When we ride away from the camping spot I feel that my tire is soft. This immediately explains why I found cycling so incredibly hard yesterday. I was probably already riding with a ‘sloper’. So we start with patching. A little later we leave for the Pastoruri glacier. It doesn’t take long before we can leave the paved road behind us and take an unpaved side road. The surroundings look volcanic. The surface consists of black gritty sand and stone. As long as we cycle around the many holes it is a comfortably smooth path. Just as I have climbed onto a rock to take a nice picture of Paul, a cyclist comes around the bend. I take a picture of the encounter. What a special sight, in this rugged, deserted environment. After a chat with the fast bikepacker we cycle on. He has also been to the glacier, but found it ‘not very impressive’. We have heard that before… ‘How can a glacier be ‘not very impressive’?’ I wonder. The surroundings are so incredibly beautiful that we decide not to drive to the top today. Besides, we are not in a hurry. We tap water at a small stream and pitch our tent out of the wind with a beautiful view.

The next day it is only a short distance to the turn-off for the glacier. The ‘parking lot’ is only 500m from the road. During this last climb we pass two panting hikers. They had to leave their car at the turn-off because the bridge there is closed for maintenance. Once again I am amazed at our condition. The visit to this glacier takes us to the highest point of this trip; just above 5000 meters. The parking lot is empty, the strict stalls deserted. There are men with horses who can take you to the glacier for a few euros. However, there are few customers. Is the popularity of the Pastoruri over? We climb up on our own strength over a beautiful path, a strong cold wind at our backs. It is clear to see that this glacier has lost a lot of size. It has lost 20% of its mass in the last 30 years. Climate change is part of the daily routine here in South America. People call it the ‘cambio climático’ with the greatest of ease when we ask them about the dry rivers, heat, rain, the cultivation of crops and so on! Yet I look in awe at the mass of ice on the slope in front of us. ‘Not very impressive’… it keeps nagging. Indeed, it is not the 70-metre high Perito Moreno in Argentina, but it is also not the case that we all have a glacier in our backyard. Apparently, as a traveller you can also become spoiled, saturated or perhaps even immune. In this case for the wonders and beauty of nature. I enjoy this beautiful excursion and let myself be amazed by the icy hard wind in my face and the view as we walk back to our bikes. When we drive away, a number of buses with local tourists have gathered at the bridge under maintenance, who are coming to see the Pastoruri. Fortunately, it has not yet lost its appeal for the Peruvians.

From Pastoruri we have a long descent towards the paved road and then on to the village of Catac. This is the road that all the tour buses and cars take in both directions to see the glacier. We came from a kind of ‘backroad’. The surface here is of a completely different quality. We bump and jolt down. I don’t want to think about having to drive over this in a bus. We drive carefully to avoid blowouts. Along the route we see a lot of Puya raimondii, a plant that is related to the pineapple, but many times larger. The plant consists of a lot of long sharp leaves. Above that grows a bunch that can grow up to 10 meters high and consists of thousands of flowers. This crazy plant can live up to 70 years. Unfortunately, it only flowers once in its entire lifetime, just before it dies… sad, huh?

At the end of the afternoon we arrive in Catac and check in at a small hotel. When I connect my phone to the wifi, an app comes in: ‘We’re sleeping in Catac tonight’. It’s from Karin and Harold, friends from my ‘hometown’ Tilburg! For their cycling holiday this summer they chose Peru. We had already been in touch about this and the closer they got to their departure the more it seemed that Paul and I would be cycling in the same region of Peru in those exact same weeks. However, we hadn’t agreed on a meeting place or time. Having to focus too much on a specific timing usually doesn’t make a trip any more fun. Now, unexpectedly, we suddenly find ourselves in the same village, in hotels at opposite ends of the main street. Both they and we are tired, showered and ‘in pyjamas’ so we decide to meet each other the next morning. When I walk towards the plaza I see them sitting at a jugueria (juice bar) on a small terrace. How wonderful to meet each other here, so unexpectedly, in a village on the Cordillera Blanca in Peru. We chat non-stop about our journey and theirs (which has just started). A little later Paul joins us. He is a tiny bit out of place… because Karin, Harold and I are wearing the same trousers. A tip from me that they apparently heeded. After a pleasant morning together, they get ready for the next stage while Paul and I look for a van. Because we are entering a sparsely populated region and we have run out of inner tubes and food supplies (in terms of peanut butter, oats, nuts, powdered milk, chocolate, butter, etc..) we make a 35 kilometre excursion to the only town we come close to to do some shopping there.

