Great success - OXFAM fundraising target reached!

   

I am delighted to write this post having just surpassed my fundraising target. What a generous lot you are! To still be receiving donations ten months into the trip is incredible and a huge motivation to keep pushing on and attack challenging routes. The fundraising page is not closed so, if you're a regular reader and haven't donated yet, it's your turn now! Repeat donators, your kindness and support is simply inspirational.

OK, onto the blog. I wanted to post more photos but slow wifi has limited me to a choice selection of recent highlights.

 After three days off the bike in Caraz I had descended into the doldrums and really didn't feel like moving on. 'I've already ridden 12,000 miles, do I really have to go on?' As a compromise to myself I decided to ride the Winchus Loop, a 56 mile route with 8000ft of climbing, unloaded and as a day ride, rather than a two day journey. It was great fun and it felt liberating to be riding so light.   

 These peculiar looking plants are puya raimondii, a local tourist attraction and the largest species of the bromeliad family.  

 Bertha resting on the road south to Huaraz. Having foolishly lost my helmet last week I had to take care on the busy main road, riding evasively and going off the road whenever the vehicles behind sounded too close.                 

 Three weeks on from my last stay in Huaraz the weather has improved significantly so, to save a few soles, I decided to camp in the garden of Jo's Place. There were a few other cyclists there to share stories and advice with. I particularly enjoyed talking with the bikepackers Franzi and Jona. They have a really cool blog here: tales-on-tyres

 After another two days off the bike in Huaraz I was really well rested and, finally, motivated to move on again. More OXFAM donations during that time helped kickstart me into action! Heading south from Huaraz I rode for half a day with Beatrice from Milan. I'm so impressed that she ride over the Punta Olímpica and Portachuelo de Llanganuco passes on her Brompton bike, only three gears! Not only that, she's going all the way to Ushuaia. 

 Our paths divided here. Beatrice continued on the tarmac South while I headed east on the dirt road towards the Pastoruri glacier. With the jagged skyline of the snowcapped Huayhuash Mountains in the distance, it was a thrill to be on rough terrain entering an uninhabited wild environment.   

 The friendly staff at the Carpa ranger station allowed me to camp in the grounds of their visitor centre. The wall provided some shelter from the chilly winds but, with clear skies, what a cold night! I had to put on some emergency extra layers as I shivered through the early hours of the morning. To be expected I suppose, Carpa is at over 13,500 ft / 4100m. At least the clear skies continued after dawn and soon the brilliant sun revived both body and soul.      

Bertha dwarfed by a mature puma raimondii.    

 Spectacular, otherworldly landscapes. 

 The turnoff to the Pastoruri Glacier. This area is used to promote the issues surrounding climate change.  

 Like other glaciers I've visited on this trip, there is a series of posts to mark the extent of the glacier in previous years; like other glaciers Pastoruri's retreat is alarmingly rapid. It will be such a pity if future generations don't have the opportunity to see these incredible natural features. Unfortunately, at current rates of retreat, previously glaciated areas will be ice-free in my lifetime. I hope more enlightened leaders will continue to put pressure on Trump to recognise his responsibility to the  Paris Treaty. It's remarkable that there is such international consensus on an environmental issue and it's vital that the USA commits to this agreement.  

 The path up to the glacier took me to 16,449 ft which is just over 5000m. I've only ever been this high twice before, in Pakistan  in 2006 and in Ecuador in 2012. Sadly, Bertha had to stay behind in the parking/reception area at 15,900ft.   

 Riding on from the glacier the dirt road was mostly in very good condition and, though I was at high altitude, the climbs were rarely too steep. I think Franzi and Jona went this way, setting off a day before me. I'm sure it was their tracks I saw in the road.      

 Last time I crossed a land slip I was too lazy to unload my bike and ended up slipping and cutting my legs under the weight. Lesson learned! Bertha fully unloaded and the rocks were crossed in several trips, slow but unscathed. 

