Ain’t no mountain high enough

Said no one in Perú, ever

Photo by the incredible Galyna Andrushko - thank you Gala!

Hello friends, family and those we've met on the road! Welcome to the nineteenth edition of our newsletter, this time penned from Huancavelica, Perú.

The past nearly two months in Perú have been almost laughably jam-packed. We brought some expectations to this country, having been promised spectacular cycle touring, but neither of us were prepared for what a bikepacking haven it really is. There are dirt roads everywhere, spectacular mountains on every horizon and the camping is absolutely unparalleled - the Peruvian Andes are considerably less populated than other areas we’ve visited, meaning that we’ve gone whole days encountering only a single alpaca farmer. We’ve experienced new levels of isolation, elevation and absolute elation in this completely gorgeous, challenging place. We are having the time of our lives, and we are both completely knackered.

So far we’ve pedalled three well-regarded routes in North and Central Perú: Cajamarca to Caraz; a loop of the Huascaran national park; and the first half of the Peru Great Divide.

The first of these was a smashing introduction to our new surroundings, with gravel paths ascending to picturesque lakesides, roads passing through bustling towns with behatted señoras and unpaved caminos climbing towards high-mountain mining roads. Quickly we began to operate in a new set of norms, learning how to ask for our usual essentials in the local bodegas, which kinds of bread stay freshest for the longest, and how best to consume chocho (a kind of lupin bean salad) while being stared at by every inhabitant of an Andean village. We ran into Oscar, a bikepacker who we’d first met in Nicaragua, and shared our first high-altitude experiences with him over a couple of incredibly beautiful and often quite strange days (there were impending rainstorms and real ‘side of the road’ campspots, but we had a fantastic time nonetheless).

These mountain mining roads provided some us some of our biggest ‘wow’ moments since Alaska, but a day and a half or so spent in the stinking hot canyons of the Cañón del Pato and its neighbouring crevasses were also really appreciated - this sort of scenery is not unique to this part of Perú, but our onward plans probably won’t take in more of these dramatic ravines. A series of famous tunnels through the rocks made for a magical afternoon; and even more so because we accidentally happened upon Greg, who we knew was nearby but who we hadn’t planned to meet with until Caraz. We guzzled passion fruit ice lollies to keep cool and pedalled into town together, all completely knackered from a long stint without a rest day. At this point we were almost entirely powered by how much we were enjoying our first weeks in Perú, and the occasional egg sandwich.

After some rest in Caraz, we decided to ride with Greg more formally during the Huascaran circuit - a six-day loop of Perú’s highest mountain (nearly 6,800m) that featured vertiginous switchbacks and camping in freezing temperatures, but also the chance to bathe in turquoise waters, descend dreamy tarmac and take in absolutely breathtaking views from high passes between the peaks. We emptied ourselves over the course of the week, but we were blessed with exceptional weather and clear skies for the whole pootle. It was a fantastic way to rekindle riding with Greg, who is now, after months of pushing himself, a notably stronger rider than both of us. We were honoured he was happy to take this section slower in order to enjoy it together, and by the time we arrived in the city of Huaraz, we were all feeling exhausted but prepared to tackle the Peru Great Divide after a few days’ rest.

Sadly a few days turned into more than a week as some food poisoning took hold of the three of us - and because we were so tired after our adventurous pedalling, we reckon it took longer to shift than it would have done had we been our normal selves (or at sea level!). Thankfully we helped each other limp through various days of evolving symptoms, and had enough brighter moments to enjoy the (relatively) cosmopolitan dining options in Huaraz.

After recovering, Ed and I set off from the city towards the crown jewel of cycling touring in Perú - the Great Divide. It’s a route that’s 10 years’ old and famous among cyclists for being one of the most challenging and rewarding long-distance routes on the continent. After a bit of a false start out of Huaraz and an earlier-than-expected rest day in the mining town of La Union, we got going in earnest, enjoying the now almost daily high passes along with roadside Inca ruins, thermal baths and the often intriguing mining infrastructure. Greg soon caught up with us in the small town of Oyón, and we proceeded to spend the next week or so mostly together, camping tucked behind dry stone walls, between huge boulders and, of course, in the garden of a trout farm.

At this stage, the fact of our being here late in the season came home to roost, as the weather became increasingly inclement in the afternoons. We were glad to be a three on one particular day where the hail came in and Ed got a puncture, and we discovered all the gloves in the world cannot stop your fingers freezing solid in a snowstorm. We owe a lot to Karen González, who insisted on making us a hot chocolate when she saw the state a shivering Ed was in.

Water then became abundant through a stunning section of riding near the Reserva Paisajistica Nor Yayos-Cochas, which was incredibly beautiful despite the grey skies. The sound of a thousand waterfalls soundtracked our ride to Huancaya, where we took a mini rest day to recover from all the extremes. Greg pedalled ahead while we made friends with a hotel’s pet alpacas.

From here, the final stretch into Huancavelica was beautiful but totally punishing. We’ve learned that although we are well acclimatised to being at this height, when you get over 4,500m, it doesn’t mean much. At that point it’s like riding through treacle; the lactic acid in your legs builds and the mere act of taking a breath becomes laborious. It means that some days we are only travelling 30km, and to push any further would just tire us out to the point of being unproductive. This journey is proving to be an ongoing lesson in managing the expectations we have of ourselves, and listening closely to our bodies’ needs. Thankfully we bumped into Dutch couple Vera and Laurence on the trail, who brought a bit of lightness to a rather strange restaurant breakfast, and when we arrived in Huancavelica, which is our first sizeable town in weeks, we were greeted not only by Greg, but also cyclists from Italy, South Africa and Germany. It’s been a little fiesta, for sure.

Now we hope to take another few weeks to finish the Divide route, but it’s been so tough that we’re trying not to have too many expectations. If we ride the rest, great! If we hop on a bus because we’re tired, also great! Regardless, we hope to be in Cusco soon, for a little taste of a true tourist town, great food, and a detour to Machu Picchu. Until then!

Toot or boot

The hills BOOT

The hills! TOOT

Running out of peanut butter on the trail BOOT

Replacing it with squishy packets of manjar (dulce de leche) TOOT

Rural shops not stocking any vegetables BOOT

The delight of discovering the Triangulo chocolate bar TOOT

Thanks and shoutouts

Jenna

Oscar

Greg

Lizzie and Simon

Eleanor and Liam

Elena

Galyna and Vladyslav

Gilbert

Alfredo

Johana and David

Janet at El Pez Dorado

Vera and Laurens

Gio and Francesco

Simone and Michael

Marcel

Arnando

Karen

Katy

About us

We are Edwin Foote and Suzie McCracken - thanks for signing up for our newsletter! Edwin is from England and Suzie is from Northern Ireland and normally we live together in Deptford, south-east London. We arrived in Fairbanks, Alaska, in May 2022 and are attempting to ride our bicycles the length of the Americas, hoping to finish in Argentina in 2024. If you have any recommendations of things we should do, people we should meet or places we should stay, we'd love to hear from you! Please reply to this email, leave a comment on Substack, or follow us on Instagram at ed_win and _suziemccracken.