From Anchorage to Ushuaia by Bike

We had found a couple of travel agencies that offered 4 day trips to Choquequirao, priced between US $350 and $850, per person, including equipment. But we figured that it was entirely possible to make the trip on our own, and now that we’ve arrived, it’s clear that it would be much cheaper – 250 soles, or $85 each. And the accommodation is pretty much the same either way: everyone stays together along the route: camping sites with dust, uneven ground, cold showers, and early mornings.

We were loaded down like pack animals as we walked through Abancay to the taxi stands leaving for Cachora (8 soles each). In Cachora, we left our stuff in a little hotel (20 soles/night) and went in search of a “arriero” (mule-driver) and some mules. We found Raul and arranged to leave the next morning at 8 am with Andres, our mule-driver, a mule and horse (all for 60 soles/day). We paid Raul an extra 20 soles for his brother to meet us and guide us around the site, but unfortunately he was a no-show. We bought the rest of what we would need in Cachora, food for 3 people for 4 days (120 soles in total). Andres was great, and it was a real pleasure to walk with him. He was shy, but we did learn a little about him and his life in the mountains.

We packed our bags onto the animals, and then set out, leaving the Cachora Valley (2950m). We walked along one side, looking up at the glaciers suspended from the mountain peaks, 5000m up. We followed the fields and pastures, called “pampa” by the Peruvians, meaning a flat trail, although the route was actually quite hilly. After about 3 hours we came to a wonderful vantage point, looking out over the entire Vilcabamba range, the Apurimac Canyon, and Choquequirau in the distance. We spent the rest of the day climbing down 1500m to reach the Rio Apurimac (1530m). It was hard going – our legs are not used to using those muscles! We camped after 21 km, at the bottom of this dry valley, accompanied by our dearest friends, the sand flies.

The next morning, we climbed 1500m up the other side of the valley. The vegetation was more lush and diverse. As we rounded a corner, we saw a few terraces, nestled into the side of a small valley. The whole site came into view just a little further along. We walked another hour through the luxuriant greenery and arrived at the Choquequirau campsite around noon (3000m high and 32 km from Cachora). We had a quick lunch with Andres and then headed out to explore the ruins, incredibly perched 3100m high at the intersection between three valleys.

These ruins were only recently discovered in the 1980s, and the Peruvian government wanted to make it a big tourist site to relieve a little bit of the congestion at Machu Picchu. At the same time, a European country decided to help with the archeological excavations. To date, about 30% of the site has been uncovered and the rest is still buried underground. It was France that agreed to help Peru, and they made a creative deal: France agreed to cancel the debt that Peru owed them, and in exchange, Peru agreed to fund the digs led by French researchers and archeologists. In brief, this site was built by the son of the guy who built Machu Picchu, and it is much bigger. The last of the Incas took refuge here for 40 years, hiding from the conquistadors. Nobody knows why exactly the site was eventually abandoned.

We started in the main square and visited what were likely wealthy homes with baths. We walked to the edge of the forest where you could see that there were more ruins just under the surface of the earth. We climbed up on the buildings and walked along aqueduct system, and as we came back down, there was a great view of the Apurimac Canyon. We looked out over the “Llama area,” which !!include!!d many terraces jutting out of the mountain side, on whose walls were carved with Llamas. After climbing up to the highest point of the hill, we wound our way back down, through all the various areas of the site, including some that were still being excavated, and we chatted a bit with some of the workers. We really had a marvelous time scrambling over these ruins. And throughout the whole afternoon visit, we only saw three other people, and they were from France!

We were a bit alarmed by what we heard about the future plans for this site. There are talks of roads, cable cars and even a heliport. But the site’s charm lies in its remoteness and inaccessibility…. But maybe we are too old-school. We’ll let you know after we have visited Machu Picchu and had a chance to experience the tourism en masse.

PS:

We are know an aunt and uncle! Céline and Nicolas (Sébastien’s brother) have just welcomed their first child, Paulin, into the world… future gold medalist in cycling and downhill skiing. But for now, the only thing he’s exercising are his vocal chords… much the dismay of his parents!

Paulin

Sébastien

This trip was outside the scope of the Association Planète Durable et Solidaire, but we’re using the site to bring all the news of all our adventures.

