Huscaran circuit – cycling the Cordillera Blanca – Peru

We wake at 6am and the views from our simple hotel balcony are stunning; blue sky, perfect white capped mountains, the town slowly waking up. We make tea with the door open and prepare once again our bags and bikes. We’re off on a 5-6 day circuit of the Cordillera Blanca, climbing up and over three passes , the highest will take us to almost 5000m high and will climb over the highest tunnel in the world, Punta Olimpica. Chris reminds me of being awoken by a small tremor during the middle of the night, and it all comes back to me. It couldn’t have been that big as it didn’t wake me up enough to keep me up. Ironically though, I was only reading last night about the 1970 natural disaster in this area where an earthquake out in the pacific was so strong it set off a huge avalanche on the highest mountain Huascaran, which completely destroyed nearby towns and villages including the one we were staying in, Carhuaz, and killed 70,000 people. It must have been devastating, and I wonder did they even know what was happening as the earthquake was out in the Pacific Ocean and maybe there was no warning at all. It’s difficult to imagine.

We set off at 8.30am and already it’s hot. We’re at 2700m at Carhuaz and we will steadily climb twenty odd miles and 1300m ascent to a camping spot by the river at 4000m. It’s not long before we round a corner and see our first view of the magnificent Huscaran, the highest mountain in Peru. For the rest of the day we’re completely spoilt by natures best; huge white mountains, green forests, bright blue sky, singing birds, glacial green rivers and the smell of pine and eucalyptus.

For once we actually arrive early at our wild camping spot, it’s not even 2pm! This is unprescidented for us, we’re normally arriving at 5pm and rushing to put the tent up and cook before it goes dark! It’s so hot on the way up I’m ready for a dip in the river, but I put my feet in and it’s so cold I get that burning painful feeling that completely puts me off dipping anything else in! We boil a pan of water for tea and lie in the afternoon sun, it’s so nice just relaxing I almost fall asleep. We’re on a flat grassy area next to the river, we’re surrounded by mountains, and even though we’re not far from the road it’s incredibly quiet.

We eventually put the tent up and cook dinner, just before the sun drops below the mountain. When it does the temperature immediately drops and I’m suddenly changing into all my layers. It’s a beautiful evening, there’s a loud crack from above and we look up to see a small avalanche from one of the mountains. This continues for some time as I lie in bed listening to the cracks which sound very much closer than they were! We’re in the tent by 6.30pm and as the light fades and day turns to night I get out of the tent to look at the night sky. It’s simply stunning. There’s no moonlight, but you can see the outline of the surrounding peaks, and thousands of stars above. I look up in wonder and I can’t believe how fortunate I am. I don’t stay out for too long, it’s pretty cold, but I lie in bed listening to the gentle flow of the river until I fall asleep.

The next morning I’m awake by 6.30am and by 6.45am I’m outside with all my layers on trying to make tea. There’s frost on the ground and the tent, but I can see the sun on the mountains above and it looks stunning. It takes a while to get the burner going, the fuels cold, the lighters won’t work so I have to try to use a match with my fumbly cold fingers. It eventually lights and I wander around trying to keep warm for 15 minutes whilst the water boils. Twenty minutes later I’m back in the tent with two cups of tea, hands and feet freezing! Half an hour later I can feel the warmth of the sun on the tent and I’m back outside. I lift my face to the morning light, it’s amazing how powerful the suns rays are as it quickly gets to work defrosting everything. Twenty minutes later I’m back in my shorts and t-shirt.

We head off and up the 12 miles of switchbacks, up to Punta Olimpica, it’s steady going but it feels ok until about 4500m when I can definitely start to feel the altitude. I seem to be able to breathe ok but my legs just don’t seem to have any energy. But the views are just incredible, the higher we climb the bigger the mountains seem to get, huge hanging glaciers draped over crags layer the skyline. The last 3 miles to the tunnel are hard work, I’m in my pain cave, everything hurts and my head wants to give up. I remember this time two years ago, holding my mums hand during her last day of life, and I realise cycling up this hill is nothing in comparison to the pain I felt then. My mum was my friend as well as my mother, we used to laugh uncontrollably at the silliest of things, or just sit in comfortable silence for hours together, sipping cups of tea. I miss that. I pedal a bit harder, and we stop every half a mile or so to catch our breath and take endless photographs. We finally reach the tunnel and start cycling the dirt track up and over, which wound its way for another two miles.

