road would be glorifying it slightly but there was a definite linear track cutting its way into the trees so off we went pushing with gusto hoping this “road” would soon become ride able. Jess took the lead and just when I was having flashbacks to our exploits on the rail trail we found what we were looking for. One last steep push and we were back in the saddle and riding. A few more landslides to negotiate and we were making progress. Finally we came to the second, and far more nerve tangling, river crossing; our road we had been following abruptly dropped off into the raging torrent. Once again were left to scout out the best spot but without the help of Donkey tracks it was all down to us, this was the point we had promised ourselves that if it felt like too much we would turn around and go back, little did we know just how difficult it would be to make our way back or how far it would feel like we had come to get to this point. As we wandered the bank a friendly local appeared, a gold minor who had a camp close by, he didn’t seem too concerned over our intentions to cross and he directed us to the best spot to do so. That was it, no turning back, we had been told it was ok to cross by some random man, I had read a blog where a couple had done it, there was no way I could back out now was there??!! I precariously entered the torrent bagless and bikeless to test the waters if you will, slowly finding my way trying to place the bigger rocks and aiming for the eddies I could see. The water was, excuse the pun, balls deep, and if it wasn’t for the knowledge that it had indeed been done by other cyclists I’m not sure I would have had the confidence to attempt this crossing. The scenery and the noise was the main contributing factor to my nerves but the more I went back and forth the easier it got, I was able to map a path through the shallowest sections and the local minor even got involved stripping down to his pants and helping out in the river. Before we knew it everyone was safely across and we waved goodbye to our new friend. Feeling slightly drained from our ordeal we rested and feasted on stale bread and jam, from here we had a 300m horrible drag to get back onto the track before we could ride again, this 300m stretch proved just how much this route had taken out of us, I could barely lift my front wheel over the rocks and it was a huge relief when we finally got back in the saddle and began to make our way out of the gorge. Slowly it became more built up, gold minors still resided in this section and we waved as we passed our river helping friend and promised we would stop off at his shop, just 20 minutes away. One last single-track section later and we emerged back onto tarmac and having run out of water and snacks we made quick haste in search of the promised shop. A little longer than 20 minutes later but we found his shop and purchased as many fluids as we could, 3L of coke was consumed and too many biscuits to disclose and we were reenergised enough to push on and try and make some distance. The days efforts had amounted to 13km by 3pm. Luckily for us it was a long gradual decent on tarmac with little interruptions other than a Swiss couple in their off-road camper van, I was slightly jealous of their luxury as we began our hunt for another night in the tent. Finally later than our usual exploits we found a gravel pull off and on a sheltered sandy patch pitched our tent and cooked. Finally with time to reflect on what we had done. Although again we were following a GPS route and we knew other cyclists had ventured into the river gorge, this section felt like we were really in the mix. The risk was real but overall I would say worth it. I’m happy we did the route, it was tough, and the section after the first river crossing until we found the road was hell, but in regards to distance this made up such a small part of this route, a mere 5 or 6km, but in time it consumed most of our day, still, my shoes and shorts are a lot cleaner than they were before I started! From our camp we continued the downhill, 26km of blissfully easy riding before we bottomed out at 850m, from here it was nothing but uphill to Huaraz back at 3000m. The gradient was mellow and with the knowledge of a restaurant at the 45km marker we made good time, from here we made even better time, something in that river water acted as rocket fuel and we smashed out a 90km day predominantly uphill. This put us within touching distance of our aim of Huaraz. The second day however our bodies seemed to crash, we were a day short but our bodies had given all they had, we grinded our way through the “Canon del Pato” a narrow road built by minors with no fewer than 36 tunnels of varying lengths cut into the cliff side. Our pace and legs slowed and eventually we gave in, the option of taking a bus ride to save us a horrible days ride up the main road was too much. Our bikes were roughly thrown on the roof and we staggered