A mountain-bike expedition to Machu Picchu
Crossing the upstream Amazon hanging on a rope

Except for the well-known Inca Trail, there also is a mountain-bike route to Machu Picchu. Or is there? Climbing endless hairpin turns to 4,300 m, just below the white peak of Nevado Verónica, descending 80 km to an old Inca sign post and through valleys to Santa Teresa. Crossing rivers by rickety suspension bridges and hanging in a little container… and then it’s only a little farther over former train tracks… until the police inquires where we think we’re going.

In most cases, when you book a trip, it goes without saying that you’ll arrive at your destination. In Peru it’s not that clear cut and even less so if you decide to leave the beaten track.
From Arequipa, the White City between three volcanoes in the south of Peru at an altitude of over 2,000 meters , we bicycled a little under a thousand kilometers. We are now in the valley of the Urubamba, the Sacred Valley of the Incas between Aguas Calientes and Pisac, where in the ancient Inca town of Ollantaytambo an impressive fortress used to guard the access road to Machu Picchu. Here, at an altitude of 2,500 meters in the Andes mountains, there was a fierce battle with the Spanish conquerors.
Ollantaytambo nowadays is a nice town where thousands of tourists arrive every year to take the train to the starting point of the Inca Trail or to go straight to Machu Picchu. Our group splits here.

One half is going to hike to Machu Picchu via the Inca Trail and the other half, to which I belong, will go by bicycle and prove that there is another way to reach Machu Picchu than the two well-known routes.
But the plan has a few loose ends. For starters, we don’t have a decent map of the route, only a general map which leads us to believe that this route can’t be longer than a hundred kilometers. We also need a back-up plan, because it looks like there won’t be any places to spend the night on the way.
Fortunately we find an American who says: "No problem for you guys" and then makes sure we have camping gear. He doesn’t seem to have any knowledge of or experience with this route, though.

A not-unimportant detail is that everyone assures us that this route is never and has never been taken.
Still, there are sufficient indications that there is a route. And because many people here think it’s impossible to bicycle up a mountain anyway, we don’t take their comments too seriously. The only thing that people here do, is take the bus up the mountain and then go downhill by bicycle.
We think we can do our planned ride easily in two days, so we merrily start on the first leg, a 40 km climb to the Abra Malaga, from 2,800 to 4,300 m. It’s the most beautiful climb I’ve ever done. At first, you look up to the snowy peak of Nevado Verónica (5,682 m) and four hours later that same peak is almost close enough to touch. What follows is a descent in to a vast and beautiful, 80 km long valley!
Everything that was still fixed, shakes loose. We rode on the worst roads in the world in the last two weeks and this one is no exception. Our camping site, on a fivehundred-year-old Inca sign post, with a stunning view of the valley, is a completely new experience.

Santa Teresa
A beautiful river, but very, very far below us

I got sick tonight and now I try to keep up with the others, while David and Josine take care of me. Henk is scouting the route. We descend from 4,300 to 1,300 meters. From freezing cold to banana plantations, crickets, thousands of birds and especially mosquitos.
We are covered with mosquito bites, which itch terribly (after a few days the itching is over, but then your legs are swollen to twice their size).
Finding the right turn is hard, because there are no signs or directions anywhere. It’s beginning to look like our route really doesn’t exist, or that Santa Teresa, our stop over on the way to Machu Picchu, is a leper colony. This isn’t good, because we sent our only back up, the American, home this morning.
We find the bridge and again we think it can’t be that far anymore. Against our better judgement, because up until now we have seen that most hairpin turns are not on the map, which means that a 100 km leg is in reality 200 km. The next part of the route has an even worse ratio in that respect. It is certainly beautiful, but the road ascends steeply from 1,300 to 2,100 meters, with an average increase of ten per cent.
We arrive in Santa Teresa at 3 PM: corrugated iron roofs, mud roads, houses without windows, shops and restaurants that are not recognizable as such, children in school uniforms, small live stock and dogs everywhere. Animals are slaughtered along the road. We’ve gotten used to it by now.
We rest a little and try to eat. I feel sicker by the minute. Time is running out and where do we go?

A helpful kid is willing to show us the way. We descend stairs with thousands of steps, at least that is what it feels like. A kilometer through the river bed and then we cross a suspension bridge: one of those with loose planks hanging from a few ropes. It’s a beautiful river, but very, very far below us.
The "best" is yet to come: the cable lift. It’s a container the size of a coffee table (and as comfortable), which moves on two wheels over a cable.
We discuss if it’s wise to continue: can we reach Machu Picchu before dark? We decide to return to Santa Teresa and spend the night there.
I see the hotel of my (feverish) dreams in Machu Picchu, with unlimited warm showering, clean clothes and – most important – without mosquitos, disappear from the horizon like a mirage. I am completely sure they don’t have that here.
Our search doesn’t result in anything useful, except: "No, not here, maybe in Machu Picchu." They don’t understand that we have just bicycled over a thousand kilometers to get there, and that we won’t be able to make it today because of the missing bridge.
Eventually we find something, ironically called "Machu Picchu"! This accomodation boasts "warm water". That turns out to be reasonably accurate. There are loose electrical wires attached to the shower and if you put the switch in the right position, the water gets tepid. And if you do something wrong, you probably get fried.
But hey, if you’re looking for excitement and adventure, you shouldn’t whine when you find it. Cockroaches and other creepy crawlers provide lively distraction.

Aguas Calientes
Where do we think we’re going?

After twelf hours of sleep I feel like a human being again. We can’t complain about the price of the room: 7 Sol a night (= 1.75 euro).
At breakfast we decide to take the cable lift. It is a spectacular experience. It’s simple, really: you sit on it with your bike and pull yourself to the other side with a rope.
Still not knowing what is awaiting us, we bicycle through another beautiful canyon to the hydro-electric power station and from there we’ll take old rail tracks for the last few kilometers. The power station is there, and so are the tracks, but they turn out to be still in use. There is a little train station with all kinds of merchants. Maybe this is where all those hikers we saw on the way get their food stocks?
In a good mood we begin our last eight kilometers along the train tracks. But, unfortunately, after two kilometers we are stopped by the local police. Where do we think we’re going? We patiently explain that we have bicycled 1,100 km through their wonderful country and that we are almost at our destination. They explain, equally patient, that we can’t continue and that there will be a train shortly.
After some discussion it becomes clear that we may not have reached our own limits – even though at times we got close – but definitely those of the Peruvian government. We have to accept that.

If we had known that we’d have to wait for five hourse in the middle of nowhere, we might have been less compliant. But the train ride to Aguas Calientes that follows is wonderful and we can take our bikes with us without any problem. Aguas Calientes is no more than Machu Picchu’s train station and apart from that not interesting. We arrive a day later than planned, tired but very satisfied. I will remember the shower in a clean hotel for a very long time.
Janneke, our travel manager in South Peru, has organized transport for our bikes, a speed visit to the Inca city tomorrow at 5:30 AM and a train back to Ollantaytambo three hours later. She clearly has made a dedicated effort.

Machu Picchu
When the sun rises, the effect is overwhelming

It actually is a shame that we have to hurry during our visit to the Inca sanctuary. Of course, we made every effort to be here sooner, so we could experience this World Heritage landmark with the appropriate attention.
We take the first bus to Machu Picchu, hairpin after hairpin to an altitude of 2,500 meters. When we leave it’s still dark, but during the ride it gets lighter and we see more and more of the surrounding landscape with its typical pointed mountains.
On one of those pointy peaks the Incas built a city 500 years ago, which remained hidden for the Spanish conquerors and their ruthless hunger for gold. Only in 1911 the American explorer Hiram Bingham discovered the remains of the city, following directions of a local inn-keeper. There was no gold, but it was an important archeological find. Around five hundred people are supposed to have fled here for a short while, when there was danger from all directions.
It’s getting light and fortunately the sky is clear. We are the first visitors and so we enjoy the quiet. Over 300,000 people visit Machu Picchu annually. The Peruvian government does its best to regulate that stream and limit the damage to the landmark and its surroundings.
When the sun rises, the effect is impressive, even overwhelming. It’s a monument of efficiency, collaboration and craftmanship. Those Incas had time on their hands. Which explains the enigma only partly. If you can spend years to cut and polish stones until they fit perfectly, it helps.
But there is a vision behind it, organizational talent, passion and an unprecedented bent for perfection. It permeated their whole culture and explains for a large part the unprecedented success of the Inca dynasty to incorporate other tribes and rule their empire efficiently.

We don’t have enough time and miss a knowledgeable guide. We really don’t know what we are seeing. And we have to hurry back, because the train isn’t going to wait for us. With pain in our hearts we leave this unearthly spot, but are grateful to have experienced at least a little of its magic.
De train takes us back to Ollantaytambo, where we left a few days ago in blissful ignorance of what would follow. It’s a wonderful train ride, and after a short stop in Ollantaytambo we continue on to Cusco. Two months later part of the train tracks are wiped out by a landslide and 1400 tourists are trapped in Aguas Calientes.
Our return to The Netherlands has started. We relish our memories in Cusco, where we feel at home by now, and say goodbye to Peru with a cozy dinner. Only two days ago we slept in a guesthouse between the cockroaches and I had to pass on dinner.
The last few weeks were an unforgettable mix of enjoyment and roughing it. The trip had many extremes: in temperatures, cultures, eco-systems, quality of life, hardship and coddling, roughing it and relaxing. It has left a deep impression.

