Wow! How to sum up this past week of riding? 7 days which have taken us from Huaraz to Oyon, out of the Cordillera Blanca and across the Huayhuash range, and which have pushed our mind, bodies and bikes up to, and sometimes past, breaking point. “Stunning”, “brutal”, “type 2 fun”…all words or phrases that describe some part of the experience, but fall far short of conveying the full breadth of emotions we felt out there. Hopefully the following words and pictures do it some justice as it’s a section we both agree we won’t be forgetting any time soon.
After a couple of days of downtime in Huaraz, El getting over her Shigella with a course of antibiotics and both of us enjoying the great bakeries and availability of non-Peruvian food for perhaps the last time in the next month, we set off up the Rio Santa valley once more, direction: Pastoruri Glacier. This section of road was uneventful, ie. boring, but surprisingly lacking in traffic given it’s the main road between the populated Peruvian coast and this bustling tourist valley. By mid afternoon we were at the turnoff for the glacier and began the bumpy gravel climb up to the park entrance, where we camped for the night.
We hung around camp the following morning until the sun had fully warmed us up after a cold night, and until the park warden had turned up so we could pay our entry fee, even if we’d already pretty much decided that we weren’t going to detour up to the glacier itself.
The highlight of this road are the Puya raimondii plants which grow in clusters on the slopes adjacent to the road. These plants are considered to be an endangered species, so it was special to see so many of them in one place, even if they weren’t in their most spectacular flowering season.
Due to the number of tourist buses that ply this road daily, the gravel surface is heavily washboarded in places which, together with the headwind blowing down the valley, made for slow and uncomfortable progress. The good news was that the tourist buses hadn’t yet arrived (Huaraz is pretty far away); instead the majority of traffic seemed to consist of cycle tourists coming the opposite way! We stopped on separate occasions to chat to a solo Belgian woman and a French couple, exchanging the usual cycle-tourist pleasantries on road conditions up ahead and who else we might meet in the coming days.
Given that we’d seen so many glaciers in the national park so far, the trip up to the spectacular Laguna Congelada springing immediately to mind, and that the main attraction of Pastoruri seems to be how quickly it is receding (ie. very depressing), we elected to cut out the extra distance and climbing of the out and back and push on over the pass at 4800m-ish. This is where the fun really started!
The road surface improves and instead of following the valley in an almost straight line, follows the more varied contours of the East side of the range, dipping into and out of one spectacular cirque after another.
Continuing the high-level traverse after a roadside lunch, our objective for the next few days of riding loom into view – the Huayhuash!
Meanwhile, looking back over our left shoulders, the full length of the Cordillera Blanca could be appreciated in all it’s expansive, snowy glory.
Round every corner, the views just got better and better, the colours and flowing forms of the geology causing us to stop on multiple occasions in awe at the sheer power of the seismic forces which have shaped this landscape.
We’d had it in mind to possibly camp before leaving the dirt, but hit the tarmac road a bit sooner than anticipated and made the decision the descend all the way down to Huallanca and a hotel for a good night’s sleep. We’d be needing all our strength for the following days. The next section along the eastern portion of the world famous Huayhuash circuit was one I (Liam) in particular had been looking forward to for years with a mixture of excitement and, increasingly as we’d got closer and closer, trepidation – this route is known for its multi-hour hike-a-bikes and technical high alpine singletrack descents!
Loaded down with 5 days worth of food (literally the heaviest my bike has been – perfect!), we set off uphill from town on a mining access track. As seems to be the procedure in this part of Peru, a water truck had been up earlier sprinkling water on the road in order to keep the dust down. While this is great in theory, it does seem to accelerate the washboarding process which makes is particularly uncomfortable for cyclists. Still, the sun was shining, the wind was at our backs and the traffic minimal so we couldn’t complain as we spun our way back up over the 4000m mark.
After 23km we turned off the road and onto the first section of bike pushing, but not before a lunch of fresh bread and avocado with our newly made ginger friend. He provided us with moral support for the first, most awkward section of this push as we passed some stone shepherd’s huts and entered a mossy bottomed valley.
We followed this up the valley, occasionally riding when the rocks petered out and the moss was firm, but more often just happily walking our bikes along. At one point, we made the mistake of taking a high line up the side of valley only to have to duck some barbed wire and descend back down to valley bottom. The pass – Abra Cuncush – came into sight and we spied what looked like a gravel road snaking a few hundred metres down towards us – that became our target, although it felt like it took an age to get there! Eventually we did, though, and after a few metres of this road, the snowy peak of Jirishanca suddenly sprang into view, seemingly out of nowhere! After hours of pushing in monotonous scenery, this sudden change was striking. We had arrived in the Huayhuash!
The valley on the other side took our breaths away, but being deeply in the shade at only 4:30pm due to the high peaks marking its western edge, also bloody cold! We donned some layers and dropped into it. Laguna Pucachocha, the lake at the upper reaches of this valley was heavily coloured with minerals and we spotted 3 flamingos in the shallows, our first on this trip so far.
