Intro
I’m writing this from a small balcony in Chancay Baños, my legs finally still after a day spent grinding up 1,300 meters of vertical gain. The ride out of Catache began under a patchwork sky, transitioning from the dry heat of the lowlands into a lush, green ascent. Most of the route was paved, but the rhythm was frequently broken by the dry crunch-snap of tires hitting patches of loose gravel where the mountain had spilled onto the road.
Sticky Starts and Silent Valleys
- The day began at 10:40 AM in the central park of Catache. I sat on a bench with a bag of Italian rolls and a jar of dulce en almíbar. The sticky, sugary residue of the syrup stayed on my fingertips long after I finished, a tacky reminder of the calories I’d need for the climb ahead. The first few kilometers provided a deceptive relief—a short, fast downhill that dropped me into the belly of a deep green valley. The river was a thin silver thread far below, and the scale of the walls on either side made my bike feel like a toy.
- As the road tilted upward, the heat began to settle in. I spent the next several hours in a slow-motion crawl. Every few miles, a police truck would pull alongside. The officers didn’t want to see my passport; they just wanted to chat. They were heading toward Santa Cruz and probably would have carried my panniers if I’d had the presence of mind to ask before they sped off. I stopped for lunch under the only patch of shade I could find, eating peanut butter on rolls while listening to the absolute silence of the canyon, occasionally interrupted by that familiar crunch-snap of a distant rock falling onto the shoulder.
The Gates of the Mountain
- The highlight of the afternoon was the series of ‘mountain gates’—narrow notches where the road squeezed between two towering rock faces. Each time I pedaled through one of these gaps, the landscape completely reset. One moment I was looking at a dry, scrubby cliffside; the next, a vast, emerald-green valley opened up, stretching toward the horizon. It felt like passing through a series of rooms, each one larger and more vibrant than the last. A man on a motorbike eventually flagged me down, not for an emergency, but because he wanted a selfie and a conversation about where I was going. In these mountains, you aren’t just a cyclist; you’re a temporary local event.
- By 4:30 PM, I pulled into Santa Cruz. I was salt-crusted and vibrating from the effort. I found a traveling fruit vendor and bought a pile of citrus and a bottle of ice-cold water. I squeezed fresh lemon directly into the bottle, the sharp scent cutting through the heavy mountain air. I had ten kilometers of descent ahead and then ten kilometers of climbing left to reach Chancay Baños. The math was simple: I was running out of daylight.
Darkness and the Farmer’s Gift
- The descent was fast, the wind cooling the sweat on my jersey. Near the bottom, a farmer standing by the road waved me down. I almost didn’t stop, worried about the fading light, but the mountain culture here is hard to ignore. We spent thirty minutes talking about his crops. He loaded me down with Lima, palta, and bananas, insisting I try his produce right there. The creamy texture of the palta was a welcome change from the dry bread I’d been eating all day. By the time we exchanged phone numbers and I pushed off, the sun had dropped behind the peaks.
- The final ten kilometers were a slow grind in total darkness. There was almost no traffic, just the beam of my headlamp reflecting off the occasional road sign and the persistent crunch-snap of gravel under my wheels. When I finally rolled into Chancay Baños, a group of strangers at a corner store cheered as if I’d won a stage of the Tour. Before I could even ask for a hotel, they bought me a liter of ice-cold water and pointed me toward a place to sleep. I eventually found ‘La Posada,’ a cozy spot with a balcony that looked out over the darkened town. After dinner, I figured out that the local fiesta is just not meant for my tired brain today.
Overnight
I’m staying at La Posada. I turned down a cheaper, windowless room elsewhere because I needed the air and the balcony. I’ve booked two nights here so I can hit the thermal baths tomorrow and catch up on laundry.
Reflection
A 1,300-meter climb is significantly harder when you spend an hour of it eating avocados with a stranger by the side of the road, but the fruit tastes better than the time saved.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-03-28
- Distance: 47.32 km
- Elevation gain: 1296 m
- Elevation loss: 1022 m
- Duration: 9 h 49 min
- Time in Motion: 5 h 19 min
- Average Speed: 8.9 km/h