We had an eventful time in the tiny town trying to locate some sustenance before heading to Huaraz, approximately six hours way.
Eventually we found a lady selling coffee, who chucked in a couple of bits of (what tasted like) few-day-old bread and a sachet of jam. Breakfast sorted! Realising we were dangerously low, we asked her if there was any petrol nearby. She pointed to a rusty cylinder down the road, which we head towards and knocked on the door. A little lady came out and led us further down the road to another door, which when opened revealed a room full of petrol and diesel. Who knew! She filled us up with her hands in plastic bags, and we were on our way.
The scenery leaving Pallasca, perched high up on a ledge overlooking the valley which we'd spent the previous evening traversing, was pretty spectacular.
The rock was wonderfully coloured, and you could clearly see the folds and different sediments within. We were again confronted with a single lane road that wound around the mountain sides, by now professionals at reading corners and finding the perfect speed.
We descended down into the epic valley as it got ever-warmer and ever-drier. Eventually we were riding along the course of a river with grey crumbling cliffs rising around us. We stopped in a middle-of-nowhere 'town' to fill up, at a petrol pump that sprayed petrol out of its uncovered hoses while dispensing our fuel. The friendly man at the 'petrol station' told us there were two ways to get to Huaraz: one via the coast and the other through the mountains which would take an hour longer.
Obviously we took the mountain road and were so happy we did. We followed the river inland, where it became a hydro-electric system, and climbed into the sparse dryness of the mountains. The sharp edges of the rock and the sparseness of the surroundings felt like we were on another planet, one barren and far from our own. Which made it all the more fun!
A couple of hours from Huaraz we reached Canon del Pato, where the road continued to hug the cliffsides but involved a vast series of tunnels. Counting as we ducked in and out, plunged into darkness for various amounts of time, by the end of the pass we had gone through 39 tunnels. It felt like being on a theme park ride, going round tight corners, up and down hills and through tunnels, but without the safety harness!
We stopped in a town a couple of hours from Huaras for a spot of lunch. We popped into a local cafe and asked if they just had some chicken and rice - normally a safe bet. She nodded and said something else about a dish called Cau Cau which was apparently chicken, so we said sure, we'll try it!
Now I'm one to try most things, but when a plate of intenstines, a heart and a lung sat in front of me, I realised there were limits to what I would try. I did try the intenstines, which I tried to convince myself were like calamari rings, but after a few mouthfuls the slimyness was too much. But we filled up on rice and veg and were on our way!
After what was - for us - a fairly easy day with no disasters and no night-riding, we arrived in Huaras in the late afternoon and began our hostel search. Traipsing around a city is hard enough with the traffic and one-way streets, but when you factor in a motorbike that cuts out every time we decelerate or try and stop at a traffic light, plus the manual kickstart issue, it all becomes a bit much. After it took us three green lights before we manged to cross one set of lights, we decided the next stop would be the last stop. And luckily Jo's Place was perfect - cheap with a safe place for the bike.
Most people come to Huaraz, sat at the foot of the beautiful snow-capped mountain range of the Cordillera Blanca, to make the most of some epic hikes. We had every intention of doing one, until we realised how absolutely knackered we were. To be honest we were quite happy just being in a town that had amenities we needed, after so many nights in the funny little mountain villages.
So we recouped, had basic Spanish chats with the lovely lady who ran the hostel (who would sit all day long with her mother spinning alpaca wool in the garden, and spent a day fiddling with the bike to try and fix our cutting-out problem. On advice from our motorbike mentor Rod (Tom's Dad), Tom adjusted the float position and the tick over, and gave the carb a good clean. It worked a treat, because when we came to leave the next day it started second kick rather than the thirtieth, and we got out of the city - through many traffic lights - without stalling!
The road out of Huaraz quickly climbed, until we found ourselves sailing across mountain tops at 4660m - our highest yet. Dark mountain peaks rose all around with sparkling white glaciers nestled within, and we looked about in awe as we crested the range and descended the other side.
We were making very good time to get to our next destination of Huanuco, until we were going through the town of El Union where we had what could only be described as a disaster - but we'll save that for next time!