4 happy fellas outside of Patakancha |
It started years ago when I met Ben. We had raced on the same Baja 1000 team in
07. Before that, I met his older brother Scott at college and started a friendship
that has blessed my life many times over. Over the course of our Baja training,
I had come to love Ben like a brother. As we have talked about riding in Peru
one day, he finally took up the challenge and said YES. Not only him, but two
solid young men came along for the ride. Garret and James are outstanding
riders. I first met them in Yerington, Nevada in the USA for a dirt bike
retreat with a large church from Sacramento, California. I was able to ride a
full day with these guys. It was there that the decision was made to join up in
Peru for a ride of a lifetime.
Fast forward a bit to July 2014. My wife, daughter, and I
picked up the group. Ben brought his wife and son. Maria also joined us.
She and James have a thing going. The six of them were to join about 55 others a
few weeks later for a Campus Life experience on the Salkantay Trail to Machu
Pichu.
It was fun getting to spend time with the first part of the
group before we left. The time passed quickly as the anticipation for the ride
grew fierce. It really hit home about
the time the guys joined us at the headquarters of MotoMission to prep the
bikes. We had to make sure everything was perfect. Brakes, clutches, tire
pressure, everything tightened and ready to roll… On top of that, a world cup
game was to be enjoyed. During halftime, many a moto vid was watched in order
to get our hype on. It was a great day of preparation.
Day one quickly came. It was wrought with gearing up. We had
to pack for 4 days of off the grid riding. Our plan was to come to some form of
civilization each night. However, I have had numbers of experiences of this
type and know the possibilities…Or at least some of them.
DAY ONE…Wednesday July 2, 2014
The Sacred Valley above the Salinaras Salt Mines |
Still clean...and already smiling! |
This section was fun. We freerode around the edge of the
lake. There was mud, perfect natural grass, implanted boulders to race through and
launch off, and then the views. We rounded the lake, crested over another high
point to reach the top of another valley looking down into Lake Piuray. Sorry again
for the views. The ride down to the lake was riddled with rain washouts and
downhill track. Not much of a walking trail, but the riding was incredible. Just
don’t fall into the crevices that the rushing rainwater had created…We may
never find you.
Getting ready to conquer a large hill above Huacahuasi |
The ride continued to a place called Maras; another Inca
town overlooking the Sacred Valley of the Incas. It is a beautiful landscape. Something
you could literally stop each minute to take a picture. We paced our pictures
as we had a lot of trail to cover to reach our planned destination.
From Maras, we took down some of the most fun, rhythmic, and
exhilarating mountain biking trail that one could imagine. Needless to say, it
fabricated many a smile. We reached the salt mines, passed through on our
bikes, then out the bottom on a 5 star trail to the bottom of the Sacred Valley. The boys
were happy.
We moved through the valley to reach a gas station in
Yanahuara. We filled up and made the plan to cover a lot of ground in a short
period of time. It was high speed to the tiny little community of Patacancha.
Once there, the trail turned into gold. I think we all could agree that it really
couldn’t get any better than that.
Little kids returning back home after school were running
along with us as we grunted up the rocky inclines. Our hearts were pumping so
much blood because of the work of hanging on to the bike, but also because of
the needed supply of oxygen to our cheeks and faces as we grinned from ear to
ear. We were behind schedule and I, the responsible guide, wanted to reach our
destination by nightfall. We would eventually see how that turned out.
The ride through the area was riddled with views of grazing
alpacas, glaciered peaks, and streams of crystal clear water. The route had
everything you could imagine. Rock, perfectly smooth rhythm sections, moss
fields with spongy green goo to ride through, springs, and then of course the
hill climbs.
No apology needed for the views... |
We bombed down the sketchy single track toward the
Huacahuasi valley. Our daylight was escaping us. I had changed my goal from
reaching the end point just before dark, to reaching the valley floor at just
before dark; neither happened. It became a theme for the rest of the tour. It
became sort of a requirement to never reach the end point until it was well
after dark; Kind of like we planned for it. Not sure who made these plans, but
it wasn’t Uncle Scotty (That’s me in the third person).
