El valle de Huancabamba hacia abajo (sin vuelo)


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Tratando de seguir la ruta de los conquistadores españoles yo continué el río hacia abajo. Había solamente una posibilidad de despegue a lo largo del camino, pero fue difícil de estimar los condiciones del vuelo entonces no me atreví de volar. Considerando solamente la cantidad y la fuerza de los termicas habría sido ciertamente posible de volar a lo largo del valle.
Fue otra vez una región donde extranjeros raramente dan un paseo, pero es un valle hermoso con habitantes amables.



Detrás de Sondrillo el río se convierte en un canyon entonces generalmente tienes que tomar un desvío sobre Chirimoyo en 2440 m (chiri = frío, mayo = río o muyu = bola). De allá descendé otra vez al valle a 1500 m.
Vista desde el paso: Volar o no volar, ése es la pregunta...


Abajo en el valle caliente de nuevo. Una bromelia hermosa, florece como parasito en plantas más grandes, aquí un cacto. Solamente algunos metros fuera del río la región está seco come el desierto.


Repetidas veces desvíos alrededor del río meandro. Aquí intenté vadear a través del río pero el corriente me arrastró adentro junto con mi paraglider y todas mis cosas, así todo fue lavado a fondo.
Cada punto verde en el banco del río contiene una charca, un jardín aislado pequeño, donde se cultivan los plátanos, las naranjas, la cañzo los limones. El maíz o las patatas prosperan mejor 800 m arriba en las pendientes. Los campesinos de abajo y arriba están negociando todo el año a lo largo de pequeños caminos escarpados, penosos.


Camuflaje perfecto. ¿Cuántos burros hay en este foto?


La última vez que yo tuvo que cruzar el río. Al muchacho que me mostró el lugar le doy un pequeño libro. Estoy otra vez sorprendido del efecto. El es completamente feliz y fascinado, se sienta inmediatamente y comienza a leer.

Aquí en Sulaca/Polvasa comienza la ruta hacia abajo a lo largo del río que conduce a la carretera Chiclayo-Chachapoyas. Los habitantes de la aldea me dicen que un carro va a llegar a medianoche para volver otra vez río abajo.

Del diario:
"For the last time I cook the everlasting rice with chicken broth in the evening and wait. Indeed punctually at midnight two heavily loaded trucks arrive. They contain everything, that has to be brought here from the city, among other things many hundredweights of artificial fertilizers.

Wrapped into thick blankets the newly arrived campsinos and their wives sit down next to their property and wait for the dawn, when they will haul their goods by mules to their adobe houses. On the return trip I am therefore the first and only passenger on the truck. The loading area of approx. 2,5 x 6 m with high side panels is all for me alone. At half height wooden boards are fastened, under them straw for animals. It's a snug and comfortable place to watch the night during the ride along the warm river valley.

After some kilometers I help loading heavy coal bags which are to be brought to the market. In the next village the first campesino women with their bundles and children mount as well, then a boy with two sheep, three goats and a pig, then more and more campesinos with goods for the market. Next a Campesino with nine(!) pigs enters, then one with various poultry. It's getting tight. Two goats, which no longer can pass over the loading ramp, are seized by their horns, lifted over the high side panels and then stowed away from above between the squealing pigs. At each stop the bright headlights attract thousands of insects, which in turn bring crowds of bats with them. It is like wonderland.

When I just thought now it's been enough, the boat is full, (it is three o'clock in the morning and we are all half asleep) the rear hatch is opened, all bundles are thrown to the front, passengers are pushed forward, the coal bags get piled up anew until one third of the area in the back is completely free.

In there stepped: A stately young black bull with long horns. Since he finds himself in an unwonted environment, he immediately starts to take it apart. Once he makes half a jump over the barrier of coal bags and everybody flees frightened into a corner in the front of the truck. But since he is fastened at his horns he only twists his neck and all of us hope that the hemp-rope's gonna keep...

After six hours of travel, at dawn in Pucara (= fortress, quetch.) at the end of the Huancabamba valley I jump off. I quit the old Inka route and take a huge detour to Chachapoyas, with flights above the cloud forest.

The original direct way from Pucara to Cajamarca, where the crucial battle happened is quite strenuous and awkward nowadays. Some historians say that the conquest of the Inka empire by the Spaniards has been so fast and successful only, because the well developed road system of the Inkas had been at their disposal. If they only would have arrived just five hundred years later, their crusade would have utterly failed...


----------------------------------------------- Con parapente a través de los caminos del Inca -----------------------------------------------