Intro
The sky over Chivay started clear at 11.7°C. Today was a strategic pause, a 10-kilometer loop on paved streets designed to keep the legs moving while I spent the bulk of my energy calculating the calories and liters required for the mountain ahead.
The Ritual of the Chain and the Cracker
- I spent the first few hours of the morning in a state of mechanical meditation. I pulled the bike into the small courtyard to address the grit from the Colca Canyon roads. The metallic, oily scent of chain lubricant filled the air as I worked the links, a sharp contrast to the smell of damp laundry hanging on the lines nearby. While the grease did its work, I sat on the edge of the low wall and ate through a sleeve of soda crackers. The dry, salty snap of the crackers was the only sound in the courtyard, a dull breakfast suited for a day of chores.
- Between scrubbing the drivetrain and hanging my clothes, I sat down with my laptop to bridge a three-month gap in my digital records. I mapped out every turn from June, July, and August into Google Maps, watching the blue line of my progress stretch across the screen. It’s strange to see ninety days of effort reduced to a glowing pixels, but it’s the only way to keep the scale of this trip from becoming an amorphous blur in my head. By the time I finished, the clouds were beginning to move in and the wind had picked up to about 12.3 km/h.
Thirty Minutes of Silence
- Lunch was a heavy plate of costillar dorado at a small spot near the plaza. I skipped the soup to save room for the fried ribs, which were exactly the kind of dense protein I needed. By 15:00, I was at Aguas Termales AguaVerde. Most people head to the more famous baths further up the road, but I chose this one for the quiet. For exactly half an hour, I had the place almost to myself. The hollow splash of water against the stone pool walls echoed in the steam, a rhythmic, wet sound that seemed to pull the soreness directly out of my quads.
- The water was hovering between 36 and 39°C, just hot enough to make the 13.5°C air feel biting when I sat on the edge. That window of silence didn’t last, though. A bus must have emptied out nearby because a crowd of tourists descended all at once, shattering the stillness with shouting and camera shutters. I took that as my cue to leave. My muscles felt like jelly, but in a functional way, replaced by a temporary suppleness that I knew would be gone by tomorrow’s first incline.
The Golden Hour at Puente Inca
- I spent the late afternoon riding toward the Puente Inca viewpoint. The light had turned a hard, flat gold, raking across the ancient stone igloos and the sun clock. From the ridge, I could see the Chivay bullring tucked behind a hill, a stark circle of dirt that looked lonely in the fading light. The mountains in the distance weren’t just scenery anymore; they were the literal obstacles I have to overcome in less than twelve hours. I stood there for a while, watching the shadows stretch across the valley, feeling the temperature begin its slide toward the nighttime low.
- The descent back into town was fast and chilled. I dropped the bike at the hotel at 18:15 and headed back out immediately for a dinner of cau cau. The tripe stew was thick and yellow, served with a bowl of white soup that warmed my throat. I ate quickly, my mind already shifting into ‘mission mode.’ The relaxation of the thermal baths was gone, replaced by the mental checklist of a rider who knows he is about to face a 1,600-meter vertical gain.
The Weight of Tomorrow
- The last two hours have been a frantic assembly line in my room. I’ve prepped a mountain of food: a massive container of chicken chaufa, a tub of creamed rice for quick sugar, and a bag of fruit. I’ve also lined up five liters of water. It’s a heavy haul, and I can already feel the extra weight in my mind as I think about the gradient. Every gram of that rice and water is a trade-off—fuel versus the gravity that wants to pull me back down to the valley floor.
- It’s 21:44 now, and the air is a crisp 10.5°C outside. The sky is mainly clear, which means the morning will be freezing. I’ve checked the tire pressure, staged my layers, and packed the chaufa at the very top of the pannier for easy access. There’s no more planning left to do. The logistics are settled, the bike is lubricated, and the only thing left is the physical reality of the climb. I’m turning the light out now.
Overnight
I stayed at a hotel in Chivay, chosen specifically for its proximity to the main road out of town and the extra space in the room to spread out my gear for the big pack-out.
Reflection
A 1,600-meter climb requires roughly five liters of water and a kilo of prepared rice if you want to avoid bonking before the summit.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-09-06
- Distance: 10.38 km
- Elevation gain: 150 m
- Elevation loss: 142 m
- Duration: 4 h 11 min
- Time in Motion: 1 h 28 min
- Average Speed: 7.1 km/h