In my experience the best sport with clothes on, is mountain cycling. I mean cycling up to basecamp Mount Everest and Machu Picchu, that sort of activities.
Not counting Cornwall (390 m.), the Dutch mountains (321 m.) or the Vosges in France, my bike crossed six mountain chains and I’m still not sure why, let alone why I go on with it? After reaching the age of fifty, one might think that this kind of juvenile extravagances are replaced by more sedate ways of spending holidays, like lying on the beach or go on a cruise. But standing on top of Volcan Poás (2700 m.) in Costa Rica last month, made clear to me that this addiction is probably cheaper and definitely healthier than others.
Some may have their doubts about the healthiness of cycling at heights of 5200 meters, camping in the desert at minus 10 degrees or climbing Mont Ventoux three times a day, but we had more relaxed days as well. Physically the hardest time of our last journey was my body’s reaction to the rabiës vaccination. If I had known the dogs in Costa Rica are as agreeable as the people I would probably have taken the chance.

Our expeditions start normally like many travels; with a casual remark while drinking a beer with cycling friends. You should know that for more than twenty years our rowing team has done some voluntary cycling in the European mountains and to supplement the loss of moisture we would drink a beer now and then. And while we were telling each other heroic cycling stories someone would come up with a brilliant plan. Some of those plans have, from what we remembered the day after, been worked out and a few have even been executed.
Starting with the Alps we have worked ourselves over most interesting European mountain passes and survived. After that we went to see what the passes in Tibet and Peru looked like (see below). And of course we made lists of the passes we crossed and have even become members of the well known Club Cent Cols. The members of this illustrious society have at least done one hundred approved passes, which does not include Mont Ventoux because that is a mountaintop and not a pass (the highest point in a road between peaks).

Climbing the mountains of Costa Rica was different from previous expeditions. One might even say that it was more like holiday than expedition. There is a definite distinction between the two which will probably become clear later on.
An important difference was that Dineke (my wife) joined me this time and it proved to be a successful experiment. You should know that she always thought cycling mountains and heights of 2000 meters or more were beyond her physical capabilities. She was probably right considering the macho way of cycling I always do with friends, but going through the Costa Rican countryside we discovered an excellent compromise between hardship and relaxation.
Crossing the Nicoyan mountains and cycling 90 kms that day was certainly not easy. But strolling the palmbeaches the next was definitely like having holiday.

Costa Rica is a country full of wonders: friendly relaxed people, abundant wild life, hundreds of clean little restaurants (soda’s), mega houseplants

and ten different climates, stunning scenery and good roads (for cycling);
I mean the parts of the roads that are not missing.

The main reasons why this trip was successful are simple: the good company and the decision not to make a plan. The only thing we wanted was to cycle from ocean to ocean and (a silent wish) to climb a volcano.
Costa Rica is only a little bigger than the Netherlands but less flat. It has some serious bumps in the middle that we had to cross to get from Atlantic to Pacific.

Going to the coast at Tortuguero at the Caribbean coast was great fun. We wanted to go there because it is not easy to reach. We tried to avoid places where most people go and succeeded. The swamps of Tortuguero are full of wilder life than tourists. The village reminded us of the seventies, including the drugged man sleeping in the mud. Miss Miriams hotel was very pleasant, a few feet away from the sea, with flyscreens instead of glass window (because of the storm we had to hold on to our sheets that night) and delicious food.

Next morning we were seduced to have a canoe tour with a guide who could tell us amazing things about the flora and fauna of the mangrove forest. Including the story about the ‘Jezus Christ lizard’ which seems to walk over water.
Later on we cycled along the Arenal volcano which was almost visible through the clouds and through a very Swiss like countryside including a Swiss settlement.

And we also stayed at an Italian paradise at the Gulf of Nicoya.

Many Europeans have found their way to the most attractive sites of CR and set up hotels, restaurants, farms, etc. Before them countless missionaries discovered CR as a perfect place to be and to build a church. We have seen hundreds of churches and not two were the same.
After succeeding in reaching both oceans we stealthily approached Volcan Poás. To get near it you have to climb to Poasito at a height of 2000 meters. This was exhausting enough but we had had two weeks of training by now so it was not too unpleasant. Coffee plants were growing everywhere and we tasted what seemed the best coffee in the world.
Climbing to the top of Poás at 2700 meters the next day was for Dineke a personal record every inch of the way. We decided to have an early start knowing that later in the day volcanoes in this country tend to hide in clouds.
It turned out we were very lucky indeed. After successfully climbing up to the crater we could gaze into it for twenty minutes after which the cloudcurtains fell, not to be lifted anymore that day.

We were quite satisfied to say the least, after reaching this second goal of our journey and afterwards returned to the capital.
For our last week we decided to tour the countryside around Turrialba, east of San José. We knew about butterfly gardens, an archeological site and this volcano that was said to be quite active.
The weather had been quite cloudy and wet, which is why the country is so green (in case you may have wondered) but warm most of the time, which was excellent for cycling. But now we had some serious rain so we chose for a guided tour around the 2000 year old city lying hidden in the forest. It turned out te be a good choice.

Our last cycling day we had to cross some more mountains and were glad that we did not encounter the steep eight kilometers climb, which was part of it, earlier.
Our last morning we spent visiting the famous gold museum and Dineke got away with a splendid necklace (from the shop).
Although we are both not too fond (of the hardships) of flying, we have put Costa Rica on top of our list of countries to go cycling in again.

Tergend langzaam kruipt de hoogtemeter naar de volgende ‘deadline’, een woord waar ik op dat moment de humor niet van zie. Een verstandig mens zou al lang zijn afgestapt maar mijn gezond verstand heb ik al veel eerder ergens laten liggen. In het hotel in Lhasa vermoedelijk , toen we het relatieve comfort van dat hotel inruilden voor een fietsexpeditie via Mount Everest naar Kathmandu. Het woord spartaans zal een geheel nieuwe betekenis voor mij krijgen in de guesthouses onderweg, met hun gebrek aan sanitaire voorzieningen en vrijwel al het andere waar wij thuis zo door verwend geraakt zijn.

Ik kijk al lang niet meer naar de snelheidsmeter want dat het niet snel gaat dat weet ik zo ook wel. Het enige waar ik mijzelf nog mee vooruit krijg, is de belofte dat ik iedere honderd meter even mag pauzeren. Het gaat hier weliswaar over hoogtemeters maar erg opschieten doe je zo niet. Ik ontwijk nog een kuil maar blijf zorgvuldig uit de buurt van de afgrond. Die is hier minstens 1000 meter diep.
Nog een paar meter en jawel, ik mag weer van de fiets. Goed zo jongen, 4600 meter, nu nog maar 400. Want veel hoger dan 5000 meter is deze ‘Karo La’ vermoedelijk niet. En dat is maar 200 meter hoger dan de Kamba La waar ik gisteren fluitend overheen fietste. Of was het eergisteren?
Een berg opfietsen doe je zonder af te stappen. Dat zit er bij mij zo ingebakken dat ik mij zelfs nu afvraag of ik dit wel mag doen. Opgeven komt zelfs niet in mij op want dat is nog nooit nodig geweest in de 16 jaar dat passen fietsen mijn passie was.

Ik kruip weer op de fiets en doe nog een trap en nog een paar en het wonder geschiedt: ook hier kom ik boven. Wel als laatste en dat is net als de hoogte een nieuw record.
Later zal ik, na nog veel meer kilometers waar ik mij vrijwel niets van herinner, toch maar in de volgwagen stappen. Ik heb mijn gezond verstand net op tijd weer terug gevonden.
Niet dat het leed nu geleden is. Ik krijg zelfs sterk de indruk dat het ochtendprogramma reuze prettig is verlopen, nu ik achterin de vrachtwagen liggend bij iedere kuil gelanceerd word. Of eigenlijk valt dat lanceren ook nog wel mee maar het neerkomen niet.
De vrachtwagen is op dit moment echter onze enige bezemwagen en de stoelen voorin zijn al bezet.

Van de rest van de dag weet ik alleen dat we kamperen op een heel stoffig veldje en dat ik na 12 uur slapen weer geheel fit de tocht kan vervolgen. Twee dagen later kom ik als eerste en non-stop boven op de ruim 5200 meter hoge Lhakpa La, wellicht de hoogste pas ter wereld.
Een vermoeiende manier om iets te bewijzen maar wel heel bevredigend. Toch nog eens bedenken wát ik eigenlijk wilde bewijzen.

