Tuesday 5 August 1997

Ottawa - Pittsburgh – Miami – Guayaquil – Lima

Got up early to catch an 0700 flight to Pittsburgh. Putting on my clean pants I found that I had washed a tissue- scrabbling around in the dark trying to collect up the pieces with one hand and fight off two cats with the other. The new pre-clearance at Ottawa for US flights works well but there's only a roll on Second Cup cut that will not even honor a second cup frequent drinker card.

Via Pittsburgh to Miami and quickly checked in with Saeta. Miami airport has toilet seat covers that are covered in clear plastic which is advanced every time you press a button so that they are always safe to sit on. I resisted the temptation to see what would happen if I pressed the button while sitting on it.

There was much confusion at the Saeta gate. They started with the pre-boards, then tried to board the back of the aircraft. By this time there was a huge crowd milling around. Nobody knew what row numbers were being called and eventually it was just a free for all. I found my seat on the wide body jet and was delighted to find there was a lot of room. Saeta, the airline of Ecuador, has one-class service and they claim it is first class. It was certainly very good and equivalent to business class service in North America. I had salad, chicken formaggio, orzo in basil sauce and vegetables. Dessert was served from a tray and there was a good selection of Chilean wine. The meals were served on porcelain. My seatmate remarked that the service was good and it turned out that he was on the Trains Unlimited trip as well. We got on well together and by the time we had arrived at Guayaquil we had decided to room together.

We arrived at Guayaquil, Ecuador in the late evening and were taken to the transit lounge where we were to wait for our connecting plane to Lima. The main part of the group was here, having spent the last week in Ecuador. It was just like old home week as there were about 20 of the 50 or so whom I already knew. John and Paul from New Zealand, Dave from Australia, Doug from Langley BC., John from New York (this time with his wife), Esther and Peter from Switzerland, Dieter and Johann from Germany and of course the tour leaders, Chris from Portola, California. Fernando from Guatemala and Thierry from Belgium. It was great to be on first name terms with so many people right from the start. As it turned out there were a lot of interesting, pleasant new people. It was an excellent group.

On the flight to Lima I was seated next to a very forward Peruvian lady, Patricia Angeles from Trujillo, Peru. It was a relatively short flight but she gave me a recipe for fish cerviche and told me all about her daughters, one of whom was Miss Peru a year or so ago. She worked in analyzing water quality in the mining region. As we got up to leave the aircraft she asked me to carry her heavy bag down the steps. I did so but made it plain that I wasn't carrying anything through customs for her. I dumped her bag at the Customs hall and said goodbye.

We got through immigration, retrieved our bags and Fernando had worked to deal to pass us in a block through customs. Even though it was 01:00 we had to push through a mob of people to get to the buses that were waiting to take us to the hotel. I noticed that the group was well versed in surrounding the bags and intimidating any potential thieves who just happened to be hanging around.

The hotel quickly handed out our keys but there was a bottleneck in getting to the rooms because the elevators are hand operated and there were only two operators available to work the four elevators at that time.

Wednesday 6 August 1997 - Lima

An easy day today. All that was arranged was an afternoon tour of Lima and the railway shops at Callao. I had a short walk in the late morning and brought a tamale and churros in the street for lunch. This was a silly thing to do on the first day but they didn't affect my stomach. The tamale was corn with some potato while the churro was crisp and sweet with some dulce de leche.

At the introduction to the tour our guide described Lima as “es gris como la estomaca delburro” (gray like a donkeys stomach).. It never rains in Lima, although for nine months of the year there is a heavy fog off the cool sea. This picks up dust and pollution which deposits a thick dirty gray film over all structures. The city is not very pretty. There are some interesting colonial buildings, most of which have been allowed to deteriorate badly. The guide pointed out that the country has tropical fruit and vegetables as well as cotton in the coastal valleys as well as fishing (anchovies) on the coast, metals in the mountains and oil in the Amazon - she likened Peru to a beggar sitting in a gold chair.

