The Climb to Huaraz

I can honestly say the past four days of my life have been some of the hardest physically and mentally that I have ever endured.  And worth every minute.

We last chatted with you in Chancay along the Pan American, the main highway artery down the coast of Peru.  We were still getting our feet beneath us as we adjusted to a new culture, language, and means of transportation.

Sunday, August 14, we rode along the Pan American all day, and our scenery consisted simply of massive hills of sand. That´s it.  It is what I would picture the Sahara to look like.  We were extremely grateful for the blanket of clouds protecting us from the sun´s harsh rays.  65 km later, we reached the small coastal town of Huara, and settled down for the night listening to noisy horns of taxis and chatter of locals in the town square.

On Monday, we departed from Huara along the same sandy backdrop only to find our turn to start climbing up into the Andes had arrived!  ¨Deviso Huaraz 200 meters!” Wa-hoo! Just like that we were off the high traffic road rolling along a quite, newly paved highway taking us to our first destination.  An extra bonus were the huge fields of bushes that looked somewhat like thick stalks of sugar cane. Green, what a calming color to see!

We were advised in Pativilca, the last town before our turn off the Pan American, that the next town, Chasquitembo, was just 30 km away and you don´t start climbing into the mountains until after it.  Well… our guide was sort of off on the distance, it was really 50 km down the road… and there is a pretty narly climb on the way up to the town.  Interesting how your perception of roads and distance differ so drastically when you travel by car versus bike.  We laugh when chatting with folks because we have learned that they have no concept of time on a bike.  In Lima, a sweet woman who spoke very little English was trying to help us figure out our route to Huaraz.  She commented, ¨This town is 3 hours by car, but 20 minutes more by bicycle.”

Once we figured out the distance error given to us in Pativilca, Justin (or Hoo-steen-o which is the Spanish version of his name) enhaled a massive slice of chocolate cake at a small village while  I nibbled on some delicious dried mangoes.  We decided to go for it and rolled along the beautiful country side into a deep canyon of the massive mountains.  Finally, the image of Peru I was expecting. Gorgeous sun rays trying to poke through the fog and shine down on rural Peruvian villages.  The towns folk worked happily along steep green hillsides, harvesting foods such as corn and chilis, which they laid across the land to dry and package.  We arrived at Chasquitembo at 6:30pm with a total milage for the day at 100km (60 miles).  After a great day of riding, we both couldn´t wipe the smiles off our face!

In Chasquitembo, we sat in the town square, enjoying ice cream and waiting for our Spot to send out a signal letting family know we were O.K. (which apparently it was not doing!!  Sorry Mom!!), when a Peruvian man came up to us and said, ¨Hello, how are you?”

Justin replied, “Wow, your English is really good.”

“That´s because I live in New York, I go to school at the University of Buffalo,” he replied with a smile.  Right then we met a new friend Mani. He was the first person I spoke to in English, besides Justin, since Lima.  Mani grew up in the small countryside town of Chasquitembo, and decided to come to America, where his father had a chance to move to years back, to go to college.  We chatted for quite a while and he gave us a clearer idea of what our climb ahead entailed to Huaraz.  His friends, who did not speak any English, smiled, waved, showed us pictures, and named off their favorite NBA stars.  Mani if you are reading this we made it to Huaraz!! Thank you for the help!

Tuesday morning we awoke to sunshine.  Beautiful, golden sunshine – something we have not been privy to enjoy since landing in Lima.  The fingers of fog could only stretch their reach to the outskirts of town.  After rearranging our packed bags that we are still figuring out the best way to carry, we set off on our climb.  3.5 miles per hour seemed to be our average speed.  Slow and steady… slow and steady.  I breathed calmly and tried to stay as cool as possible in the heat of the day.  Oy, this was not going to be easy.  To make matters a little rougher, my left knee started to give out on me.  Each time I bent my knee, a twinge of pain shot up my thigh.  I would pull off the road, stretch, and then continue on.

Justin and I both have bells hooked to our bicycles, which half the time are horns letting people and cars know of our presence.  We have also developed a language with our bells to communicate with eachother.  One bell – we are greeting other folks in the small villages along the road, two bells – we are letting eachother know that we are ok and gaging how far we are from eachother, and three bells – S.O.S. I have stopped and something is up.

We made it just over 30 km-18.5 miles for the day, when my knee could take it no longer.  In the distance was a town on a hillside, Racuay, where we decided to take refuge.  I pushed my biked the last mile into town to give my aching knee a break.  We scored a comfy bed and some good eats and Justin made new friends with two local cops.  One gifted us some hot-cold muscle soothing cream which I proceeded to slather over my entire knee and quad.  We enjoyed the well earned break and decided to rest and read for the remainder of the evening.