Pieter Parmentier

Tibet by Bike

Cycling in Tibet is hard. Why would someone who considers himself to be a quiet normal family man go cycling in such a country. Or more precisely, why would anyone go cycling there at all.
Most people do not know much about Tibet other than that it is rather high up and far away, and so it is. We knew more about this ‘roof of the world’ than most before we went, but fortunately not everything. But let’s start at the beginning; who are we and why did we want to go to Tibet in the first place!

This expedition started like many travels with a casual remark while drinking a beer with cycling friends. You should know that for more than fifteen years our rowing team has done some voluntary cycling in the European mountains and to supplement the loss of moisture we would drink a beer now and then. And while we were telling each other heroic cycling stories someone would come up with a brilliant plan. Some of those plans have, from what we remembered the day after, been worked out and a few have even been executed.
What we normally did was thinking of a nice place to go for a week and cycle as much as we could. You might think that over the years those weeks became more like holidays and less like cycling up and down the mountains but that is not the case.
You could even say that we have become more crazy (about cycling) and after cycling almost every interesting pass in Europe we ended up at Everest. At Everest Base Camp that is.

But why Tibet? There is not a simple answer to that simple question, but perhaps you will understand at the end of this story.
One reason is that in Tibet the mountains are higher than in Europe. For us that is quite a good reason because we are mountain-pass collectors (I will tell you more about that later). Another good reason is: if we want to do something special we must do it now for we are not getting any younger. I decided to do it this year because I celebrated my 50th birthday this year. And what about these reasons: they say it is beautiful in Tibet; we like to sweat it out; we have not been there before; etc.
The best answer is probably that you should not ask that kind of question – it is just a good idea that needs no excuse.
But only cycling in such a poor country seemed a poor plan, until we found a perfect sponsor project.

Project for the Blind
In May 1998 the first school for the blind in the Tibet Autonomous Region (T.A.R.) opened. Six eager children between 6 and 12 began to learn how to read and write the Tibetan Braille script. This represented the first small step in a project for the blind in Tibet. It was the start of a rehabilitation and training centre that aims to give blind people a chance to participate in society.
http://www.braillewithoutborders.org

We decided that we would try to collect as much money as we could and that all of it would be for the project. This seems very logical but later on we heard stories about ‘sponsor projects’ that turned out to be a collection of money for the journey itself and not for the good cause.

Lots of decisions had to be taken after we had convinced ourselves, our families and some of our friends. A small company called Wout Conijn Reizen had organised a similar journey before, and if there were enough others crazy enough to join, Wout would organise our expedition. Throughout I refused to call it a holiday and I was right, it was not.

The general idea was that we would fly to Lhasa, the capital of Tibet, and then cycle to Kathmandu the capital of Nepal. Quite a simple plan, except that cycling 1100 km at altitudes of between 4000 and 5000 meters and several times even higher than that did not seem simple to us, and it was not. But then again, if we wanted to be lazy we could have gone to the beach.
We supposed that quite a lot of training would be involved but had no bicycles, that is to say, not the right kind of bicycles. Normally our group uses racing bikes to climb the European passes and we were quite certain that they would not stand up to the Tibetan treatment. Selecting and buying an All Terrain Bike was part of the fun and we made the most of it. We discovered that we had quite a lot to buy to be able to survive in Tibet and some of us were lucky enough to receive some unexpected money (inheritance). And then the training could start and that appeared to be another source of fun. If you are not used to it, riding through the forest can be very funny. Especially when your teammate rides through the mud and falls into a quagmire. Yes our humour can be very basic; the more tired we are the more basic it gets.

Satellite
Part of the sponsoring project was our publicity plan and it turned out to be a major project in itself in the end. Again the idea was rather simple: I would send regular accounts of our experiences direct from Tibet by satellite. To some people going to Lhasa and cycling through the country probably seems adventurous enough and they are right of course. But this idea of informing the sponsors on an everyday basis so that they would feel what we felt (so to speak) and could watch our little triumphs, had something exciting to it. I knew that I was taking a great risk by informing hundreds of people before I even knew if all the equipment would do what it was supposed to do. Telephones, solar panels, digital cameras and especially computers tend to stop working at the most crucial moments and they do so in any clean office with lots of power sources around. What to think of bringing it all past dozens of very suspicious customs officials (we travelled the week after the 11th of September!) hundreds of poor Tibetans and a thousand kilometres in a truck on the roughest roads on earth. And then again, would the connection come through. I hoped and expected it would, but I am a very optimistic person (and happened to be right this time).

Our group had grown to twelve and we were an extremely diverse bunch; a very nice bunch though. The day of departure started with sad news; one of our best friends decided he could not come with us. And one hour later the travel agency called to tell that not all of our bikes could come. This was rather strange for we had told them six months ago that we would bring our bikes because we were going to cycle over there.

Altitude
Flying to Kathmandu was easy enough, although landing in a desert in the middle of the night and my sleep and then getting out of the plane was not really pleasant. During the flight we got a foretaste of eating unpalatable meals at high altitude.
Although Kathmandu is an exciting city I will go on directly to tell you about Tibet and perhaps later return to Kathmandu, as we did by bike.
Arriving at Lhasa airport came with two surprises: the altitude, of more than 3600 m. and the distance to Lhasa of 90 km. The air at the airport was sparkling and the surrounding mountains did not look too high, until I realised at what altitude I was already standing. They were all higher than we have in Europe. The highest pass in Europe is the Bonette in the French Alps which is not even 2800 m.

As I said before the pass collectors among us are very keen on (you might even say obsessed by) high altitude passes, and we were feeling like children in a chocolate factory. Later on there were times that we felt like the boy, in one of Roald Dahl’s other stories, who had eaten too much.
We were warned about the first days in Tibet because altitude sickness can easily strike and sometimes even kill you. Just walking up the stairs in our hotel did not kill us but made clear that we should take it easy, at least during those first days in Lhasa. This amazing city with its towering Potala Palace, broad avenues and intriguing Barkhor market area. Large parts of Lhasa look like the Chinese cities I have seen on TV (and that is what they are: Chinese) but there are still some interesting Tibetan areas too where time does not seem to have moved and people show that they have not forgotten all about the old way of life. Especially around the ancient temples like Sera and Jokhang you will find an atmosphere of worship (and the smell of yak-butter-candles) that is very impressive.
Pilgrims prostrating themselves to the ground, monks moving around in their red habits and the smoke of incense drifting around the square.
Of course we also climbed the hundred meters high stairs of Potala Palace, though not on the first day, and wandered through some of its one thousand halls. From the roof you have a splendid view of the city, the valley and the surrounding mountains and to the west we could see the river Kyi Chu and the road we were longing to cycle into the hazy mountain ranges.

Departure
The first stage of our cycling expedition was to be easy enough. Although an altitude of more than 3600 m. was higher than we ever cycled, the road was smooth and flat and even going down along the majestic Kyi Chu river. Some of us thought that this was an invitation to ride at speeds of forty and more but they were punished immediately because they missed the guesthouse and were lost for some time.
About guesthouses I will tell you more later on but the foretaste we had at Chushul was not easily forgotten. Two of the hardships of this journey would be the nights and the lack of sanitary facilities. That was immediately clear. Fortunately we did not know yet how bad the roads were going to be and what the lack of good food, or the absence of appetite, would do to our stamina.
The next morning however we were as ready as we could be to climb our first pass, a mere 4800m, but a good one to start with. As soon as you have passed the bridge over the upper course of the river Brahmaputra, you know that it will not be easy. That is where the tarmac stops and the dust begins. Only 15% of the road ahead was going to be good enough to ride with a racing bike. Forty percent is good enough for a normal car, although the car would not last very long, and another thirty percent is just good enough to ride with an ATB. The last 15% is not good enough for anything but goats, but we did it just the same. As I said: fortunately we did not know yet what was to come. Nevertheless the first pass was not too difficult and the views from the top were fantastic. Far below is the great lake Yamzho Yumco with its amazing ever-changing colours. We met with our first headwind and hailstorm and with much uncertainty about the distance to, and location of, our next guesthouse.

Achievement
It was in this guesthouse that I suffered from my first attack of pneumonia when I got out of bed the next day. Dressing was hard enough and climbing the Karo La (La = pass) was unforgettable. Crawling along I promised myself a stop every 100 meters (altitude) and it worked. I came to the top at 5010 m. in the end and also descended for a while, but later that day my light went out and for the first time in my life I had to leave a stage unfinished. Climbing into the back of our truck was by no means the end of my agony however. On roads like that the only pleasant moments are those when you sail through the air together with the bags and bikes around you. Coming down the next moment is rather uncomfortable, especially when this is repeated hundreds of times.
In the end there was a rather dusty campsite and while I fell in a deep sleep that lasted twelve hours, my friends built a tent around me.  However, just a few days later happened to be time for revenge as I recorded my best achievement ever, the non stop climb of what is probably the highest pass on earth, the 5250 m. Gyatsho La (or Lhakpa La = wind pass).

