We are in the car, the heating on full blast, the windows wide open. We drive slowly uphill and downhill. We manage a maximum of 15 km/h, even though the engine has to deliver maximum power. And the fuel gauge is dropping faster than it should. We hadn’t expected it to be so slow and we definitely didn’t have enough petrol. This was going to be exciting.
300 kilometres in 24 hours driving – that’s what we managed on our two-day tour through the valley of the Incas’ last refuge. Or as they prefer to call it: the Valley of Resistance.
Peru is known among overlanders for its adventurous roads. We got to feel that here. Still full of confidence, we decide in the morning not to drive through the Amazon lowlands, but to take the more scenic route over the mountains. According to Google Maps, it’s not that far and it won’t take that long – 10 hours, according to Google. Well, Google, as so often here in the south, we shouldn’t have trusted you. (How Google keeps misleading us will be the subject of another article at some point).
The route is beautiful. It takes us through the tropical rainforest, through coffee plantations, past mango and avocado trees full of fruit. Unfortunately it’s steep, the trees are high and we can’t reach the fruit. But we still enjoy the view.
The villages are small, rather poor, but neat and tidy. Every house has a small flowerbed, which is now in full bloom in the southern spring. As I said, really beautiful.
The last refuge of the Incas
The valley is known as the last refuge of the Incas after the Spanish conquest of Peru. It is thought that 20 000 fighters hid there and fought for their independence for 38 years. But the story begins very differently. Manco Inca greeted Francisco Pizarro when he arrived in Cuzco in 1533, and Pizarro recognised him as an Inca governor. However, Manco Inca became increasingly dissatisfied with the Spanish leadership, who demanded too much gold and silver as taxes and did not tolerate traditional beliefs. Manco Inca saw that his figure was nothing more than decoration; he no longer had any power.
He therefore tried to take back the city. With the promise of bringing the Spaniards gold statues, Manco Inca was able to leave the city and raise an army. He returned with 10 000 men and laid siege to Cuzco for nine months. But none of this helped. After several battles and when the Spanish obtained additional aid, he retreated with his men to the valley of Vilcabamba. Manco Inca was murdered in 1545 and his sons were unable to put up much of a fight against the Spanish. His son Tupac Amaru, who took over the leadership of the resistance, was finally sentenced to death in 1572 and publicly beheaded in the main square of Cuzco. This was the end of the resistance.
4500 metres up and back down again
The valley is not far from Cuzco, but difficult to reach. Even today. The route is long. The road is narrow and winds through the Andes from valley to valley. From 1000 metres to over 4500 metres, from the green of the Amazon to the icy fog. We passed the first pass. Four more to go.
Traffic is light, fortunately, because in most places there is not enough space for a vehicle. Many of the slopes have slipped, and we have to cross small streams again and again. And yet in the furthest corner there is still a small house made of stone and clay, and horses, sheep, alpacas and llamas graze in the meadow.
Up and down, up and down, this goes on for hours. The Toyota can’t cope with the altitude. Not enough oxygen, less power. The heating is on so the engine doesn’t overheat and we don’t have to stop. But we couldn’t go much faster anyway, because the road has too many bends.
When it got dark, we asked in a village if we could spend the night there. But it’s just starting to drizzle and the teacher tells us to drive to Amaybamba. Otherwise we might not make it the next day. The rain keeps making the road slide. But at the moment it’s fine, he says, he’s often driven at night, so it’s fine. So ok, two hours down the mountain it is. Luckily, we don’t see the abyss.
We arrive completely tired, one last food stall is still open and there is fried chicken. It tasted better than expected and the cook’s children peppered us with questions. The area is famous for its coffee, which is why foreigners sometimes come here to visit the companies, or as missionaries. They don’t know any other white people. We gave each of them a foreign coin: one euro and fifty swiss-cents. And we received a beaming smile as a thank you.
Where do they have diesel?
The next morning the search for fuel continued. We don’t have much left in the tank and the reserve is almost empty. The Toyota has used a lot more fuel on this trip because of the altitude. Normally our 90-litre tank lasts for 450 kilometres.
We asked for petrol in the villages along the way and were always put off until the next village. But the teacher from the day before was right: we found what we were looking for in Amaybamba. In a little grocery shop there were three large plastic fuel tanks. After asking several times, we found what we needed to fill up and got three gallons (approx. 10 litres) in a bucket and a funnel to fill up the car with. No sooner said than done and off we go. There should at least be just enough in the tank to get us to the main road.
Up and down, up into the cold of the mountains with a view of the glaciers and then back down into the heat of the barren valley. Up through the cloud forest, down along the plantations.
Beautiful, but endless. At some point we just want to get back on a tarmac road and find a proper petrol station.