We continued on past the lake for about a kilometre in search of a camp spot that would receive the first rays of morning light, the temperature now plummeting with every passing minute.
Whilst there had been no cows in sight when we’d pitched the tent, they soon moved in and surrounded us when the sun came up. More and more of them could be seen running down the hills towards us. A few of them were getting right up close to the tent and mooing very aggressively whilst others were locking horns in little skirmishes. Did they want us off their patch, or did they think we were bringing food? Whatever the answer, we felt increasingly threatened and rushed to pack up camp whilst attempting to shoo them off. Finally, after much too long, we were going again and out of perceived danger.
A few hundred metres along the road, we turned off and road up a grassy slope to the Huayhuash entrance hut. The communities in each of the valleys making up the circuit charge tourists a fee for passing through. Whilst not much individually, these fees soon add up and it can feel a bit like you’re being fleeced when you can sometimes pass through 2 or 3 of these checkpoints in a day. One can only hope that this money does indeed stay within the community and supports sustainable farming and tourism practices. Anyway, at this first one there was just a single woman sitting there knitting some socks. She didn’t have the tickets as proof of payment with her, so we’d have to wait a bit until a man on a horse turned up. No problem, the sun was out and we weren’t in a particular hurry. We enquired, “Are there many cyclists who come through here?”
“An English couple came through here yesterday.”
That surprised us a bit, although it did explain the tracks we’d been following the previous day, and would be following all the way to Oyon!
Paso Carhuac followed a script that would become all too familiar over the coming days: very steep at the bottom, followed by a more gradual and occasionally rideable section in the higher bowl.
About halfway up the steep section a gaucho overtook us on his horse. “Que sufrimiento!” were his first words to us before we had even exchanged the usual pleasantries. Yes, we were reconsidering our life choices too at this point. Fortunately, the upper section of Carhuac becomes more rideable again and we were over the top at almost exactly noon.
The toil of the lower slopes was instantly forgotten on appreciating the view that presented itself on the other side of the pass. This was why we were here. Although it’s so cliché that I feel a little sick just saying it, I count “Touching the Void” as one of my most impactful and inspiring book/films when I was growing up and it felt like a lifetime ambition was being realised as I descended towards the peak where it all happened – Siula Grande. We stopped for lunch with a view partway down the descent.
We made it to the classic overlook camp spot by 1:30pm and knew we were doing no more biking that day.
I’d planned a walk/run from this point along a section of the walking circuit called the Tres Lagunas, which take you past, you guessed it, 3 spectacular lakes and up to Paso Siula. For many people, this is the highlight of the route and I was keen not to miss it because we were on bikes and taking the lower pass to the East. However, on getting to the camp spot I felt out of sorts and quite shivery, not at all how I wanted to feel before adding to the days already high physical toll. After about half an hour of trying to second guess my body and decide whether I was just being a great big pansy or not, I pulled the plug and we set about putting up the tent. I figured that if I was raring to go, in a place that I’d spent over half my life dreaming about visiting, then something had to be quite wrong.
The following hours brought about a swift deterioration in my condition. By the time the sun went behind the summits at about 4pm, I was in all my clothes, both my sleeping bags and still shivering (as a side note, this episode means that I’ve now, after nearly 5 months on the road, finally worn all the clothes I’ve dragged around!) This was going to be a long night.
In the end, the night wasn’t so bad as about 7pm I developed a fever and spent the night proper sweating buckets despite the sub-zero temperatures! I was feeling notably better by the morning, but still spent a couple of extra hours horizontal in order to let my pounding headache subside just a little more. By all accounts, the push up Abra Carnicero is the hardest of a very hard bunch, so I wanted to give myself every chance of making it over in one piece.
It was 10:30 by the time we’d got going and began descending to the official campsite which sits at the eastern edge of Laguna Carhuacocha. Just before we reached the array of big, colourful bell tents, I made a fateful decision and in order to avoid a measly few metres of downhill bike pushing took a risky high line next to a wall with a big drop to my right. I clipped a pedal, tipped over to my right, put out a foot into thin air and then, realising that the situation was beyond retrieve, pressed the eject button. I landed on my feet a couple of metres down the steep slope and then slid a couple more down on my side. I turned around quickly only to see my bike about to start its own cartwheel down the hill. Luckily, I managed to grab it out of mid air by the front wheel spokes and bring it under some sort of control, otherwise I’m sure that would’ve been the end of my bike. As it was, I’d cracked one of the welds on my rear rack clean through, although that bugger is so strong that I only realised this a couple of days later!
