39.7 mi / 7.9 mph / 3800 ft. climbing
Home: John’s AirBNB

The good shower and good dinner last night in our Huancarama hotel room had lulled us into a false sense of civilization. Because at 4am this morning, nothing came out of the bathroom faucet regardless of how many times we reflexively turned the knob. Shit. I knew I should have filled up our 10L bladder last night as an insurance policy, but without a hint of intermittency throughout the afternoon or evening, I got lazy. At least I had done a half-measure, filling our cookpot in preparation for making breakfast. And we had some water in our bottles, so should be able to make the morning work (getting by with one toilet flush would be the biggest challenge), and then hopefully a shop would be open where we could buy water on our way out of town.

Because we were up at 4am again so that we could get on the road by 6am. We would be hitting a new record-low (altitude) in Peru, and then have a big late-ride climb up from those scorching depths, so getting to the climb as early as possible was critical.

Just as we were finishing up our cooked-in-the-shower breakfast, around 5am, various plumbing noises started sputtering throughout the hotel, and a few minutes later water began flowing from our tap. Phew! We collected what we could just-in-case, but it soon became clear that the water was properly restored. While we could have made-do, it was a big relief to be able to wash up properly and flush the toilet multiple times!

On our way out of town, we passed a surplus of water flowing down the irrigation canals and in small streams, so it doesn’t seem lack-of-water to the town was the issue. Maybe it’s just something to do with the hotel? Or something in the town’s water infrastructure unrelated to water input? Either way, it was a first for us, so now the question is how paranoid will we be and for how long going forward?

In addition to the 2200 ft. climb at the end of the ride, we first had to climb 1400 feet out of the bowl that Huancarama sits in. And it was a steep one to start, but with fresh legs in the cool air, we knocked it out in 1h26m of pedaling time, or just about 2 hours total. Perhaps we were also energized by the early-morning light painting portraits for us across the mountains.

Once we hit the top, we ate a snack, bundled up in jackets and full-fingered gloves, and began the astounding 20-mile descent that would drop us a full vertical mile to 5,800 feet above sea-level. Maybe one day we’ll find a new valley in these Andes that doesn’t also drop our jaws, but today was not that day! This one was a bit more “open” than the ones that usually merit a top score, but something about its sheer scale was enough to make up for that.

At the bottom we rode along the Pachachaca River for a mile or so, crossed a bridge, reversed our direction, and rode a mile up the opposite bank. That’s where we stopped at a gas station to buy drinks for lunch, noticed that the attached restaurant had canopied outdoor tables, so we decided to just eat our packed lunches there too. It was 10:30am, a crazy time for lunch, but an even crazier time for it to be 86°F!

It was easily the hottest temperature we’ve felt in Peru, and while we had “failed” to beat the heat even with our super-early start, we would have gotten slaughtered even more had we started any later. When using the gas-station bathroom, I discovered that it had shower stalls too; I had been planning to remind Rett to wet down her shirt in one of the sinks, but I now encouraged her to do the easier step of just spraying her whole self down in the shower. She declined.

The 2200 ft. climb up to Abancay was the grind that we’d expected it to be. Once we’d crossed the river, we had joined the direct route between Lima and Cusco, Peru’s 1st- and 7th-biggest cities. Traffic didn’t actually increase as much as I’d expected it to, and we were granted a wider shoulder to deal with the increase, but it still caused a significant uptick in stress. Especially when, in quick succession, a van driver passed and then immediately stopped in front of us, and a car nearly right-hooked Rett by turning in front of her. Road construction in various forms added to the frustration (though it also gave some short car-free respites), but the real hell began when we got within a mile-and-a-half of the center of Abancay.

That’s when the highway became lined with auto repair shops, metal-working shops, and other chaotic light-industry storefronts, many of which had aggressive dogs lunging at us as we continued our slow climb in the heat (though thankfully with the altitude increase, it had dropped to “only” 81°F at 1pm., but that still far-exceeded Rett’s current heat-tolerance band). We decided that it was more-efficient to just get off and walk the rest of the way, than to be forced to stop and start every 20 seconds. It still took much longer than it would normally take us to walk 1.5 miles, partly because all the chaos from the repair shops continued for most of the way (it felt nearly-identical to the mile-long strip of auto shops along the highway heading north out of Huaraz, and it’s strange that we haven’t seen a similar development pattern until now).

The remote and rugged Peru Great Divide bikepacking route officially ends in Abancay, and joined up with our route at the same point that the Lima traffic did. As grueling as entry to the city was for us, I can only imagine what a system-shocking nightmare it must be for PGD riders. They’re much less-accustomed to urban chaos than we are, and being required to face it after being dropped into a searing valley that they must climb out of with 10x-100x the traffic they’ve become used to, would be enough to leave them cursing Abancay for eternity. For us, it was only half-a-day.

Luckily to make up for the exhausting ride/walk, we had booked the most modern (if not luxurious) AirBNB we’ve stayed in in Peru. It took a little time to coordinate access, but once we got everything up via the elevator(!!), we collapsed into the gleaming white cavern. Almost immediately we decided that we should extend our two-night reservation to three.

The theme of modernity continued over the next couple days and got us turned around on the city. Amarus Brewpub was the first place we’ve been to in Peru where they asked how we wanted our burgers cooked (and part of their excellence was due to them actually being cooked to something like medium-rare!) And their beers were intentionally served in style-specific glassware and volumes. Later, at a small-but good grocery store when acquiring ingredients for our home-cooked meals, we got bottles of local “hidromiel” (that’s mead! I think you’d be hard-pressed to find mead in a grocery store in the US!)