Intro
I’m writing this from a desk in La Punta, my skin still buzzing from a day of abrasive coastal winds. The morning started in Ocoña under a gray, 16.9°C overcast sky, but the paved Panamericana quickly reminded me that the desert doesn’t care about my motivation levels.
The Avocado and the Headwind
- The day began with a small victory in my room: the avocado I’ve been hauling for three days finally yielded to thumb pressure. It was perfectly soft, a rich, buttery green that I smeared over my bread, replacing the usual peanut butter. That creamy texture was the last soft thing I’d experience for the next ten hours. By 9:00 AM, I was downstairs chatting with Jimmy, the hotel owner, who seemed genuinely curious about why anyone would pedal through this landscape. We talked for twenty minutes before I finally refilled my bottles and pushed off.
- The moment I turned toward the ocean at 9:20 AM, the wind hit. It wasn’t a breeze; it was a wall. The temperature hovered around 17°C, but the effort of pushing against the air made it feel much hotter. I knew I had a 15km climb ahead of me, and the Pacific was already throwing everything it had at my front panniers. The road surface was a smooth, dark ribbon of asphalt, but the air above it was chaotic and heavy with salt.
Grit and the Chapel of Wrappers
- By 11:15 AM, the climb turned into a literal sandblaster. The wind whipped up the yellow dust from the dunes, flinging it against me with enough force to sting. I had to pull my storm hood up over my face and snap my helmet visor down. I could hear the constant, rhythmic ‘tick-tick-tick’ of sand grains pelting the polycarbonate plastic of my visor. Every time I breathed, I tasted the dry, mineral grit of the desert. To my left and right, there was nothing but shifting yellow slopes, an endless expanse of dust trying to reclaim the road.
- It took nearly two hours to grind through those 15 kilometers to the summit. Exhausted and coated in a fine layer of silt, I found a small roadside chapel at 12:20 PM. It offered a sliver of shade and a reprieve from the wind. While I sat there eating bananas and handfuls of raisins, I noticed the ground was littered with trash. I spent ten minutes collecting about 20 plastic-wrapped biscuits that had been tossed near the chapel in the sand. The sharp, high-pitched crinkle of the plastic wrappers was a jarring sound in the otherwise howling wind. I stuffed them into my bag; I wasn’t going to eat them, but I couldn’t leave them there to be buried by the sand.
The Great Divide and the Bread Broker
- The descent back to sea level at 14:33 PM felt like entering a different country. At kilometer marker 821, I witnessed what I’m calling the ‘Great Divide.’ To my left, the desert remained a harsh, yellow void of rolling hills. To my right, toward the ocean, the landscape exploded into organized, lush green fields. The transition was so abrupt it looked like someone had drawn a line with a ruler. I stopped for a quick plate of rice, beans, and a fried egg at a roadside spot called Delicias de Chicho, watching the green fields sway in the wind that had spent the morning trying to knock me over.
- The final push into Camaná happened in total darkness. I turned off the Panamericana onto a beautifully paved side road at 5:25 PM, but by 6:10 PM, I was navigating the last 8.5km by the beam of my headlight. The town La Punta after Camana felt hollow, a ghost of its high-season self. Most hotels were shuttered, their windows dark and dusty. I eventually rolled up to Hotel Don Felix. They wanted 60 soles, but I managed to talk them down to 50, citing the empty hallways and the off-season silence. It’s a strange place—modern rooms and a massive, glowing blue swimming pool in the courtyard that nobody is using.
The Late Night Fish Trade
- Hunger drove me back out onto the Panamericana at 7:30 PM. I cycled two kilometers through the quiet neighborhoods of La Punta, finding almost everything closed. I ended up back at a brightly lit restaurant on the main road where I ordered a fried fish that turned out to be the size of a forearm. It was too much to finish, so I packed the leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch. While I was waiting, a man walked in delivering fresh rolls to the owner. He looked like a local bread broker, so I flagged him down. I asked if he had any extra, and he ended up selling me a private stash of four rolls heavily garnished with toasted cheese. I headed back to the hotel at 9:45 PM, the smell of the warm cheese rolls cutting through the salty night air.
Overnight
I stayed at Hotel Don Felix in La Punta. It cost 50 soles after a bit of haggling. The room is modern with a solid desk for route planning, and there’s a huge pool in the courtyard that feels completely out of place in this quiet, off-season coastal town.
Reflection
A storm hood and a full-face visor are the only things that make a 15km desert ascent tolerable when the wind decides to move the dunes across the road.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-08-25
- Distance: 66.63 km
- Elevation gain: 549 m
- Elevation loss: 551 m
- Duration: 10 h 13 min
- Time in Motion: 7 h 3 min
- Average Speed: 9.5 km/h