Nazca to Abancay

This the big test for me following my less than heroic succumbing to the effects of altitude when in Tibet. The climb up from the desert that hugs the Pacific coast of Peru to the Andean altiplano. Nazca sits at an altitude of around 500m, but heading east inland you climb to well over 4000m over the course of 56 miles.

The world's highest sand dune... over 2000m

We rolled out of Nazca at just after 7am and quickly managed to miss the signpost for the turning we needed to take, courtesy of a large truck parked across it. It was only as we rushed past the air field still on the Pan American highway that we realised our mistake, which incurred us a 4 mile detour. Not a great start to the day with a monster climb ahead. The good news was that the traffic died off dramatically once off the main North South route. Consisting mainly of the occasional lumbering truck, slightly faster moving pickup and still faster motorcycles.

The climbing was steady. Den's knee played up for most of the day and kept her planted in the saddle for long periods. The landscape was unrelentingly dry desert scrub. A few low shrubs dotted with the occasional cactus. A handful of forlorn houses passed every now and then, but from the moment the road start to climb we saw not a single person outside of their vehicles. Only towards the end of the day did we find a shop to replenish our fast depleting supply of water. We'd started the day with 14 litres on our bikes, enough for 2 days we hoped, but by 4pm on this first day we were already down to 6 litres left. We stopped after 36 miles at an altitude of 2600. Exhausted we hauled our bikes off the road, over a low ridge to some flat ground that looked to have been excavated in readiness for an as yet unused landfill site. We cooked up pasta as the sun set over the mountains we'd spent the day climbing.

The next morning we broke camp and started back at the climb early. Initially more of the same desert scrub, but then as we reached the high plateau, the landscape changed and the earth sprouted grassy tufts for as far as the eye could see, streams gurgled their way out of the ground and animals were visible amongst the vegetation. We'd reached the pampas. We followed the road across the high grasslands for most of the afternoon before we reached our reward for all our previous climbing exertions. A 15km 1000m decent into the town of Lucanas. We crashed into the first hostel we came to in the town. Too pooped to hunt out dinner.

We had a proper sit down breakfast at a restaurant before we continued the following morning. The friendly locals came to chat to us. It's a shame about our poor Spanish, but they were genuinely interested in our journey. You know when this happens that you've left the clutches of the gringo trail behind.

We only had a short ride to the town of Pequio, where we planned to take a couple of days off the bikes to acclimatise a bit more, as the following days would mean us camping at over 4000m for probably two nights. The first 9 miles were all up hill. We saw a few bands of roving motorcycle tourists sweep past on their way to Cuzco. Which made me very jealous at the thought of being able to climb even the steepest climb on a wave of torque. Nearing the top, and probably looking a little worse for the climb, I noticed a pick up slow behind me. I turned to be confronted by a film crew pointing not one but two video cameras at me. How very disconcerting. They did an impromptu interview about our trip and then explained they were filming the trip of one of the groups of motorcyclists that had previously gone past. How Charlie and Ewan is that? Not only do you get a support vehicle tailing you, but also your own camera crew. I think we must be under prepared.

Pequio was one of those places that grows on you the longer that you are there. We had a few days to adjust to the altitude, but when we first rolled into town I wasn't holding out much hope of enjoying my time there. But mooching around the town centre the following day, I was quickly drawn to the lovely town square and the rest of the clean well cared for town that spilled away down the hillside. 

The first day on the road to Abancay was again about acclimatisation. We only actually cycled 11 miles, but we climbed up to 3700 metres. Found a gulley blocked from view of the road by a dry stone wall, and settled in for the afternoon reading and watching the trucks lumber on the road. Put the tent up just before dusk and had a cosy night just the two of us an a handful of cows.

The next day we climbed steadily, we were heading back up to the 4000m plus plateau and I felt a lot better prepared than I had been in Tibet. We climbed fairly constantly all day, only covering 35 miles or so and we got as far as the village of Negromayo when we spotted another cycle tourist heading just off the road. We gave chase down a grave track, and caught up for a chat. Robert (from Germany) asked if we wanted to share his campsite, and we agreed.

The wind had got up and was bitterly cold by the time we pitched the tent and cooked up supper. We piled rocks around the edge of the tent to cut down on the draft and put on every stitch of clothing we had in our panniers to keep us warm. Wonderfully we had another night of restful sleep. In the morning, when we woke, the frozen condensation was defrosted rapidly by the sun coming over the horizon and dripped on us as we tried to catch a final few winks. Time to get up then!

Waving by to Bob we crossed a series of undulations across the top of the plateau before a huge 1000+ downhill rush into Chalhuanca. It was a long 70 miles, and very tough going until we got to the downhill bit. Even then the wind caught us out and on some sections was so strong that we had to battle against it in order to make progress.

Chalhuanca was another delightfully well kept town. Most notable, my getting to eat some meat for once, as often Den and I share food. I had chicken and chips. Mmmm!!! Yum!

Final day to Abancay was the big day in terms of mileage. 79 miles on the map, with the final 7 being uphill into town. The road followed a river valley downhill from Chalhuanca, and the first 40 miles were dealt with quickly by 11am. Then the wind started to blow again. It's not difficult to over exaggerate the demoralising effects cycling into a strong headwind can have on you once you've been at it for a few hours. At one point a local cyclist heading uphill in the opposite direction flew past us, courtesy of the wind. I was very jealous. At least for most of the final climb that wind was giving us a boost. Shame it was a bit late, and we were both knackered by then. We rode into Abancay just after dark with 75 miles on the cycle computer. Had a quick bite to eat and then crashed in the towns nicest hotel beds.