We made it to Lares after a thrilling night ride down to the
valley floor. The sun and moon lighting up the almost blue glacier whiteness,
the battery powered Andino music playing from a random rock hut nestled in the
valley when we stopped to take a break. It was surreal. Not sure why I get the
privilege to do this, but I am happy to be the one who’s doing it.
The hot springs in Lares came shortly after the nice dinner
in town. We ate well, then returned to soak in the springs until our beds were
screaming at us to prepare for the following day. It was good. And the evening
and the morning was the first day.
DAY 2…July 3, 2014
We awoke to the sound of the river rushing below. It took me
back to camping with Grandpa as a kid on Deer Creek. It was the same kind of
sound. Beautiful!
Ben made it with flying colors...a tough climb! |
Up from the hot springs we climbed to the community of
Quisharani. It’s postcard worthy. There were too many places to stop and take
pictures. We did our best to keep the pace. The last time I was on that trail,
we got to the end of the 15 mile section in the middle of the night. We took a
lot of pictures and a lot of breaks on that ride. I didn’t want to do that this
time. I wanted to get out while the sun was still up.
The ride out of Quisharani was stunning. There is no better trail to
ride. It is 100% perfect. When God created Earth, He laid that trail down
knowing that one day, Uncle Scotty would ride his dirt bike through there with
a couple of other suckers that wanted a real adventure. That one day had come.
We worked our way up the trail to reach a couple of alpine
lakes, huge boxed canyons with seemingly no way out, and through some of the
most breathtaking scenes that one could imagine. It was good!
James assessing the damages...Hole in the clutch cover...ouch! |
Ben and I realized at that moment that Uncle Scotty, had not
brought the Soldimix(Peruvian JB weld). It was still in the bag of other
goodies that were in the “must pack” Ziplock bag back at the house. Lares was
only a few miles back and it would be good to have the Soldimix as there was a
good chance we would need it again. We rode an hour back to town, fixed the
hole in the clutch cover, then rode an hour back to reach the guys. Bike fixed,
and up the trail we went.
It was incredible. We were two hours behind, so we did the
best to keep going. However, the altitude and difficulty of the terrain prevented
us from going more than a short section at a time, before we either stalled
out, pooped out, or crashed. Within an hour, we reached the prettiest place on
the planet; a small alpine lake that sets at the bottom of “Misery Hill.” That is what the final climb to the abra was
called the first time a moto had passed. Ben, Garrett, and James would eventually
understand why it was called such a thing.
Ben making his way up the trail |
I pointed up to the top as they began to question even more
as it did not appear to have any trail. They were mostly right. There was a
trail, but there was not a motorcycle trail. It was our responsibility to turn
it into a trail for bikes. The lone Quechua hiker on his way to the next pueblo
decided to watch the whole ordeal. I am sure he was a bit entertained. It must
have been kind of like getting free tickets to an extreme Red Bull hard enduro event.
He smiled as we approached where he was sitting. He kept watching until I reached his
location, then he took off up the trail only to be seen a few hours later on a
ledge watching the mayhem below on the other side of the abra.
We hammered our way through Misery Hill. It earned the name.
The incline is so steep, the terrain is so loose, the altitude is so high, and
our bodies were so spent. Nevertheless, with a tow strap and a lot of pulling,
and pushing, we reached the top. It was a prize. The view made it all worth it!
From the abra, we had a lot of tough sections still to
cover. It was fun riding the high ridge to reach the valley that we would
eventually need to drop into. The moonscape that the altitude created was
picture worthy to say the least. There was only a small window of time to make
it to the bottom of the valley. My goal, was to reach the bottom by nightfall. It
was going to be close…
We come over the top and down in to the upper part of the
valley. The ride was so enjoyable, that one forgets that there is no oxygen to
be inhaled. Nonetheless, we made our way down the side of the canyon, to a
section that daunted us in a number of ways.
Misery Hill...Garrett and James figuring out why it has that name... |
From that point, there were some
sections with a difficulty level of 10 out of 10. We worked our way down the
rocky ledge, which had a bit of a drop on the right. No need to worry about
that as long as we stayed on the trail.
