I took a solo road trip on Sunday. Despite being a little tired from Saturday’s hike and then dancing until four a.m. I was very eager to try out my new wheels.
There is a town called Pisac, also famous for Inka ruins, some thirty-three kilometers from Cusco. I acknowledged that sixty-six kms was far too much for my first day on the bike, especially at an altitude of over 3500 M.
‘I’ll just cycle in that direction and see how far I get before I am tired’, I said giving myself a wink in the mirror.
The initial hour or so was a battle as it was all uphill. First I had to carry my bike up about two hundred very steep steps just to get onto the road. And then it was a forty minute uphill slog along the same road I had hiked on Saturday.
But once I passed the Inka site Tambomachay the road flattened out and my mood lifted as my heart rate slowed. The weather was amazing bright and clear with just a few clouds in the sky, and supposedly quite unusual for this time of the year (it’s now rainy season).
About an hour and a half outside of Cusco the road began to descend deep down into a valley. It was so much fun flying down the curvy road at high speed I barely acknowledged that I would have to cycle back up every steep kilometer that I flew down.
It wasn’t until I a village at the bottom of the valley that I realized just how far down I had came, not to mention the number of kilometers I had covered.
I stopped for a bottle of Inka Cola and to wipe the the tears from my face (due to the high speed and wind, not the thought of cycling home again) and asked some locals how much further it was to Pisac. A taxi driver told me it was about ten minutes by car so I reckoned on about thirty on my bike. I hoped it would be either flat all the way, or even a little up hill to make the return journey easier, but not having the vocabulary to ask about gradients and altitudes I just thanked my new and highly amused friends for the cola and set of again.
To my pleasure and dismay the next fifteen km or so was also all downhill. The sun was hot and high in the sky and the breeze as I bombed down closer and closer to sea level made me feel very free.
There was one point during this euphoric downhill race on the virtually empty road that I acknowledged just how far down I was going and how extremely difficult it was going to be to return by the same road. But it felt so great racing down into the valley surrounded by beautiful lush mountains without even having to turn a pedal that I said to myself ‘to hell with it. I’ll just keep going. And if it’s too hard on the way back I’ll just jump on one of the occasional buses that are passing by’. But inside I knew that I would be too stubborn to take a bus back, that I would see that as a sign of failure. And so down, down, down I went eventually arriving in a valley at the town of Pisac. A pretty town from a distance with a long and wide river running through the centre. But of course up close it was poor and basic like most other parts of Peru. In town I strolled through the market and then found a restaurant on a side street for a (very mediocre, but cheap) lunch. And then another bottle of Inka Cola for the energy I knew I would need for the thirty-three km journey back.
I then sat by the river for half an hour to rest up and let my not-properly cooked rice digest. I got really sleepy and would have loved to lie down and doze for a while, but I was pretty certain that if I did there would be a good chance of walking up bikeless.
So I wearily dragged myself up and forced the thoughts of a leisurely bus ride home out of my head. I cranked the tunes on my MP3 player and started the ascent. Just as I left town groups of bus drivers were touting tickets back to Cusco at very tempting prices and other bikes were clearly visible strapped to the roofs of the small buses. But I just smiled and cycled on past.
The next four hours were the most physically demanding that I can ever remember doing IN MY WHOLE LIFE. Thirty-three kilometers, most of which was uphill and some of that very, very steep (see picture of roadsign). I climbed over 1100 metres and at times could hardly even keep up momentum in first gear. The beautiful views were forgotten as I panted for oxygen in the thin air and forced my thighs to continue with the grueling task of which they were so unaccustomed.
I wanted to give up many times, especially as every bus and taxi that passed beeped their horn to let me know I could jump aboard. During the last hour and half the sky clouded over and I became too saddle sore to sit down and too tired to stand up on my bike, but still I refused to quit or even push the bike for a few minutes. I was stopping every five minutes for a break and to regret not bringing any snacks.
There were road markers every kilometer from Cusco, so as I neared the city they counted down to zero. But this was mostly cruel and disheartening as I was already exhausted with 28 km to go.
As I reached the outskirts of Cusco, the ascent ended and the downhill began. Almost delirious with exhaustion I was glad when the rain started and hid any tears of relief that may have appeared.
Fifteen minutes later, wet and hardly able to move I staggered into my room and collapsed in bed.
There is a town called Pisac, also famous for Inka ruins, some thirty-three kilometers from Cusco. I acknowledged that sixty-six kms was far too much for my first day on the bike, especially at an altitude of over 3500 M.