on. This in fairness was probably the most risky part of our whole trip. The driver, who seemed to be in a huge rush, pulled some Hollywood esq manoeuvres much to the uproar of the other passenger who made their feelings towards his driving skills very clear. Ironic really, we had just come out of what we thought was a risky ride only to be closer to death on a bus! After surviving our ordeal, and running low on snacks on more than one occasion we had promised ourselves a hearty meal, Huaraz, a climbers mecca due to the close proximity of the mountains is full of tourists and with it tourist food. We spent more on one meal than we had the whole week on the bikes but it was worth every penny. With full bellies we made our way back to the hotel, now the plan is to decide which trek to do and do some washing!!! The whole way through Peru we have been following a route blazed by Joe Cruz. All the information can be found here:
http://www.bikepacking.com/routes/dirt-road-touring-peru/ We left Los Banos del Incas via a back road and made our way to Jesus; from here our true Peruvian dirt road experience would begin. We had found a few blogs that highly recommend the route we planned to take and with excitement we attacked the first 28k climb. This excitement quickly faded as we realised what we had got ourselves into. I’m not sure if our bikes were just too heavy or if we were of the wrong set up, i.e. this route was more suited to bike-packers rather than fully loaded toures, but the fun factor diminished quickly. The road to start with was steep and loose but just about manageable, Jess would disagree, she found the loose fist sized rocks, that had a habit of hanging out on the switch backs where the road really kicked up a few degrees, were far from rideable and before long our snail like pace was rather embarrassing. Jess, not confident to ride the loose stuff opted to walk whenever she caught sight of a nasty rock, and I must admit on more than one occasion I was forced to join her. Although our progress was minimal, we were making progress, we were still able to ride some stretches between the bends, this was until we left the “main road” to follow the GPS track we had loaded. Here we followed a much smaller trail that had our hope rising that maybe now we would start riding some of the good stuff, and for a very brief spell we were able to average at least 7kph. This did not last long however. Before we knew it this trail, which we thought was the old road, became even worse. With no regular traffic the loose rocks had migrated form the switchbacks and now covered the whole trail. Pushing became a challenge in itself and our cycle trip started to run the risk of becoming a walking holiday. The silver lining of this no longer used trail was the abundance of camping spots and after maybe 5km of back breaking pushing we decided to give it up as a bad day and get some much needed sleep, hoping that in a new light we would have some divine inspiration and figure out how we were supposed to ride this terrain, that or somebody would take pity on us and leave us some shiny fat-bikes to play on. The next day we had no such luck, no new bikes fully equipped to deal with baby’s heads (I think this is what the cool kids call this kind of terrain) and no divine inspiration. In fact, Jess, suffering from the lack of oxygen available to us at our lofty altitude, she blamed me for using it all in the tent, had had a terrible nights sleep and on top of that she now had chest pains to add to her list of ailments, never a good sign, especially when so far from any means of transport or help. Not one to give in easily she was determined to see the end of this climb and with only 7km left she was confident she could at least push that far without collapsing on me. So with slightly less gusto we returned to the trail and rode a whole 200m before we hit an obstacle, well an obstacle bigger than the damn rocks we were trying to ride over. The old road it now turned out was no longer a through trail, a nice new barbed wire fence had been strung up to really make this point clear to anyone thinking of getting past. Knowing how far we had come we weren’t about to be beaten all that easily though, we found a loose section and with some slight repacking we were able to slide the bikes under the fence, haha, fully loaded touring bikes 1 – nasty horrible rocky road…well, we stopped counting how many points this route had already won over us, but this was definitely a small moral boost for us. For another short spell we were able to ride, and in sections we found ourselves enjoying what we were on, again this was always interrupted by the loose rocks that would bounce and spit your bike any which way but the way you wanted. I found myself picking my bike, and myself up many a times after a stray rock would kick me left, letting me think I had just about rescued it before another would spit my right or stop me