The last post

Safely home...

 I was waiting a long time to take this shot.

 The vital stats.

 Bertha reassembled with fresh rubber and brake pads. Thanks Dad for the lift from the airport!

 Thanks Mum for a wonderful cake.  

 Thanks sister Becky for another cake, also exquisite.

 A successful tour relies on good campcraft, passing on tips to Rosa (thanks sister Liz for producing a delightful niece!).

 This award really meant a lot to me. Thank you Year 11s for thinking of me even when I deserted you for a year. You are a fantastic year group and I know you will go on to do great things. Long bike rides await you!

Finally, the most important thing to come out of this blog is all the generous donations to OXFAM. The fundraising page will be open for another whole month. Don't miss out on the opportunity to help make a fairer world, let's rid our planet of poverty.

Hope you've enjoyed the ride!

Demob happy - last days in Lima

With the trip all but over, I've neglected my blogging activities somewhat and failed to take many pictures to document the last week. Not that there's been much to tell really, it's been a lazy, lazy week and I rarely left the district of Miraflores where I stayed.

 The ride into Lima had been hanging over me for a while. Having lost my helmet back in Ancash I was nervous about the potential for traffic and the hazards it could pose to my fragile little head. Nevertheless, I was determined to complete the trip without using buses and, opting for a Sunday morning entry, believed I could probably enter Lima unscathed if I used a little care and caution. This is the convoluted route I planned on my mapping app.  

 The route would pass pedestrian bridges that, after a bit of unloading and reloading the bike, took me over the busiest roads.  

 Like this one.      

 Once past the city's outskirts the route was a beeeze with a succession of city parks, bike lanes and quiet backstreets to navigate. Before long I'd reached Miraflores, simply a different world to the rural backwaters I'd known in the previous two months in Peru.

I was elated but  a little bewildered to have finished the ride: VIDEO 

 For much of most days the skies of Lima are grey and overcast. It's famous for the garua, thick fog which lends the city a melancholy atmosphere for some parts of the year. 

 With upmarket restaurants, bars and modern shopping centres , Miraflores would fit comfortably in a European city. My jaw dropped when I saw these signs encouraging drivers NOT to use their horns. It's like asking the English to not drink tea.   

 I spent a week staying with John, taking over his comfortable apartment in a quiet corner of Miraflores. As I arrived, three Canadian cyclists, Fin, Elliot and Adam, who I'd met in Ecuador were leaning. Modest, softly spoken chaps who are undertaking their first big tour at the tender ages of 18/19! Inspirational. I also met Cass Gilbert who had written the biking chapter in my guide to the Cordillera Blanca.   

 Wow, clothes drying having been  washed in a washing machine. The first time in South America! Berthas lurking in the background. 

 As I said, I didn't do much during the week, just a few chores like getting a bike box and giving Bertha a damn good clean. 

 A little bit of data analysis on the trip. Glad to see homestays dominated, meeting people has been a major focus of this trip. If you're reading this and use Warm Showers, my place will be available from the end of August. All welcome!  

In another bit of number crunching I worked out that my average daily mileage on tour was 40 miles but if you take out the days off the saddle and just include the days I actually rode it's a whopping 56 miles. Pleased with that considering all the mountainous sections.

 This picture sums up my week. I don't think John believes I've been on tour, all he saw of me was a lethargic idler. He invited me to the local

climbing wall, to go surfing but I wouldn't budge until Saturday when I was animated enough to go out for cake! However, we did go for a 9 km run on Sunday with some steep climbs. Just  about finished me off... 

 John works at Markham College, a local private school with fees if around $17,000 if I remember correctly. It was fantastic to visit the school and meet some of the students. There was a great buzz around the campus and I felt ready to return to  Icknield. John is thriving in his role of leading outdoor learning and he is genuinely one of the most positive and enthusiastic teachers I've ever met. Though he's too modest to say so himself, I got the impression he is making a huge impact on the school and students.

 At the start of the week I set off on a mission to find the city's best cafe. In the end I decided it was John's kitchen. Here's an odd thing, buying good quality South American coffee in a supermarket is more expensive in Peru than back home in the UK. The global food industry frequently makes no sense to me. 