We were told only to walk in one direction from the hotel and then only four blocks to the Plaza San Martin. Even then we were not supposed to walk out at night. Lima is not a safe city and the armed guard at the hotel give us a hard time if we tried to go out walking at night. Most people in the street are very short so it is possible to look above the heads of the crowd as in Honduras and Guatemala.

Callao is the port for Lima and it is quite close although it took an age to get there in the grinding traffic. This was made worse by an international soccer game with Brazil which was shortly to be getting underway. There are some flowering trees, hibiscus, African tulip trees, etc., but these do not have the brilliance of elsewhere because they are covered in dust. The workshops are at Callao - nothing special. We returned to Lima to the central square Plaza San Martin. From there we entered the cathedral to view the coffin containing Pizzaro's remains. We walked across the courtyard to see the monastery of San Francisco which was built in 1620. This was full of people and pigeons. There is an inner calm in the cloister and the buildings contain some beautiful carved wood which shows much Moorish influence. There is a large network of underground passageways with a cemetery where the bones have been gruesomely arranged by type. This was done a few years ago when it was decided to open the catacombs to the public. All the skulls are in one place as are the femurs etc.

We were taken to an Indian craft market where I purchased a set of pipes which are called “Sampona”.. Most of the items available are musical instruments and woolen things such as cloths, hats and sweaters although I did try my hand at an Amazon blow pipe, specially shortened to two feet for the tourists.

Thursday 7 August 1997- Lima to Huancayo

Let the adventure begin!

We were up early and taken by bus a couple of blocks to the presidential palace. The station is close by but we had to walk the rest of the way because of security reasons. One does not question these decisions, especially when we were the only ones seemingly not carrying guns. There was a good welcome for us at the station and much confusion as to how to get the baggage into the train. Eventually some of the bags were put in a small bus which followed the train.

Passenger train service over the main line between Lima and Huancayo was discontinued in 1987 as a result of attacks by the Shining Path which blew up a couple of trains - the locomotives being destroyed as they plunged into the valley below. Our train was the first passenger train since 1987. We were made very welcome and there were several people recording our presence with video for the benefit of the tourism trade.

It is difficult to see a great deal of the coastal plain because of the mist but the line climbs right from the start so that by Choisica (km 54) which is 40 km from Lima (Callao is km 0) we had climbed to 2,821 ft at an average grade of 2.79% (the steepest main line grade in Canada is now less than 2%) We had #434, built in Montreal, on the front. These have a reputation for sounding awful but taking a lot of punishment. We were accompanied by several armed policeman, a nurse with an oxygen bottle and our delightful local guide, Carmen. Carmen told us a great deal about the customs of the area and helped me to understand a little of the Peruvian psyche. As we climbed out of the coastal murk she explained the differences between the lowland and the highland people's. It seems one day a team of lowlanders were building a road and were being watched by a highland indian. The indian was fascinated and absorbed everything that was going on. After some time one of the engineers came up to him and remarked that he seemed very interested in what was going on and asked him how they built a road in the mountains.

"Well, señor, we get a donkey to walk along the route until the road is made”

“Really, and what if you can't find a donkey? “

“Then, señor we use an engineer”

Climbing a 4.10% grade, we reached San Bartolome (km 76.0) at 08:35. The air is cooler here and less humid. The locomotive was detached, turned on a turntable, and attached to the other end of the train.

It is here the serious climbing begins starting off with a horseshoe curve through fields of cactus which is used for dye (cochinilla). It is difficult to describe the mountains without using superlatives. We were climbing up the valley of the Rimac river with vast panoramas, terrifying drops, stupendous bridges, clinging to cliffs, gut wrenching, white knuckle etc. The American engineer who built the line, Henry Meiggs, had to exercise a great deal of ingenuity to find a line through the mountains. He used a great number of loops as well as switchbacks where the train ends in a dead end valley, reverses up the side of the valley and then changes direction again so that the train has now gained several hundred feet. I rode in the cab for one of these and was impressed at how quickly they could be traversed. Before the train had completely stopped the brakeman had jumped off and thrown the switch so the engineer could give the backup whistle (three blasts) before the train had completely stopped. We then backed up at full throttle, sometimes for several kilometers, into the second switchback and were ready to go ahead as soon as the train had stopped. In some cases in order to gain sufficient length for the train the tail of the switchback is extended into a short, dead end tunnel.

