We knew the day could be interesting, for we heard there was going to be a strike. Seems the populace was angry about the government selling water to Chile, and the roads in and out of Cusco and many of the neighboring communities would be blocked. Also, the train to Auguas Caliente was not going to run, which meant there was no way to get to Machu Picchu (the Inca Trail was also closed). The strike was going to be for two days, today and tomorrow, so we knew we'd have to invoke Plan B, which mainly was to ride for as far as we could and then see what developed. We heard that motorcycles might be let thru, or there may be ways around/thru the blockades. Assuming we could get to Urubamba or somewhere near, at least we'd be in the area and other options would present themselves.
The ride to Urubamba is fantastic.
Leaving Chalhuanca in the morning, the road climbed to 15,000' and was stunning. And I don't mean the road went up and then came back down, because it's not like that. Peru is mountainous; great heaving, folded, broken ranges that go on for days. That they chose to build this road through them is amazing, for it seems to connect so little in relation to the effort expended. But they do know how to build, laying the road in a wondrous series of curves that hug the mountain more than violate it. While they're at it, they lay paving with nary a seam. And this was all to us. With the strike announced, traffic was virtually non-existent, so as we flew (soared?) thru the mountains we truly had the ride of our lives. People choose to live here, and village-after-village passed by. Kids and donkeys and women in Bowler hats, pigs and sheep and men under load, and fields so far up the slope you wonder how in the hell they get up there, let alone have energy to work once they're there. The patchwork goes for days, with every color of endeavor.
