17.7 mi / 11.3 mph / 316 ft. climbing
Home: Hospedaje & Restaurant Chacas

Our world-class campsite felt entirely our own (a small but not-inconsequential contributor to its world-class status), so it was rather surprising when a vehicle drove up the the gravel road in the 5am blackness, stopped 30 feet from our tent, and several people spent 20+ minutes talking, laughing, and rummaging about. Eventually the people moved off, but the vehicle remained, with the driver running the engine to keep himself warm. Rett was getting annoyed with the exhaust smell, but in a sign of how much she’s trying to carry some of the load for me here in Peru, she got herself out of the tent (rather than just complaining to me about it), and asked the driver to move away (which he thankfully did). Eventually I surmised that it must have been a group heading for the summit of one of the surrounding mountains, the only possible explanation for why anyone would arrive to this place, hours from anywhere, at 5am.

The interruption did allow me to check the thermometer, revealing a low temperature of 23°F, low enough to freeze our water bottles solid, and by far the lowest temperature we’ve ever camped in. Thankfully our layers of clothing, our two-person sleeping bag (supposedly rated for 20°F), and our thick sleeping pad kept us reasonably comfortable. Though having our two water filters sharing the sleeping bag with me (they’re ruined if they freeze) made it slightly less-cozy.

Even more amazing than staying warm, I woke up (after sleeping well in our 15,500 ft. bed) with zero signs of altitude sickness. Was it the month acclimatization at 10,000 ft. in Huaraz, along with hikes/rides up to 12-15,000 ft.? Was it the Acetezolamide (aka, Diamox) tablets (technically a prescription drug but it seems that no one in Peruvian pharmacies cares about that) that I’d been taking for the last three days? Dumb luck? Likely some combination of all three, but as someone who almost never takes medication, it’s an indication of how concerned (and now relieved) I was. It also meant that we could relax and enjoy our morning in this incredible place, stress-free.

Even though it was below freezing, the wind was light enough that we were able to open the tent door and pull aside the rainfly to watch the first rays of the morning sun get caught by the peak of the mountain and slowly work their way down to us (thankfully it was dry so there was no frost on the tent). The golden rays reached the mountaintop at 6:20am, and our tent by 7:15.

We lingered far longer than we normally do at our campsite, because we simply didn’t want to leave such an amazing place. We’re incredibly thankful to those who have gone before us and marked this spot. They allowed us to do what we frequently seem specialize in: making “bike touring” less about the journey, and more about the destinations. That’s a luxury that I didn’t even think would even be possible the mountains of Peru.

We could dally so long because when you’re at 15,500 ft., the only way to go is down. With just 18 miles to Chacas, we could have knocked that out yesterday afternoon without too much trouble (though the uphills at the end would have sucked), but this way, we got not only a world-class place for the night, but we could also take our time making frequent stops to gawk on the way down today. At 11:30am we began our descent.

In Chacas we pulled into the first hotel on our route, right on the beautiful town square, feeling that we’ve not only passed our first real bike-touring test in Peru, but that Peru is doing everything it can to get us to stay as long as possible.