Yep, we made it to Cusco. Kind of sad that the trip will be ending soon. More on that later.

The Pan America highway south of Lima is a nice and fast divided four lane highway that lasts about 100 kilometers. Sure enough, the desert started again right away and the section along the coast was filled with sand dunes, empty desert, and small hideaway beach communities for the well off.

One stretch was long and straight and had a strong, howling crosswind that strained my neck, no kidding. It’s interesting when you approach a tractor trailer because you lean so hard into the wind normally that you have to get ready for a vacuum and straighten up momentarily as you overtake the truck since he shelters you from the wind. Then as you approach his front you need to lean hard into the upcoming wind that threatens to blast you off the highway.

Six hours of riding and we arrived in Nazca, whose most famous attraction are the Nazca Lines. These lines were dug 30cm deep into the sand to reveal the lighter lower layers of rock by ancient peoples two thousand years ago. They are large and the funny thing is that they can only be viewed from above and the best way is by small airplane.

A plane crashed here a couple of weeks ago and it has been big news here. Five people died. So, we took one of those plane tours this morning and the Lines are interesting and worth checking out. There is quite a bit of damage from people that drove vehicles across the lines and some natural damage from El Nino from some years back but they are intact for the most part.

Immediately after our early morning flight, we packed up our things and hit the road. Nazca is at about 1200 ft and I knew that we would be headed straight up into the cold of the Andes by looking at the map. The first stretch of road was full of tight switchbacks up and up and up. Desolate, rocky, arid desert turned gradually greener and greener as we made our way up pot hole filled roads with few guard rails to prevent you from falling off the mountain. This made me nervous and I kept my pace slow. I didn’t want to push my luck by hitting a bump in the road while leaned over in a turn that would cause me to head straight out of a corner.

We saw less and less people and less and less traffic the higher we rode. This stretch was isolated and the altitude contributed even more to this feeling of being out there by yourself. The air is crisp and thinner, you can tell it’s not filling up your lungs the way it should. The sky is extra blue, bluer than I ever remembered seeing it with puffy white clouds and some scary looking grey ones. Our bikes felt it, too, and they chugged along with less air to combust. They hardly had any power and I had to keep the RPMs up to get anything going. When stopped the bikes barely idled and it felt like they would go out with the next breath.

Near the top of that first long ascent I saw some llamas off to the side munching on grass. The mountains here had no trees but rolling hills of grass, brush, and rocks. I couldn’t help myself and went off road to see the llamas up close. On another trip I would have loved to do this all the time and stay off the road and ride up and down the hills.

Roar’s GPS told us that we hit a maximum altitude of 4548 meters (almost 15,000 ft)!

This section of road was a lot nicer without the huge dropoffs. Plenty of nice sweeping turns and hardly any traffic at all. I used the whole road (since I could clearly see no opposing traffic) and felt like I was riding on a racetrack. I concentrated on riding lines and apexes in a way I don’t normally get to do. And you’re faster without even trying too hard.

That night we stayed in a small town south of Abancay, which appeared to rarely get gringo visitors. Thank God, I hate seeing hippies and dirty backpackers. One group of small kids were so interested in the white Norwegian that I thought Roar might be taking some kids with us.

The next day, continuous excellent riding. We paralleled a river through a gorge and the twisties were incredibly fun. The altitude was getting to us and my body was tired and achy most of that day. But I knew that it was our last day and I powered through. Although we peaked at 15,000 ft most of our riding was between 7000 and 12,000 feet.

We arrived in Cusco yesterday and it is probably the most impressive of all the old colonial towns I have seen in Central and South America. It’s amazing. Wait for the pictures to see for yourself.

We met our friend, Chris, from the boat to Cartagena. He had just finished the Inca trail and we were lucky that he was staying an extra couple of nights. Cusco has great nightlife and I’ve been told it’s crazy every night of the week. Roar and I found out the hard way that you can’t drink the same amount that you do at sea level without paying the price for it the next day. Cusco is at 11,000 ft and the alcohol works a lot quicker here. If you’re not acclimated to it (and maybe even if you are) do yourself a favor and drink less . We’re still hurting today.

So now, we just have to sell the bikes and see Machu Picchu….