dead altogether. My woes were nothing compared to Jess though who with any deep intake of breath would be in pain, not ideal when the trail was so physically demanding and the fact that oxygen was not in great supply. After another moral sapping length of time we encountered another section of fence blocking our way luckily this section was easier to shimmy our bikes under and from here we hoped the road would improve, which luckily it did, a further 2km, at probably our fastest pace and we were at the top. We now had a downhill to reward us for our efforts. We had also decided that a hospadaje was in order to let Jess rest up. The downhill wasn’t all that easy, nor all that much of a downhill, and hospadajes didn’t exist in this section, apparently they don’t get many tourists to generate a need for them. Before we knew it we had past the last hamlet and had begun to climb once again, with no option for a night in a bed, and Jess being to stubborn/proud to try and hitch, “I’ll be better in the morning,” was her response to this suggestion, “I just need to sleep it off!” Knowing better than to argue we found a tucked away spot, set up camp, cooked and got an early night. A tough two days behind us but hopefully a better day to come. As we have become accustomed to in Peru we were awoken to blue skies and the sun beating down on the tent, Jess had managed to get a good night sleep and was practically a new woman. With 7km of dirt road climbing ahead of us she was positively chipper as we saddled up. Still far from easy we managed to ride most of the road and made good time to the top. All we could see now was downhill. Not that this would be fast, the road was still horrible and anything more than 13kph felt like I was going to be shaken of the mountain, but at least it took a whole lot less effort to generate these speeds. With achy fingers from the effort of braking we rolled into the largest town we have seen on this route, this was the town we were directed to when we asked for accommodation in the previous villages; today however we were only stopping for lunch. Jess had her eyes set on Cajabamba, our intended destination before bad roads and ailments slowed us down. Before I knew it we had completed another long, slow, twitchy decent and we were a mere 25km from the town. The deal was we would stop at the first hotel or accommodation we saw, as long as it wasn’t a 5 star luxury resort, sorry Jess I don’t care how ill you are we cant afford it! Luckily for me I didn’t need to have that conversation, there wasn’t a single place to stay until we got all the way into the town. I’m not sure how Jess managed it, by the end I was hurting and desperate for a room and I had been fit and well the whole way, Jess just kept on going though and as we rolled in to town it was her setting the pace while I tried to hold on to her wheel
After finding a hotel and refuelling with some coke and biscuits neither of us cold muster the energy to set up the stove, a quick trip out the hotel and we were rewarded with fried rice and an early night. We crossed the border on a damp horrible day; we left the horrific climbs behind and crossed onto smooth gentle climbing tarmac. Ecuador needs to take a leaf out of the Peruvian road builder’s handbook. With gentle grades came longer climbs however and our first day was more of a stamina test that we were accustomed to. Although not steep we still found ourselves floundering on some of the climbs and the constant rain didn’t do much to help. Our first night in Peru was spent in a cheap hotel that was most definitely an ex-jail, not the nicest of places but the prices are refreshingly cheap compared to Ecuador. Our second day saw us rewarded for all the previous days climbing with an amazing 20km downhill, again a perfect gradient that meant we barely had to touch the brakes or the pedals, every tourer’s dream. With the decent however came the tropic like heat that we haven’t witnessed since Brazil. A few roadside fruit stalls were greatly appreciated, especially for their freshly squeezed juices and there shaded areas to take a break. The rest of the day was slight undulations that saw us smash out over 110km. Memories of Asia came flooding back with the heat and the countless rice paddies we were passing by; only the palm trees marked the differences. It was almost a perfect day until Jess got a puncture 5km from were we were aiming, this was made worse by our pump choosing this moment to seize up. In the last 2km the bike became un-rideable and we were reduced to walking pace, our plans to camp went out the window and we found another cheap hotel for the night. Unfortunately for us the whole town was experiencing a power cut and as our room had no window we would have probably been better off in the tent!! Morning broke and still no power so breakfast was had by torchlight, at least there was sun streaming in downstairs so we were able to fix the puncture and