Uncle Scotty on top of Misery Hill...Prettiest place on the planet! |
Ben had been right behind me. When
I put my eyes on the situation, he had just landed on a very small dirt patch
on the side of the mountain. There were
no other places he could have landed and made it out alive. As I realized he was
stopped, my attention turned to the cartwheeling moto that had catapulted down
the abyss. Side over side it rolled. Then, it turned and went over end. In
seconds, it had left my sight after a huge springing off the cliff below. I
remember yelling the simple word, “NO!”
Within seconds, a lifetime of
emotion hit me; not only me, but each of us. We each had our own perspective.
Garret had his camera rolling. He was behind James. I saw the video. It was
hard to go through it again. James, was right above the place where Ben ended
up. Ben sat there with his elbows on his knees and his hands gripping the top
of his helmet in utter despair. It was a moment that will never leave my brain.
It was a life changer.
What happened next was what made
the adventure all worth it. When one experiences a brush with eternity like
that, there are many lessons to be had. The schooling had begun.
I started screaming at Ben in a
deep concern to let it go. I was so happy that he was stuck to the side of the
mountain. I made sure he was physically OK. I knew that he had just began an
emotional journey that wouldn’t end anytime soon. We all began our own journeys.
Almost to the top Garrett! |
During the mental hours that were
compressed into the seconds of the event. Millions of thoughts raced through my
head. Ben had a wife and baby back in Cusco counting on me to bring him home.
What would I say to her? What would I say to Elijah, his son, when he got old enough to
understand why his daddy was not around? What would I say to his brother, my
dear friend, who trusted me enough to send his little bro to Peru for a dirtbike
adventure? What about Anita, Bens mom? She would be arriving in a few days with
a group to join up with us. What would I say? It haunted me deeply as I
scurried over towards Ben. I remember having this enormous sense of gratitude that
Ben was still in my sight. Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow! It was a
song lyric from a hymn that I grew up hearing. You can call it whatever you
want, but it was not Ben’s time. I was praising God that Ben’s time was not on
my watch.
The landscape is incredible.. |
Too many photo ops! |
Los Cuatro Guapos... |
actual wreck, but he certainly heard the screams and the bike hitting the rocks down at the bottom of the valley.
At a moment like that, I had to
step in and make sure we were all OK. Time stood still for a few moments.
However, we had to get out of there. Riding down that rocky ledge was sketchy
enough in the daytime. At night, just plain stupid. “Guys we gotta get out of
this place now!” I said as I felt we were as ready as we could be. “Ben, get
walking! We can deal with the bike later. Right now, we need to get down to the
bottom of the valley.”
It was a somber trip out of the
valley. I could not imagine the emotion that was ripping through Bens head, but
it was a long journey. Garrett, James, and I had to get our bikes off the cliff side.
We cautiously limped our bikes. We were scared
to death to keep riding. Ben used up a close call and we
certainly didn’t want to cash in another one.
At that point in the day, Garrett,
James, and I were a bit gun shy. I could not ride very well. Fear had gripped me. My balance was messed up. I was tense. I was focused on all the tragedy that could happen. Its not the ideal way to ride dirt bikes. One must focus on what is desired; not what is feared. That is MOTO 101 basics. We were all shaken up. I really did not want to ride anymore for a while, but it had to be done…so,
onward we traveled.
Light disappeared. The stars came
out. When one is so far removed from light pollution and so close to the stars
themselves, they seem fake. We worked our way out of that canyon under the most
divine blanket of night. The circumstances were tough, but the experience, was
a life changer.
We had a long ride before reaching
our final destination. Ben, an experienced rider, and James the smallest of the
group, rode double on the sections that were smooth. There were very few, but
they took turns navigating the best that they could. Garrett and I also worked
our way to the valley floor. Time was nothing at this point. We would make it
out, but when, it did not matter at this point. Night was night.
Thanks God for putting that in our path! |
“Bridge Out” was the sign that was
missing. The four gnarled logs that once supported the earthen bridge, had been
stripped and left spanning the two sides of the river. It was no place to
cross. Disheartened, we had to overcome. Without much discussion, we each began
to build a solution to reach the other side. Garrett found a somewhat low spot in
the water under some trees. It was not an easy one, but doable. We all agreed
that it was the best place to get to the other side.