We rested in Ayacucho, recovering from our experience with the roads, the dust, and the sand flies. Not many of the flies venture into town. We spent the first day with Jean from France, who is biking from Quito to Ushuaia. It was nice to hang out with him, and he showed us a little around the town, where he’d been staying for 2 days. 

The main square was very beautiful. The city is coming back into its own after the violent 1980s, caused by the “Sentier Lumineux”. They were a revolutionary movement turned guerrilla army that reined terror down over the region, assassinating political leaders, elders and even simple villagers, and planting bombs in front of public buildings. 

In 1992, the leaders of the movement were arrested and region started to turn around. In recent years, political idealism has given way to cocaine trafficking. Nearby, just on the other side of the mountains, the slopes of the Andes are covered in coca plantations and clandestine mini-laboratories where the plants are transformed into cocaine. 

The cocaine route is well known to the police. During our afternoon waiting in Mayocc we talked with one of the police officers and he explained that the route is only a couple hundred meters from the police station, but that there’s not much they can do without proper funding. Their old police car sits in the road in front the station, but it’s been sometime since it started. 

On Saturday, we took the local bus up to Quinua, following the ruins of the capital city of the Wari Empire who controlled the Peruvian Andes 500 years before the Incas. Just a little above the village, a great monument had been erected to celebrate the victory of the Peruvian troops over the Spanish colonizers in 1824. Peru gained its independence from Spain after this great battle. 

Early Sunday morning we got on a bus, continuing along the difficult route. Before leaving, we felt a little like we were cheating by taking the bus, but having seen the roads, we were really happy not to have tried to bike it. More than ¾ of the road was just as bad as the road had been a couple of days ago, stony and dusty, and this one was all uphill. We definitely made the right call, and only regret that we didn’t have more time to admire the beautiful landscape or meet some of the peasants that worked the land, 4100m up in the mountains. 

In order to travel during the daylight hours, we got out at Andahuaylas. It was a long first day, 9 hours in the bus with only one bathroom break, one breakfast break at 10:30, and one unscheduled stop when the bus got a flat. Today, we covered the second part of the journey. Another 4100m climb followed by a dizzying downhill slope to 1850m that would have been a real nightmare on the bikes because of the poor road conditions, and then finally 20km on paved road to reach Abancay, where we are now. 

Next, we’re going to leave the bikes for a couple of days and walk about 70km round-trip to visit the Inca site Choquequirau, nick-named “Machu Picchu’s little sister”, since they’re so similar. The site is actually more spread out than Machu Picchu, and the advantage is that it is (at least for now) only accessible by foot and is much less touristy. We’re hoping to meet with some MFIs when we get back to Abancay.

PS: Here’s a little picture of Choquequirau, to give you an idea of where we’re headed.

Sébastien

Day 1: Izcuchaca

Our bags were all packed full of everything that we’d need for the next four days. We had lunches (tuna, tomatoes, bread, mayo, and chips), and dinners (packages of soup, pasta, and chocolate desserts), and snacks. The bikes were pretty laden down on our way out of Huancayo, especially after our visits to 2 big grocery stores.

It’s a paved road to Izcuchaca, but I had trouble keeping up with Sebastien. I was tired – still a bit wiped from our 4800 m climb. On the way, we passed lots of police blockades – this road is used by the drug cartels to transfer goods. At one of the stops, the agent in charge asked us a couple of questions – more for fun than anything else. He ended up inviting us camp to at the police station for the night. We declined – it seemed better to look into the hostel – there would be a shower. Sebastien checked out a room with a private bath, but the manager then prepared us a room with a single bed and shared bathroom. We negotiated the price, deeply unimpressed. There was no hot water, but the manager said he’d get one of the employees to set up the electric heater.

We haven’t really written about this, but in Peru most of the hotels only have cold water. They have an electric water heater that sits just above the shower head with an element that heats the water, more or less, depending on how well it works. We haven’t had much luck with these electric heaters. Usually when we try to turn them on, the element shorts out and/or we get electric shocks coming out of the faucet! We did get it to work in this case and had hot showers (we’ve become experts since we’ve been dealing with these since Mexico), and to make up for the room, the manager gave us some locally-made buns.