A day later than Karin and Harold we also leave for the northeast. To our surprise this route leads over a quiet but paved road. What a convenience! What we did not immediately expect is the fierce headwind that blows in our faces during the first long climb, tunneling through the valley. There is no shelter for our tent either. We drag our bikes up a bumpy steep slope to use the smallest bit of protection we can find. The wind does not die down all night and the next morning it blows even harder than the afternoon before. However, it is only a short distance to the tunnel that marks the highest point of this climb and I enjoy the variation of the fight and support that the wind offers me alternately during the hairpin bends upwards.

On the other side of the tunnel we descend through a green environment towards the river. A world of villages opens up to us, hidden behind the high passes. We see many murals that promote (local) political parties. We have been coming across them the entire trip, but here it is really full of them. Mostly on poor or dilapidated houses. We estimate that the owners of these buildings probably get a small compensation to have their house painted with campaign slogans every few years. Strangely enough, we have become completely used to it here, but at the same time we cannot imagine that this would happen in the Netherlands.

We are now southeast of the mountain range called ‘Cordillera Blanca’ (white mountain range). We have not seen much of that white yet and we hope that will change soon. From here we are heading towards the Punta Olimpica. Originally a pass, it is now the name of the highest traffic tunnel in the world, at 4735 meters above sea level. This ‘pass’ is part of the Huascarán loop, a round trip around the highest mountain in Peru (the Huascarán 6768). For this we cross the Cordillera Blanca in two directions before cycling east and north again. On the aerial photo below, the red line marks our route (south to north). On the right photo you can clearly see the serpentines (hairpin bends) on either side of the Punta Olimpica tunnel.

We leave the village of Chacas with 30km and 1600 meters of altitude planned. For the night we aim for a spot we have heard about. A stone cabin next to a lagoon just before the ‘pass’ (see the photo above right). When we leave the hotel Paul spots a thumbtack in my rear tire. However, the tire does not seem to be losing air. Let it be then? At the edge of the village we stop at a workshop to pump up our tires with a compressor. Finally we are going to ride comfortably on asphalt. When Paul pumps up his rear tire, fluid starts to bubble from the rim. What is this? After some investigation it appears to be the seam (which is apparently normal) in the rim that is being pushed apart a little by the high pressure of the hard tubeless tire (which is not possible with special ‘tubeless rims’). Aiaiaiaiai! And now? Perhaps the ‘anti-puncture’ fluid will close this opening in the rim? It has surprised us before.. We dare to do it. 30km, 1600 meters of altitude, with a pushpin and a leaking rim, should be possible! We have the material to patch or replace if necessary. For fun I send a quiz question to Santos: ‘One tire with a thumbtack, one leaking rim and 1600 meters of altitude… which of us will reach the top without repair?’ Their response: ‘Neither 😂.’

The climb is beautiful! It is sunny, the asphalt is smooth, the gradient is not too steep. We are really enjoying this climb. And our rear tires are holding up well. Paul’s rim stops bubbling after a while and I hear the thumbtack tapping on the asphalt with every revolution of my wheel. That’s how I know immediately that it’s still there. In the afternoon the sun quickly hides behind the mountains. We finally ride west, towards the pass. The last kilometers are cold and tiring. Then we see the cabin! A few more hairpin bends and then we push our bikes up a ‘donkey path’. To celebrate that we made it, we quickly take a photo in the cold of us together. The only place to pitch the tent is inside the hut itself. Despite the lack of windows or door, it still provides some protection from the wind. It just fits. With some left-over wood I make a vain attempt to make a fire. Perhaps it is the lack of oxygen at this altitude that makes it difficult? Brrr, too cold to be busy for long. Night falls quickly and we crawl into the down. What lucky people we are! Punta Olimpica, and how!

In ‘bed’ Paul calculates our points for the day. Thanks to the many meters of elevation we are above 100! Great, because as long as we cycle 100 points every day we will arrive at the end point on time. I enjoy the system that Paul recently came up with. With a few weeks to go and a specific route that we really want to complete, the kilometers cycled per day suddenly become important. So we thought about how many days of cycling we would have left and looked at the number of kilometers and meters of elevation on the route we had devised. Paul did a calculation with that. For the daily average in terms of kilometers required we would get 50 points and the same for the average number of meters of elevation required. In this way we can also get 100 (or more) points on a day with very few kilometers and many meters of elevation or vice versa. Every evening it is a source of excitement and fun when Paul calculates the daily result! We conclude that we are ahead of schedule and can therefore procrastinate without any problems. Therefore, the next morning we take our time to have breakfast in the sun on our own ‘terrace’ and to climb over the boulders around the lake.