Meanwhile some of the other team members were having their own problems and triumphs. One well-trained friend even had to decide to break off the journey and return to Lhasa because of altitude sickness. For some of the others the road from Gyantse to Shigatse turned out to be a real killer. We expected this road to be one of the easiest stretches, but as it happened Tibetan men, women and children were turning this road into a disaster. People in high places had decided that this road should be improved and that this should be done all (90 km) at the same time. There will be improvements, no doubt about that, but not this year.

Brothel
When I said that I would tell you more about the guesthouses, this is one of the little stories I had in mind.
They surprised us in different ways. Sometimes they were depressing, with their lack of tap water, decent toilets and safe food. Other times they were great fun.
One day we were cycling along and as we had agreed to camp, the leading group searched for a suitable campsite. We found a superb site close by the river with lots of fresh air and no dogs, children or karaoke lovers in sight. You should know that for several nights karaoke and / or dogs had kept us awake and that we are fond of children but not when they crowd us or throw stones at us.
But anyway it was a fine site and we were rather annoyed when our Tibetan guide said that we should not camp here and that he knew a splendid guesthouse nearby. We knew something about his ‘splendid guesthouses’ and his knowledge of distances but agreed to have a look. One of us went along and came back quite satisfied with what he had seen and ‘it was only eight kilometres more to go’. We did not like that much after a day of more than 100 km. but in the end agreed.
After 12 km. the only building that came in sight was the saddest place I had seen in days but the welcome was warm enough and several young women started making our dinner and serving drinks with gratifying haste. Although I wondered how such a remote guesthouse could employ such a number of girls just for cooking and serving at table I was too tired to draw the obvious conclusion. Next morning however, when the guide was sleepy but in very good mood it dawned upon me that we had slept in a brothel.
I was very sleepy too but for another reason. Sleeping high in the mountains normally gives me some trouble because my heart and breathing take their time to get used to the unusual circumstances. But this night was much worse. For hours I tried to fall asleep and every time I almost succeeded, my breath would stop. Probably not for long but at an altitude of 4500 m. or more a few seconds is long enough to wake you up with a definite lack of oxygen. Later on, at the slopes of Mount Everest, it became clear that even making photographs (while holding your breath) could kill you if you take too many in a row.
For several hours I tried to regulate my breath but it was no use and a fearful experience. Now I knew how asthmatic people must feel. In the end I woke my friend (the general practitioner) to ask him for a sleeping pill and he earned my eternal gratitude when he agreed. My first night in a brothel and I took a sleeping pill!

Everest
If we thought the worst roads were behind us, then Pang La proved us wrong. Especially the first part of the climb was HR (Hors Catégorie) and the word ‘road’ not very appropriate. But we were getting very near Chomolungma, as the Tibetans call Mount Everest. This made us excited enough to conquer any pass, if necessary on our knees. One more guesthouse in a place called Taschi Dzong where a thousand dogs made it anything but a rest house and we would be there.
At dawn on the fifth of October we expected a not so difficult climb rising slowly along the river to Rongbuk Monastery at 5000 m. But again we were wrong, although not about the climb. This time it was the weather that made the difference. The road was not too bad, nor was the climb, there was not even much wind and for the first time in days no dust! But the reason for the latter was that the rain had set in, only to make room for snow when we were gaining height.
As Rongbuk came into sight we were half frozen and had not seen any mountain, not even Everest. The monks of the monastery welcomed us warmly by leading us to a very dark and smoky room to sit next to the stove that was immediately refilled with dried yak-dung. I was so cold that I even dared to ask for the hot yak-butter-tea that they were preparing. It is the national drink and has little to do with tea, it tastes more like broth. But to me it had a heavenly taste and so it should in the highest monastery on earth. It is made with yak-butter, salt, soda and tea. Someone told me that it takes time to learn to appreciate this famous broth but that it is not clear how much hardship you need to do so. Well I had discovered just how much.

Outside the monastery the weather had not improved and that was very disappointing. One of the main reasons to have come this far was the fame and splendour of Everest but what we saw were grey clouds and snow and very cold sleeping halls.
Perhaps our visit to the monastery and the money we left there had an impact on the weather conditions, who knows. Fact was that later that afternoon it improved and we decided to visit Base Camp right away, before it would deteriorate again.
We were very lucky. As soon as we arrived we could see Everest through the clouds and within half an hour it was there before us in all its splendour.
We went out of our minds; laughing and strolling around and taking hundreds of pictures. Our condition will have been influenced by the lack of oxygen that tends to make someone act a bit funny. It did almost knock me off my feet though when I tried to make several pictures in a row and forgot to breathe.

As we were in a hurry all the time we could not stay another day to worship Chomolungma. We were very anxious to know if we could take the short cut and some were very anxious not to climb that horrible Pang La again. Our decision to take the short cut and the fortunate coincidence that the river was low enough to pass brought us to an amazing stage in our voyage, already full of amazing events.
The river was an interesting test and it proved that most teammates were afraid of wet feet. Later on everyone got wet feet plus a very dry throat. We had lots of dust again and strong winds, but for once not only head winds, and the most fantastic scenery we had ever seen. And at the end of this stage (that made a difference of one day) we even had a hot shower and electricity for my satellite report to the home front.

One more climb brought us to Lalung La (5050 m) our last pass in Tibet and the starting point for one of the longest descents on earth. One hundred and sixty kilometres and more than 4500 meters altitude descent were lying ahead of us and we did not mind. After all the climbing we had done so far on unprecedented rough roads, we were longing for some easy cycling. Well it turned out that all the cycling we had done so far had been an essential training for the first part of this descent.
Extremely rough roads, inches of dust and a very strong head wind was probably very good for our Karma but not for our mood. We survived, but only just.
The scenery was again magnificent and the difference between the start of that day and the end could not have been greater. From mountain climate and strong desert winds we dived into the benevolent warm atmosphere of Nepal with tropical forests, exotic smells, bright colours and noisy crickets. The people were very different too; very friendly and relaxed. The Tibetans are friendly too, and even cheerful, but always keep their distance. We left their country with mixed feelings. With great admiration for their cheerful way of dealing with the enormous hardships they face. And with our memory full of images of grand landscapes and breathtaking passes.

Epilogue
To answer my own question: why did we cycle through Tibet?
Well, we have probably proved something to ourselves but we do not know what.

Or as George Mallory said: "I climb Mount Everest because it is there".

Or as Buddha puts it: ‘there is no way to happiness; happiness is the way’.

Pieter Parmentier
parment@planet.nl

    Climbs
- Khamba La, 4794m.
- Karo La, 5050m.
- Simi La, 4350m.
- Tag La, 4050m.
- Tsho La, 4500m.
- Lhakpa La, 5220m.
- Pang La, 5200m.
- Rongbuk, 5000m.
- Base Camp, 5200m.
- Lamna La, 5100m.
- Lalung La, 5050m.
- Dhulikhel, 1600m.

Peru by Bike

Slowly, very slowly I crawl up the mountain. This should be easy after two weeks of cycling through Peru and crossing the Andes from west to east, from desert to tropical forest. The pass is only 2100m high but this is a war of attrition.

What we wanted to do was cycle all the way from Arequipa to Machu Picchu, almost 1100km. Very few people have ever done this, especially the last part.
Not because it is very far but because there is dust, altitude, the roughest roads in the world, vague maps and vague stories, mosquitoes, sickness and camping at sub-zero temperatures. My stomach trouble of last night brings our whole attempt into jeopardy on the very last day. So does the missing bridge. But let me start at the beginning.

Once you have crossed the Himalayas in Tibet, as I did in 2001, you start a similar expedition with some confidence. You have the experience it can be done and know that you can do it. Besides, Peru is lower (the highest pass is 300m lower than the Ghyatsho La, 5250m), less inhospitable and we are pampered by a team of four Peruvians and an excellent travel guide / manager.
However we did not underestimate what was to come: We trained on our mountain bikes last winter and spring more than ever before. We know how best to avoid altitude sickness. We checked and double checked our equipment and read about Peru as much as possible. And still we are surprised, to say the least, which is of course in a way what we had hoped for.
A pleasant surprise is the Peruvian population. They are very friendly and relaxed. I doubt this has anything to do with their huge consumption of Coca tea. On me it had the effect of sending me to the toilet even more frequently than normal. Coca tea happens to ease the negative effects of high altitude, especially the accumulation of fluids in the wrong places (head and lungs).
Wherever we go people are greeting us, helping us and smiling at us. The last may be caused by our outfits which are at least as colourful as theirs but emphasize the contours of the body rather more.

Roads
The country is extremely beautiful, rough and culturally interesting. But road repairs apparently stopped when Peru was conquered by the Spaniards around 1530. This makes cycling rather uncomfortable and tiring.
One may distinguish three categories of roads: the plainly bad ones, the stunning kind and the hideous roads. We had the pleasure of feeling them all but mostly the latter two. The first type looks like the roads we would normally call gravel roads. These were not too bad and sometimes even quite pleasant for a few kilometres. Roads that fall into the stunning group would (in our country) raise questions at city council meetings because they cause damage to 4X4 cars and tractors. Riding a bike on those, stops being fun within ten minutes. This is what we had to put up with for hundreds of kilometres and Peru is not flat! Going up hill you have to start picking up speed again after every stone you did not manage to avoid. Coming down, one is wondering what the next thing or body part is that will become unstuck (I felt fortunate that I did not have false teeth or an artificial hip fitted before this trip). But on this kind of road it is still possible to find a rut which is relatively smooth. These ruts can be anywhere on the road but usually not on the appropriate side. The bends are a different story altogether because here an additional handicap is added which makes cycling more like a circus act than anything else; the road is not flat but tilted, in some places with a camber of up to 30 degrees or more.
The hideous roads are like the stunning ones but lack the nice ruts and seem to go on forever.

