Bike-packing Peru: The Colca Canyon

With a tasty little sunburn after a day spent at the hot springs in Chivay, it was time to throw a leg over the bike and head west atop the Colca Canyon. At its deepest, it’s twice the depth of the famed Grand Canyon in the USofA.

The day started out well; a bit of descending, a few easy rollers and several lovely little towns to admire as the vast countryside of the valley unfolded before us. Bliss. Arriving in Lari, we made a left turn, descended to the river at the bottom of the Canyon then grunted our way back out, now on the south rim of the Colca Canyon. It was then that the suffering began.

For the next several hours we climbed and climbed and climbed up that rocky dirt road, swearing aloud as the winds blasted against us at 50-80kph/30-50mph. It was brutal, an absolute struggle that drained us all.

Arriving at the Mirador Cruz del Condor(Condor Lookout) we finally began to smile; 13kms/7miles of pavement thrusting us downhill and into the charming little town of Cabanaconde! Eating salty potato chips and guzzling a cold beer, we lay sprawled-out in the town’s pretty little plaza beneath the fountain, great mountains occupying our every view.

Spending the night at the Hostel Villa Pastor, we arranged with its gregarious owner, Cesar, to leave our bikes in his care and head down into the great canyon the next day.

There, after a 2.5hr, 5km/3mile hike, we would find ourselves in a tropical oasis next to the river. Paradise does exist and it’s in Peru. We spent the day swimming, eating, lounging under Palm trees and playing volleyball with other French and English tourists. Paradise, however, does come at a hefty price.

The next morning we had to hike back up that steep cliff to retrieve our bikes. Now, I’ll ride my bike across just about any terrain and up the steepest of hills, but hiking and I just don’t get along very well. The same for Reilly. While we two suffered, Kimberly smiled her way along, enjoying it thoroughly. Damn her.
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Back at the Hostel, we repacked our gear in pained silence and set out for the trip back to Chivay. The 13km climb to the condor lookout rewarded us with an unseasonal treat; a giant condor soaring slowly above us. Remarkable. We stopped for lunch then continued on. That’s when things got interesting…

We had decided to remain on the canyon’s south rim to Yanka, directly south of Chivay, rather than cross back over the river as we’d done two days earlier. As we rode and climbed, the morning’s hike began to take its toll on yours truly as well as Reilly.

I was suffering in silence, my legs screamed whenever a dash of power was called for. Reilly felt little better and Kimberly had no idea of the pain and frustration we both felt. To her credit, she made every attempt to remain cheerful and upbeat. But you know, when you’re suffering, the last thing you want is to hear a cheery voice.

At one point, when digging in my gear for something or other, I cursed aloud, one of my little “moments of aggression”. Though directed at no-one, just me venting, it soured Kimberly and she pushed off. Reilly, too, was feeling the pain of the day. With us all feeling tired and frustrated, the inevitable was just around the corner; just past the town of Achoma, to be precise.

There, we stopped to gather water from a cool stream. The water filter broke and Kimberly offered suggestions to Reilly. The pump was thrown, voices were raised and tears began to flow. The moment we all knew would arise was upon us. We were in the midst of a collective meltdown and it wasn’t pretty.

With dour faces and pursed lips, we finally made camp in silence so thick it was palpable. Fortunately, it didn’t last. Conversations we’re had and apologies made. By dinner, all was resolved; at breakfast, we could laugh it off. By lunch, we were back in Chivay gathering provisions and preparing for what would turn out to be the toughest climb of the trip.