Day 4

6.2 mi / 4.5 mph / 994 ft. climbing
Home: Nancy’s AirBNB

One practical definition of “paradise” (or at least one aspect of it) can be “a place where the climate requires no artificial heating or cooling to make humans comfortable”. A place where it never became necessary to draw hard lines of separation between indoor and outdoor living. Usually that conjures images of ocean-mediated places like Hawaii or coastal California. But Huaraz, 10,000 feet above the ocean, surprisingly seems to fit that definition as well.

Now, maybe lack-of-wealth is also a factor in lack-of-climate-control here, but the actual climate means the wealth can be directed toward more-valuable pursuits. Given the altitude and distance from the ocean, the temperatures do cool significantly at night (and thus blankets are much-appreciated), but somehow our bedroom temperature has been precisely 67°F every morning. The days can get somewhat warm in the sun, but never “hot”. Our completed-over-time building has ingenious ways to access fresh air despite being surrounded on all sides. A door toward the back opens to a sort of 3-story atrium, with enough roof to protect it from rain, but open to the sides on that third level. Both areas are good places to hang laundry to dry.

The only source of hot water is the electric showerhead (and even that needs to be run at a low volume to allow the heating element to warm it as it flows by). We have been boiling all of our water on the (natural gas!) stove (with an oven that needs to be lit with a match) to ensure that it’s drinkable. But those adjustments from rich-American lifestyle are easily handled when the cost is an almost-unbelievable US$31/night (less than 1/3rd of what we paid for a campsite at Disney World!)

But it was time to again roust ourselves from our comfortable sanctuary and venture further out into our paradise, with a test of both our bikes and our breathing. Conveniently close to our AirBNB at the southeast corner of town, a switchbacking gravel road climbs to a popular viewpoint, “Mirador de Rataquenua”. Though just riding the city streets to the hillside was nearly as challenging, with 10% grades much of the way. Grades actually eased to ~5% once we hit the gravel.

It was a Saturday, and it was nice to see a large number of locals walking the climb (a youth basketball team and their families seemed to make up a third of them). A woman coming down encouraged “Fuerza, fuerza!” (strength!) as we toiled our way up, and at the top another woman with her family smiled and said “”Bienvenidos a Perú!”

Oh except we weren’t actually yet at the top. We had come up some 500 feet, but wanted to do at least 500 more. After the viewpoint, the road got rougher and steeper. At first I didn’t think it was worth it, and with grades hitting 12% in places on rocky gravel, a good amount of pushing was involved even on our unloaded bikes. It also became emptier and with greater views of the mountains, so we pushed onward and upward.

After three whole miles of riding, we hit our goal of viewpoint #2, Puka Ventana, about 1100 feet above our AirBNB. Meaning “Red Window” in Quechua (the indigenous language of Peru), it flipped us to the other side of the ridge we had been climbing, to look almost straight down into a concave bowl falling away below us.

We returned to viewpoint #1, where a restaurant wisely sits, for our first attempt at Peruvian dining out. It went reasonably-well, though our waiter was also a foreigner, from Venezuela (and very interested in the Champions League final playing loudly on the TV over our head). In true “paradise” fashion, he slid the window next to our table wide open, maximizing our view and comfort (while also allowing a very-insistent dog to reach his head inside begging for food). In all, another successful and confidence-building day!