 This was a sad moment in truth, boxing up Bertha for the flight home. As I've frequently posted, I'm desperate to get home and see my family but I shall miss the bike touring lifestyle and am already dreaming about future tours. 

 John, if you're reading this blog, please don't think I'm wired for have my taken a photo of a photo of you! I stayed all week with this incredible host and never got a picture with him. After months and months of communicating in Spanish it was a real treat to stay with a Brit and communicate in English. We had a lot of common interests - the environment, conservation, teaching and even found we had a mutual friend who lived just minutes from me in Oxford. John, being a vegan, has also encouraged me to think a bit more about my diet both in terms of health impacts and environmental impacts. 

11 months riding through the Americas had led me to frequently think wow, what a beautiful world but wow, it's a world we really have to fight for through our lifestyle choices - diet, transport, leisure activities, materialism etc.

So I write this from Mexico Airport where, in truth, it's been a miserable day! 2am start, taxi driver to Lima Airpor.tried to charge me more (because it's Fathers Day!), got charged £70 for checking in my bike, strained my back moving one of the boxes, despite strained back Mexico airport staff wouldn't give me a trolley, they wanted 10 pesos, 9 hour layover here in Mecico City.....

But, but, but I'll be home in just over half a day, I hear the weather's hot in the UK, I'll be meeting new niece Clara soon and, the first time I've taken painkillers on this trip, the drugs (ibuprofen) are kicking in. There's a smile on my face, yes, the world is a beautiful place!

Getting over the hump(s) - the final rides in Peru

It was over before it even began.
Although I've only been I've only been down from the mountains for theee days it already feels like a distant memory. I shall try to remember what happened since the last post...

 Rising into the hills above Cajatambo. I didn't realise it at the time but this really was the last charming Andean village I was to pass through. Had I known I would have lingered for an extra day to soak up the tranquility and rural charm. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.  

 Still, I was in a good rhythm and it felt good to be pushing on.  In the next four days I would travel from Cajatambo to the end of the transect. A gruelling daily diet of high passes. It would take its toll in the end!

 Riding from Cajatambo to Oyon meant crossing two passes and passing mining encampments like this one. I felt on top of the world as I powered up the first pass...   

 ...some great scenery along the way...                  

 ...and left nothing  in the tank for the secognd pass! Here I am, pretty much wiped out on the approach to Punta Chanca.

 Punta Chanca. Unusually rideable surface.  

 Usual breathtaking scenery.   

   

 Wise words. Yes, my family are waiting.              

 Cruising down to Oyon, resting the legs.       

 Usually I just ride  past aggressive dogs hoping they'll leave me alone. These two were so cute I thought I'd stop for a chat. God,  I must be getting lonely if I've taken to talking to animals.     

 I had intended to take a rest day in Oyon but it really wasn't an appealing stop - a grey and windswept town  so, after a quick morale boosting call home to  the folks , I made an early start and rode on.  Today's pass would be the highest of the whole trip and, with tired legs from the previous day's efforts, I decided to pause every 500ft I climbed.       

 Unbeknownst to me at the time, this was the highest point (I thought it was a 'false summit' with a bit more to climb around the corner). 16,321ft / 4975m and I wasn't sticking around. It was cold and snow was falling so I kept moving to keep warm.      

 Not the most beautiful descent, this is mining country.         

 This way to civilisation and a tasty lunch in the village of Rapaz. In these small villages the shops and restaurants are often unsigned so you have to ask around , being told 'it's the house with the yellow door', 'it's the building on the corner', 'ask for Ines' etc, etc.    

 Dropping from the mountains like a stone, I entered a narrow gorge on the way down  to Huancahuasi.   

     

 The plaza at Huancahuasi.

A good rest spot for the afternoon/evening as there was precisely nothing to do in the village! 

At least I made sure I stretched my legs well after this ride as the next day's would be even tougher.        

Just look at the climb on the profile from Picoy to Punta Chucopampa!  

 I took the previous day's  strategy, breaking for every 500ft climbed. It really helped but this was a tough, tough ride. Incredibly steep and a gravelly surface meant lots of wheel spin and slow going.     