Holidays
Discussions during our voyage across the Andes always came back to the topic of: “What are we doing here?” and “Are we on holiday or is this an expedition?”
You might think that this is trivial (and you are right of course) but it does have its merits to think about it. In any case it is fun because at any time somebody would suddenly declare that what we were doing at that moment was certainly not holiday or that it definitely was. Sitting in an outdoor café in Cusco, drinking a beer after an exhausting day seems clear-cut enough and so it is. Waking up in the desert in the middle of the night to find that your drinking water is frozen because it is minus 7 degrees C. inside your tent, is definitely not holiday in my book. Especially not when you wake up later and your tent is frozen too and knowing that at eight o’clock you have to start cycling up the next pass which happens to be more than 4800m high. Of course all this was my own choice but that is not the point and it certainly does not make me feel like the average holidaymaker. Essential for expeditions is that you normally don’t know in advance what will happen, where they will lead you and that you will never forget them. Expedition members usually don’t mind or are even looking for such circumstances. You might say these people are a bit odd. Yes I agree and I am.

Expedition
Let me tell you about a part of our journey which definitely was an expedition. I think you will agree.
It all started when our travel agent told me that part of his Peru offer included walking the Inca Trail. Many people will drool over such an offer because it is one of the most famous in the world, but for me walking is not an alternative for cycling. Cycling is the royal way when you want to see a country. Besides, I broke an ankle long ago which makes walking not a very sensible thing to do. However I very much wanted to go to the destination of the Inca Trail, the legendary hidden Inca city Machu Picchu. The only trouble was, and this became clearer the closer we got to Machu Picchu, that no one had ever undertaken it all the way by bike! Right, that is it, this is exactly the kind of challenge that gets me fired up and I found some soul-mates.

Imagine, it is Sunday and we are riding into Ollantaytambo. This is the place to be for everyone who desperately wants to see Machu Picchu. From here you can either go by train or on foot to the sacred city. The Peruvian government likes to keep it that way because it is surveyable, brings in lots of money and saves the Trail and the city from being trampled on. Five hundred people a day may go on the Trail and that includes guides, cooks and sherpas, or whatever they are called outside Nepal.

We still know very little about our detour other than that the first pass is 1500m higher than the point where we are standing now. Looking at the vague tourist maps we managed to find, makes us think that it cannot be much more than 100km from here to Machu Picchu. We hear stories about a malaria alert and still do not know if the last bit of this stage is at all passable.
The young American hotel owner and travel agent in Ollantaytambo is friendly and enthusiastic enough: “Ok you guys, I can help you, I was there, no problem”. He is fond of mountain biking himself he says, but he means ‘down hilling’ (going up the mountain by car and cycling or rather rolling down).
We agree that he will follow us with his van carrying all the food, tents, water, etc. we will need for two days and one night.

Advantage-disadvantage
It is Wednesday and we are very eager to have an early start. Again the weather is splendid but we are nobody’s fool. The weather can change rapidly in the mountains and above 4000m it will be freezing anyway. The climb to the Abra Malaga pass (4309m) is the best I ever did. To our surprise there is excellent asphalt on more than half of this road and it rises by a very even 5%.
The disadvantage is (as the famous Dutch football player and oracle Johan Cruijff would say: “every advantage has its disadvantage”) that the road is much longer than expected, but this does not worry us yet.
At noon we arrive at the top and are very satisfied because we think that the worst/heaviest part is behind us already. The descent is glorious with stunning views and roads. It seems to go on forever, from 4300m down to 1300m over a distance of about 80km.

Signal tower
In the end we come to a halt in one of the tiny villages along the road and our American tells us: “Hey you guys you are the most fantastic bikers I ever saw. I know a fantastic camping site not far from here”. This place turns out to be ‘fantastic’ indeed but (advantage-disadvantage) it is some distance back up the road.
We have cycled 110km today, feel a bit ‘shaken, not stirred’ (because of the road quality) and are stunned again when we arrive at the camp site. It is an old Inca site with an artificial hill and walls and gates and we are to camp in the middle of all that, on top of the hill. It is one of the signal towers (lighthouses) the Inca’s built and used, to send messages quickly through their empire. This is one of the reasons why they managed their empire so well: The excellent communication. This hill is exactly in the middle of the great crevice which extends from Abra Malaga in the east to Santa Maria in the West (120km).

Another bizarre thing about this place is that we have suddenly landed in the middle of the jungle and can pick bananas from the trees. Early this afternoon we were freezing at Abra Malaga and now for the first time in Peru we have lush and abundant flora & fauna around us. It takes some time to adjust. One other surprise and part of the fauna are the mosquitoes. Too late we discover that the cute little insects are in fact monstrous blood guzzling terrorists who attack silently and unnoticed. After a few hours however you will find bloody holes in all your bare parts which start to itch horribly and continue to do so for days. The holes seem much bigger than the insects that make them. As if they are using chainsaws to cut themselves a way in. As thieves who rob the jeweller shop by driving their car through the shop front. As bank robbers who blow up the whole building to ……. well, you get the point.
After that the situation improves: The itching abates but (advantage-disadvantage) your arms and legs start swelling to about twice their customary girth. This is one of those times we feel less like holidaymakers than ever.
Unaware of the real identity and intentions of our little friends we have a very pleasant evening with a simple meal, cool beers and a fair glass of wine, listening to the birds and the crickets and looking in awe at the scenery and the stars. At last I can see why the Milky Way was given that name.
The night brings unpleasantness to me, though. Or rather I bring it to the night when I wake up with a queer feeling in my stomach that makes me rush out, after successfully trying to find the zipper of my tent. Waking up in the morning I am certain that this is not going to be my day. The four of us leave the American after a breakfast, which we finish too late. “Sorry guys but I ran out of gas and had to switch to plan B to cook you these excellent pancakes”. He does some explaining about the road ahead, not about the number of kilometres and we descend further (which I feel is the only thing I will be able to do today). In the end we arrive in Santa Maria which is much further and lower than expected. It is obvious now that our American friend has never been here by bike or by any other means of transport.

Bridges
Two things become perfectly clear in Santa Maria: there is a lot of climbing ahead of us and we have missed a bridge somewhere. More and more we get the impression that the next town (Santa Teresa) does not exist or is a leper colony. There are no signs and when we find the right road and bridge in the end they are very obscure indeed. People keep telling us that it is too steep for cycling and won’t lead to Machu Picchu. I am just following the others and try to encourage myself with the thought that in Machu Picchu there will be a splendid hotel, hot showers, a clean bed and no mosquitoes in sight. The climb starts soon after crossing the bridge at an altitude of 1300m and continues, hairpin bend after hairpin bend, up to 2100m with an average incline of 10%. David and Josine have taken up the routine of keeping a constant watch over me and Henk is cycling ahead to scout the road.
I manage to get to the top (I still don’t know how) and together we get down again and arrive in Santa Teresa at around 15.00 hours. We have covered 180 km since yesterday morning and are certain that we have to hurry to reach our goal before dark. As you probably know, near the equator it does not grow dark gradually but darkness falls upon you and in these places it gets very very dark indeed.

We do some resting and ask around about the bridge that should lie ahead and how to get to Machu Picchu after that. We hear rumours about a hydro-electric power station and an abandoned railway track. A boy takes us down a thousand steps (that is what I think, in my hazy condition) to a bridge, the first suspension bridge we ever crossed,
I mean with ropes and loose wooden planks, and on we go through the river bed.
It is impossible to cycle here. Getting nearer to yet another river and arriving there, our reactions are very different. Henk, the heaviest of our little group, flatly states that he is not going to pass the river in ‘that’. He points bewildered at the coffee table size cart hanging from a single cable that crosses the boiling river at a height of at least fifteen meters. The other two have a sparkle of adventure in their eyes and me, I see my splendid hotel disappear like the proverbial fata morgana.

After a short discussion we decide that even if we agree to cross now, there is too little time left to reach our goal before dark. We return to Santa Teresa, through the riverbed, over the suspension bridge and up the thousand steps.
We pass some men who are slaughtering a cow at the roadside, some girls who are doing their jump-rope game and boys shooting marbles. It is quite certain that we will not find a splendid hotel but are willing to go for anything with four walls, a roof and a few beds.
My friends ask around and come back with the amusing story that people tell them we should try at Machu Picchu. We have cycled more than a thousand kilometres to get to Machu Picchu and tried rather hard today to get there in time! We have failed to do so and now they tell us to go there if we want beds. A little later Josine comes back with good news which solves the mystery; she has found beds in a guest house. Its name: Machu Picchu. I go there right away, manage to undress myself and drop onto the bed. About that night I have no recollections whatsoever but wake up fully recovered. At breakfast it becomes clear that the night has also brought a solution for our predicament: Henk goes back the way we came by taxi and is happy about it.
The other two will push on (go for the coffee table) and I decide to go with them. This is ‘Indiana Jones’ stuff.

