The best-laid plans of bikes and men

Enjoying and enduring the many wonders of Peru

Hello friends, family and those we've met on the road! Welcome to the twentieth (!) edition of our newsletter, this time penned from La Paz, Bolivia.

Since we last spoke almost absolutely nothing has gone how we thought it would, and yet we are still smiling. We’re so fortunate to be surrounded by good people and amazing scenery, which makes even the most out-of-our-control factors fade into insignificance. Considering how depleted we are from the high-altitude riding, we’re kind of amazed at our mental resilience, and how much we can take it in turns to be the optimistic one when the alpaca poop hits the fan.

It does, unfortunately, mean that the narrative thrust of this newsletter will mainly consist of downers, despite the fact we’re largely fine and feeling good. It’s also kind of long, sorry (I think I have exceeded the maximum email length, you’ll have to click a link to read the whole thing). Hopefully the photography and our grins at Machu Picchu will help to keep the rhetorical party balloon somewhat aloft.

Feeling about 10kg heavier due to the amount of cake we had consumed during our rest days there, we exited Huancavelica excited for the latter section of the Peru Divide. Greg was a touch in front, feeding back endlessly useful tidbits, and we were excited to explore a section of the route that would be (very) marginally less high-altitude and a tad more populated than before.

After having our first Tambo experience (a free and much-appreciated government-run dorm room at the top of a very cold climb), we continued through lake-dotted scenery - featuring jagged rocks, snow-sprinkled mountaintops and flamingoes in flight - and towards a beautiful high pass (4,900m) where we camped in blissful silence. Water gushed from sparkling clear streams as we dragged ourselves to the top, before enjoying a long, rolling plateau ahead of a diving descent into a dry, hot valley full of flowering cacti.

On the next climb we met Marina, a local who was intrigued by our trip and our tent, who was totally endearing despite scoffing a full bag of our trail mix. The next night (and about 1,500m of climbing later) we met an alpaca farmer, Mejia, who despite initially giving us a bit of a fright while Ed was bathing in a river, turned out to be delightfully curious about our journey. After a stretch of riding that saw us meet more timid folks, who often had limited Spanish, it was nice to have a run of good conversations with those who live on the land we are appreciating so much.

After some lower, drier riding we rolled into Vilcashuaman for a little break. A small town, it’s nonetheless home to beautiful Inca ruins which literally provide the foundations of its main square and church. We relaxed over arroz chaufa (Chinese-style fried rice) and enjoyed the stones in the changing light of our rest day.

Reenergised and slightly anxious about the elevation profile of the final week of the Divide, we pedalled towards some steep climbs. But we never made it - after 20km, Ed’s tyre blew a hole right on the tread.

Fortunate enough to have a few options to think over, we did. Should we push on to the next town? Knowing how rural things were about it become and how compromised Ed’s tyre was, that seemed a very bad idea. Should we return to Vilcashuaman and then take a collectivo (public minibus) to the nearest big city to find a new tyre? Or should we wait in Vilcashuaman for the arrival of Laurens and Vera, our Dutch friends, around three days behind, who happened to be carrying a spare tyre of the exact right size for Ed to continue?

In the end, we barely entertained these options. The answer was obvious; we were tired, we wanted to get to Cusco, and this 2cm hole in a piece of rubber was the little push we needed in order to realise it. We pedalled back to Vilcashuaman, hopped on a minibus to Ayacucho, and managed to get the last two tickets on the nightbus to Cusco that very evening.

Happily ensconced within the cyclists’ haven of Chelito’s hostel, we proceeded to enjoy two weeks of time off the bikes in this city full of great food and some home comforts. We were also there at the same time as plenty of friends, new and old. Greg, of course, arrived a few days after us, while Lizzie and Simon were deposited safely in town after a 20-hour bus from Lima. We also had the pleasure of meeting Cleo and Ryan from Ireland for the first time (we had been in touch via WhatsApp for months), along with John from Sweden and Terrie from Australia. Germans Simone and Michel were briefly around, as were Barcelona-based Meritxell and Pau, who we’d last seen in Costa Rica, our Ecuador buddy Alex from the US, Gio and Francesco from Italy, Mowgli and Sayhon from China and Nick from Switzerland. Let’s just say, we weren’t lonely, and two birthday dinners (for Lizzie and John) were certainly a highlight. My only regret from these indulgent two weeks is that I don’t have any photos of it; we were too busy chatting about our experiences of cycling the Americas and stuffing mango sushi into our skulls.

During this period we also snuck in a trip to Perú’s most famous Inca site; Machu Picchu. For those of you who may not be aware, getting there is an absolute nightmare, and buying tickets at the last minute can prove somewhat tricky. I’ll spare you the boring details but after a slightly longer-than-expected period stuck in the ski-town-cum-nightclub that is the village of Aguas Calientes, we scored boletos to the ruins and enjoyed a spectacular day up on the hill.

I was overcome by emotion upon seeing the Inca city. It wasn’t so much any inherent magic of the site, although it is stunningly beautiful, but more the realisation that we’d actually made it this far in our journey. Machu Picchu was always somewhere we’d talked about seeing ‘if’ we made it to Perú, and suddenly there we were, with the sunshine beating down on the stones and a tour guide explaining all the ingenious things the Incas’ had done to create what was, at the time, a modern, technologically advanced city in the sky.