change my brake pads. With what is hopefully the last of the bike maintenance for a while we hit the road, a short boat ride and our first stretch of dirt road and it was onto the start of what we had been told was a very gentle uphill, a gentle uphill that we would be riding for the next 180km. We mentally prepared ourselves for a tough and slow few days but the uphill never seemed to materialise; I mean, we could see the river flowing next to us in the opposite direction but the road felt flat the whole way. After 60km, a distance we thought would be tough for today we found a perfect sandy beach and decided a rest from the searing sun was well deserved, we hid the bikes from the road and made the most of afternoon heat. All was looking perfect for a great nights camp when just as the sun was setting a lorry pulled off the road and out jumped 6 guys with shovels. They were here for the sand and were just as surprised to find two cyclists hidden away as we were to see them. As we tried to make conversation and explain why we were here they became concerned telling us that it is dangerous here and that we should not camp. “Dangerous from whom?” “The fisherman” they explained, “They come here at night and will not be happy you are here, they will rob you”. Quite as to why some fisherman would want two touring bikes is beyond me but they seemed adamant that we should not stay, they offered us a place to camp in their home and a lift there in the back of their truck once they have finished their sand pilfering. Our bikes were expertly loaded into truck and we were driven 6km back the way we had come, we were shown to a covered yard and told we could put our tent here, we were also given food and drink and then invited to a party. Not wanting to seem ungrateful we accepted the invitation and followed our new friends to a neighbouring home. Turns out it was 9th Birthday party. The small room was filled with most of the village and before we knew it we were giving an impromptu English class to the children. We were then handed hymnbooks and a bible and the party started. Now I’ve been to my fair share of parties and this one did not look all that fun for the children, the birthday boy sat in the middle of the room looking bored and yawning while passages were read from the bible and hymns sung at him. Eventually we got to the good stuff, I was excited to show my musical statue skills or my musical chairs talents but non of these games occurred, in fact no games occurred. Everyone in the room hugged the child one at a time and then the food came out. As I say, not the best child’s birthday party in my opinion but each to their own I guess; I would love to show them a kid’s birthday party in England and see their reactions. We were served rice pudding and popcorn then cake that the child’s face had been shoved in, we then got fried rice; an unusual mix, but as I say, each to their own. By now it was well past our bedtime, a crazy 10pm and we hadn’t even brushed our teeth, we felt such lightweights being outdone by a bunch of children but then again, they hadn’t just cycled 60km uphill. In the morning we decamped and said our thank yous and made our exit, back up the 6km we cycled the previous day, not before they had loaded us up with breakfast of rice and potato type vegetables. The day continued in much the same way as the previous, gradually gaining in altitude as we rode along the river valley and as we came to camp o-clock Jess opted not to ask at a farmers house if we could camp in their lovely field for risk of having to endure another birthday party, instead we did battle with bushes and shrubs to camp in a hidden spot just off the road. I also convinced Jess, 1: due to the lack of space in our small area we had cleared 2: because the ground was so parched and dry, it obviously hadn’t seen rain for weeks, and 3: it was still really hot, like, really hot… that we didn’t need to put the waterproof fly on; we would sleep just in the inner tent. Turns out I was wrong. I awoke at 1 in the morning to the refreshing mist penetrating the inner tent as the rain fell outside; a frantic rush as I tried to make our tent as waterproof as possible with a torch, at least I wasn’t too hot anymore, and I also got to have a shower I so desperately needed. We awoke to a very sorry looking sight, my late night attempt looked even worse in the light of day but it did keep the worst of the rain of us, luckily is wasn’t too heavy nor did it last too long; however everything was most definitely damp. With this we decided that a rest day was in order, one for washing and two for drying. We pushed on and made it to Leymebamba after struggling up the final 14km, not sure if it got gradually steeper or the legs, knowing a rest day was fast approaching, just began to weaken. Either way it was a welcome sight as we crested the final small climb and found a hostel that promised us space to dry our tent and a warm