Day 2: Sand Flies

We left Izcuchca early in the morning to cover as many kilometres as possible, and we were still thinking that we’d be able to make it to Mayocc the next day. But my legs had other plans. They were already sore in the morning, and the road was stony. We bounced over every rock. It took ten times the effort to bike on these dusty roads than on a paved road. 

Every time a car drove past we had to cover our faces so we wouldn’t get a lungful of dust. After 29 km, we decided to pitch the tent. We could hear a stream coming down the side of the mountain, and we thought that it would be cleaner than the Rio Mantaro, the polluted river that goes through La Oroya. We followed a small road which led to a pool of water, and we camped beside it in a little dry patch, hoping that there wouldn’t be any traffic. Just a little ways beyond us, we could see abandoned houses. 

We showered, but it was a constant battle with the sand flies. Sand flies are small, and they don’t sting, they bite, taking a big chunk of skin with them and leaving an itchy welt. They also transmit “bartonellosis” a disease characterized by a high fever and aches. We swatted them as best we could, but as soon as we let down our guard even a little, they swarmed around us.

Day 3: More sand flies and an abandoned village

40 km down the road, and there are still just as many sand flies…. They’re driving us crazy! We don’t even bother sitting down for lunch – we just walk around in circles trying to prevent the flies from landing on us. We sprayed ourselves with bug spray, the same stuff we’d used in the Yukon and in BC, and not a smell that we had missed! The stuff doesn’t really slow them down, but it did keep them from landing on us, at least for a little while. The flies disappear as soon as the sun goes down, only to begin their assault again at dawn.

We spent the night in an abandoned village. A man on the road told us that there were only 2 families left there. He asked us if we needed to camp, and showed us the best stops in the ruined town. There were other cyclo-travellers who had already arrived. A stream ran directly from the mountain and I followed it upstream to take a shower with my little saucepan. The water was freezing, but it was so nice to feel clean! Sebastien planned to shower too, but only after the sun went down. He wanted to spent the last daylight hours cleaning our bike chains, all choked up with dust, with a toothbrush.

I washed some of our underwear too, thinking of these women that we had seen that morning, washing a large blanket by hand in the icy water. I smiled to myself, thinking how ridiculous I must look with my two little pairs of underwear and boxers.

Day 4: Sand flies, and more sand flies

We covered 33 km today. It was another hard day, biking through the dust and being bounced around like bag of potatoes. The road is getting worse and worse. Some workers came to take water from the stream near the abandoned village to water the roads and settle the dust. They promised that the roads would be better…. we’ll see.

Around the corners, the loose dirt certainly doesn’t make things easier. We have to put our feet down to make sure we don’t slide out. On the right side of the road, the valley stretches out way beneath us, with the river at the bottom. It makes me break into a cold sweat – I’m still afraid of heights. And there’s no guard rail to make me feel better. Even if there had been one, it probably would have washed away with all the flooding they have each year. 

Going around one corner, I did fall and my bike landed in the 10 cm of dust that covered the road. I swore as the sand flies settled down on me. I was pretty cranky – and vocal about it! Just a few minutes later, a dog jumped up on Sebastien and he fell as well. The dog took its fair share of stones, and certainly wouldn’t be back to bother him. By the time we stopped for the night, it was late and we couldn’t find any water. All the streams running down the mountain were surrounded by make-shift homes, inhabited by locals who laughed at us as we passed by. We weren’t in the mood to ask for any hospitality, so we just kept going, hoping we’d find a quiet corner to camp just around the next bend in the road.

Eventually we pitched the tent near the Rio Mantaro, the polluted river we’ve been writing about. As we went for a shower, we only hoped that most of the pollutants had stayed upstream. We filtered some water too, since we’d run out. None of the villages we went through had any big bottles of water for sale, and if we inquired, the locals would ask why we weren’t taking advantage of the water that nature provided. Yup, even though the water isn’t safe to drink, they drink it anyway. That night, we saw people come down to the Rio Mantaro and fill up their drinking water containers.

Day 5: Asphalt: the world’s best invention, ever!

28 km today. The sand flies started early in the morning. They drive us nuts and seriously get under our skin – literally and figuratively. We dream about them, itching, and then wake up in the middle of the night to find that we’ve scratched at the bites until they bled. They are pushing us to the limits of our sanity. We have decided to bike to Mayocc and then find some form of motorised transportation. We’re even ready to climb into a tractor-trailer, if that’s what it comes down to.