‘I’ll just cycle in that direction and see how far I get before I am tired’, I said giving myself a wink in the mirror.
The initial hour or so was a battle as it was all uphill. First I had to carry my bike up about two hundred very steep steps just to get onto the road. And then it was a forty minute uphill slog along the same road I had hiked on Saturday.
But once I passed the Inka site Tambomachay the road flattened out and my mood lifted as my heart rate slowed. The weather was amazing bright and clear with just a few clouds in the sky, and supposedly quite unusual for this time of the year (it’s now rainy season).
About an hour and a half outside of Cusco the road began to descend deep down into a valley. It was so much fun flying down the curvy road at high speed I barely acknowledged that I would have to cycle back up every steep kilometer that I flew down.
It wasn’t until I a village at the bottom of the valley that I realized just how far down I had came, not to mention the number of kilometers I had covered.I stopped for a bottle of Inka Cola and to wipe the the tears from my face (due to the high speed and wind, not the thought of cycling home again) and asked some locals how much further it was to Pisac. A taxi driver told me it was about ten minutes by car so I reckoned on about thirty on my bike. I hoped it would be either flat all the way, or even a little up hill to make the return journey easier, but not having the vocabulary to ask about gradients and altitudes I just thanked my new and highly amused friends for the cola and set of again.
To my pleasure and dismay the next fifteen km or so was also all downhill. The sun was hot and high in the sky and the breeze as I bombed down closer and closer to sea level made me feel very free.
There was one point during this euphoric downhill race on the virtually empty road that I acknowledged just how far down I was going and how extremely difficult it was going to be to return by the same road. But it felt so great racing down into the valley surrounded by beautiful lush mountains without even having to turn a pedal that I said to myself ‘to hell with it. I’ll just keep going. And if it’s too hard on the way back I’ll just jump on one of the occasional buses that are passing by’. But inside I knew that I would be too stubborn to take a bus back, that I would see that as a sign of failure. And so down, down, down I went eventually arriving in a valley at the town of Pisac. A pretty town from a distance with a long and wide river running through the centre. But of course up close it was poor and basic like most other parts of Peru. In town I strolled through the market and then found a restaurant on a side street for a (very mediocre, but cheap) lunch. And then another bottle of Inka Cola for the energy I knew I would need for the thirty-three km journey back.I then sat by the river for half an hour to rest up and let my not-properly cooked rice digest. I got really sleepy and would have loved to lie down and doze for a while, but I was pretty certain that if I did there would be a good chance of walking up bikeless.
So I wearily dragged myself up and forced the thoughts of a leisurely bus ride home out of my head. I cranked the tunes on my MP3 player and started the ascent. Just as I left town groups of bus drivers were touting tickets back to Cusco at very tempting prices and other bikes were clearly visible strapped to the roofs of the small buses. But I just smiled and cycled on past.
The next four hours were the most physically demanding that I can ever remember doing IN MY WHOLE LIFE. Thirty-three kilometers, most of which was uphill and some of that very, very steep (see picture of roadsign). I climbed over 1100 metres and at times could hardly even keep up momentum in first gear. The beautiful views were forgotten as I panted for oxygen in the thin air and forced my thighs to continue with the grueling task of which they were so unaccustomed.I wanted to give up many times, especially as every bus and taxi that passed beeped their horn to let me know I could jump aboard. During the last hour and half the sky clouded over and I became too saddle sore to sit down and too tired to stand up on my bike, but still I refused to quit or even push the bike for a few minutes. I was stopping every five minutes for a break and to regret not bringing any snacks.
There were road markers every kilometer from Cusco, so as I neared the city they counted down to zero. But this was mostly cruel and disheartening as I was already exhausted with 28 km to go.
As I reached the outskirts of Cusco, the ascent ended and the downhill began. Almost delirious with exhaustion I was glad when the rain started and hid any tears of relief that may have appeared.
Fifteen minutes later, wet and hardly able to move I staggered into my room and collapsed in bed.
1 comment:
That reminds me of a trip I did with my bro and my boss on the bikes.
Left work at 5. Drove to bolton to start a 20 odd mile bike trip.
I didnt have any snacks, it was going dark and we had no lights it was quite traumatic.
We were supposed to be doing some propper mountain biking aswell but ended up doing all the downhill on roads and all the climbing offroad.
Mint
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