With our lights on we drive through the highest tunnel in the world. On the other side we are surprised by several groups of people who stop there especially for the tunnel. There are also some people taking off their gear after climbing one of the nearby peaks. The last ‘climbers’ (seemingly tourists on tour) stumble past us as if it were their last steps. Their faces look like thunder. Apparently it looked different in the brochure…

An enthusiastic motorcyclist takes a picture of these two happy cyclists. Then we start the wonderful descent. The hairpin bends are the fastest, but we also roll through the green valley below with almost no effort. On to Yungay for a rest day!

Yungay turns out to have a large nice market where the Chocho tastes delicious. I enjoy it again, because soon it won’t be possible anymore… That’s how I think about many things we experience; one of the last Chochos, wild camping spots, mountain passes, unpaved roads, etc. I know that it will only be about two weeks before we land on Dutch soil again, but I can’t really feel that yet. Maybe that also ensures that I am still completely ‘here’ and can enjoy it to the fullest. Because of ‘surplus time’ we decide to stay an extra day in Yungay. Better here between the mountains than later in the big city. It is extra nice that Karin and Harold have also arrived in Yungay in the meantime. They first did the northern half of the round trip around the Huascarán and are therefore cycling in the opposite direction. While ‘enjoying’ a bitter orange-carrot juice we tell each other about the passes that lie behind us and therefore in front of the other. The northern pass is considered the toughest. The unpaved road surface is in poor condition, Karin and Harold also report. At the top and during the descent they had bleak weather, cloud and even rain. While we cycled in the bright sunshine along the other side of the mountain. The next morning we start our journey to the Llanganuco pass. We ride out of Yungay on a dusty sand-and-pebbles road. There is a lot of traffic. Suddenly I remember what Karin said yesterday; July 28 and 29 are the holidays of the year here in Peru, when independence is celebrated. Apparently many people do this by taking a trip to the Huascarán National Park. The cars race past and bury us in dust. When we arrive at the park ranger it is 16:00 and we have had our share. They have a nice spot of grass and we decide to pitch the tent there.

When we stick our heads out of the zipper the next morning, there is already a traffic jam in front of the barrier. People are running back and forth between their cars and the ‘ticket office’. I ask one of the park rangers if all those people are also going to the pass. Fortunately, that is not the case! Our paths will part at the foot of the ‘real’ climb, where it gets steep. They will take a walk from there or just have a picnic at the lake. With this prospect, it is a bit less annoying to sit in the crowd for the first hour. At the moment that the first of 28 hairpin bends announces itself, we indeed leave the crowd behind us. The climb is quite steep and the surface is bad. It requires constant focus to find a cycleable line. Still, my spirit cannot be broken, this is the last long unpaved climb of this trip! I am going to enjoy this intensely, even the suffering!

Then suddenly I’m standing with my rim on the ground. The head of the thumbtack in my rear tire has broken off and the tire has gone flat with one sigh. While Paul is patching it, I make lunch. There are no camping facilities along this climb, so we have to make sure we reach the top this afternoon. I sing through the last few hairpin bends, even though they cost an awful lot of strength. The view back into the valley is beautiful. This was it.. the last tough climb 😢.

On the other side of the pass we see the descent, mostly in the shade. We decide to do part of it and quickly find a nice camping spot. Descending in the cold takes away a considerable part of the fun. Paul finds a gem of a camping spot behind some bushes; green grass, trees, a crystal clear babbling mountain stream and a view of the snow-capped peaks behind us.

The next morning we descend the remaining 1400 meters in the sun. Just like on our ride east a week ago, we are also welcomed here by a green, hilly area with small villages. We ride along a mountain wall for a long time, giving us a beautiful view of the green-yellow-brown patchwork on the slopes next to and below us. How simplistic life is here. There is little for sale in the shops we pass, and restaurants are also scarce. The people who live here probably provide their own fresh vegetables and fruit. The people we see are sitting in front of their house or walking to or from somewhere, sometimes with a herd of goats, a few donkeys or sheep, we hardly see any cars. Everywhere the terrain along the road goes up or down, is being cultivated or is overgrown. It is only the second time on this trip that we really cannot find a camping spot and therefore choose a small hotel. A tiny ‘hotel-at-home’ where the only other guests are two German cyclists. The simplistic place, where we cook breakfast in the courtyard, reminds me of the homestays in Central Asia.

The two passes we were looking forward to so much have been conquered. What remains for us here are a few days of cycling along the Cordillera Blanca, a descent to the coast and a week in Lima. The days fly by, much too quickly. I could cycle here forever, that’s how it feels anyway. For Paul it’s different, he is sometimes already in the Netherlands in his thoughts. He is saturated with experiences, memories and challenges. That’s partly why it’s ‘okay’ that we’re going home soon. Even though we both regret leaving this way of life behind us. But, I promised my nephew I would be back for his 6th birthday! A promise that I want to keep no matter what.

With two weeks to go, there will definitely be (at least) one more blog!

For now, warm greetings.