It was comforting to note additional braking systems in use, dynamic and independent brakes on the engine and automatic and straight air brake on the train. The latter is additional to normal and explains the two brake pipes fitted to all trains.

Puente Carrion was named after a local doctor whodid reesearch into a local disease which was killing many local people. It was a form of malaria. He infected himself and died of the disease.

We stopped for a photo run by at the Puents Carrion bridge (km 84.89). Those on the outside of the photo line had to be careful because there was an incredible drop to the valley below. There are vast curves at Surco, partly hidden in tunnel. It was difficult to maintain a sense of direction because of the curves, tunnels and switchbacks - good job we had a map. There was a stop for orders at Matacana (km 103) at 7,841 ft and we passed a down train near the switchback at Viso where a kestrel was using a telegraph pole as a perch. The eucalyptus tree has gained a firm holding in the valley and provides valuable wood. There are many wild llama in the area.

Visio

One of the group collapsed as he was trying to board the train at Tamboraque (km 120) at 9,871 ft. The nurse soon brought him around with a whiff of oxygen. We had just started off when another member of the group was violently sick. Again, the oxygen did the trick. It was about then that I realized that the oxygen bottle is no joke as I began to feel the effects of the altitude myself. I had a mild headache and was breathless. Was I to be next?

It was now lunch time. It was served by smartly dressed waiters in white shirts and black ties. The fried egg, ham and cheese sandwiches were washed down with mineral water con gaz and followed by coca mate which is supposed to be good for altitude sickness. Coca mate is made from coca leaves although I think one's bladder would give up before one felt the effect of the cocaine (it is illegal in the USA). The nurse was continually patrolling the cars giving us all a deep scrutiny.

Casapalca                                                                                                    Chinchan

Casapalca is at 13,600 feet and I began to feel better with some food in my stomach. Maybe I was feeling faint from lack of food rather than lack of oxygen. The mountains were covered with wet snow and it was overcast. At Chinchan (km153) we reached a wide, high valley and stopped for a run past. We had just started again when the brakes went on hard in emergency. We stopped just short of some large rocks between the rails. Our thoughts turned immediately to the Shiny Path and everyone was ready to dive for cover as the crew got down to remove the obstruction. The police fingered their automatic weapons. It turned out to be a boring rock slide and after much work to clear the track we were able to proceed. In the valley below we could see a truck which had turned over near a hairpin bend.

A short stop at Ticlio and as we entered the Galera tunnel I dashed for the toilet and peed onto the tracks. The tunnel at 15,688 ft, is the highest point on the line and is the watershed between the Pacific and the Atlantic so that my water would make its way into both oceans. With a silly grin on my face I returned to my seat as we broke out into daylight and stopped at Galera (15,681 ft ). It was difficult to make out my emotions. This is the highest main line railway in the world and there is only one higher (narrow gauge branch) line. (subsequently superceded by the Chinese in Tibet).I have dreamed about making this trip for nearly 50 years - ever since I was old enough to be trusted to look at my father's cigarette card collection- Railway Wonders of the World.

Galera

As we dropped down towards La Oroya we could see increasing signs of mining activity. Some of the streams were a nasty brown color, out houses were constructed over streams and cars were abandoned in most unlikely places. La Oroya is a mining town with cliffs towering all around. The restaurant car staff tried to earn some money by charging over the odds for beer. They tried to set it for $5 but it should have been 5 soles- the exchange rate is 2.60 soles to the dollar. Even so, one had to be careful drinking beer at this altitude. If you try pouring it into a glass it will bubble up because it is bottled at sea level. It is best to drink it out of the bottle. The alcohol will quickly go to one's head at this altitude so it is better to drink mineral water.