Within minutes, a couple of men returning back to Cancha Cancha from the valley below had come up to our location. Entertained, they explained that an hour more of walking and we should be to the bottom. I was able to make a friend. Patricio was one of their names. And he had a horse. I thought it might come in handy upon our return…if that was to be on the agenda in the future. We had not yet talked about that. We had to get out of the canyon.
Within minutes, a couple of men returning back to Cancha Cancha from the valley below had come up to our location. Entertained, they explained that an hour more of walking and we should be to the bottom. I was able to make a friend. Patricio was one of their names. And he had a horse. I thought it might come in handy upon our return…if that was to be on the agenda in the future. We had not yet talked about that. We had to get out of the canyon.
Patricio told us to stay on that
particular side of the river as the trail was a bit easier. Not sure how it
could get any more difficult, but we did as he suggested. The 4000ft elevation drop
into the town of Huaran was brutal. Garrett and I managed. In fact, We started
the process of enjoying it a bit at certain moments. Ben and James did the best
they could. Riding two up is not a good thing on a trail like that.
This was the resting place for the fallen bike...Not a bad view! |
We found a hostel, grabbed a late
dinner, and called it a night by returning back to our rooms to ponder the day’s
events. Sleep would normally be easy to be had, but the emotional distress of the
day created a storm, in at least my head, where I could not go to sleep. I
found myself weeping in the middle of the night. I just wanted to put my arms
around my wife and daughters. They were hours away, but I wanted them more than
anything. I think Ben would have thought it weird if I had asked him to cuddle
with me, especially in the middle of the night.
I managed and saved my hugs for the next morning.
We were able to devise a rescue
plan for the following day. My wife was called before we went to sleep. It was
so good to hear her voice. Ben also got a chance to talk with his wife. And the
evening and the morning was the second day.
DAY 3…July 5, 2014
Looks OK, but not even close.. |
The plan was for James and I to
ride in up the gnarly trail to get our bikes as close to the crash site as we
could. We had hiking boots which carried us from the bikes to the base of the precipice
in which the bike lay below.
Armed with our GoPro’s rolling, knoll over knoll, we got close to where
the bike had to be. With much anticipation, James let loose. “Seat…we got it!”
he pointed out. We made it to the crash site, or at least a small part of it.
This is what we found at the bottom of the rocks... |
Within minutes, James and I set up
to handle the recovery. Without much discussion about it, we knew what needed
to be done. Find the bulk of the crash and round up anything that was worth
taking back.
James found the motor. It was
still intact with the frame; Destroyed, but intact. We set up a time lapse to
document our rescue efforts, sent a sat phone message back to my wife in the
Sacred Valley, and then rolled up our sleeves and got to work.
I think we can pound that out... |
We all worked on the main portion
of the bike. Most everything else was spread up and down the hill in a swath of
pieces. We managed to get much of it done before Ben and Garret had to head
back for darkness reasons. James and I had our bikes down below, so we
continued to work.
Ben and Garrett packing out the first load of parts... |
We made it down to the trail head
with only a few get offs. Our bodies were toast, our packs were full of
salvageable parts, and my wife, daughter, Garrett, and Ben were waiting at the
trailhead with water, food, and more clothes to help us back to the Sacred
Valley. We met up for dinner, ate well, told a million stories, and the three
of the remaining motos carried Garrett, James, and I from Urubamba back to
Cusco via some incredible trails.
A good meal is priceless! |
DAY 4…July 4, 2014
With much thought and contemplation,
it was determined by some of us in the circle around Ben, that he really needed
to get back on a bike. He was devastated. I am not sure of all the emotion inside
his mind, but I felt like it was a life changing moment. He needed to get back
in the saddle. Bikes are one of his passions. When he told me the day before that
he was done riding, I cringed.
That is how Ben lives. That is how I live. I can understand that he has had a traumatic experience as all of us had just two nights before. However, one cannot stop living because one almost died. My motto is that it is better to die living than live dying. I also received a phone call from Bens older brother asking me about the situation. He fully agreed. We had to get Ben back on the bike.