About 5 miles on I met a motorist coming the other way and I warned him about the land slip. He wasn't having it and didn't believe me, he thought he could get through! I explained and explained the nature of the land slip and in the end showed him this photo. It clinched my argument and he turned around.   

 Up at the 16,000ft / 4880m pass the weather had really closed in. To call it a snow storm or blizzard would be exaggerating a little but certainly there was driving sleet. I layered up, put on my waterproofs and rode in. No shelter in sight so losing altitude was the only escape. As I descended it started to brighten up a little and I had a choice, ride on 10 miles to the next village and stay in an hospedaje or find a camp spot.   

 With just three weeks left of my journey I really want to extract as much from the experience as possible so I decided to camp. How many times will I have the opportunity to camp in the Andes at 15,400ft / 4700m? And, as you can see, the weather improved with a couple of hours of glorious sunshine. A delightful camp, listening to Nick Drake and Blur, all was right with the world in this moment! As the sun set I braced myself for the night ahead... 

 Rather than leave spare layers next to my sleeping bag, I went all in and layers up from the start. For sure I didn't sleep well, just a few snatched hours and minutes here and there but, with cloud cover, it was warmer than the previous night. Relatively at least.

So I woke up to this spectacular snowscape and was glad to have had the experience of camping so high.  

 The wether brightened so I got up to make breakfast. Then the sleet came back. Standing in the cold and wet, suffering a little to be honest, never had coffee and porridge tasted so good!  

Decision time again, retreat into the tent and wait for the bad weather to pass or break camp and ride on down the valley. I was already up and moving so I chose the latter.  

 In truth the first hour of riding was pretty miserable, my shoes and gloves are not waterproof so my hands and feet were numbed by the cold and wet. However it was a steady descent on asphalt so I lost altitude quickly and was soon in warmer and drier climes.

 What a machine. Sleek, powerful and beautifully balanced. The bike's not bad either! 

A 35 mile half days ride took me as far as the tranquil village of Chiquian  from where I write this post. I checked into a quaint little guesthouse, settled down to watch the FA Cup Final on cable TV and felt very smug and satisfied with myself. Until I realised I didn't have my waterproof jacket with me. I seem to be on a mission to lose my gear at the moment! A 1.5 mile dash back down the road and I picked up my jacket from the roadside, I'd left it behind after a call of nature. 

 With all the expense of returning home looming I'm trying to be a little frugal so the stove gets used even when I'm staying in guesthouses/hospedajes. 

And, do you know what, I'm pretty proud of how I've done this trip, completely self-funded and always trying hard to keep costs down. I camp when I can,  otherwise staying in cheap accommodation (personally, I don't think staying  in expensive hotels would add anything to my experience). If I stay with people I try to make a contribution, cooking, helping out with chores, paying for meals when eating out. I try to eat like locals, never in fancy restaurants and I cook for myself in hostels when I can. Bike maintenance, I'm no technical expert but I try to do the best I can to keep Bertha on the road by myself. As for luxuries, well I think I've had five beers since I've been been in South America, that says it all! 

So, unlike some other cyclists, I don't ask for a penny towards my travel budget and make a real effort to travel in a way that means I can remain self funded. All contributions go directly to OXFAM and I'm delighted that I can have this amazing adventure and make a small contribution in the fight against poverty in the process. 

Three weeks to go!

Coming Full Circle - the Cordillera Blanca Circuit

Following the heroic rides detailed in the last blog I took some time off the bike before embarking on a long loop of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. Setting off I pictured days of gentle riding, peaceful meandering from village to village taking in bucolic scenes with the occasional hill or dusty track to tackle, just to keep an element of challenge in the trip. Eight bone-rattling days later I rolled into Caraz overwhelmed with relief to have completed the circuit in one piece. Yes, I experienced the rural idyll of Andean mountain life but the riding was unrelentingly tough. As always here in Peru.

 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.   

 Y

 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!) 

 to warm up. I hadn't expected to camp this evening so had t brought much water. I had to get sone extra from a muddy puddle, where were all the pure highland streams?!? I did filter and boil the water/mud before consumption.

 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!