Ah, Mayocc. We knew there was a police station there and hostel, no doubt very seedy. We had thought we would get there after just 3 days, and by the time we actually make it, we found that even our low expectations of town were not to be met. There were just 3 small stores – it was basically a ghost town. We bought enough for lunch and dinner that night, just in case, and went to the police station. After a long wait faced with the great indifference of the officers, they came over to us. We explained our situation to the clerk whose job it was to it stop all the vehicles that went by, and he said he would ask them to take us. We waited 4 hours and 6 cars went by. Finally, an empty collectivo came by and took us 20 km down the road, only 10 km from Huanta, where we were planning to sleep. We understood afterwards that the bus was on its way to pick up agricultural workers and take them home to their remote mountain village.

We got back on the paved road right at the edge of town! All the sudden pedaling was easier and we could climb the hills without much trouble. We got back into civilization, pretty worn down. The sand flies really got to us. We ate chicken and chips and slept in a real bed.

Day 6: Ayacucho…. Finally!

50 km of paved road – it seemed like we were flying. We stopped on the way to visit some Inca ruins, but they weren’t very impressive.

Getting back on the paved road has also meant the return of other less savoury elements: the garbage by the side of the road, the drivers that pass us in the face of ongoing traffic, and people calling out “gringo” before they even say hello. We’re losing patience. We’re tired, physically and mentally, and we simply can’t put up with this anymore. A dog came out to chase us, and when the family started to laugh it made me all the more annoyed.

We finally made it to Ayacucho, one of our major stops on our way to Cusco. It took us an hour and a half of biking around to find a decent place to stay, and the town is not flat.

Up next?

The sand flies are our worst enemy these days. They can drive us around the bend in mere moments. We’ve heard that lots of cyclo-travellers have been bothered by them between Huancayo and Abancay. Some managed to tough it out, and we tip our hats to them. It took us 6 days to get through the easy part of this section, known as the most difficult leg of the Americas. Lots of others threw in the towel and hopped on alternative modes of transportation.

So we will join that latter group. We’re going to find transportation to take us to Abancay, avoiding the dusty, rocky road. We’ll skip out on 3 climbs of more than 4000m and the elevated habitat of the vicunas (like llamas), but it’s totally worth it in order to save our sanity, our legs, and our equipment. Better not to start hating the bikes at this point, when there is still so much more to discover.

PS. The best part of this section has been the amazing scenery and being able to pitch our tent in the wilderness.

Sara

We had planned to only spend one night in Jauja but we ended up staying there three days. Bruno was very welcoming and his hostel was more like a B&B than anything else. He cooked for us and took us to visit the region. We saw Laguna de Paca and the pre-Inca ruins in Tunanmarca. We climbed in the back of his pick-up truck, just like the locals do, and even stopped to pick up a few hitch-hikers on the way.

On Wednesday we biked down the Rio Mantaro which runs between Jauja and Huancayco.  In the fertile valley around the river, the locals grow potatoes (there are more than 3000 varieties of potatoes in Peru), corn, artichokes, and different kinds of herbs. The river is actually very polluted because of the all the mining upstream (lead, arsenic, copper, antimony, zinc). There were studies done recently on the levels of toxicity in La Oroya, the mining town that we passed through about 100 km upstream, and it’s supposed to be one of the top 10 most polluted places in the world. When we had passed through, however, the factory had been shut down because of a labour dispute with the American owner who wouldn’t comply with safety and environmental standards, so we hadn’t really noticed the pollution. Since then, the dispute has intensified, and now the workers and their families are blocking the roads, causing traffic jams that extend for more than 20 km along the major artery between Lima, the mountain, and the jungle. I guess we were lucky to get through there before the protests, even if it would have made for some interesting stories!

Today we’re in Huancayo, regrouping and getting ready to take on the stony roads of the Peruvian hills. Check out the pictures below – they’ll give you an idea of all the ups and downs that await us on our way to Cuzco!

Sébastien

Yup, 4828 m! That’s what the GPS said this morning at the top of Anticona, called Ticlio by the locals. After five days on biking, 145 km, and one day in San Mateo to get used to the altitude, we made it to the top. It was awesome reaching the summit.

