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PIC #1
That climb. Wow.
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We’d originally planned on taking the highway out of Cusco and mainlining it to the south side of Lake Titicaca and on to La Paz but after 2 weeks off the bike and reports from friends up the road we decided to one last adventure in the Peruvian mountains.
Instead of the relatively flat altiplano around the lake we took a challenging route around Nevado Ausangate, this involved 2 days of hike a bike with very little riding. Doing this route loaded is hard, doing it on a more traditional touring set up is hard and stupid - would not recommend. Fortunately we got great weather and camping in the shadow of the summit somewhat made up for the physical struggle of pushing our bikes up 20% hiking trails.
Eventually we hit a road and were once again treated to premium grade Peruvian gravel which took us up and over our first 5000m+ pass. Despite the altitude we were feeling good and the gentle grade made it fairly easy.
The next 50km was all above 4800m, open grassland with big herds of Vicuñas and virtually no traffic made us forget about the thin air. The next notable climb would take us to 5100m, the highest we’ve been and the highest point of the whole trip. We approached the start of the climb (only 600m) in the early afternoon but the was heavy cloud ahead and we decided it was too late to summit and get over the other side. As we got to the river in the valley snow covered the ground and it foiled our plans to camp. The sun was out but the ground was too wet. We found a covered alpaca enclosure and easily persuaded the padlock on the gate to open, it looked like an ideal campspot but there was no one around to ask about it and we thought the risk of 100 alpacas being herded in at 8pm was too high. Back up the road a few km to the dry ground and we found a nice little spot, not a bad result.
The usual camp routine ensued and we were treated to amazing clear skies over towards the snowy peaks ahead of us. Fast forward to midnight when I woke up for a pee and I heard what I thought was light drizzle. Not ideal but also no big deal. As I got outside I realised it was actually snow and it was dumping down. I cleared the snow off the tent and spent the next hour struggling to sleep and looking for reroute options to get lower quickly (spoiler: there weren’t any). I eventually drifted off back to sleep until waking up at 3am with the tent collapsing on top of us. More panicked snow clearing and lying awake worrying but luckily the snow eased for the rest of the night.
We woke up to clear skies in the morning but a thick layer of snow around us. We decided to pack up the tent asap then roll back down to the alpaca enclosure to scope out the climb and decide on our next moves. We got down there and the weather was looking favourable and a passing motorcyclist said that this was the first big dump of the year and the road ahead was clear and the surface was good. We decided it was best to make a break and try and get over that morning. We made breakfast under the roof and dried out all our soggy gear before setting off up the hill.
The climb was pretty chill with only a few muddy sections, the sun was shining and. By the time we were halfway up all the snow behind us had melted. Up an over 5100m, maybe the highest I’ll ever go, followed by a huge descent down to 4000m.
A few days of paved roads took us to the nondescript town of Macusani, on the edge of a mining region it wasn’t the most interesting but was also our best chance of a rest day for a while. After a day of Netflix and disappointing rice and eggs we were back on the bikes for ups and downs at 4000m-4800m, long straight roads, huge open grasslands and cool rock formations were on the menu and although not mind blowing we’re just about stimulating enough. This stretch of fairly easy riding was abruptly brought to an end when I took a wrong turn and stopped to turn around, at the same time my partner was looking at her map and didn’t see I’d stopped. A smidsy rear end collision followed and resulted in some mangled mudguards and racks, our ride was over for the foreseeable. Luckily injuries were limited to minor bruises (the biggest being our pride, both feeling pretty stupid for what had happened. Being close to the main commuter route up to La Rincónada (a mining town and the highest permanently settled town in the world) made it pretty easy to get mini buses back to a major city and the a coach over the border to La Paz where we could get everything fixed.
A visit to a neighbourhood metal shop had all the bent parts fixed overnight and my initial worries that Suzie’s fork was bent never materialised. We got away with it. 5 days in the city and a bougie lunch at Gustu (Noma affiliated and 50 best in Latin America) has us reset and ready to ride again. Next stop the salt flats followed by the altiplano lakes.
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Good test of your gear sounds like!
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Heading south out of La Paz we had some hard routing decisions to make, the rainy season is catching up with us and we’ve booked an Airbnb in Mendoza for Christmas. Unfortunately we just didn’t have the time to ride all the routes we wanted to in Bolivia and northern Chile. Nevado Sajama and the bikepacking.com Vicuñas route will have to wait until next time.
We took an overnight bus from La Paz to Uyuni and from there headed west across the Salar de Uyuni. The original plan was to spend 2 days on the salt flat but once we hit the white stuff the wind wasn’t in our favour. Instead we cut a diagonal across the salar and surfed the tailwind for 70km, zipping along at 30km an hour on the dead flat with nothing around in any direction was a novel experience. About 15km short of the “shore” of the flats we set up camp for a night under the stars in one of the weirdest places we’ve ever been. I’d carried a rock with me from outside the salar to help smash the tent pegs in to the concrete like salt but still only managed to get them a few centimetres deep. Seemed solid enough though so fingers were crossed that they’d hold.
2 minutes later the wind changes direction and picks up in strength, the tent was getting battered and the looming rain clouds had us worried. A quick decision to pack down the tent and try and find a more suitable spot at the edge of the salar. Not the dreamy camp we’d hoped for but these things happen. A quick 15km and we were off the salt and found a hostel that let us camp in the hallway for £2. Shortly after arriving it started pissing down so we were very glad not to be on the salt flat (with 0 drainage).
Pedalling on the next day we crossed more salars (although none as white and pristine as the Salar de Uyuni), at times flying with tailwinds, at times crawling along with horrendous headwinds. We spent the night in an abandoned rail station next to a remote
military base. The wind continued to howl outside and before dark it was raining again, riding in the shoulder season wasn’t working out and the rains were coming earlier than we’d hoped.Waking up it was still drizzling and the surrounding flats were soaked, huge puddles and barely a trail to follow it wasn’t ideal but we had no option to push on forward. The route back was just a shit and there were no real options to reroute. The first few km weren’t so bad but things quickly deteriorated and before long our bikes were clogged with salty peanut butter mud and the trail was none existent. Fuck. We dragged our bikes 20m across the quagmire and got on to the single track railway, a 1m wide strip of chunky gravel was our only ticket out of the muddy hell.
20km of pushing along the tracks was on the menu, just had to hope we didn’t get run over by a train. The military guys had said there were only two trains a day, had to trust they were right. After a fairly miserable hour of pushing and stress we’d made it 3km, the surrounding flats were looking drier though, time to make a break and try and get to the parallel road 2km away. Luck was finally on our side and we made it across without too much bog, finally a gravel road where after some mud scraping we could ride again.
More headwind and more swearing ensued but we finally made it to a small village on the Bolivia Chile border. We bought some food and paid for use of a tap, bucket and broom to clean the sludge of the bikes. Morale was low and we were doubting if it was going to be possible to ride the Lagunas route, 250km across sandy tracks across the alitplano with little in the way of resupply or options to bail if things aren’t going to plan. After finding a camp spot in the covered sports hall we decided that if there was rain in the morning we’d cross the border and take the low road in Chile but if there was sun we’d take our chances on the Lagunas road.
Sun and blue skies greeted us in the morning, the decision was made and we pedalled towards the Martian landscapes of the high lakes.
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That is really...far out! Respect!
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Alaska to Argentina – de arriba abajo
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