Riding down to Huánuco, A rough day
Note: We've posted our favorite pictures from northern Peru here or as a slideshow.
Yesterday we rode about 45 miles up to 4000 meters (13,120 feet) and then down to 1900 meters (6232 feet) on a nasty, loose, difficult dirt road. Randy crashed on the downhill. He scraped up his arm and hip and bruised a rib. I was behind him and when I came up to him he was down on the ground holding his hip, right on an edge of the road 5 feet from a big, big drop. He was bruised up yesterday but feeling better today. Seeing him lying there scared me. By his position, I thought he broke a hip or a leg. All the rest of the day I was upset.
And Randy got his favorite bike tool (a Topeak Alien multi-tool) taken or lost, probably in the midst of a crowd at a fiesta in a little tiny pueblo at the top of the pass. Everybody was pressing around us. We don't know for sure that somebody took it then, but it was gone right then. He had used it earlier that morning. We have to find a replacement for some of those tools now.
And Randy lost his sunglasses somewhere, so was riding all day with no protection against the immense dust of the road.
The dogs, who are always very protective of their territory, seem much more aggressive then usual. Every small grouping of houses we rode by, two or three dogs would come chasing us. I got bitten by a dog in Ecuador so I am a bit dog-shy. Yesterday three came at me at one time from nowhere, absolutely no warning. It seemed they where lying in the bushes waiting for me. They jumped up from behind a dirt bank so fast, I reacted by dropping my bike, picked up a handful of rocks, threw them as hard as I could, meanwhile yelling and swearing at the beasts. I did manage to sort of hit one of the dogs in his feet. He stumbled down the bank. I am so frustrated at the dogs here. The people do not control their dogs in any way and they attack anything that goes by the property they guard. We know it's the dogs' job to defend their homes, but we sure wish they wouldn't waste their time on us. The roads are too bad to try evasive actions so I usually stop, talk to the perros and if this does not work I throw rocks or squirt water from my water bottle.
I recently read a journal entry where a cyclist killed a dog with his bare hands. I do understand the intense anger that can bubble up after attack after attack, day after day. I spent the rest of the day fantasizing about how I could use different methods to protect myself. Some I can not even mention in this writing. I wonder if a whistle that lets out a high pitch would stop a dog from attacking. What do you think? Maybe I could order one and have it sent to Cusco, Peru.
But it wasn't all so bad! When we got to the top of the pass we came to a little village that was having a great fiesta, with dancing and the Inca maidens in costume and just a very friendly group (except perhaps for the quick-finger that got Randy's tool). They begged us to stay and dance, but we knew we had a long way to go. We loved their music and their friendliness. And they pressed a bit of "Peruvian Beer", the chicha they love on Randy. It was another delightful village.
Here is a movie from the fiesta, and a few more pictures from the day.