La Oroya

We added some gondola cars to the front of the train. These helped to reduce the fumes but gave us a great deal of slack action as the train was now running downhill with the cars bunched up. The gondolas were dropped off at Llocllapampa which looks almost Welsh. We jdescended gradually, now in the dark, to Huancayo which is at 10,725 ft. There is now only about one train a month on this section and we made good time. There were a lot of people waiting to greet us at the station. I stepped down to shouts of “Welcome to Huancayo” and into the glare of TV lights and flashlights. The local chamber of trade was making the most of our visit to persuade the government to reinstate the passenger train. We disengaged ourselves from the hugs of the local ambassadors to keep an eye on our bags although I thought any potential thieves would have been lynched by the locals, so happy were they to see us.

Buses quickly took us to the hotel and Bill and I decided we needed something to eat. One of the ambassadors told me that we would not be able to find cuy in the evening but only for lunch. We walked out and almost straight away found a restaurant advertising cuy con salsa mani. Maybe it was left over from lunch. They were about to close, but, as this was the most expensive thing on the menu, the owner seemed pleased to servve us. So now I have eaten guinea pig cuy picante.This is a specialty of this part of the Andes but the sauce, with peanuts and chili is only prepared in this valley. It took some time to figure out that “mani” is the Latin American word for “peanut”, the more common word being “cacahuete. The meat was good but a little fatty and the sauce was very rich. Of course the anatomy was different from anything I have ever experienced before. The plate came with rice and potatoes and with a very large beer the meal cost $3.75.

Halftime score: Colin - 1 cuy - 0

Friday 8 August 1997 – Huancayo to Huancavelica

It was cold in the room last night. Peruvians combat this by the use of large numbers of thick heavy blankets.

Huancayo

The railway line to Huancavelica is narrow gauge (three foot) whereas the line from Lima is standard gauge. The narrow gauge station is across town from the standard gauge one at which we arrived last night. This section of line has always had a passenger service, in spite of Shining Path, because there is no good alternative bus service. The route to Huancavelica runs down the valley of the Mantaro river and then up a side valley. Huancavelica is at 12,065 feet.

We arrived at the well-kept passenger station well before the scheduled departure of our charter but after the departure of the first passenger train. I purchased some bananas from a lady with a stall outside the station and was met by a whole bunch of people, many in local costume, in the wide circulating area by the train. The local TV and Chamber of Trade was recording our every move and I think they had more cameras than we did. Hostesses, smartly dressed in white blouses and dark navy suits were circulating with trays of drinks called chicha de jora. This is a milky brown drink made from quinoa, a native Indian grain. It is not alcoholic itself but will ferment in one's stomach in a couple of days. Have to make sure I keep things moving.

We were given a demonstration of a local dance by four boys and four girls in their teens accompanied by three men with guitars. It is called sarui in Quechua. The grain harvest is carried out in the mountains in June and July. On the full moon of these months the unmarried men and women go out to thresh the grain. The men want to prove they are good workers while the women wish to demonstrate they can sing well. They started off with a girl singing to wake the men up and they both begin to thresh the grain. The men start to drink chicha, get drunk and fight amongst themselves. They then start to argue with the women and there is some pushing and shoving. Eventually the women show a little interest so that finally the man picks up a woman and carries her off. This still happens in real life today although most of the marriages are already arranged. The next day the boy goes to the girl's father and apologizes for what he has done to the daughter while the boy's mother goes to him with a bowl of soup to see what shape he is in after all the fighting, first of the other men and then with his prospective wife.

The dance depicts this up to where the man carries off the woman. The last man to leave was small and stature and he dropped the girl so they were both rolling around on the floor. The girl was upset that he had spoiled her exit and caught him a whack around the ears as she ran off.

Today we had even more people accompanying us on the train.

