Day 958
35 Tunnels
So, could today's ride beat yesterday’s climb? I mean we had achieved pretty much a lifetime’s ambition, this surely couldn’t top it? Well reader, what was to come was mad, bad, dangerous but also awesome, we were more afraid at times than we have ever been, we made it, but only just.
First of all, I must confess that we didn’t actually need to ride this part of the canyon. We could simply stay on the 3N, and blast away to a rest in Caraz. Even the 3N wasn’t daft enough to come this way. But how could we resist, a 50 mile downhill, stunning steep rainbow-coloured mountains on each side of us, the valley at times so narrow that the only way through was to create endless tunnels, 35 in total, a raging torrent of a river thundering below us. Majestic eagles soaring above us, and those views! We even rode past ruins of a pyramid and settlement from 4,500 years ago. Yes, the first 20 miles of the road in was destroyed by a recent cyclone and repeated rockfalls, but a lot of the remaining 80 miles was pretty good. Yes, it’s best avoided if it rains as that causes the rock falls and landslides, but the promised 12 hour downpour hadn’t materialised and surely all the rain we’d had recently was away in the hills?
We couldn’t say no, and off we went. The road was awful, steep, loose rocks, it was a struggle to stay upright. I hated it. Just what had we done? Then the road disappeared altogether and we simply rode in the tracks made by other vehicles through, what I can only describe, as a river flowing through a landslide. If it makes the cut, you can see me being miserable as Tom filmed me having a meltdown at this point.
Onwards and downwards, we went. Finally, after nearly 20 steep miserable miles we reached flatter ground. By now the canyon was so narrow, steep mountain on one side and a raging river on the other, that there appeared nowhere to camp. Fortunately our ever reliable Matt had made a note of a good stop on iOverlander and we headed to the ruins of a building which enabled us to pitch the tent out of sight of the road. It was beginning to dawn on me that actually the river did appear somewhat swollen and as the heavens opened we realised the 12 hour forecasted downpour had arrived to make conditions even worse. Not good.
When we woke it was still raining heavily but we had no choice we had to get going, no point staying in the tent, and anyway we both needed to pee! The road was definitely in better condition, if not actually tarmac, maybe it would be ok. Only it wasn’t. As we rode along, we got caught repeatedly in rock falls. First we would hear the tinkle of small stones coming loose and dropping onto the road, then the bigger stones started. There was no options but to pedal like mad and pray. I simply cannot believe we got through without being hit. Time and time again the rocks came down, both of us were so scared. Although this road is generally quiet, it usually has a vehicle going through every ten minutes or so. I had been contemplating hitching a lift, as being inside a vehicle should be safe, but the way those guys drive didn’t fill me with confidence. However, no vehicles past us for over an hour, and then we saw a digger coming towards us. We realised that the road behind us was blocked, no option now but to keep going. Then I rounded a bend and the road was full of recently fallen rocks, I managed to find a way through but Tom was caught unawares and his front wheel hit a rock, and he and his bike were flung towards the edge of the cliff. I head him scream, his front wheel was heading over the edge, somehow he managed to throw himself sideways and backwards onto the road, then hang onto his heavily laden bike to stop it plunging down 100 feet or so on the rocks and into the river below. The look on his face, the terror clearly etched there, will stay with me forever.
If a helicopter had turned up then and offered us a lift to the nearest airport for a flight home, we’d have taken it. This being real life no helicopter materialised and we still had miles to go. Finally after 3 hours of gradual downhill riding we reached the 3N on its way up from the coast, and the end of this part of the canyon. Then in dawned on us, that the 3N actually does go through the canyon, for 50 miles, uphill, oh boy. At first it wasn’t so bad, the canyon was more like a valley, but we knew we had a least another 20 tunnels to get through so it must narrow at some point. And so it did, but all seemed OK. Then at about tunnel no. 20 we saw a diversion sign, there had been a massive landslip, the road beyond the tunnel had been destroyed and a make shift track had been created beside the flowing river. It didn’t look safe, we paused, wondering if we could push across the landslip where workers were busy creating a new section of road. In the end we decided to take the diversion, Tom didn’t film it, we just wanted to get away from that river. Sure enough, when we re-joined the road the workers had already blocked what was our exit, so no vehicles could head out that way. We were through, but we had yet another closed road behind us. We still had miles to go.
The sun was out, the rockfalls appeared to have stopped, we just had to dodge the fallen stones and be blown away by the view. The road left the canyon at one point and bizarrely we can across a spot selling top quality home made sorbet and ice-cream. It even had a room to rent. So, we settled down for the night and ate more ice-cream than was strictly necessary. In the morning, our nemesis the 3N returned to the canyon, we rode through our most loathed town of the trip, it will remain nameless, then headed on, riding for a while with a Colombian couple. Finally, the canyon was left behind us, and we as taking a few days off in Caraz to rest, recover, update the blog and probably drink a stiff brandy or two.