This part turns out to be type 3 fun in the end, for the last half a mile to the top there was massive rock slides blocking our path, and we had to take off all our panniers and carry them, along with the bikes, precariously over to the other side. We finally reached the top, 4900m high, and I feel really proud to have achieved this. There are magnificent views all around, mountains stretching for miles, turquoise blue lakes down in the valley. We descend and have to cross one more rockslide, and then the piece de resistance, the whole track had disappeared completely! There was no going back at this point so we had to de-bag once again and I carried the bags down boulders between the two switchbacks whilst Chris carried the bikes! We gratefully hit the other side of the tunnel and an asphalt road, and an amazing descent down to Chacas, a small mountain village back at 3600m. But this wasn’t the sleepy village we were hoping for, there was a fiesta going on, bull fighting in the plaza, music, people everywhere. It was great to see but the loud music and celebrations went on for hours, and so by morning we were slightly sleep deprived!

We took a while to get going in the morning, chatting to a family of Americans here trekking, over coffee. It was nice relaxing in the sun, but we eventually set off. It ended up being a really tough day, after the first initial descent, we turned off the road and started climbing up horrible rocky off road track. It really slowed us down and after three days of altitude, long climbs and lack of sleep I was feeling it. We did go through some tiny mountain hamlets though, and it was a peaceful track with little traffic. At one point we crossed the turquoise blue river over an old wooden bridge and I stopped to say hello to an older couple sat in the sun on a blanket, slowly picking corn. I actually felt envious of them, and longed to sit in the sun and just be. After a long day we dropped down into the valley and found a stunning place to camp. Right next to the river, the Cordillera Blanca once again above us and the sun slowly setting. Again we’re at 3700m so it soon starts to chill once the sun has set, so we’re in the tent by 6.30pm, just as a slither of the moon is rising!

It’s cold overnight, I wake at 2am and have to scramble around in the dark trying to find extra layers. In the morning I bang the frost off the tent and once again wait patiently with chilly fingers for the pan of water to boil for tea, before hopping back into the tent and warm sleeping bag until the sun rises above the mountain at 7.30am. Although it’s hard work being at this altitude it’s also stunning, and a simple way of life. With no phone signal there are no other distractions, and so I listen to the river flowing, watch the farmers work the fields and look up towards the white capped mountains and bright blue sky above.

We steadily climb the five miles to the top of our second pass, it’s really steep in places, but the views back down the valley where we came from are beautiful. The climb seems to go on forever, and as I’m rounding the last few switchbacks, I remember reading a blog about this circuit where she described this pass as the ‘triple heart by-pass’. It only just dawns on me what she meant – you may need a triple heart by-pass if you manage to get to the top! We do eventually manage to get to the top, no by-passes required thankfully, and we start the five mile descent down to the mountain village of Yanama. The dirt track is still rough so it’s a slow descent which is fine as we’re now rounding a corner and I’m stopped dead in my tracks by the most stunning view ahead of me. To the left is what must be Alpamayo, supposedly the most beautiful peak in the world. It certainly looks it from here, it’s gigantic pyramidal peak stands out in the distance, along with a line of other rugged snow capped peaks, below are smaller darker mountains and below that green forests, it’s just stunning, and I cycle slowly down to Yanama, the sun on my smiling face. On the way down, we meet our friend Greg once again, and also Suzie and Ed, who we met briefly the other day. They’re cycling the same loop but in the opposite direction. It’s great to see them, and swap camping and route notes, and we promise to meet up in Huaraz in a few days time.

