A Beautiful Surprise and a Shocking Crash
Despite initial qualms, northern Peru has seen kindness and fun though a little incident on route downhill to Lima causes our adventurer’s heart to skip a beat
Column by Laura Bingham
I’ve gone from crying out of self-pity on a daily basis and not wanting to crawl out of my safe sleeping bag in the morning to smiling and feeling like the world is a beautiful place and wants to hug me. What a difference a full tummy and a gradual incline makes.
We cycled into Huanuco, northern Peru, and were immediately greeted with cheery faces and the offer of food. Stopping to take a drink from a water fountain in the park, I noticed a little monkey sniffing a plastic bag. He seemed to have a system of tasting the various flavours of crisp packets with his little pink tongue and discarding the ones he didn’t like. Seeing his search for food I thought I might initiate a cross species interaction by giving him some over-ripe fruit from my pannier. I held out my hand and offered a brown platano (banana) to the cheeky little chap. Timidly he edged forwards - clearly utterly aware that I was, as yet an untrusted stranger and he was on his guard. We spent a delicate minute finding trust between man and primate till he took a leap of faith and a literal leap to grab the banana out of my hand. Once his meal had been secured he was off. Scampering fast across the manicured grass until he stopped at the feet of an old man who picked him up and stroked him. He was a pet! Magical animal encounter moment somewhat crushed, I approached his owner, chatted a bit, then spent a memorable half hour mesmerised by this creature, touching is tiny hands, even letting him stick his monkey finger in my ear.
This journey is so hard to write about with falling into cliches. After playing with my new primate friend, Cho and I started talking to a lady who immediately offered up the floor in her restaurant as well as dinner and breakfast. This, bizarrely, I was beginning to treat as normal. But as the evening drew on, a fear was niggling within my body; was this up and coming part of our trip through the Andes going to be the same as Ecuador? Was I going to be hungry, cold, exhausted and having to find every ounce of strength within my body? Are people going to be welcoming and helpful? Or might they turn us away? I was so scared to go back to that place of desperation. The people of Peruvian jungle had been incredibly kind and open, often giving us food and a place to stay, but were they going to be the same within the mountains?
The next day we saddled up and moved out of town. Nervous energy always accompanying our journey into the unknown. Our ascent started, a shallow gradual slope to begin with. I took this in my stride having now changed the bike’s gearing system to now have three front gear rings. But surely the killer steep hill was just around the next bend. It never came. Not wanting to boast I think both Cho and I are now fitter and my muscles are much stronger.
We were up at 3,500 metres before you could say “Oooh that’s a nice view.” The fear of pushing a leaden bike up an impossible muddy near-shear slope was unwarranted. We stopped in the first mountain village at around five. A group of local woman and girls who had finished their chores were playing volley ball in the street. We asked if there was a place we could sleep, maybe in the municipal building? A lady rang the town president but she didn’t know when she would be back in the town to help us so they suggested that we move onto the next town. There was nowhere to stay here. Dread filled me a little as I though this may be the moment of our luck changing for the worse again; nobody being open to helping us. We picked up our bikes and pressed on as we had so many times before. There is no way to describe the raw rejection of asking for help and them saying no. As much as I try to harden myself - it hurts - every time it actually gives me a sad lonely pain in the chest.
Accordingly the gentle slope down into the next town was an apprehensive descent. The line I used in Spanish was: ’Me gustaria pidarte si puedes ayudarnos, estamos buscando un lugar para dormir’ “Can you help us? We’re looking for a place to stay.” A kind lady recognised the fear and worry on my face and took my hand smiling warmly, “You can sleep in my house!’ she reassured me. This had never happened before! The people in the mountains are just as kind as those of the rainforest. I had got my knickers in a twist about nothing - but that’s what happens when you don’t know what to expect up ahead on the road - your mind can’t help but project made-up stories of doom and gloom. At least mine can’t anyway.
With just 100km to Lima it was all downhill. A bit of flat easy road and - hey presto - hello mammoth checkpoint on our journey! Personally I was fantasising about a warm shower and bed at my friend’s house. So much to look forward to! I knew there was a bed waiting for me and we could take a day or two to rest. At around 1pm we decided we would try and get to Lima in one day instead of two. This may seem rash but we were high on the rush of an easy free-wheeling descent and the smell of fresh cotton bedsheets. We may get there late but we knew we had a place to sleep! We did 30 kms in an hour, “This might just be possible!” I thought, then: SCREECH, BOOM, CRASH.
I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to turn around. My heart stopped. From the sounds that came from behind me I had this image of blood all over a car, all over the floor, the body of my friend in pieces spread over the road. There was a weird pause, seconds passed for this image to flash through my head; dread, fear, adrenaline surging in preparation to act, a second for composure and thought about what to do. I turn around. My eyes darted to Cho on the floor in the grass, on the side of the road, OK. “OK! He isn’t under the car! Which is good…!” Running, heart pounding to see what damage had been done to my cycling companion laying on the floor, he sat clutching his chest and side. Recent remote medical training came streaming back into my mind. No bleeding, No broken bones, No lacerations of any kind. Thank God!
I ran back to grab the camera to film the event, Cho was ok - he’s made of tough stuff, now to film and record the whole thing… By the time I had ran back he was up and walking it off. He understandably told me where to go when I suggested he get back into the position where he had landed for the camera. Worth a try! I filmed him as he paced around a bit in a state of shock. His bike and belongings were scattered across the road and trapped under a minivan.
Cho began to describe the events that preceded the heart-stopping noise. It was raining very lightly on and off during our descent, and it probably wasn’t the best idea that we were trying to race down the mountain to arrive at Lima. We were going fast, he hit a little hole in the road, just a small one, but it made his front tire jump a little and, as it hit the ground again, it slipped on the wet surface. Cho lost control of the bike and was sent flying. Then as he got up to move the bike out of the way a van behind him clipped him in the flank and knocked him clear off the road. Although he had all the air knocked out of him he was luckier than the bike. It was crushed under the van and completely un-ridable. Cho’s video camera and tent poles were all crushed and destroyed too.
Cho was taken to hospital by a bystander. He got away with a couple of scratches and bruises and a touch of concussion. Considering the image that my mind had created before I turned around I think he got off lightly. As both of us agreed that evening - God was watching over him - it was not yet his turn to die. 