I dusted myself and my bike off as El sensibly just walked down the main track chatting about the cute piglets she’d just seen all lined up in a row! I was shaken as I’d knew that I could’ve easily ended our whole trip and myself right there with that silly decision, but the rush of adrenaline did make me momentarily forget how crap I’d been feeling only a few minutes before. We pedalled through more stone corals, crossed a river, paid a woman another 30 soles each, then found ourselves looking at the wall of loose rock that we were somehow meant to scale with these unwieldy bikes. Only one thing for it…
We got the steep part done before sitting down for lunch but the climb was still barely rideable even though the gradient had eased off – the combination of sand and loose rocks meaning carrying any sort of moment was almost impossible. I was now also having to rush off into the bushes in order to evacuate my bowls, just to add insult to injury.
Still, we persevered , putting one step in front of the other and made the pass at about 4pm. The scenes on the other side almost made it all worth it, almost. Granite slabs, crystal clear lakes and a trail that was just about mostly rideable.
We camped that night in the official campsite by the Rio Huayhuash with a handful of other hikers. The next day was going to be a big one – 2 passes instead of the one a day we’d rationed ourselves with so far. That would leave only a downhill run to Oyon on the fifth day out, giving us a strong psychological boost. While I was feeling much better after another twelve hours horizontal, it was El’s turn to be dashing off into the bushes. However, by shuttling her bike on the steepest sections we were still able to make great progress and hit our distance goal.
First up that day was Abra Huayhuash (4800m) – after the previous day’s efforts it felt positively easy. Indeed we were making such good progress that we even, shock horror, caught some hikers who’d set off before us on the descent!
At one point on the climb, we passed another gaucho heading in the opposite direction and driving a donkey before him. “Quanto para un burro, Señor?” enquired El looking longingly at the donkey’s grace and speed despite its huge load. The gaucho pretended not to hear and instead asked us how much our bikes were worth and what brand they were (we get this all this time). Too much, we said, especially since they only served to slow us down, unlike a donkey. “Ah, but you don’t have to go into the mountains to find it every morning” replied the man with a laugh.
This was the best descent of the whole traverse, with sections of smooth, gradual singletrack that you could actually let got of your brakes for more than 5 seconds! Whoops of joy might have been heard. Towards the bottom, the trail reverts to loose and steep as it drops to reservoir of Laguna Viconga.
There’s a really steep up and down to get around the outlet of the reservoir which forced us into an emergency lunch stop, before another steep push out of the valley and off the main hiking route.
Again, the climb levelled out for a section after a horrifically steep initial section and we were back to riding our bikes among a sprinkling of lakes. At one point, we were charged at by pack of sheep dogs but they turned out to all be big softees and set about licking the salt from our legs! These turned out to belong to another shepherd who after a bit of small talk proceeded to extract another 20 soles each for passing through his community (hence feeling like we were being fleeced).
Just before the pass at 4820m, the hints of an old road start to become visible underfoot, suggesting that the descent on the other side would be more rideable than all the others. Luckily, this turned out to be the case! It starts out littered with loose rock, but gradually smooths out and speeds up as you speed down towards Laguna Sura Saca.
As we cruised along the edge of Laguna Sura Saca we passed an important milestone – a car in a garage, the first sign of an internal combustion vehicle we’d seen in 4 days. We were going to make it! We camped that night just past the end wall of the reservoir near a llama corral. After pitching the tent, El made a disturbing discovery – the spiky moss we’d pitched on was sharp enough to penetrate both our Tyvek groundsheet and the tent floor. A hasty tent relocation was performed to an adjacent dried up pond in order to avoid a repeat of the sleeping mat meets cactus incident we’d had in the Cordillera Blanca.
We cruised into Oyon at about 11am that day and have since been having a whale of a time socialising with the 6 other cycle tourists who are in town; Robbie and Isobel, the 2 Cumbrians whose tracks we followed throughout the Huayhuash, Danny and Janie, 2 retirees from Vancouver who are heading northbound to Huaraz, and Siemen and Jana from Belgium and Slovakia who’re also heading northbound having come all the way from Ushuaia. We’ve had dinner all together, spent hours in the bakery chatting about all sorts of things and even polished off an entire cake in said bakery just this last evening. We can now answer the question “I wonder what those cakes actually taste like?” when we see these intricately decorated creations in their display cabinets. Pretty good it turns out. And what of my snapped rear rack? A quick stroll down the street from my hotel to find a welder 5 minute wait and its all sorted. The cost? 2 Soles, ie. 30p. God, I love this country sometimes.
Descending the valley to Oyon, I had been feeling a bit dispirited with the ever increasing human presence, already missing the mountains, the clean air and their wide open spaces. However, our day and a half here in Oyon has turned out to be a wonderful little break thanks to the company we’ve had, and we’re both feeling re-energised and ready to take on the Peru Divide.
Routes
If you’re interested in our routes, you can find them all on our trip homepage.
Yes. It sure was nice company and treats for a couple days. Safe travels for the rest of your journey.
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