Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm and Amazon Animal Orphanage, a short boat ride from Iquitos, where founder Gudrun Sperrer gave us a personal tour. Pupating caterpillars just aren’t as photogenic as a sleepy sloth. The sad story is that there is even a need for this place, a place where Peruvian children finally learn that big blue butterflies don’t come from little blue butterflies; shockingly, the metamorphosis of butterflies isn’t taught in school so Sperrer hosts field trips.
Passengers are an afterthought on these life-lines to Iquitos and many small villages along the Amazon’s banks. You buy space, bring a hammock to hang crossways above the deck, vying politely for some personal space. The hammock is where you sleep, and sit during the day. We became very familiar with our hammocks over the 48, mas o menos, hours it took to Iquitos. We also met and “talked” to our close (very) neighbors and crew. One family was returning to Iquitos with a new baby, either four weeks old, or four months, we couldn’t discern,
It was quite a ride over the final ridge of the Andes, steep and increasingly verdant, filled with village roadside life. We knew the heat would come, and it has. We are resisting air conditioning, even though is is sometimes available, hoping to quickly adapt to the heat. We have kept the days short, trying to be done by early afternoon, when heat stress begins to take a heavy toll. The andes end abruptly at Tarapoto, Peru but are immediately replaced by the Andes foothills, steep and lovely.
In the village of Pongo, I ordered a common soup in Peru, Caldo de Gallina. Usually it is chicken noodle soup with a leg or thigh, sometimes an egg stirred in while cooking. Not this time. I got the real deal. I turned over the chicken back and found it filled with chicken innards. Now, I grew up on a farm, and we ate the heart, gizzard and liver of the chickens we slaughtered, but let the rest of it go to the hogs. After closer inspection I discovered a complete egg, shell and all, just ready to be laid. That was cool. I ate it,
After Cajamarca we succeeded in topping out the Andes’ first high ridge on a rocky, dusty road at 3765 meters. Claire began coughing at the most excellent bicycle resort, (an earlier post) and I at first thought it was the thick fine dust we’d been subjected to over the pass. It wasn’t dust. By the time we reached Celendin, Claire was as ill as I’ve ever seen her, coughing violently and choking. I was very concerned, and mentally planning how to store or abandon Zippy and get us back to Lima. She did improve over the next two days, but certainly not enough to consider cycling. We took a bus to Chachapoyas, and stayed for a week, where I got my current lung infection. Bummer.
A group of photos taken during our trip through Peru. Food, bull fights, llamas and alpacas, people and some beautiful scenery…
We arrived in Celendin during a big fiesta week, on the day of the bullfight. We made our way to the still-under-construction bullfight ring. After careful consideration of the rickety contraption, that would soon hold, we hoped, a few thousand people, we selected seats (rough cut boards) on the second level fronting the ring. Our strategy, should the thing start rocking, would be to jump into the ring, and take our chances with the bulls. This was not to be. Lack of language had led us to think the event was free to all, and seating was open. No. Just at the end of this video, we were unceremoniously escorted from our seats. Apparently a family group buys a whole section, and we were trespassing. Oh well, we were able to see a couple of bloody bull deaths later on local cable TV in our (no water, but cable TV) room. That was close enough.
It’s all part of being travelers. Sometimes things don’t turn out as expected. The day began beautifully; a 300 meter climb, on pista (pavement) for a change. Sunny, lazy dogs, Zippy behaving, and a change of landscape over the top. Our legs felt good. It was to be a short day, 40k to a village just big enough to have accommodation and food. We found the food, but wasted an hour looking for the hospedaje, and failed to find it, after being pointed to all corners of the village.
We went to an agricultural fair in the Peruvian Andes and were surprised at just how much it was like our own county fairs. There was even a cuy (guinea pig) queen, lots of farm animals, food and even a limited but very popular equestrian jumping competition.
We had cuy for lunch. A little greasy and not much meat, but not bad tasting. Claire shot some video. Many photos coming.
PS. We love Cajamarca; brightly painted, clean, good food and music, friendly people who don’t seem to look at us a tourists. Maybe it’s because Gringoes don’t come here. More Andes tomorrow.
Photos from Peru by Bob Rogers
This llama waited patiently for his “seat” to open up on the bus, had some help getting seated and settled in for the ride.
We bussed to catch up, after a long story dead end in the We could understand a few concepts of his sermon: Music of Satan, Movies and marijuana. He appeared be genuine, coming close to tears at one point. The bus seemed to be less than half with him, some clapping and singing hymns he led. He wasn’t Catholic, and that may have accounted for the lack of enthusiasm on the part of many. Evangelicals are making big strides in South America, and Catholics aren’t too happy.
As usual when bush camping, I eased in and out of sleep throughout the night, keeping time with the changing positions of stars and Milky Way. It cooled through the night and we snuggled off and on, spoke quietly about the stars, and the shadows on the canyon walls cast by the odd passing vehicle, watching for a cessation of movement or change in motor sound.
We rode and walked a complete spiral around the neighborhood before we finally found the legendary Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo. “Mi casa es su casa.” Lucho’s wife, Aricela warmly snuggled up to me on the couch though I was grimy and tired from travel. Bob connected with Alan, another tandem captain to talk tech and other cyclists came and went through the chaos.