 It didn't detract too much from a delightful ride though. Passing through limestone grassland, a riot of colour  from flowers and butterflies, intoxicating herbal aromas and soft beds of grass when it all got a bit too much.      

 Bertha took it all in her stride.      

 Eventually it did get too much and I resorted to pushing. Here is a little video of me enjoying the stroll: Sunday stroll in the Andes  

 In the end I really did enjoy the walk and must have done a few miles listening to Desert Island Discs and The Freewheelin Bob Dylan. Why be in a hurry on a Sunday?      

 The High Llamas.     

 Looks idyllic doesn't it? Just wait till the sun goes down and the wind picks up!  It got chilly.  Another reminder of the frustration of camping for me. I love being in wild places, I love pitching the tent and cooking on stoves, but as for getting a good night's sleep, it just never happens at these high altitudes.    

 So, the next day,  frustrated by the lack of sleep and concerned that the strong wind was rendering my stove virtually useless/wasting my dwindling fuel, I decided to ride two days in one. This would mean 59 miles from just before Vichaycocha to Marcapumacocha. Madness! But the reward would be knowing I've camped my final camp...   

Distant vicuña on the first pass, Abra Mio.  As you would expect, this was a challenging day and I felt I got few breaks, more often than not the surface was hard going, a real slog. 

 Having crossed Abra Mio with lots of huffing and puffing I checked the elevation profile and realised that the second pass, Punto Fierro Cruz, was even higher. With a missed turn and a worsening surface I paused for a flurry of cursing that Mr Cody would have been proud of! And that was my strategy for the rest of the day. Cultivate a mood of anger, frustration and rage  and you tend to forget about the painful task in hand. The miles soon began to fly by as I screamed  colourful language across the Andean mountains.  

 Is that a mirage or could it really be Marcapomacocha? 59 hard miles later I was rolling into town.    

 It was my final 'glory ride' - a wholly unsustainable way of riding but very satisfying when you get to the end. 

 For my efforts I gave myself a rest day in Marcapomacocha, another village with very little to do.     

 And the cheapest accommodation of the whole trip, 8 soles is £2. And I got what I paid for, no shower, a saggy bed and wooden partitions meaning I could here another guest's snoring all night long. Nonetheless, luxury compared to a cold camp.   

 Little to do on the rest day so I spent some time stitching my shoes back together. I've been so impressed by other cyclists making things last on their trips. In the West we're far too hasty in replacing anything slightly broken or worn. 

 I took an afternoon walk around the lake and, far from reflecting on or even basking in the glory of a fine few days of completing intensely   challenging rides, I had a painful attack of homesickness and felt there was a chasm of time between now and my arrival home. 11 months so on the road, usually taking the hardest routes possible was taking its toll. However, unlike Alastair Humphreys, who completed the most arduous cycle tour I've ever heard of (over four years!)I've not broken down into tears. Yet!    

 An absolutely cracking day for the final pass, Bertha could not wait to get going.  

 The team. Bertha is one of the few material things I feel genuine attachment to. She's never let me down.    

 

 Getting close to the final pass, Abra Antacassa. When I got there I was mighty relieved and made this little video: Final Pass of the Whole Trip! 

 What a contrast the last few days have been. Riding down the more heavily trafficked Carretera Central and now I'm staying at 'El Champal' a hostel for paying guests and accommodation for volunteers working on the community- tourism project. I am very grateful to the French owner,Yves, who has kindly welcomed me into the hostel for a few days.  This is Ricardo, archaeologist and English teacher, on a field trip that I accompanied him with. His English is way better than my Spanish so I took the opportunity to converse in my mother tongue. .  I was pleased to see that his trips run as smoothly as some of mine with the usual mixture of confusion, bewilderment and tantrums! And that's just the staff, boom! No, but really, it was a great trip and in the end the students got the hang  of what they were doing.  

 Views over the archaeological site. 

And that pretty much is where I've got to and what I've been up to. 

Homd in 10 days, I cannot believe it. As much as I'm desperate to see my family, speak England have a nice cup of tea, I shall do my best to get the most out of the remaining days. On to Lima tomorrow, downhill all the way. A major mission for the next week will be to find the city's best cafe, get cosy and read my Kindle. I hope I've earned that luxury!