Intro
I rolled out of Atico at 08:40 this morning under a clear blue sky that kept the temperature steadily rising up from 17°C. The Panamericana here is a grey ribbon pinned between the Pacific spray and the rising desert, and after the recent mudslides, I was relieved to see the road status finally marked as green. My mood was steady, fueled by a breakfast of peanut butter bread and the quiet satisfaction of finishing my Spanish drills before the first pedal stroke.
The Invisible Chorus and the Citrus Harvest
- Before I even hit the open road, I made a strategic stop at the local food court. I’ve learned that the best way to manage long desert stretches is to build a base of calories early, so I filled my own containers with plain white rice and a warm yuka rellena stuffed with cheese. By 09:05, I was back on the asphalt. The road began to snake along the coast, with hills of loose stone rising 200 meters to my left. It’s easy to see how the rains from last week turned these slopes into a slurry that choked the highway, but today the surface was clear and fast.
- Around 10:53, I pulled over to mount the 360 camera on a ledge roughly 60 meters above the surf. The sound was the first thing that hit me—the high-pitched, haunting screams of sea lions. They were somewhere on the jagged rocks below, hidden by the swell and the mist, but their cries cut through the wind like a frantic, invisible chorus. I stood there for ten minutes, peering over the edge, but never spotted a single one. Just as I was about to clip back into the pedals, I spotted three perfect, bright yellow lemons sitting on the shoulder. I tucked them into my bag, the sharp, acidic scent of their skins lingering on my half finger gloves. A few miles later, my luck held when I found an unopened pack of biscuits lying in the dust—insurance for the climbs ahead.
The Gravity Tax and the Biscuit Bounty
- Lunch was a study in roadside culinary efficiency. I pulled off the road at 12:20 and opened my ‘pantry.’ I started with the yuka ball, which was still slightly oily and dense, then set to work on the main course. I mixed the morning’s plain rice with a tin of fish, some chopped carrots, and dried olives. I used those found lemons to cut through the heavy oil of the fish, squeezing the juice directly into the bowl. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, but the acidity of the lemons made the dry rice manageable. I ate quickly, watching the heat shimmer start to distort the horizon as the sky closed to a dark 20°C.
- At 14:05, the real work began: a 4km climb that gained 200 meters of vertical. About a kilometer into the ascent, a white pickup truck slowed down beside me. The driver leaned out and offered a lift, likely thinking I was struggling. I declined with a wave and a ‘no, gracias.’ It was early, the wind was negligible for once, and I wanted to earn the view. I reached the top by 15:00 and was rewarded with a plunging descent back to sea level into a small fishing village. The air here smelled of salt and olive trees, a brief green reprieve before the next wall of sand and stone.
Vultures, Ice, and the Final Descent
- By 16:00, I reached a decision point at La Planchada. I could stop early or push through one more major climb to reach Ocoña. I chose the climb, finishing the rest of my rice salad before tackling the grade. The scenery shifted dramatically as I climbed; the cliffs turned a deep, textured red-brown, glowing in the late afternoon light. Dozens of black vultures with bright red heads were circling the thermals or perched on the jagged peaks, watching my slow progress. I passed through a dark tunnel at 17:15, lucky to have the lane to myself, and emerged into a landscape that felt increasingly alien.
- Then came the mystery of the day. On a desolate stretch of the shoulder sat a rusted cooling trailer, its wheels long gone and its shell scarred with deep scratches. It looked like it had been rotting there for a decade, yet directly behind it sat a fresh, gleaming mountain of ice. There was no truck in sight and no reason for a pile of frozen water to be sitting in the middle of a coastal desert. I didn’t linger to solve it. I reached the day’s highest point at 18:10, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the red-brown grit of the cliffs. The final descent into Ocoña was a race against the dark, arriving at Hotel Jimmy just as the streetlights flickered on. Dinner was a massive portion of gas-grilled chicken from a local spot, which I paired with the last of my morning rice to ensure nothing went to waste. I finished the night with a cup of yogurt, though one was too sour to trust, and retreated to the clean, quiet tiles of my room.
Overnight
I stayed at Hotel Jimmy in Ocoña. It’s an impeccably maintained spot with a simple room that felt like a luxury after the dust of the road. The room had a sturdy table and chair, which made it the perfect base for sorting through my footage and planning tomorrow’s route.
Reflection
Buying double the amount of rice you think you need in the morning saves you the hassle of hunting for sides in a town where the restaurants close early.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-08-24
- Distance: 75.21 km
- Elevation gain: 1159 m
- Elevation loss: 1175 m
- Duration: 10 h 15 min
- Time in Motion: 6 h 59 min
- Average Speed: 10.8 km/h