Peru’s Machu Pichu, Bad Roads And A Truck Runs Us Off the Road

     We entered Peru and decided to travel to Machu Piccu and Lake Titicaca, which meant we had to leave to warm coast highway and ride over the cold Andes nearly into Bolivia.  

     Riding along the coast had cost another motorcycle rider the rest of his trip to the bottom of South America when he crashed his BMW crossing sand that had blown over the highway.  We had several chances to repeat his adventure but our Honda seemed more determined to stay upright than did the BMW. 

     Our closest call to having a serious accident in Peru happened when a truck coming down a mountain road came around a sharp curve in our lane.  To avoid becoming a squashed fly on the front of the 18-wheeler we rode off the pavement and into the loose gravel on the shoulder where there was enough room for us squeeze by. 

     The interesting part of that little adventure was Donna-Rae did not know that it happened. The medicine she takes for her Parkinson’s Disease makes her sleepy after eating a meal, which she done only an hour before.  That meant that she was asleep on the back of the motorcycle when we rode off the pavement.  By the time she was jarred awake the motorcycle had managed to get by the truck and back onto the pavement so she thought we had merely hit another bump in the road like we do so often during the day.  That night when Greg asked her what went through her mind as we were looking at the front bumper of the truck and certain death, she asked, “What truck?”

     We spent nearly a week in Cusco while Greg worked on writing projects and Donna-Rae touristed through the Sacred Valley on the Inca Trail and into Machu Picchu.  This ancient Inca city was buried in jungle until 1911 when it was discovered.  It took a full day to explore all of the uncovered terraces, temples, palaces, towers, fountains, staircases and the Intihuatana (Hitching Post of the Sun).  The grandeur of Machu Picchu could not be captured in photographs, it really had to be appreciated in the livid green jungle setting under the fluffy white clouded skies. 

     Cusco was a shopper’s heaven with many inexpensive arts and crafts finding their way into our room each night.  While Greg was howling about weight and space, Donna-Rae was happily bargain hunting each day.  Eventually the howling turned to flying spittle  and Donna-Rae marched off to the post office where she prayed the postmaster was telling her the truth when he promised the boxes would make it safely to Castle Rock, Colorado.

    Back on the road we managed to reach Lake Titicaca but at the expense of having to ride in a light snow and cold blowing winds.  Greg paid a heavy price by becoming sick.  Rather than have an ailing pilot try to manage the motorcycle further into the cold country of Bolivia, we decided to return to the warmth of the coast and beaches of the Pacific, choosing blowing sand over slippery snow on the road.