So we go down the thousand steps again and have a good look at the technique of crossing a river by cart. I decide to go first and take photographs of the others. One after the other loads his/her bike onto the tiny platform and then him/herself.
The rest is a piece of cake. Just pull the rope and the cart rides the cable like the chariot of the sun-god. We actually enjoy the ride although starting off is awesome enough.
At the other end a reasonable road (category: plainly bad) goes up along the river and after a pleasant ride we come to the hydro-electric power station and the abandoned railway track. The power station is there and a railway station, but it is far from abandoned. The usual array of traders and little ‘restaurants’ are fully manned and ready to receive a hurdle of acquisitive consumers. We still do not draw the obvious conclusion and think that this is for the hikers we have seen on the way, going to Machu Picchu on foot. We have a refreshment and continue. This is new and fun, cycling on a railway track. We do not get far however. After a few hundred meters a government official stops us to ask where we think we are going.
We patiently explain that these are our last few kilometres (of almost 1100), that we have come all the way through his magnificent country, across the Andes from Arequipa by bike and that we very much want to continue. Equally patiently he explains that there is a train coming and that it is forbidden to cycle on this track.
We realise that during the last weeks we have explored our own abilities to the limits and sometimes got very (perhaps even too) close to them. But here is a boundary we cannot cross.
Five hours later a fully packed train leaves the station, including us and our bikes.
It zigzags up the track and within an hour arrives at Aguas Calientes, the railway station town below Machu Picchu. We are very tired and immensely satisfied.

Pieter Parmentier
Diepenveen, august 2005

Postscript
Yes I admit that I am addicted to cycling up and down mountains. Dineke, my wife, says it is endorphins and I say it’s great fun (and legal). But why the Himalayas or Andes you might want to know? Well this is what I wrote about our last expedition: “This expedition started like many travels with a casual remark while drinking a beer with cycling friends. You should know that for more than fifteen years our rowing team has done some voluntary cycling in the European mountains and to supplement the loss of moisture we would drink a beer now and then. And while we were telling each other heroic cycling stories someone would come up with a brilliant plan. Some of those plans have, from what we remembered the day after, been worked out and a few have even been executed. What we normally did was thinking of a nice place to go for a week and cycle as much as we could. You might think that over the years those weeks became more like holidays and less like cycling up and down the mountains but that is not the case. You could even say that we have become more crazie and after cycling almost every interesting pass in Europe we ended up at Everest, at Base Camp of Everest that is”.

Passing the age of fifty we know ‘the great downhill’ has begun. So in Peru we take it easier. Our highest pass in the Himalayas was above 5200m and in the Andes it is below 4900m. One reason to go to Peru is the high passes. Other reasons are the beauty of the Andes and the spectacular culture and history. We do not need more reasons and we are fortunate with our good health, good family and friends. Without a wife and children to support me and without friends who want to join me I would not even think of doing things like this. Well, think perhaps but not do.

William H. Prescott needed about 1200 pages to describe some of the land and history of (Mexico and) Peru and this is how he starts: “Few of the works of Nature, indeed, are calculated to produce impressions of higher sublimity than the aspects of this coast, as it is gradually unfolded to the eye of the mariner sailing on the distant waters of the Pacific; where mountain is seen to rise above mountain and Chimborazo, with its glorious canopy of snow, glittering far above the clouds, crowns the whole with a celestial diadem.”
The blind historian Prescott, published his ‘History of the conquest of Peru’ in 1846 and continues: “So immense is the scale in which Nature works in these regions, that it is only when viewed from a great distance, that the spectator can, in any degree, comprehend the relation of the several parts of the stupendous whole.”

We had a much closer look but we agree.

P.s.: Before and after this expedition through Peru we collect(ed) money to help improve the diet of the children of the Patacancha valley. The HoPe Foundation in Cusco, which has been working with/for the Indian population in the remote mountain areas for 15 years, developed simple greenhouses. The villagers living in the Patacancha valley build these greenhouses themselves. They get advice and materials from HoPe and improve their diet with the vegetables they could not grow before, because of the harsh climate. We visited the project and have seen the excellent results. http://www.stichtinghope.org/en/stichtinghope.asp

Passes Andes / Peru
Uyupampa 3030m
Arrieros 4150
Toccra 4455
Chucera 4770
Pata Pampa 4825 !
Cruz del Condor 3795 3x
Mirador de Tapay 3747 2x
Tisco 4810
Catu Huitana 4826
Quello Quello 4690
Sullullumpa 4780
Sayhualaca 4700
Challuta 4620
Langui 4325
Corao 3790
Abra Malaga 4309 finest ever
Suriray 2125 sick

Personal record mountain passes by bike:
Passes above 1500m = 164 of which 73 above 2000m, 24 above 4000 and 7 above 5000.

Tibet by Bike

De Gyatsho La is nogal een hoge pas. Ik vermoed zelfs de hoogste pas ter wereld, hoewel de meningen daarover zullen verschillen. Mijn methode om deze Tibetaanse bult van ruim 5200 meter te beklimmen is heel eenvoudig; opstappen en gewoon doortrappen. Dertig kilometer non-stop klimmen, is op deze hoogte weliswaar andere koek dan in Europa maar het principe blijkt weer te werken. Boven gekomen, kijk ik volmaakt tevreden om mij heen; er zijn eenvoudiger manieren om jezelf een kick te bezorgen maar dit is wel extreem bevredigend.
Fietsen door Tibet is in meerdere opzichten extreem. Het is er heel erg mooi, de wegen zijn vaak bedroevend slecht, voor lekker eten hoef je er niet heen en voor de kwaliteit van het sanitair ook al niet. Wat over blijft, is een onvergetelijke ervaring en bergen herinneringen die je niet meer kwijt raakt.

Maar laat ik bij het begin beginnen: waarom gaat een groep vrienden fietsen in een land als Tibet terwijl er in Europa nog zoveel mooie passen zijn? Waarom dat soort ontberingen opzoeken terwijl je op de Mont Ventoux ook moe kunt worden?
Het antwoord is verrassend simpel: we wilden wel eens wat anders. Want als je de meeste bekende cols in Europa al eens beklommen hebt dan wordt dát zelfs een beetje gewoon.
De beslissing was dus gevallen en familie en vrienden voorzichtig gepolst. Twee jaar voorbereidingen en een week na 11 september 2001 stapten we op het vliegtuig naar Lhasa, de hoofdstad van ‘het dak van de wereld’.
Je komt aan op 3600 meter hoogte en de eerste trap die je op moet, valt zwaar tegen. Vier dagen acclimatiseren is in deze fascinerende stad dan ook geen overbodige luxe en al helemaal geen verspilde tijd. We dwalen door de straatjes en kloosters en kijken onze ogen uit. We gaan ook even langs bij het Project for the Blind, de enige school voor blinde kinderen in Tibet, om ons sponsorgeld af te leveren. http://www.braillewithoutborders.org

We sleutelen nog wat aan onze fietsen en dan is het al tijd om op te stappen. Twaalf fietsers en een vrachtwagen gaan op weg om in twee weken de 1100 kilometer naar Kathmandu te overbruggen en te overleven.

De eerste etappe is een makkie, behalve de guesthouse waar we overnachten.
We rijden over asfalt en vermoeden dat we dat soort wegdek verder niet veel zullen zien / voelen. Daarin krijgen we gelijk. Het guesthouse heeft geen stromend water en geen toilet. We denken dat dit in Tibet wel normaal zal zijn maar dat is niet zo. Meestal is er wel iets wat als toilet dienst doet. Ook ontdekken we dat het
‘s-nachts in Tibet veel minder stil is dan overdag; zeg maar lawaaiig. Alleen het soort lawaai wisselt nog wel eens. Hoewel het meestal Karaoke is, komen hondenconcerten en vechtpartijen ook wel voor.
De volgende dag gaat het echte werk beginnen. We verlaten het asfalt en de weg gaat omhoog; van 3600 naar 4800 meter en de pas heet Khampa La. Je moet regelmatig van de fiets want de omgeving is zo fantastisch dat fotograferen nodig blijkt; dan kun je later nog eens bekijken of je dat echt wel gezien hebt. Bovendien heb ik foto’s nodig voor mijn dagelijkse verslag dat via de satelliet en internet naar familie en vrienden gaat.
Boven op de Khampa La genieten we van het uitzicht op het onwaarschijnlijk blauwgroene en reusachtige Yamdrok meer dat ver onder ons ligt.

