Karajia

 

This day found me traveling on my own, first in a colectivo (mini-bus) from Chachapoya to Luya and then by taxi (sort of) to Cruzpata. It was a meandering drive as there were other small villages on the way, where people and goods were gathered or dropped off, to finally arrive at a dead end in the landscape, surrounded by distant mountains, farmsteads, and fields, only maybe a few kilometers' walk from the site of the sarcophagi at Karaja. And rest assured, I found this road as hair-raising as it looks.

 

Loya, where those who travel on, switch from the buses to cars. The cars work the same way, but obviously handle fewer passengers, but are free to roam all over to pick up people and deliver goods to the outlying villages and small towns. Most of which, btw, can't even be found on any Google maps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading this, trying to figure out where the heck I was going, I actually found that name on the map, but none of the other villages were
There was this stubborn pig that blocked our side of the road, until nudged, not kicked, out of the way.

 

 

For a time, the little guy in camos was a passenger, coming home from school.

 

Few foreigners do this on their own, because of the vehicle changes and time involved, and I got some very curious looks. Most come here as part of a tour. These women were making spools of usable yarn from raw wool.

After paying an entrance fee, buying some water, I was on my way. The only tourist on the entire long and ultimately very challenging path.

 

 

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