shower. With a rest day in our legs we were ready to face the final stretch of the climb, 30km of steady uphill before we would be reward with a huge 60km of downhill. Unfortunately both Jess and I seemed to have been struck down by some rogue lettuce we had eaten the night before, the 30km was somewhat hampered by countless toilet stops when unstoppable rumblings began. It was at this time we promised ourselves we would now start being more careful with what we ate, we have lost faith in our water filter and since getting sick in Quito it feels like we have never fully recovered. The climb was long but never overly steep and at one point I was called to the aid of some local farmers and a not very healthy looking cow who… well, I wasn’t really sure what they were doing but I offered my assistance as best I could, this involved a rope that I presumed was attached to a calf still inside the cow. With the four of us pulling and the cow obviously not happy eventually we managed to remove the head of the baby, the farmers looked pretty pleased with the effort but I wasn’t sure if this was the goal, either way I felt I’d done my good deed for the day and feeling slightly nauseous Jess and I were back to turning the pedals. We crested the hill, wrapped ourselves in many layers, took a few quick snaps of the panorama that had opened up before us and then began what we had been looking forward to all day. Usually the downhill’s are over all too quickly but this was a different story, it just kept on going. Eventually with the temperature sky rocketing we plataued in the valley, here our progress was hindered due to work on the road, the only bridge across the river was closed until 6pm, not fancying a ride in the dark we opted for a guesthouse, unfortunately this was a further 2km downhill, great for today’s ride but less than ideal for tomorrow where we would be climbing for 45km, 47km now! La Balsas was hot and sweaty. At an altitude of 850m it was a world away from the temperature at 3600m we had descended from, we now understood why many cycle tourists try and tackle as much of the climb ahead of us straight away trying to find the cooler temperatures of higher altitude before calling it a day. We opted for an early start to the climb, 1: The bridge was only open between 6 and 7am and 2: We wanted to make the most of the cooler morning temperature. The climb was everything we expected it to be, hot sweaty and long; yet stunning at the same time. Jess, still struggling from the lettuce tackled it with gusto but as the day continued and the number of toilet stops skyrocketed her energy levels wavered. The road, ever present above us, showed we were still some way from the top but with a rare flat space we asked a local farmer if we could camp for the night. As we cooked watching the sun set over the mountains we new we must be close to the next downhill and some replenished snacks. From here the climbing became more rolling giving our legs chance to recover somewhat before the next assault. Still as the day wore on I found myself struggling, this day in theory shouldn’t be as tough as a constant uphill but I found my self constantly having to dig deep to re-catch Jess’ back wheel, my speedo, which usually ticks up faster than I think is normal seemed to be stuck in the 40km’s bracket, a much needed Coke helped me get over my cyclists block if you will, but as soon as my speedo reached our daily goal of 60km I was quick to suggest places to camp. We eventually settled in the shell of a half built house, we didn’t understand much of what the old toothless gent was saying to us but he was more than happy for us to set up in his not yet finished home. .We awoke to the call of nature which is a struggle when your camping in someone’s front garden and with both of us dashing around to find a secluded spot we were up and cooking before our usual wake up call. We didn’t manage to leave though till well after 8 as we were inundated with curious children on their way to the local school, seems as our home for the night was on the school run and everyone was intrigued as to what a couple of gringos were doing in these parts. Finally on the road and once again we were closer to the top of the climb than we had realised. 12km later and we started the rolling decent, not quite as nice as the 60km we had experienced but still a nice change for the legs. Before we knew it we rolled into Banos del Inca and rather than pushing on into a bigger city we called it a day in the first decent priced hotel we could find.
We made full use of the adequate; I think this is the best we are going to get in Peru, Wi-Fi and the general act of lying down. With Jess almost better we opted to take an extra day in the hope that she would be back fighting fit again and ready for the next part of Peru |
AuthorDanny and Jessica living the nomadic dream. Archives
September 2017
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