51.1 mi / 10.5 mph / 2133 ft. climbing
Home: Hospedaje Montaña Vinicunca

Prior to our 17 nights in Cusco, we had done a few days of riding through the Sacred Valley, but before that we’d had another 16 nights off the bikes in Ollantaytambo. So it’s really been five weeks without “serious” bike riding, and also while living in relative luxury. Even four years and a dozen or more “restarts” into our nomadacy, they’re always accompanied by a certain amount of apprehension, though maybe a lesser amount than a few years ago.

Our first ride of this restart would be the 2nd-longest (distance-wise) of our time in Peru, so we packed up, walked our bikes down the narrow stone lanes, and treated ourselves to a hearty breakfast at the Llama Cafe (for the second time). We still had 10-or-so blocks of unrideable “streets” after breakfast, including two steps to bump down, and a helpful garbagewoman to roust out an SUV that was completely blocking one section, but since it was all downhill on relatively-quiet streets, it was a far easier exit from historic Cusco than our entry had been.

Once on smooth pavement, we hopped aboard our bikes and had the usual chaos of Peruvian city drivers to battle with, but it was actually a fairly easy exit for a city the size of Cusco. We haven’t seen a single mototaxi near the city, so Cusco must ban them, and that probably helps keep things a little more organized.

But things got really organized when we got to the airport, and the newly-built multi-modal corridor that runs alongside it. In addition to the multi-lane divided highway with fancy signalized intersections, there was an off-street two way bike path, and a separate pedestrian path. It’s apparently another bit of Peruvian infrastructure built by a Chinese company, which probably goes a long way to explaining why it felt completely foreign to Peru.

And that foreignness made it all the more exciting to see how actively the locals are using it! It would not have been at all unsurprising if Cusqueñas said “uh, thanks? But we don’t really understand what we’re supposed to do with this…”; instead, there were people riding bikes, running, our just walking with their kids. But even more-impressive, the outdoor workout stations spaced every quarter-mile were getting more use than any similar setup I’ve seen in the US. Heck, there might have been more individuals using equipment along that four-mile path than I’ve seen in total across dozens of outdoor gyms in the US! Perhaps some of that is due to less space for in-home workout equipment, but along with the joggers (which we also haven’t seen anywhere else in Peru but could have), it seems Cusco has a more-ingrained exercise culture than we’ve seen in the rest of the country.

The bike path ran for five miles along the “body” of the puma that Cusco is supposedly patterned after. And then we continued on roads for a few more miles (I guess along the tail), with a surprisingly-dense city continuing for that entire length, showing that the historic center (the head) is truly just a small part of the animal of Cusco. We then connected back to our old friend Highway PE-3S, but now it has the most consistent and generous shoulder we’ve encountered in Peru, that made the cycling stress-free. The nice, gradual 20-mile downhill also made for a gentle return to cycling for us.

When we sat down on eat our packed lunch in the plaza in Urcos, we got curious people looking at us, and a bit further down the road a guy exclaimed “gringo!” It sure didn’t take long to get out of the Cusco/Sacred Valley tourist bubble and back to “normal” Peru!

After lunch we passed through 15 minutes of light rain, but we didn’t need to break out the rain gear, shorts and a t-shirt were fine. We had been targeting the town of Quiquijana, but reviews of the three hotels there were poor or non-existent, so at lunch I had pointed out that Cusipata, 6.5 miles further, had a place with much better reviews.

I had mentioned it mainly as an insurance policy, in case none of the Quiquijana places were open, or if they were so dreadful that staying there wasn’t an option. So it was a surprise when Rett didn’t even slow down as we passed though, much less stop to check any of them out. Usually her brain tells her that it’s time to begin suffering when we’re about 90% of the way to our destination (regardless of the distance), but this time she voluntarily decided to add 15% to the distance that had been established in her head.

With help from a tailwind, we made it successfully to Cusipata without getting wet. It ended up being our second-longest ride in Peru by the odometer, but unlike the 6h46m epic that beat it, we got this one done nearly two hours faster, and still feeling relatively fresh. Just as we pulled up to the door of our hotel, an Australian bike tourer came the other way, and with one party stopped it made the “should we stop and chat?” decision easier, so he pulled around to say hello. Even though he was coming from Boliva (where we won’t be going), he still had good info about our road ahead (particularly the Carretera Austral in Chile), and with a bike at least as loaded as ours, made for an encouraging data point!

Once ensconced in our hotel (which was as nice as the reviews reported), some crazy winds began tearing through the town at 4pm. The electric wires strung in front of our 2nd-floor windows began whipping violently, dogs in the street stood there frozen and looking confused, and a shopkeeper had to chase down a plastic milk crate that was sliding down the sidewalk away from her. Bursts of heavy rain began soon after, but we were warm and dry.

By dinner time, calm had returned, but now we were hit with the downside of being back in “real” Peru. Cusipata actually has a lot of restaurants, but most of them are there to serve tourists breakfast and lunch on bus tours from Cusco to Rainbow Mountain. So they aren’t open for dinner. The first open place we found (via wandering, since it wasn’t on Google Maps) was a chicken restaurant, without menus, and the girl who attended us spoke so softly that we might not have understood her even if our Spanish was better. Frustrated, we left to try our luck elsewhere. Thankfully at the second (and likely last) place (also a polleria), the host did an excellent job of recognizing our deficiencies and compensating for them (even speaking some English), and we were able to get some food in us after a good long restart to bike touring.