Intro
The morning began with a 05:45 wake-up call that felt more like an eviction notice, the landlord’s knock echoing through the cold room as a blunt reminder that my time on the coast was up. By 08:17, I was finally rolling out into a clear, 8.7°C morning, the paved road stretching ahead toward Achacachi under a sky that looked like it had been scrubbed clean.
The Cordillera Reveal
- Packing up in the dark has become a familiar ritual, but the landlord’s insistence on a 06:30 exit added a layer of urgency to the morning. I spent a few minutes trying to coax a signal from the brittle restaurant WiFi nearby before giving up and hunting for fuel. At 07:10, I found a small kitchen serving double portions of chicken soup. It was a bowl of pure Altiplano energy—rice, potatoes, and a clear broth that cut through the early chill. As I sat there, I could still catch the heavy, nutty scent of black quinoa pancakes clinging to my fleece from the days spent in the island homestays, a lingering ghost of a slower pace that I was now leaving behind.
- The ride officially kicked off at 08:30. The first hour was a series of rhythmic, picturesque climbs where Lake Titicaca revealed itself in massive, sapphire slabs between the golden hills. At 09:30, I pulled over for a quick toothbrush break, leaning my bike against a stone wall and staring at the water. By 10:30, the landscape offered up its greatest reward: as I crested a long rise, the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Cordillera Real emerged on the horizon. They stood like white teeth against the deep blue sky, a stark reminder of the scale of this place that no map can quite convey.
The Yellow Soup Victory
- By 11:05, I rolled into Ancoraimes. My internal clock was still stubbornly set to Peru time, which meant my stomach was demanding a full lunch before the locals had even finished their mid-morning snacks. I found a cluster of popup kitchens near the plaza where the smell of woodsmoke and fried fish filled the air. I sat down for a bowl of yellow fish soup, a local specialty that lived up to its name—the broth was a vibrant ochre, and the fish itself had taken on a bright yellow tint. I managed a rare dietary victory when the server happily agreed to swap out the standard pile of rice for an extra helping of potatoes. I finished the meal with a mandarina from my pannier, the citrus spray sharp and cold in the dry air.
- The midpoint of the journey at 12:22 saw the temperature climb to a comfortable 12.8°C, though a 21.6 km/h wind began to push back against my progress. The scenery turned more visceral as I passed fields that had been recently burned, the smell of cold ash mixing with the scent of dry earth. To my right, the lake remained a constant companion, its vastness making the 57-kilometer distance feel like a mere crawl across a much larger canvas. The road remained paved and forgiving, allowing for two hours of easy rolling as I approached my destination.
The Greenhouse Sanctuary
- I reached Achacachi at 14:50 and found Hotel Avaroa. The owner, Milton, showed me a first-floor walkway that looked out over a pool area. The entire space is covered by a massive glass dome, creating a sun-drenched warmth that felt like a physical weight after the biting wind of the Altiplano. By the time I finished my ride at 14:48, the outside temperature was 15.9°C, but inside the dome, it felt like a tropical greenhouse. I immediately leaned into the chores—a hot shower that actually had pressure, followed by hand-washing my kits so they could dry in the trapped heat.
- The evening took an unexpected turn toward the social. I was standing on the sidewalk at 17:55, testing the crunchy texture of a local bread roll I’d just bought, when two familiar figures cycled right past me. It was Simon and Noah, the father-son duo I’d met back at the Peruvian border. We ended up at a place called Kansas City for dinner, sitting around a table with plates of grilled meat and steaming mugs of cold-brewed peach tea. We traded stories of the road until nearly 21:00, a rare moment of camaraderie in a journey that is often solitary. Now, back at the hotel, I’ve pitched my tent right on the walkway under the glass. The stars aren’t visible through the matt panes, but the warmth of the day is still held tight inside these walls.
Overnight
I’m camping on a first-floor walkway inside Hotel Avaroa in Achacachi. The building has a massive glass dome that traps the sun’s heat, making it the first night in weeks where I haven’t been shivering while writing my notes.
Reflection
The Altiplano is significantly more manageable when you aren’t fighting the cold alone; a glass roof and a shared meal are the best mechanical upgrades you can find.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-10-03
- Distance: 57.33 km
- Elevation gain: 426 m
- Elevation loss: 436 m
- Duration: 6 h 32 min
- Time in Motion: 3 h 56 min
- Average Speed: 14.6 km/h