Nurse with the oxygen bottle
Armed guard
Two waiters
Five stewardesses
Three men with guitars
Carmen, our local guide
Conductor, engineer and three brakeman
Representative from Inspector General's Department (Lima)
Railway Supervisor

No wonder the train seemed crowded. The stewardesses were 18-21 and were studying tourism and hospitality at Huancavalica. There is a special tourist train going to Huancavalica on Sundays and returning on Mondays and they go out on this to gain experience. I gave one an Operation Lifesaver pin and each one, in turn, came and sat down next to me and started talking and would eventually get around to asking for a pin. In this way I managed to have a Spanish lesson from each one so everybody was happy. It's a surprising that their French is better than theie English. Many have learned French at L'Alliance Francaise both at Lima and Huancavalica.

We set out under a cloudy, but bright, sky. They use the same diesel locomotives on the section of line but provide them with narrow gauge trucks. So we were treated to the familiar chant of a Canadian locomotive sounding as if it were coming apart but pulling hard. This particular one needed some adjustment because every time the engineer gave it full throttle, there would be clouds of dense black smoke and flames would shoot out of the exhaust, sometimes two feet in the air.

Huancavalica is set in a white fertile valley. Many people were working in the fields while the women were washing the clothes in the river. People wore bright clothes with red scarves. The line runs onto a high embankment and crosses the river. We stopped on the other side and clambered down to the valley to get some pictures as the train backed to crossthe bridge and came forward. There was a double run passed at this point so people could change their camera angle. It was here that I met Senora Gomez who was just returning from the river with her daughter and small son, Alexander. They had been washing clothes in the river when this bunch of gringos invaded the area from the train. She was amazed that anyone would want to photograph the train and even more surprised when I told her the list of countries from which we came. Alexander was still a little small to get it into much mischief. He had red chubby cheeks which is common with children born at such high altitudes.

Senora Gomez with daughter amd Alexander

The valley quickly narrowed and became V-shaped. The fields are smaller and there were many sisal plants, with yellow flowers, on the hillside. Some rock formations were impressive with twisted and contorted layers. I rode the cab from Izcuchaca to M. Caceres. The cab layout was similar to yesterday's. The engineer knew the road and controlled his train skillfully. He used the dynamic brake a great deal which bunches the train but creates a high-pitched whine. We had a couple of boxcars in our consist. We met a couple of opposing trains, both of which had six or so passenger cars and both of which were full. Because there is a regular passenger service on this section of line there was lots of activity at each station at which we stopped. We stopped at most stations to pick up train orders. Each station stop became an opportunity to meet people and buy fruit and snacks. Many people would make funny remarks in Spanish. If I responded in Spanish they would reply in Quechua and laugh at my blank look. It was all in good fun. Everywhere we went and everything we did was duly recorded by the cameras of the Chamber of Trade.

At one point we went into a siding for a meet at a remote location where the valley was steep and narrow. As the approaching train came around the bend a man came scrambling down the cliff at high speed and gave a packet to one of the train crew. The hills seem to be almost unscalable at this point yet people must be living just over the top.

We arrived at Huancavalica while it was still light. It is built in a high wide valley and there are many adobe dwellings. There were many people milling around but the guard kept them at bay while the bags were transferred to the buses. We rode off to the hotel behind a police motorcycle escort with lights flashing.

El Presidente is the best hotel in Huancavelica and stands on the central square, Plaza de Armas. It is quite basic and the wooden floors are polished with a mixture of wax and kerosene. After some while the kerosene sticks in the back of one's throat. The holes in the sheets were nicely darned and the toilet and shower was a common one, segregated by sex, down the hall.

The Plaza de Armas is pleasant and the stores are well maintained and there are small triangular gardens. There were lots of people walking around in the evening. All were dressed in dark clothes, hats and scarves and seemed to look colder than it really was. We ate at El Restaurante Roy which was not bad - beef steak a la Parrilla with a great amount of rice and some fries.

Saturday 9 August 1997 Huancavelica to Huancayo to La Oroya

Today we retraced our steps back to Huancayo and La Oroya. I slept well under the vast weight of the blankets but the temperature in the room dropped through the night from 56° to 50°. We heard some fireworks in the night. The locals celebrate on Friday night so that they will be sober enough to go to church by Sunday.

