Following the big passes over the snowy Cordillera Blanca I took a whole three days off the bike, resting up in Huaraz, the capital of the Ancash region. I hadn't taken so much time out of the saddle since Quito and rather enjoyed a more sedentary lifestyle. In fact I could really feel inertia setting in and I really had to force myself to get off my backside and move on. After so many months and so many miles of riding inevitably the appeal of pushing on does tend to fade away. 
Still, my bike was ready even if I wasn't. My rear brake pads had given up the ghost after just six weeks, the result of lots of wet riding in the rainy season of Colombia and Ecuador. So I put on my final spare pair of brake pads, a new brake cable and what will be the final new chain of the journey.
For many months I've been trying to think of a name for my bike. Something highly intellectual, loaded with significance and mysticism, perhaps taken from Greek mythology or maybe the name of an Indian goddess. What did I come up with? Bertha! My bike is a Bertha. And what is the meaning of Bertha? Bright, glorious. Perfect.
So, riding on with Bertha, we ventured south then east on quiet paved roads with spectacular skylines of jagged, snow clad mountains. I was so glad to have broken the inertia, it was great to be back on the move again. 
A cracking spot to stop for the day and a great opportunity to get back into the camping routine. It's been useful to have the tent in the last few months, I've used it frequently camping at fire stations, in people's gardens, sometimes in bug infested hotel rooms but this was my first proper wild camp since the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico. 
I got lucky with the weather and, overnight, the winds died down and there was barely a spatter of rain. Despite the altitude the tent warmed up nicely and I had to take layers off before finding the optimum sleeping temperature. As usual, camp cooked instant noodles tasted great!
The first pass of the loop. And sadly the end of the paving...
Always a joy to see a long, curvy descent ahead of you. 
Bill Hoadley, what a great guy! Bill was the only other cyclist I would encounter on my journey and it was a pleasure to chat with such a positive, upbeat guy. Vindicating my decision to linger in and explore this region, Bill claims this to be one for f the world's best areas for cycling and he's done quite a few tours in his time.
He'd crossed the snowy Punta Olímpica a few days previously and reckons it was my footprints and tyre tracks he'd used to guide himself over the pass.
So Bill is in my blog and I am in Bill's: Bill's blog
No, don't encourage them! Indiscriminate sounding of the horn is one of the few things that drives me mad in Peru. I know that most of the time I get honked at it's only as a greeting or to spur me on but I just find it so annoying! My problem, just got to get over it. 
Okay, it's not Macchu Pichu but it's as good as I'm going to get in my time in Peru. Archaeological site at Chavin.
Chavin. 
Riding on from Chavin to Huari, this really was the scene for the next few days. Rough dirt tracks, farmed landscapes and distant hills. I'd take a further track over a heavily trafficked road any day of the week but, day in day out, it made for tiring riding. A daily target of 30-40 miles was about right, any more was a 'push'. 
Adobe buildings with tiled roofs all the way. This the human landscape of the Andes. 
Another lake, another campspot. 
This day was another new record for the trip, a new shortest riding day! Just six miles up to the lake but what a hellush climb! Even with switchbacks the incline was horrible and stopping at one point, panting like a dog, I thought I'd never get my breath back. I just managed to avoid a cardiac arrest opting to push the bike for the final half mile.
Intense late afternoon downpour. The resident park ranger, Fabian, invited me to pitch my tent... 
...inside the visitor centre. Fabian was a great guy, passionate about his work, and told me a lot about the wildlife of the area. I didn't understand all the Spanish names of the species he talked about but his enthusiasm shone through the language barrier. 
Traffic jam in the Ancash region. 
The second pass of the journey, Abra Huachacocha, something over 4000 metres. 
Mountain views from the village of San Luis. 
This days ride from San Luis to Pomabamba was a real rattle of a bone shaker! I decided to really push today to avoid riding in the afternoon sun, rolling into Pomabamba just before 1pm with 47 miles under my belt. Jarred wrists and contents of panniers completely rearranged, my double bagged coffee had spilled everywhere. 
On the road to Pomabamba. 
Lambs. Only one place they're going to end up... 
Another traffic jam. 
Dream of a hospedaje in Pomabamba. Blissfully quiet, incredibly welcoming owners and a beautiful garden in the courtyard. Just what I needed after a hard ride. I was in bed and nodding off by 7:30pm that evening. 
Even after 12 hours in bed I was still yawning when I woke up the next day and, getting out of bed with leaden legs, moving on seemed unlikely. When the hospedaje owners invited me to breakfast with them the decision was made, rest day in Pomabamba. 
A great day to spend with the kindle. In fact this rest day was fortuitously timed as it rained all afternoon, the wettest day yet in May. 
Without doubt, my favourite podcast during this trip has been Desert Island Discs. The archive goes back for years and the combination of conversation and music is just perfect. Also, in tough moments, hearing about people who have endured real hardship in their lives helps put into perspective your jarred wrists or sore knees. 
After a rest day in Pomabamba I was ready to really go for it again. Some big climbs and, after the previous days rains, pretty muddy tracks but I managed an epic 63 miles in this day. I must have been away with the fairies though for, firstly, I lost a pair of overtroysets id taken off after warming up, then secondly, I somehow contrived to lose my helmet. Backtracking (and adding back six miles to my journey) I managed to find my trousers again but the helmet is lost forever. Looking back, I know why I was distracted, I was trying to narrow down what my right music choices would be for Desert Island Discs! An almost impossible task and now I'm having to ride nervously helmet-less for having tried! 
Despite losing kit, I had a cracking day in the saddle and, against all expectations, made it to the final high pass of the circuit. 
A sigh of exhaustion at 5:30pm, just half an hour of daylight left. 
I hastily descended onto the moors below, pitched my tent out of sight of the road and made my coffee and noodles (even tastier with avocado!) 
Nearly 50 miles downhill to Yuracmarca the next morning, an exhilarating ride with just stunning views high above a deep canyon. 
The drop off to the side of the road was vertigo inducing. Now helmet-less I was doubly careful on the ride down (not that the helmet would have done any good had I fallen off the edge!). 
Agave plants signalled the descent into warmer, drie climes. 
Roads cut into the hillsides. 
Descending through charming villages with stone walls and cactus gardens. 
Woo hoo, the end of the dirt tracks and a k into tarmac for good, well, for the next few days. I came across a peloton of seven cycle tourists, done of whom I'd met before nearly a month ago near Chachapoyas (Ecuadoreans and a Spaniard). It was great to catch up and share stories for a while but then I rode on ahead. Deep in the Canon Del Pato it was really hot so, instead of riding together, I just wanted to get on and finish the ride early. 
After a 7pm start I rolled into Caraz just after 2pm, having completed 76 miles. What a day, it had been a thrilling ride and I was elated to finish. Back in Caraz, three weeks after first being here, it's wonderful to be surrounded by amenities, other cycle tourists staying at my hostal, and, very, very importantly, have access to Wifi. This is the hostal garden with my clothes drying in the sun. Will my clothes ever be truly clean again though...
So, as you can see, despite coming towards the end of the trip, I am still busting a gut to get the most from my experience. Please spur me on with a donation to OXFAM! If you're a regular reader of the blog and haven't sponsored me yet, go on, make a tired cyclist happy! It will make Bertha happy too.
Y11 students reading the blog - my thoughts are with you at the moment. I know that the exam season will have started for you, tough times but I believe in you so believe in yourselves! Best of luck and make sure you read the question!
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