From Anchorage to Ushuaia by Bike

Well, we’re on vacation. For the next two weeks, we are bike-free – we are backpackers! This changes two important things: first, we’re not nearly as autonomous, and second, we’re not so special anymore, only a couple of ordinary travelers, accompanied by the usual clichés: we speak English and we have lots (and lots) of money to spend.

So far, our vacation is off to a good start: Monday morning there was a nation-wide transportation strike which meant that we couldn’t get to downtown Cusco since our hosts live about 7 km away from the Plaza de Armas. The problem was a new, tougher, highway law which would impose stricter penalties for infractions. Of course, considering how most people drive in Peru, you wouldn’t think there were any laws in place at all....

Happily, Mario and Marianella took us into town in the afternoon after the road blocks had been removed, and we were able to catch our 8:00 pm bus for Nazca. We’re supposed to meet my parents in Arequipa, but since we’re a couple of days ahead of schedule, we thought we would surprise them 2 days early!

It’s a long trip, and the road was very windy. Sara had been sick the night before and had had trouble falling asleep. The trip was supposed to take about 13 hours, but at 6:00 am, after 10 hours of driving, the sun came up and the bus stopped in the middle of nowhere, a chilly 3300m above sea level. The bus attendant told us to relax and go back to sleep, but since it was already light out, it was hard to sleep. We noticed that we had stopped right behind a truck. Maybe road work, we wondered. Then we drove a few hundred meters and we were able to see the problem. We were stuck at the end of a long line of buses, and there was a city up ahead – Puquito, according to my GPS. Yesterday’s transportation strike was supposed to last 48 hours, so we figured we were facing a road block with striking workers.

We waited and waited. The sun climbed higher in the sky, and we heard some news on the radio: apparently in Lima, the strike was over and the road blocks were down. At 8:00 am, we were optimistic, figuring we would be moving soon. But we kept waiting. It was nice outside and we got out of the bus to see what was going on. A little further up the road, there were stones and boulders blocking the way. People by the side of the road watched the heated exchanges between the strikers and the passengers of the blocked vehicles. I climbed back into the bus and reported back to Sara. On her end, she had found out that the bus company had known about the blockade, and that was a local demonstration and had nothing to do with the national strikes. Sara was starting to get really restless and could hardly sit still any longer.

Around 9:00 am we found out for sure by listening to the other drivers that it was a local demonstration. Our hopes of getting going faded just as Sara’s temper began to rise. She got out of the bus to see what was happening at the blockade. When she came back, the rumours that the bus company had known about the blockade were intensifying, but our drivers flatly denied it. We were starting to get hungry. The night before the bus company had given us mini-sandwiches, mini-granola bars, and little juice box. Even though they had cookies, they wouldn’t give us any. We found out that there was another bus from the same company that was stuck on the other side of the city, and we thought we should just switch passengers between buses. But there were 3 older ladies on our bus who refused, and so we couldn’t do it.

One by one, the other bus companies switched their passengers, turned around and drove away. Our bus attendant called her supervisor in Lima, but was told that she would have to figure it out for herself. At around 11:00, the protesters said that there were having a meeting and would lift the blockade at 1:00. A last, it seemed the end was in sight! Everyone relaxed and we chatted a little with the other passengers. We had a couple of interesting conversations about strikes with many Peruvians, a Quebecois and a Chilean.

Just a little before 1:00, some protesters came down the lines of cars carrying oil paints and they painted on the windshields (and sometimes the cars themselves) messages like “Viva el Paro – Puquio – 48 horas” (Long live the strike – Puquio – 48 hours), saying that any car without paint wouldn’t be able to pass the barriers. Our bus drivers didn’t even seem to notice.

At 1:10, we were becoming impatient. A Peruvian reminded us that although the protesters had said 1:00, hours in Peru were flexible, and that could have meant 1:00 pm, or 1:00 am, or even 1:00 tomorrow. Our hopes were once again dashed, and we settled back into waiting. Now we were really hungry. There were vendors walking up and down the road, but most of the waiting passengers had refused to buy anything from them, especially at their inflated prices. Later in the afternoon, we heard that the blockade would end around 3 or 4, but we didn’t want to believe it. At 4:00 pm the bus attendant finally gave each of us a little package of cookies. A dilapidated police car from a neighboring village with four police officers inside pulled alongside our bus. They were the first police officers we had seen all day, and the passengers started laying into them right away. It was clear that police had no control over the situation and they told us to turn around and find another road. But Peru is not like in France (or Canada) where there are alternate routes and little country roads. There’s only one road here, and to go another route would mean going back to Cusco (10 hours) and going through Arequipa (an 18 hour detour!).
Just then, the people seemingly in charge of the demonstration came down the line of cars and told us that they would lift the blockade for an hour at 6:00 pm and that we would be able to go through since our bus company had not been informed about the strike, unlike other companies. So unfair!

The sun started to go down, and at 6:00 pm, a dozen police officers came from the town towards the barrier, to boos and whistles from the cars. The police chief shook hands with the head protester, they spoke a few words, and then the road was unblocked. It took us an hour to get through the town since there were blockades everywhere and only one lane was open.

After many twists and turns on a poorly maintained road, we arrived in Nazca at 10:30pm, only 13 ½ hours late! As soon as we stepped off the bus, we were mobbed by hotel touts and tourist site promoters, all hoping we would take notice of them. We yelled at them and spread out our arms, pushing them away. One of them asked in Spanish if we French, and they calmed down a little after that, but they followed us anyway, despite us telling them that we knew where we were going and we didn’t need them. We saw a hotel and headed directly towards it. As we about to go in, a man caught up to us, asked if we were going inside, and mumbled that he was the owner of the hotel. He asked us what kind of room we were looking for, and naively we told him. He ran ahead of us, and asked at the reception for the keys to show us a room. No doubt he got a sweet commission for his troubles. It really is a different experience backpacking on the bus.

PS. This morning we flew over Nazca in a plane with four other passengers. It was fascinating and wonderful. At 3:00 pm we surprised my parents at their hotel, and they couldn’t believe we were there! It was really great to see them!

Sébastien

This trip is outside the scope of the Association Planète Durable et Solidaire, but we are using the website to keep you updated on all our adventures.