We were both incredibly mindful during this excursion of how far we’ve come and how lucky we’ve been to be able to experience so much. As our thoughts turn towards the end of the trip in the spring, our afternoon at Machu Picchu will be remembered as a moment when we stopped and took in the enormity of what we’ve accomplished.

After regaining some of our lost mojo in the Cusco, we (okay, Suzie) decided it would be a shame to just roll to the border on flat highways, and we therefore planned a route that would see us traverse Perú’s mighty Ausangate mountain before passing through the gritty mining towns north of Lake Titicaca, all in time to cross the border before our visa ran out.

The Ausangate section has been successfully conquered by some friends ahead, but we (again, Suzie), perhaps didn’t pay enough attention to the difference between their bicycles and ours when committing us to 20km of off-road riding. Actually, ‘riding’ is a bit of a misnomer. We pushed our bikes on the hiking circuit around the peak, undoubtedly enjoying the absolutely stunning scenery, but also vowing never to attempt to push our rigs for such as extended period again. A 2km climb that included stairs was a low point, with both of us using all our strength to push one bike at a time a few metres before returning for the next one. We were rewarded for our efforts with gorgeous camping… and calluses on our poor hands.

Again we went up, up and up and towards some ominous-looking snow. But after a day of gloriously smooth gravel, we were feeling optimistic and set up camp just short of the winter wonderland that was forming ahead, excited for a good sleep before tackling the highest pass of the trip. The weather laughed at our plans; snow proceeded to dump down all night, challenging the structural integrity of our three-season tent to the point at which it caved in dramatically at 3am. Thankfully there was no permanent damage to our beloved carpa and aside from a lack of sleep, the both of us emerged in the morning relatively unscathed. We rolled on a kilometre or so before taking shelter in an alpaca barn, drying out the tent and cooking breakfast under a much-needed roof. Thankfully the snow by this point has already started to melt in the intense morning sun, and soon we found ourselves ascending again despite the overnight ordeal. We successfully rode over the 5,100m pass, taking a moment to appreciate that this may be the highest point at which we’ll ever pedal.

From there we pivoted onto a more direct route to the border, riding tarmac on a relative plateau and venturing towards some of Perú’s highest mines. Sadly, just as we were enjoying the fact we didn’t have to pedal every second on the smooth asphalt, I looked down at my map a little too long, not realising that Ed had stopped ahead of me. I ploughed into the back of his bike, leaving us both entangled on the ground. Thankfully, other than some colourful bruising on my knee, we were unharmed. The bikes, however, took a bit of a hit. The racks were mangled and we were concerned my front fork might be bent. We gathered ourselves up and began the journey towards the border via three buses over three days, all the while feeling fortunate that we crashed on a road where there actually were regular buses, as the same was certainly not true of our adventures around Ausangate.

We eventually crossed the border and made it to the Bolivian capital of La Paz, where we have spent the past week fixing our racks (relatively easy with the help of a metal fabricator), upgrading our tyres (thank you to Joanna, who left our new ones at the Casa de Ciclistas here in the city), and spending time with yet more cyclists! We’ve shared a lovely apartment with Oscar, who we last rode with north of Huaraz, and Greg, who rolled in a couple of days after us. We’ve also met others for excellent meals and generally enjoyed the conveniences of (very) big city life.

We also took this opportunity to have a little celebration; not only is it Ed’s birthday at the end of the month, but due to his differing plans for the next section of the trip, it’s the last time we’ll be seeing Greg on this side of the Atlantic. We splurged on a very fancy meal at Bolivia’s best restaurant, where we enjoyed a tasting menu that featured ingredients including lactofermented tomato and chlorophyll oil. It was an absolute honour to treat Greg to this little surprise; he’s a real food lover, and his face when trying some of the dishes was nearly better than the taste.

I’ll not embarrass him too much, but I do want finish this newsletter by saying just how utterly full of love for Greg we both are. The three of us first met in July last year, and our friendship - looking forward to seeing each other, the many voice notes, the jars of Nutella shared - has sustained Ed and I through some of the hardest times. It’s been a miracle to meet someone on the road who is not just a friend for the trip, but a friend for life. We are so grateful for all the time we’ve had together, and we’re so happy to have shared some of our most special memories of this journey with him. Thanks for everything pal - see you soon.

Toot or boot

The lack of cold fizzy drinks (only beers get refrigerated here) BOOT

Jugos at the market TOOT

Continuous toilet trouble BOOT

Over the counter antibiotics… TOOT

Crashing into each other BOOT

My fork NOT being bent! TOOT

Thanks and shoutouts

Greg

Lizzie and Simon

Oscar

Eleanor and Liam

Vera and Laurens

Gio and Francesco

Simone and Michael

Alex

John

Cleo and Ryan

Mowgli and Sayhon

Meritxell and Pau

Terrie

Nick

Joanna and Cristian at the Casa de Ciclistas

Marina

Mejia

Ita and everyone at Chelito’s

Everyone at The Wall, La Paz

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.