The day after San Mateo was short but hard. As we climbed, the cold really started to get to us, and we put on all our warm clothes.

We arrived in Casapalca a bit by accident, thinking that the town was a little further up the road. It’s a mining town, not at all attractive. The mountain is mined for copper, lead, and silver. There were two hotels that we could see, but neither looked particularly promising. We asked around, but the response from the locals was unanimous: not exactly world class, but those were the only two places in town. At the first hotel, that one that was supposed to be less bad, the women told us that they were full. We were sceptical, but left to check out the other place. The woman there grudgingly showed us a room. It was dirty, the sheets unwashed, and the communal bathroom was disgusting. There was no shower, but it didn’t matter since there wasn’t any water. And it was 25 soles (US $8) for the privilege of staying there. We turned down the room and considered camping, but it was already freezing out and not even dark yet. We asked some of the locals, and they confirmed that the temperature drops below zero here at night and that it snows regularly!

We bought some groceries from a little corner store staffed with three very nice women. We went back to the bikes, and then on second thought, headed back in the store to ask if we could camp on their property for the night. They said no, and referred us back to the two hotels. We decided to head out of the town to camp, but just as we were leaving, the youngest of the women came out and told us that she had a room where we could stay for 15 soles. We were only too happy to sleep inside and we accepted right away.

Her name was Aleda, and she was 21 years old, with a 3 month old baby and a husband, Mario, who works in the mine. While we waited for him, she invited us into their “apartment” – one room, about 100 square feet. The sink and bathroom were one floor down, and we didn’t see a shower. We were freezing, even wearing two sweaters, but not a single home up here has heat. While she cooked on a little gas stove, she told us a little about herself and her life here. She keeps house and takes care of the baby while her husband works 8 hour shifts, 7 days a week (although Sunday is optional), alternating every two weeks between day shifts and night shifts. He makes 850 soles (US $280) a month and they pay 150 soles (US $50) in rent. When Mario came in, we talked with him about France and Peru, and we showed them our road map. Mario was totally transfixed: he couldn’t believe that the names and places so familiar to him were written on this piece of paper that we had bought so far from here.

We slept well, nice and warm tucked inside our sleeping bags with two Alpaca wool blankets each.

The final day of our ascent was incredible. It was cold, but not unbearably so. We went slowly through the thinning atmosphere. The landscape was magnificent, and the mountains were coloured in reds and yellows. Some peaks were snow-covered. Around 250m from the top, Sara started to get a headache, but she took some aspirin and that helped. Strangely, the altitude didn’t affect our appetite, although it often happens that way. We ate 150m below the summit, admiring the beautiful view.  Then only a few twists and turns later, we reached the snow-dusted summit. It was exhilarating and we were bursting with happiness. There were a few locals working there, and they shared in our celebration. We basked in the moment, filming and taking pictures. Then we geared up for the descent: Gore-Tex shell, gloves, hats.

Over the course of the climb we really appreciated the support and encouragement of the motorists and everyone else on the road, including car washers, farmers and miners. We send out our thanks to them, they were a great help!

Going down was incredible. The landscape was sublime. We biked alongside a lake of the most gorgeous blue, the colour of which seemed to change as we descended. It was amazing!

We arrived in La Oroya, a town with the unfortunate reputation of being one of the most polluted places on earth, poisoned from the toxic waste oozing from the lead and arsenic refineries.  We had been told to go quickly through the town, breathing as little of the polluted air as possible. But, in the end, the air wasn’t as bad as we had been led to believe. We found a little hotel where the owner was friendly. The next day, Sunday, we went into town and saw the infamous factory, and there was no smog coming from the smoke stack. We learned later that the factory has been essentially shut down because of a dispute between the workers and the owner. The owner was refusing to comply with security and environmental standards, and the workers were asserting their rights.

We descended another 85km into the Rio Valley, and we are staying in Jauja tonight, in a hotel owned by Bruno, a lovely Frenchman. The landscape is still very beautiful, but the motorists are a little less friendly on the way down. In Peru, the car that is passing has the right of way – whether or not they can see, and regardless of a solid double line! We narrowly avoided an accident on three occasions where we came face to face with a car passing a truck. It wasn’t that the drivers hadn’t seen us, they had. And they chose to pass illegally anyway!

Sébastien