Na deze hele goede donderdag gaat voor mijzelf het licht uit na de beklimming van de ruim 5000 meter hoge Karo La; of eigenlijk ‘s-ochtends al toen het aantrekken van kleren een enorme inspanning vergde. De beklimming lukt uiteindelijk nadat ik mezelf beloofd heb iedere 100 meter (hoogtemeters wel te verstaan) even van de fiets te mogen. Het restant van die tocht achterin de vrachtwagen (dat is geen pretje), dertien uur slapen en ik ben weer de oude. Mede dankzij de uitstekende (medische) verzorging van de reisgenoten.
Is dat nog leuk? Leuk is geen geschikt woord. De voordelen (de ervaring, het meeleven in de groep, de schitterende omgeving, het gevoel als je zo’n berg hebt beklommen, enz) wegen ruimschoots op tegen de nadelen. Het overwinnen van tegenslagen is bovendien, zeggen ze in Tibet, goed voor je Karma. Ik heb er weinig verstand van maar het komt erop neer dat je daardoor in je volgende leven een betere uitgangspositie krijgt. Dat ziet er door deze dag dus goed uit.

Het weer houdt zich, zoals dat hoort in september, heel goed. Afgezien van een enkele hagelbui is het prima fietsweer met temperaturen tot 20 graden. Over de wegen zijn we minder tevreden. Asfalt komt hier vrijwel niet voor en regelmatig is de weg niet als zodanig herkenbaar. Afdalen is daardoor niet het cadeautje na de klim maar een marteling voor zitvlak en armen. Het is een wonder dat de fietsen redelijk heel blijven en niet zo gek dat er regelmatig iemand vanwege lichamelijk ongemak tot de volgwagen wordt veroordeeld. Een van onze maatjes heeft al na een paar dagen zijn fysieke grenzen bereikt als de gevreesde hoogteziekte verder fietsen onmogelijk maakt. We hebben allemaal in meerdere of mindere mate wel last van de hoogte. Hoofdpijn komt veel voor en ook andere symptomen die normaal wijzen op drankmisbruik maar hier heus een andere oorzaak hebben. Van Lhasa bier wordt je echt niet snel dronken.

We naderen Mount Everest en daarmee ook letterlijk het hoogtepunt van onze tocht. Het weer slaat om en we rijden de hele dag in een druilerige regen die rond de 5000 meter over gaat in sneeuw. We bereiken het beroemde Rongbuk klooster totaal verkleumd en zijn de monniken dankbaar dat ze ons rond de kachel zetten om te ontdooien. Het duurt een tijdje voordat de met yakmest gestookte kachel en de yakboterthee ons weer een beetje richting 37 graden gebracht hebben.
Buiten gekomen, zien we het weer langzamerhand verbeteren. Onze vrees dat we dat hele eind voor niets hierheen gereden zijn, blijkt gelukkig ongegrond. De zon breekt door de wolken en we hebben een adembenemend uitzicht op de bijna 9000 meter hoge Chomolungma (de Tibetaanse naam voor Mount Everest).
Het is ook letterlijk adem benemend want tijdens het foto’s maken, ontdek ik dat je dat moet doen zonder je adem in te houden. Helaas kunnen we niet verder omhoog dan Base Camp want daar hebben we geen vergunning voor en geen tijd. Bovendien kun je daar niet fietsen.

De volgende dag dalen we af om iets nieuws te proberen. Op de kaart staat hier namelijk een doorsteek die ons een dag winst op kan leveren. Dat is belangrijk want we zijn eigenlijk voortdurend in tijdnood. Het is alleen de vraag of de rivieren waar we doorheen moeten, doorwaadbaar zijn?
We hebben geluk. De waterstand is niet alleen laag genoeg; deze etappe is de mooiste van allemaal. Iedereen heeft de beelden van Afghanistan wel op het netvlies en dat ziet er dor en droog uit. Tibet lijkt veel op Afghanistan maar dan minder droog en met meer kleur. En natuurlijk kun je een land beter bekijken vanaf de fiets dan vanuit een bommenwerper. We strompelen door rivieren, klimmen weer tot boven de 5000 meter en de wind wakkert aan tot orkaankracht. Maar het is oneindig groots en mooi en voor een keertje hebben we de wind mee.
En aan het slot van deze etappe wacht een echte douche!

De bevolking van Tibet is verbazingwekkend vriendelijk en vrolijk. Dat is wel vreemd omdat de natuurlijke leefomstandigheden zwaar zijn en omdat het een bezet land is. Met de volwassenen maak je daardoor niet gemakkelijk contact. Met de kinderen des te eenvoudiger. Overal duiken ze op als wij door het landschap schuiven en ze laten duidelijk merken dat ze er zijn en wat ze willen. Na de vriendelijke groet ‘Tashi dele’ volgt steevast de uitgestoken hand met de handpalm naar boven. Heb je dan toevallig niets in je zak dat ze tevreden stelt dan moet je niet verbaast zijn als er een steen langs komt zeilen. Maar we hebben ook heel gezellige ontmoetingen met kinderen. Het gezamenlijk wassen in de rivier zal ik in ieder geval niet gauw vergeten.

We naderen de grens met Nepal en verheugen ons op de laatste vijfduizender, de Lalung La. Of eigenlijk op de afdaling erna want die is met zijn 160 kilometer toch wel een van de langste ter wereld. We ontdekken echter dat de afgelegde kilometers vooral een goede training waren voor deze afdaling. De wind is keihard tegen en het stof ligt zo dik op de weg dat we knarsend tot stilstand komen. Toch is dit een schitterende belevenis (en goed voor ons Karma). In twee dagen tijd daal je van 5000 naar 500 meter en de verandering is enorm. Van de stilte in de geur- en kleurloze woestijn naar de warme deken van het tropische bos. En van de vriendelijke maar taaie afstandelijke Tibetaan naar de sociale en gemoedelijke Nepalees in een omgeving die uitnodigt om je vooral niet druk te maken.

Wij moeten echter nog wel even verder. Weliswaar is de tijdsdruk nu verdwenen en hebben we zelfs gelegenheid om uit te slapen maar we moeten nog naar Kathmandu en de Dulikhel ligt er ook nog. Niet dat we ons ongerust maakten over die Nepalese pas van slechts 1600 meter. Integendeel, dat is pas echt een lekker toetje na zo’n expeditie door Tibet. De enorme hoeveelheid zuurstof die hier in de lucht zit, brengt ons vrolijk fluitend boven en het guesthouse dat hier wacht doet de vele ontberingen snel vervagen. Terwijl de bagage naar onze kamers gebracht wordt en wij op het balkon zitten met een biertje in de hand, kan het verwerkingsproces beginnen.
Hebben we verder nog fietsplannen? Nee, op dit moment dromen we slechts van ontelbare warme douches, grote glazen bier en veel lekker eten. De bescheiden wensen van de vermoeide fietser.

Passen
- Khamba La, 4794m.
- Karo La, 5050m.
- Simi La, 4350m.
- Tag La, 4050m.
- Tsho La, 4500m.
- Lhakpa La, 5220m.
- Pang La, 5200m.
- Rongbuk, 5000m.
- Base Camp, 5200m.
- Lamna La, 5100m.
- Lalung La, 5050m.
- Dhulikhel, 1600m.

Peru by Bike

Vrijdag 12 augustus, internetcafé in Aguas Calientes, Peru.
Voor de meeste mensen die een reis boeken, is het vanzelfsprekend dat ze komen waar ze willen komen. In Peru is dat niet zo vanzelfsprekend en als je de ongebaande wegen opgaat al helemaal niet.
In Ollantaytambo heeft onze groep zich, na een kleine 1000 km fietsen vanaf Arequipa, opgesplitst. De ene helft zal de Inca Trail lopen en de andere helft, waartoe ik behoor, zal eerst naar ‘ons’ groentenkassenproject in Patacancha fietsen en vervolgens aantonen dat Machu Picchu langs meer dan twee routes te bereiken is.
Maar er zijn een paar losse eindjes aan dit plan. Om te beginnen hebben we geen behoorlijke kaart van de route kunnen vinden, slechts een globaal kaartje waaruit we opmaken dat het onmogelijk verder kan zijn dan 100km. Bovendien moeten we backup regelen voor morgen omdat dit buiten het reisprogramma valt en er onderweg geen onderdak lijkt te zijn. Gelukkig vinden we een Amerikaan die zegt: “No problem for you guys” en vervolgens, niet gehinderd door veel kennis van de route die we voor de boeg hebben, zorgt dat we in ieder geval kunnen kamperen onderweg. Een niet onbelangrijk detail is dat iedereen ons verzekert dat deze weg nooit gedaan wordt of is. Toch hebben we voldoende aanwijzingen dat er een route moet zijn en omdat veel mensen bergop fietsen hier al onmogelijk vinden, nemen we hun verhalen niet al te serieus. Het enige wat ze hier weleens doen is omhoog met de bus en dan downhillen (afdalen op de fiets).