That is how Ben lives. That is how I live. I can understand that he has had a traumatic experience as all of us had just two nights before. However, one cannot stop living because one almost died. My motto is that it is better to die living than live dying. I also received a phone call from Bens older brother asking me about the situation. He fully agreed. We had to get Ben back on the bike.
Our plan was to put the
pressure on Ben if need be. I think between Ben’s wife, Ben’ brother, Garrett,
James, and I, there would be nobody that would take “NO” for an answer.
Besides, we still hadn’t reached the pinnacle of the trip: Picol Mountain.
The Cross on Picol Mtn...Overlooking Cusco |
Once it was time to gear up, I
passed out all the clean jersey’s, gloves, and necessary items of protection.
It was game time. Garrett was a bit under the weather and so bowed out for the
last section. Ben, James, and I were ready to roll.
We fired up the bikes, left the
driveway, and headed up toward the cross that lay in the backdrop of my world.
It stares down at me each morning as I look out my window when I walk down the
stairs at my house. It’s not a haunt, but more of a challenge. The cross is at
14,300ft above sea level. It is as steep as a double diamond ski route. It is a
special place for me. I can rise up above the city in the morning, via moto of
course, and take in a breathtaking view. The wind is always blowing. The
temperature is always cold. There is no noise but the airplanes that pass below.
That’s right, it’s above the airplanes.
As we worked our way up towards
the cross, we took a super section of single track that winds its way up the
base of the mountain. Once about a third of the way up in elevation, we reached
the last section of trail that takes you all the way to the cross. It’s a
grueling spot, full of terraced ledges and side hill to reach the ridge. Once
on the ridge, it is nothing but throttle and a good grip all the way to the
top. That is exactly what we did!
Within minutes of the longest hill
climb imaginable, we arrived at the cross. It is an experience that many will
never have a chance to experience. It’s kind of like being part of an exclusive
club…only a handful of riders have ever seen that view via dirt bike.
We snapped a ton of pics, talked
about the thrill of the ride, then headed back down the hill. The single track
down the mountain created many smiles, gave many a thrill, and took us to the
base of Picol Mountain where MotoMission headquarters is located. Into the driveway,
we parked the bikes. The official tour was completed, however, the experience of
the ride will forever be engraved into our minds.
From the incredible ride on the
first two days, to the horrific accident at the end of day two, to the recovery
of the bike on day three, and to finish it off with reaching the cross on day
four, it really was an adventure of a lifetime.
Combine that with spending time
with three amazing men, overcoming enormous obstacles, and being surrounded by
the most scenic views this side of heaven, it was a ten out of ten experience.
I must say thank you to Ben,
Garrett, and James for joining MotoMission. Also, on behalf of the Altivas
Canas Children’s project, we say thank you. Until next time, keep the wheels down.
After the tour was over...
Epic moto trail... or walk... |
It was a long day. Three of the six were fighting stomach issues. I was one. Fever, vomit, diarreah, and cramping were sjust the beginning. We had just overcome some of the most difficult hiking any of us had ever done. We should be able to do a little six and a half mile hike up, then carry a 150 pound pile of metal back on a couple of poles...so we thought it would have been easy.
it was only 150 pounds... |
As we hauled our two eucalyptus poles and straps up the trail, we quickly found that the weak would be best left behind. I was in that group. I could hardly move. In fact, I ended up laying down behind a pile of rocks to get out of the frigid wind that was swooping off the glaciers above and down through the valley. With a fever and fighting back the vomit and diarrhea, I was worthless. The rest of the guys went ahead and began bringing the rest of the bike back down the 6 and a half miles to the trailhead.
Not an easy task... |
Within minutes, I tottered over to a group of 3 Peruvian men who were building a rock wall. They were up to their ears in concrete and mud. It mattered little to us. We just needed willing help. I made them an offer that they could not resist. It was equal to maybe a couple of weeks of wages...just to carry a moto down the hill.
Within minutes, they had taken the weight of the bike off of our shoulders. They left us in the dust as they began to scurry, or better known as running, down the path toward the trail head where we began our journey earlier that morning. It was a good hour and a half later that we arrived. It was dark.
This is the ledge that claimed the motorcycle...Rough landing! |