Just over 4000km completed so far, with only 290km and 6000m of climbing separating us from our gear we had sent ahead (and the main reason we had persevered on the route despite all the struggles. We had heard good things about this section, and hoped that we would be able to finish with a bang, and we certainly did as the last campsite was the best of the whole trip.
The Hotel Los Andes in Oyon was the most we had interacted with other cyclists on our entire trip. For the first 4 months we saw essentially no other cyclists. It was only in Cusco we met with a few others who had also completed the Tres Cordilleras route. Once on the PGD we passed cyclists daily heading in the other direction and had small chats. In Oyon though the hotel was filled daily with cyclists, between 6-10 at any given time, taking photos every morning with those departing. We took three rest days here to recuperate before the last leg of our trip, hoping to regain morale and motivation as well as nutrition.
The first day promised a lot of climbing, nearly 1400m and 50km as we crested a 4900m pass. We hit it steadily, the gradients much more friendly than anything in Bolivia. We even found a restaurant for lunch, a lone building in the middle of an otherwise empty valley. Atop the pass was a large mining operation, where we had to wait for machinery to stop before we could pass. The other side brought multiple lagunas, and far-off views of snow-capped mountains in the Cordillera Huayhuash. We quickly descended out of sight of these, alongside the lagunas on near empty roads. Much like the rest of Peru, the roads were were good quality gravel and easy to descend. We had a lot of people asking us in Oyon and Huaraz how the roads were. ‘Excellent, best we’ve ridden in 6 months’. They were often taken aback, hearing how terrible the roads were meant to be; we just took it that most people probably spent most time on tarmac.
We spent the night in a village that may have been called Antacalanca. I say may have, as it was so small that I cannot find it named on any map that I use. Its central plaza was a grass field, and horses, dogs, pigs, and sheep roamed it. We asked for a hospedaje and were pointed across the plaza. Some men came out of a nearby house and opened the municipal hall for us, where we were able to pitch our tent for the night in relative peace. Come 6am though, and painting started on the church next door, which meant loud music playing and multiple men entering the hall for supplies. Luckily we were already up and awake.
We wanted to continue the momentum from the day before, and aimed for about 70km of riding, one of our biggest days of the entire trip. We started with undulating riding along more lagunas and over ridge lines, and by 10am had already covered 24km, compared to our usual daily total of 40-45km on the Peru Divide. Its amazing what some flat-ish riding does for speed, and being closer to 4000m than 5000m above sea level. Another small pass brought us to the village of Paracsha, where we had a lunch of chicken and potatoes. By now we had done 44km, and it was only 1230. We descended to the town of Concepcion, and after an accidental detour when I wasn’t paying attention, climbed again along a hillside. The map had told us it was only about 1100m climbing for the day, but as we pushed through 1300m we realised it was not accurate. The heat in the afternoon was sweltering and we poured sweat on the climb, before a quick final descent to the town of Queropalca. We had covered 69km by now and 1350m of climbing, and I was fucked. I pushed my bike through town, too tired to ride, and quickly downed 2L of cola, some oreos, lollies, and crackers before I could bear looking for accomodation.
There was a political party in the plaza, with loud speeches and music blaring over the whole village, and this did not stop until well past 10pm. We had a rest day here, and walked the plaza in the morning thankful there would be no more racket from the plaza, as the stage was half packed up. Unfortunately by lunchtime there was a banner for a seperate party hanging, and we realised it would all happen again. Starting at 3pm, shit music (it always sounds like a low quality recording being played at full volume through blown speakers) and loud speeches started again, penetrating the walls of the hostel we were in. There is NO peace and quiet in a Peruvian mountain village. Interestingly, the winner of the local mayoral election in Queropalca, we subsequently learnt, was a man named Hitler Mussolini.
The next day of course started with a climb, before hitting a section of hike a bike. We had been told this was easy, and we may be able to ride most of it. Oh how wrong those people were. Despite being easier than crossing a snow covered pass, it was a very annoying section. Long grass catching the pedals, many bogs to navigate around, and narrow steep rocky paths that were awkward to share with the bike. During this section, I completely ran out of gas. Despite 4 rest days and two days of riding in the past 6, I was cooked. At this stage, I had no ability to hold onto reserves of energy, and it got worse every day of riding. I miserably pushed on, and we made it to Huallanca about 4 hours later than expected.
Much to our dismay, the political rallies were also being held here, a much larger town. This meant that all hotels were completely booked out, and whilst enquiring at one, we got boxed in by a ‘Verde’ party parade coming down the street, complete with drums and trombones blasting in our ears. Needless to say, at this point, I was close to breaking. Lauren managed to find us a hotel on the outskirts of town that was quiet, except for the loud church service next door going until midnight.
At this stage, we only had two days, and one climb left for the trip. We left Huallanca, and began climbing. It was over 1500m we had to do this day, and after 500m I was done, barely able to ride for a couple hundred metres. All day I pushed and rode my bike uphill, not exhausted, just not able to push my legs. Near the end of the day we turned off the tarmac highway and turned onto a gravel road. We were now riding along ridges above valleys, and the views were amazing - endless mountains disappeared into the distance in all directions. We had scoped out a good looking campsite on a ridge near here, and I was determined to get there. About 4km out, I jumped on my bike, and managed to ride the whole way through gritted teeth. This particular section was one of the hardest things I have ever done and the deepest I have ever had to dig within myself. It was only a small pass we reached, as we crossed from ridge to ridge, but it was the last of the trip, and we celebrated. Not for too long, before we collected water from a dirty pond and cycled to the campsite.
Now you might be wondering, how did Lauren manage on all these hills of the Peru Great Divide, whilst I was battling sciatica and nutrition and pushing up them as much as I was riding. She rode every single one in its entirety.
This was the best campsite we had on the entire trip, perched on a narrow ridge amongst valleys with mountains all around, near-perfect weather, the sun setting in a small gap in the hills giving us light as late as possible. The only issue: as we were cooking dinner, we noticed lightning off in the distance, and being perched at the high point of an exposed Ridgeline at 4900m was not where we wanted to be. An escape route planned (scrambling straight down the hillside), we waited but luckily it moved in the opposite direction, giving us a perfect view of the stars.
We woke to an incredible sunrise, our last morning of the trip (on the bikes at least). We took slow breakfast, shook out the tent, and soaked it all in, knowing these would be some of our last views of the Andes and Peru. It was an undulating morning before one small last crest, then close to 70km of downhill riding to Huaraz. Starting at 4800m in the cool air and hot sun, we descended initially on an empty gravel road, past beautiful rivers and streams, before turning onto the highway. The weather got increasingly hot and humid as we cruised downhill, finally reaching Huaraz at about 3000m, nearly 2000m lower than we started. Here we stayed at the El Tambo hostel, along with a number of other bike packers. We found bike boxes and cheap suitcases, cleaned the bikes and all our gear, and packed it all away. It took a few days for this process to complete as we worked through every item. After 6 months of living off the bikes, this was it, no more. All the gear we had relied on daily was no longer needed. I was 93kg when we left NZ. Six month later in Huaraz, I was down to 85kg.
The start of the final descent, from 4800m to 3000m above sea level.
We loaded it all onto a bus to Lima, from where I write this. Just one more day until we fly home. The food is better here, but I almost miss the riding. Almost.