We denken het in twee dagen ruimschoots te kunnen doen dus beginnen vrolijk aan de eerste klim van 40km, de Abra Malaga (2800 naar 4300m), de mooiste klim die ik ooit gedaan heb. Eerst opkijken naar een besneeuwde top (Nevado Verónica, 5682) en vier uur later ´binnen handbereik´. Afdalen door een groots en schitterend dal en dat 80km lang!
Alles wat tot dan goed vast heeft gezeten, trilt los. We hebben in de afgelopen twee weken over de slechtste wegen ter wereld gereden en deze is daarop geen uitzondering.
De kampeerplek bovenop een 500 jaar oude Inca seinpost, met magnifiek uitzicht over het hele dal, is weer een geheel nieuwe ervaring.

´s-Nachts ziek geworden. Een dag lang achteraan gebungeld en bemoederd door David en Josine. Henk verkent de route. Doorgedaald van 4300 naar 1300m. Van de vrieskou boven naar bananenaanplant, krekels, duizenden vogels en MUGGEN. We zitten onder de muggenbeten en het jeukt verschrikkelijk (na een paar dagen gaat het jeuken over maar dan zijn je benen ongeveer twee keer zo dik als voorheen).
Het vinden van de juiste afslag blijkt een probleem omdat er geen enkel bord of aanwijzing te vinden is. Het begint er steeds meer op te lijken dat onze route werkelijk niet bestaat of dat Santa Teresa een leprakolonie is. Dit is niet prettig want onze enige backup, de Amerikaan, hebben we vanmorgen al naar huis gestuurd.
We vinden de brug en denken opnieuw dat het niet ver meer kan wezen. Tegen beter weten in want tot nu blijkt dat er zoveel haarspeldbochten niet op de kaart staan dat een stuk van 100km in werkelijkheid 200km is. Het volgende deel van de route slaat in dat opzicht alles. Mooi is het, dat zeker, maar steil omhoog (van 1300 naar 2100m, gem. 10%). We arriveren om 15 uur in Santa Teresa: golfplaten daken, modderwegen, huizen zonder ruiten, winkeltjes en restaurantjes die niet als zodanig herkenbaar zijn, kinderen in schooluniform, kleinvee en honden overal, het slachten van vee langs de weg. Voor ons al heel normaal allemaal. Even uitrusten en proberen wat voedsel naar binnen te werken. Ik voel me steeds zieker. De tijd begint te dringen en hoe verder?

Een behulpzame jongen wil het wel even wijzen. Een trap met duizend treden af (voor mijn gevoel). Een kilometer door de rivierbedding en een hangbrug over; zo´n ding met losse planken aan een paar touwen. Prachtige rivier maar wel erg diep beneden ons. Het mooiste moet dan nog komen: de kabelbaan. Het is een bakje ter grootte van een salontafel (en hetzelfde comfort) wat met twee wieltjes over een kabel rijdt.
Discussie: is dat nog wel verantwoord en kunnen we nog voor donker in Machu Picchu zijn? We besluiten terug te gaan naar Santa Teresa en daar te overnachten.
Ik zie het hotel van mijn (koorts)dromen in Machu Picchu met onbeperkt warm douchen, schone kleren en vooral vrij van muggen, als een fata morgana aan de horizon verdwijnen. Ik weet heel zeker dat ze dat hier niet hebben.

Onze zoektocht levert dan ook niet direct bruikbaar resultaat op, behalve: “nee hier niet maar misschien in Machu Picchu” Dat we inmiddels ruim 1000km gefietst hebben om daar te komen en dat we er door die ontbrekende brug vandaag niet meer zullen arriveren, wordt niet begrepen. Uiteindelijk vinden we iets en het heet: Machu Picchu! Deze accomodatie wordt o.a. aangeprezen met ‘warm water’. Dat blijkt redelijk te kloppen. Losse elektriciteitsdraden lopen naar de douchekop en als je de schakelaar in de juiste stand zet dan krijg je lauw water. Vermoedelijk ook krullen als je iets fout doet, maar ach als je spanning en avontuur zoekt dan moet je niet jammeren als je het vindt.
Kakkerlakken en andere gespuis geven wat gezellige afleiding. Ik in bed en twaalf uur later (vanmorgen) weer mens. Over de prijs van dit pension kunnen we niet klagen: 7 Sol per nacht (= 1,75 euro).
We besluiten bij het ontbijt om toch maar met het bakje te gaan en dat is een spectaculaire ervaring. Hoewel het principe heel eenvoudig is: je gaat er met fiets en al opzitten en je trekt jezelf met een touw naar de overkant.

Nog steeds onbekend met wat ons nog te wachten staat, gaat het door weer zo´n prachtige kloof naar de waterkrachtcentrale en vandaar zullen we over een oud treinspoor de laatste kilometers afleggen. Wel, de centrale is er en het spoor ook maar ongebruikt is het allerminst.
D.w.z. er is een soort stationnetje met allerhande handelaren. Misschien is dit een soort ravitailleringsplaats voor de wandelaars die we onderweg gezien hebben?
Welgemoed beginnen we aan onze laatste acht kilometer langs het spoor. Helaas, na twee kilometer worden we aangehouden door de plaatselijke politie. Waar we heen denken te gaan? We leggen geduldig uit van die 1100km door hun prachtige land en dat we er bijna zijn. Zij leggen net zo geduldig uit dat we niet verder kunnen en dat er straks een trein komt. Na enige discussie wordt duidelijk dat we niet onze eigen grenzen bereikt hebben, hoewel dat soms niet veel gescheeld heeft, maar die van de Peruaanse overheid. We moeten het accepteren.
Hadden we geweten dat vijf uur rondhangen op het stationnetje zou volgen dan waren we misschien minder principieel geweest. De treinreis is prachtig en onze fietsen kunnen zonder probleem mee. Een dag later dan gepland komen we aan, moe maar zeer tevreden. De douche die volgt in een schoon hotel zal ik niet licht vergeten.

Janneke, onze reismanager door Zuid Peru, heeft het vervoer van onze fietsen, ons spoedbezoek aan de Incastad morgenochtend om half zes en de trein terug naar Ollantaytambo om 8.30 uur al helemaal geregeld; wat een inzet en toewijding.
Het is eigenlijk schandelijk dat we ons zo door dit heiligdom haasten. Maar het zal de lezer duidelijk zijn dat we nogal ons best gedaan hebben om hier eerder aan te komen en met gepaste aandacht dit werelderfgoedmonument te ondergaan.
We nemen de eerste bus, haarspeld na haarspeld omhoog naar 2500m. Bij vertrek is het nog donker maar tijdens de rit is steeds meer te zien van het omringende landschap met z’n merkwaardige puntbergen. Op een van die punten hebben de Inca’s 500 jaar geleden een stad gebouwd die zelfs voor de Spaanse veroveraars en hun niets ontziende goudhonger verborgen bleef. Pas in 1911 ontdekte de amerikaanse onderzoeker Hiram Bingham op aanwijzing van een plaatselijke herbergier de overblijfselen van de stad. Goud was er niet te vinden maar archeologisch gezien een fantastische vondst.

Het begint licht te worden, gelukkig is het helder. We zijn de eersten en kunnen daardoor nog genieten van de stilte. Circa 500 mensen zouden hier ooit voor korte tijd hun toevlucht gezocht hebben toen van alle kanten gevaar dreigde.
Als de zon opkomt, is het effect indrukwekkend, overdonderend zelfs. Wat een monument van doelgerichtheid, samenwerking en vakmanschap. Ze hadden de tijd, die Inca’s. Daarmee is een stukje verklaard van het raadsel. Als je jaren de tijd kunt nemen om stenen te houwen, te polijsten en perfect aanelkaar te passen dan helpt dat. Maar er zit een visie achter, organisatietalent, gedrevenheid en hang naar perfectie die ongekend is. Hun hele cultuur was daarvan doortrokken en verklaart voor een belangrijk deel het ongekende succes van de Inca dynastie om volkeren aan zich te binden en hun rijk effectief te besturen.

We hebben veel te weinig tijd en missen een deskundige toelichting. Nu weten we in feite niet wat we zien. Verder maar weer want de trein wacht niet. Met pijn in het hart verlaten we deze onaardse plek maar zijn blij iets van de magie meegekregen te hebben.
De trein brengt ons terug naar Ollantaytambo waar we een paar dagen geleden nietsvermoedend op reis gingen. Een mooie treinreis , een tussenstop in Ollantaytambo en verder naar Cusco. De terugreis naar Nederland is begonnen. Nog wat nagenieten in Cusco, waar we ons al aardig thuis voelen en afscheid ‘vieren’ van Peru met een gezellige maaltijd. Er zijn toespraakjes, bedankjes, cadeautjes en een heuse ‘rap’ (spreekzang).
Slechts twee dagen geleden sliepen we voor 1,75 euro in een pension tussen de kakkerlakken en moest ik het avondeten aan me voorbij laten gaan. De onvergetelijke combinatie van de afgelopen weken; genieten en afzien.
Deze reis was vol van extremen: in temperaturen, culturen, ecosystemen, kwaliteit van leven, ontbering en vertroeteling, afzien en ontspanning. Dat maakt diepe indruk.

Pieter Parmentier