Peru Great Divide — Oyón to Marcapomacocha

I want to reflect before I forget — the mundane climbs and the longing for human interaction.

One of my intentions for this trip — crossing the Peruvian Andes on my bicycle — was to document it. I had the urge to create — write and take photos. The process makes me more aware and fosters deeper thinking.

The finale of Cordillera Huayhuash - on my way to Oyón

I want to reflect before I forget.

This blog starts at Oyón, arriving weak, hungry and still recovering from illness.

I spent three and half days there, in a small town that is the largest for kilometres to come.

On my second day, I met Alwin from the Netherlands. “Small world” we said — he lives in Groningen where I also spent 6 months during my internship a few years back! It was such a joy to converse — instead of only trying to get around with basic Spanish.

On our way to get dinner.

An alley in the central market that served food — walking past, the owners would advertise their dishes and invite you in.

Chicken with rice for breakfast — needed something solid for my guts to recover.

Chicken soup was next day’s breakfast.

This was not the type of breakfast that I was accustomed to but it was growing in me.

Eventually, we discovered a pasteleria that made crepes. We ate there twice a day.

After three nights in the town, and feeling healthy I decided to depart and join the main route of the Peru Divide. Unfortunately, Alwin couldn’t join due to an old knee injury that resurfaced — solo I was.

I took off late, after a long breakfast, and started the mundane climb. I was feeling uninspired, maybe I wasn’t fully recovered, or maybe the town had spoiled me. Regardless, I had a lot of time to think.

Suddenly I felt alive — a similar feeling to when I found a legendary Pokémon as a child! This time it was alpacas, seeing in the wild for the first time!

The long climb continued, realizing that I could finally keep pace at altitude. During my first pass — Pastoruri — I felt like drowning, gasping for air every few minutes.

The long climb coming to an end. The scenery became inspiring higher up.

Token photo of the highest climb of the route. It was only downhill from there with a catch.

Heading in the mining area — entrance was prohibited naturally.

I had to cross an abandoned mine that was blocked by one and a half meter walls at the entrances. Tired, and running out of daylight, I had to unpack and manage my heavy bike across the walls — things that can be trivial with two become a challenge solo.

Being in the abandoned mining area felt surreal, buildings and infrastructure were left as if it was only a break.

I was rushing through the mine as there were minutes of daylight left — spending the night there wasn’t appealing.

A smooth downhill followed in the twilight. The first village I reached — Rapaz at 4000 meters — felt inviting. I played my practised Spanish scenario with a few locals “¿Hay habitacion?” asking if there is a room to sleep. A couple of villagers pointed me to a lady that supposedly offered a room, however she told me there is none in Rapaz. “Ok, I will get some food and sleep further down the road” I thought and went at the square. On a bench, laughing and on their smartphones, three girls noticed me. I asked “¿Hay comida?” asking for food, and they immediately offered help.

Things were going well, the girls found a place for me to eat in one of her aunts and they took on the quest to find a place for me to sleep. There was a lot of Google Translate involved and my Spanish sentences made us laugh.

When I arranged my trip in Peru, I started Spanish lessons. In a few hours of private courses I managed to learn the basics. My motivation was to interact with the locals and have a richer experience.

Dinner consisting of fries, rice and egg held at the family’s storage room — I was grateful.

I had dinner at seven — the time that the hostess’s family had dinner — she prepared an extra portion for me. She also found a place for me to sleep — at the owner’s of a Bodega named Grecia! An elderly woman that climbed stairs that were too steep for me, showed me my room.

I was glad I had a place to stay since it was late and freezing cold. That night was richer than having set up camp down the road and eat noodles! I had a glimpse of the lives of the locals, practice Spanish and share laughs!

What I like to ask people I meet is “¿Como esta de la vida aqui?” — How is life here? The girls told me “tranquilo” — peaceful, and it was how Rapaz felt.

Peaceful Rapaz waking up at 05:30 with cheerful music.

I had breakfast prepared by the hostess and chatted with her husband. He was curious about my bike and navigation. He works at the mines as a driver, 12 days working followed by 7 days off — he was pleased with his job. I’ve heard opposing opinions from other locals — depends which side of the mining business they are at. His two sons dream to become football players and famous like Messi. I thanked them, payed for my food and took off — and just before I left, the couple packed lunch for me “para el camino — for the road” they exclaimed and put it in my bag. I thanked them once more and continued my way downhill.

Another monotonous climb: steep gravel road, few animals, many feces, occasional smell of a carcass and either too hot or cold. I was zoning out — which is partly where I find joy in these climbs. The body is busy and the mind roams free. This brought nostalgia to the foreplay, and I had the perfect podcast in hand — a tribute to two famous television writers that created iconic Greek shows in the 90s.

Regardless of longing for company this was one of the reasons I aimed for solo — see what’s in there when there is not much to see.

Even in uninteresting climbs, higher up my spirits lift up.

I decided to split the climb into two days and set up camp next to a river, 300 meters below the pass.

I was grateful to have proper dinner — trout caught by the hostess’s husband and boiled potatoes.