Huancavelica means a straight, tall stone. The earliest signs of habitation in the area of cave paintings from the Chavi culture which are over 7,000 years old. The Spanish had a great influence in the area. The natives worshipped the old gods through small stones. If a Spaniard came across a native unexpectedly he would not realize when the native dropped a stone that this was a form of worship. There was a vast underground city under the church and square. This contained an underground bullring as well as five churches.

We were taken back to the station and had to wait a little while for our train. There was a small local market in the freight yard where people were loading a gondola car with fruit and vegetables for villagers down the line. A lady who sold me some bananas told me that there was a feria (fair) today at Yauli.

We left town under a cloudy sky although it looked more promising and we hoped for some sunshine. We stopped quite soon after leaving Huancavelica to take some pictures in the hills. We stopped by a tunnel in the middle of nowhere when a woman and her children appeared walking down the track, and to our amazement, through the tunnel. The countryside appears to be empty but there is always someone around.

There was an unscheduled stop for a braking problem with one of the box cars at the front of the train. The crew fixed it by completely dismantling the entire brake gear from one end of the car within about 15 minutes - amazing.

We didn't get much chance to see the feria at Yauli but I purchased a colorful chullo or hat from a boy who had a number to sell. It seems that each town has a different, distinct pattern/. The chullo is very warm as it covers my ears. There is a strict protocol among our group, everyone must stay in the photo line so that there are no rail fans in people's pictures. Locals are exempt because they add color. I tried to claim status as a local with my chullo which would allow me to wander out in front but this didn't work - I wasn't surprised. The chullo was a very good friend until we got away from the cold weather. I even slept in it.

We were told to expect a longer stop at M. Caceres. There was a group of people in local costume with a small band including a Peruvian harp. I was one of the first out and was immediately offered a glass of cana (cane rum). This livened up the occasion so far as I was concerned but was complicated by the fact that I had the only spare glass and there were others waiting to try some. I took it back in one go and felt very happy afterwards. They asked us to join the dancing but the altitude was soon have put a stop to such exertion.

Many people were out and about as it was Saturday afternoon. People were carrying large white lily type flowers which are called cartucho. On the approach to Huancayo many people were strolling along the tracks. One young man was impressing his girl by playing chicken with the train. He eventually left the tracks and turned his back to the train were upon the engineer through an oily rag which hit him in the back of the head. At Huancayo there were tears from one of the hostesses who had to say goodbye to Danny, the 23 yeah old youngest member of our group.

At Huancayo we had a change from the narrow gauge train from Huancavelica to a standard gauge train which would take us to La Oroya and eventually Lima. There is a dual gauge track across town between the two stations at Huancayo and so we were able to ride across town. There was some complicated switching which finished up with the two train standing side by side on different gauges. The photo was made even more interesting by the fact that the locomotive numbers were consecutive although with different gauge trucks. Another interesting rarity was that we had traversed the same piece of track in different gauge trains.

The trip across Huancayo was a riot. The tracks go along one of the main streets which were full of stalls, it being Saturday afternoon. To make matters worse, the street was still under repair so the cars were all over the place. Many of the women had long double pigtails which are joined together with black ribbon. We went very slowly nudging the errant car or stall holder out of the way. At the second station there was a wait while the restaurant car crew decided to go into town to buy supplies. They had only had almost 2 days waiting for us to go to Huancavelica and back.

And so the first passenger train in almost ten years left Huancayo for La oroya. There was a photo stop at Malpaso and we we stopped to pick up the gondolas we had dropped off the other day - they had been filled with silica. As night fell the sky cleared and we were hopeful for clear weather for tomorrow.

La Oroya is a company town (the Cerro de Pasco company) and we stayed in the company private hotel. It was quite well appointed although it was very difficult to find our rooms and we certainly did not appreciate having to backtrack up and down stairs with our bags at this altitude (12,272 feet) . Dinner in the miners dining room was substantial with soup chicken and fruit.