Peru Great Divide — Marcapomacocha to Laraos
Rain, snow, hail — reminders that these too shall pass — and then, finally, the sun.
The weather has changed — afternoon storms starting with hail and ending with rain — slowly transitioning to the rainy season. The greatest difficulty I faced, though, was nutrition. I’ve been consuming crackers, biscuits, and chocolate while in the mountains, and rice with eggs, chicken, or fried trout when I got the chance in pueblos. Anything fresh would make me sick — fruits and vegetables, although I missed them, I tried to avoid.
Contrary to nutrition, full acclimatization has been like night and day. After a month at high altitude, my body had adapted — I had a wider range of pacing and felt strong at the passes. During my first weeks, I had only one pace, needing to stop frequently to catch my breath.
I’ve been going from one pass to another, doing justice to the route description of being a rollercoaster — in every sense, I might add. Three to five hours per pass, just cycling, watching the elevation rise and the temperature drop.
I love train trips — you’re limited to a few things, and the lack of options makes commitments easier. Cycling passes every day is similar; the absence of any other activity leaves space to think. It’s not that you force the thinking, but like clouds in the sky, thoughts come and go. Sometimes they thunder, and that’s when things click. This is when mountains manifest as a mirror, reflecting you.
Mountains do nothing; they are there whether we are or aren’t. We give our energy and get no response. Mountains are a way — a way to suffer. Learning the way of the mountain is learning how to suffer, and this has a broader impact on our lives. Ultimately, mountains are a tool.
How can you appreciate the sun when it’s burning you all day? You appreciate the sun when it dries you from the rain, when it warms you from the cold, when it lights your way.
Up and down, warm and cold, wet and dry, peaceful and anxious — a rollercoaster indeed.
This post continues my journey from Marcapomacocha. You can read the previous section below.
What’s there to describe about a pass? The last village that’s left behind? The monotony of going to 4000 meters, where it usually becomes more visually appealing? The hours spent listening audiobooks? The times you need to stop to put on your rain jacket, pee, drink or eat? Whatever it is, you learn to go through it, and sometimes enjoy it.
It had been a while since I last met another cyclist. Marin, a French adventurer, has been in South America for 9 months, hiking and volunteering. She decided to start the Peru Divide, coming from Abancay and heading north to Huaraz. She bought a bike, fitted bags, and took off — admirable!
We both felt joy in briefly sharing our stories. She would camp around the area, and I would continue to Tanta — still quite a distance for that late in the day.
Having a short day in Huancaya, I enjoyed two warm meals and local treats. Unfortunately, I paid the price for being careless and satisfying my appetite. I spent the night in the shared bathroom, alternating between diarrhoea and vomiting.
I felt better the next morning and continued my journey in the afternoon.
I reached the village and immediately looked for a hospedaje —accommodation. The lady found me sitting on her porch in fetal position. “Please use my bathroom, regardless of where you stay”, she told me in broken English. I barely managed to leave my bike on her stairs, blocking the entrance, and rushed into her bathroom. I spent an hour in there and was grateful for her understanding. Naturally, I stayed at her hospedaje, which turned out to be a beautiful place to recover for the next three days.
After spending three days in bed on a BRAT diet, my stomach and gut finally stabilised. During the day, I found comfort mainly in watching a game on YouTube I grew up with — Warcraft 3. It intrigued me how relaxing it was, despite not having played the game in nearly 20 years. Worries occasionally flooded in about how much time this sickness is costing me, and how it made cycling even harder. I realized that the hardest part of my journey was nutrition.
“This, too, shall pass” I thought, as I shut my mind off in the familiar scenes of Warcraft 3.
“I’m so proud of you for taking on such an incredible challenge! Even though you couldn’t finish the entire journey due to the tough conditions, it is an amazing achievement. Your determination and resilience, despite being ill and facing such difficult circumstances, are truly inspiring. You’ve already accomplished so much!!!
Congratulation on this incredible journey!!!!!👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏I
So proud of you brother. What a transformational journey you have had so far. I am glad that you have documented it in such a visually stunning way, whilst also adding your insights, descriptions of the journey and your own sinew and substance. May you have numerous beautiful journeys on this earth!