The night was freezing — on clear skies I get out of the warmth of my sleeping bag, put on my iced clothes and take a few pictures. That night I managed to get my hand out of the tent and that was enough to get me back into coziness and comfort.

The idea of breakfast and warm coffee got me out of my sleeping bag just before the first light of day. There is a sequence that I optimize each time: get the stove on my skin to warm it up so it lights, deflate the sleeping pad and roll it while still covered with the sleeping bag, roll the sleeping bag in the dry bag and finally light the stove with the liner covering me. All this to optimize warmth and packing.

Takes around half an hour to warm up half a liter of water.

Fresh coffee — have been carrying Peruvian coffee from Huaraz — and warm oats with Peruvian cacao and sugar!

Morning frost on rubber — the melting of it signifies the start of my day.

Riding the last meters of the pass under excellent weather and mood!

Top of the pass and a short break to enjoy the surroundings. With the slightest breeze and I was cold at that altitude, even under the intense sun.

Uknown what the other side of the pass has to offer — epic mountain vistas.

And wild alpacas!

I’ve seen many rock faces in this trip, some of them aroused my climbing instincts — but this wall… I let out an uninhibited “wow” when I noticed it.

The perfect setup — road to drive, place to camp, short approach, and epic features!

I was taking my time to get to the next climb, and had a short window of cellular reception. I spent almost an hour catching up with friends and family.

The next climb started and my mind was still in the chats I briefly had. I wasn’t ready to move on but I had to.

The scenery changed and mountains looked once more sharper, contrasty and inviting — maybe it was my mood. However, fatigue came in slowly.

During a break to filter water and decide if I’m warm or cold — rain droplets interrupted my contemplation and urged me to continue.

On a deserted road in the mountains — that’s what I asked for.

Almost 350 meters before the pass and earlier that I wished, an eminent storm that has been brewing rushed me to a stop. I was lucky to have a flat spot and setup my tent just before the first drops. However, I was even more lucky that the storm just passed by and I was able to cook.

I had canned fish fillet and noodles for dinner. Last time I had a similar, I was in the Cordillera Huayhuash and got food poisoning, likely due to unfiltered water. Maybe it was too soon to repeat the same meal that I puked a week before, but that was all I had. I felt sick for two hours after eating it. With food, I’m easygoing but I’m having a hard time in this trip — biscuits and noodles are of little tolerance nowadays.

One thing I appreciate is that I can sleep from eight o’clock - sunset is at six and I aim to stop riding around four.

That leaves me with a good sleep window and epic late night or early morning views.

An hour before the first light.

With a half an hour earlier than usual start, I receive the morning warmth of the sun and I feel grateful! A few meters left to finish this pass.

What’s a good spot to take a break? You feel it, there is no wind, the temperature is just right, there is something to observe. And such I filtered water watching the cows in the distance and long-winged birds flying over the reddish hills. These are gifts that I openly receive.

Another intention of this trip was to slow down, appreciate the moments and the small things. That fuels me to continue through the hardships that show up — and the cycle continues.

A smooth downhill that I wholeheartedly enjoyed.

With mesmerizing blues that remind me of my growing love for the sea.

Soon enough, I’m riding the next pass, motivated to reach Yantac and get a warm meal.

Last pass was down and what was left was a long distance to cover.

Llamas in the distance!

Llamas are massive compared to alpacas, they can be almost three times their weight.

A final stretch before hitting the tarmac - the reddish color of the distant hills was attracting like a fly to blue light.

A rare moment where I was happy to hear my low pressured tires on the road — covering distance quickly!

Certainly one of the most gorgeous highways I’ve ridden.

A welcoming sign and Yantac nested in the rocks — a beautiful and relieving site.

First things first, visit to the local tienda for a drink and something sweet.

Next was habitacion, the room which I spent the night. The hostess, Katy, was accustomed to cyclists passing by and spoke some English.

Electricity was only available after sunset and I had many batteries to charge.

Most importantly, I had to charge my batteries with a warm meal. However it was the only meal I could get this evening as the cook didn’t anticipate my arrival nor my hunger.

When Katy, my hostess, heard that I was still hungry, she invited me for a warm milk and crackers. I asked her about the life in Yantac and she responded that it’s hard, and life is expensive. She goes weekly to Lima for additional work which is three hours away.

The village celebrated the school’s anniversary — a significant asset for such a small community, and the locals take pride in it.

Hunger woke me up before dawn. I had the chance to talk with family and friends and eventually get breakfast — the perks of being in a different time zone.

Locals gathering at the time of breakfast, around six.

Dogs and baby sheep were around!

Finally, breakfast and I got an extra portion!

Long due chain lubrication.

Well fed, packed and with a lubricated bike, I took off to Marcapomacocha — a village only an hour away that would accommodate my rest day.

A stunning small village — Yantac.

Easy ride, breathing in the surroundings.

Marcapomacocha in the distance.

First stop was to get a second breakfast.

Trout with rice and potatoes.

I spent the rest of my day there, eating, resting and writing.

Progress so far

P.s. I took the highlighted route in the Cordillera Huayhuash — that’s a story for another post!