The next day gave no reprieve to the constant climbing.  Up Up Up once again.  Justin often was a few bike lengths ahead of me as we rolled by small village after small village.  Kids and adults alike would shout, ¨Gringo!!! Gringo!!” as they´d see Justin rolling by ringing his bell.   Then I would roll along and their gaze would shift to the white girl on a bike.  ¨Gringa!? Gringa!?” Townsfolk would stare at me, and one child even ran up to touch me.  I am pretty sure that I am one of very few white females they have ever seen in person – I look like the people on their small television sets.

The smiles and cheers from the locals as we climbed on kept our spirits high, and we made it to 3700 meters (12,000 feet) by 6pm before having to race to set up our tent as the sun disappeared for the evening.  What an adjustment going to the Southern Hemisphere where they are shifting from Winter to Spring and hence, have much shorter days than up North currently.  By 7pm we were tucked away in our tent, camped on the side of our now nemesis road, looking up at the most magnificent display of the Milky Way.  We calculated out that the day´s climb was a distance of 18 miles and over 5,000 feet of climbing.

Then altitude sickness set in.

My head was pounding so loud I could not sleep.  My throat was sore and dry and there was an elephant named Fred sitting on my chest. I kept drinking more and more water to try and help the aches and pain, which led to getting up to pee what felt like every few minutes.  At dawn, I felt like I had been at war. My legs had hardly recovered from the last day´s climb, my head felt like it was in a hollow pressurized tunnel, and my stomach was doing jumping-jacks.

“We have two options,” Justin said in his practical Eagle Scout assessing the situation voice, ¨We can continue climbing to the top of the pass, or go down in elevation and adjust for a bit before trying again.¨

There was NO WAY I was going back down the hill.  We broked down our camp and packed our things.  With a cranky squeak, I sat on my bike and started rolling along at a steady 4 miles an hour, breathing as calm as I could so not to redline and have to catch my breath.  Every half mile I had to stop, take a deep breath, growl a little bit, and remount my bike.

About two hours later, tears started dripping from my eyes as I saw a majestic snow covered peak in the distance.  Justin was cheering ahead of me as we both just realized our massive accomplishment.

We rode our bikes 60 miles from sea level to over 14,200 feet in three days.

We celebrated by stopping at the first town on the other side of the pass and gorging on 5 egg sandwhiches which were less than 50 cents each.  The last 80km/50 miles to Huaraz flew by as we averaged 17mph riding down a valley surrounded by massive 19,000 foot snow covered peaks.  We arrived in town and set up our tent at the Gringo hotspot hostal called Jo´s place. Right after organizing all our gear in our tent and safely storing our bikes, the clouds, which had slowly gathered throughout the day, let lose and plastered the town in a down pour.  Our timing could not have been more perfect. We ate a quick meal of rice and chicken (a daily occurrence), chatted with some other travelers from around the world ( including Ernest from South Africa who has been cycling around the world for 4.5 years now!), and headed off to bed.

Oddly, as we were brushing our teeth, Justin started shivering and saying he was very cold.

I did not think much of it as we are at 10,000 feet and it was a bit of a cool night, but when we snuggled into our sleeping bags, he started uncontrollably shivering.  I zipped our bags together to try and use my body warmth to help warm him up and realized he was a furnace!  His forehead was piping hot to the touch and his shaking body was covered in sweat.

¨Justin you have a fever!” I exclaimed, shocked on how quick the onset was.  He groaned in pain and I just held him unsure what else to do.  I started going through all the foods we have eaten, what he may have eaten that I had not, and where our water possibly could have been contaminated.  In the 2 and a half years I´ve known Justin, he has never been sick.  This was quite a shock for me and my immediate reaction was to get him to a doctor.  But as I held him and rubbed his head, he slowly stopped shaking and fell asleep.  He rustled throughout the night, and slept in until 10am (another first for me to witness with him) and he still does not feel well today.  Hopefully within the next few days we will both be healthy and more acclaimated to the altitude, ready for adventures climbing mountains around Huaraz.

Please send positive thoughts Justin´s way.  We are so blessed to have so many great friends and family cheering us along on our crazy adventure.

I´m off to check on the boy and find some food to eat that is neither rice or chicken.  There is so much more to write about so I will try and get in to another cafe soon!

**Melissa