We stop briefly in Yanama, it’s in the most stunning location, with unbelievable views. I imagine what it would be like to wake up to those views every morning. If this was a town in the Alps, it would be full of hotels and tourists, but this one is as sleepy as the rest, with smiley locals going about their day. We set off once again and climb ten miles up a slightly better track before finding a flat grassy patch next to the river, and set up camp for the night.

Just when you’re hoping for a relaxing few hours sat eating dinner by the river, it seems we’ve been transported to a Scottish river mid summer! All of a sudden we’re surrounded by thousands of midges, they’re horrific, as we flap about, Chris trying to cook whilst I try to blow sleeping mattresses and set the tent up. I can’t believe we’re at 3800m and being eaten by midges. I light two incense sticks and we waft them about like Harry Potters wand! It’s ridiculous that we can survive this altitude, the cold, the endless hill climbing, but a few thousand ex-Pat Scottish midges has us diving into the tent to eat dinner, looking out like two captives! Eventually it must get too cold for them and we go outside and enjoy the last of the golden reds of the sunset lighting up the mountains.

The following morning we set off and up to our final pass, Portachuelo de Llanganuco. It’s only ten miles but our bodies are tired and sleep deprived. I can’t wait to get to the top so there’s no more climbing, only descending. The higher we get the more the landscape opens up, and we start to get slowly closer to the snow capped peaks. The road winds as we pass numerous beautiful lakes, the reflection of the mountains clear in the still waters. I try to drown out the burning sensation in my legs by listening to the birds, the rivers and occasional grumble of the snow above. Three hours later and we can see the top of the pass in sight above a set of switchbacks. It takes every bit of energy to keep pedalling but eventually we can see the tiny gap in the mountains that signals the top. We’re up and over and what a relief I feel as I cycle through the gap. I punch the sky with complete joy and relief. I didn’t know at the time but Chris is behind me taking photographs and captures a perfect image of my elation. I round the corner and feel complete overwhelm at the sight before me. It’s impossible to describe the beauty of the range of mountains in front of me, huge white peaks, rugged against the perfect blue sky above. Down below are waterfalls and cascading turquoise blue rivers that meander down into the valley and beyond. I stand and gaze in complete awe, and I feel completely overwhelmed, a combination of the hard work and determination it took just to be here, and now this reward. I can’t help but let some tears flow, and I put my sunglasses on quickly so Chris doesn’t see me, but then I notice he’s sniffing and wipes a tear from his eye also and I realise it’s not just me. We stand next to each other in relaxed silence for minutes, taking it all in. Then we take some pictures, and sit for a while. Chris finds the small bottle of brandy he’s been carrying for days and we have a sip each, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea at 4750m high but I don’t care, it feels good.

We eventually have to leave, it’s a long winding descent all the way back down the other side now, but for today we just descend 10 miles to another camping spot by the river, as tomorrow we want to walk to Laguna 69, a lake famous for its turquoise blue glacial waters, before heading back down the valley and hopefully to a warm hotel with a hot shower! We arrive at the trail head for Laguna 69 and are surprised at how busy it is, we’ve been in relative remoteness for the past five days and all of a sudden it feels very touristy. We find a quiet spot away from the crowds and pitch our tent, and by 4pm everyone has left and there’s only us to enjoy the sun setting and the night sky. We wake early the next morning and head off uphill to Laguna 69 before the crowds arrive. Our legs ache from all the cycling but I feel surprisingly good, I actually think I may walk uphill faster than I cycle! I might ditch the bike and walk uphill alongside Chris cycling, and then we can freewheel down together! After just over two hours we reach the Laguna, and it is indeed a beautiful turquoise. It’s surrounded by white mountains and glaciers running down towards the lake, and we have the place to ourselves. We sit and listen to the silence, relaxing in the morning sun, before heading back down the way we came, now passing all the hikers on their way up. We pack up and head off, a steady twenty miles downhill, passing more turquoise lakes, forests and wild flowers until we eventually arrive at Yungay. What an incredible adventure!

It’s 6am, I awake in the same hotel, in the same room with the same view of the perfect white capped mountains, it’s almost as if it could have all been a dream…