Intro
The morning in Cajamarca broke with a deceptive sun, the kind that makes you think the miles will come easy. I finally turned the wheels south toward Huaraz on a road that transitioned from smooth pavement to a punishing, sandy incline as the day wore on.
The Late Exit and the Cheese Incident
- I didn’t roll out of the hostel until 10:00 AM. Last night’s exhaustion from the Cumbemayo ride left me too drained to pack, so the morning was a frantic scramble of cinching straps and balancing loads. Sawa, the Japanese traveler I’d met, stood on the sidewalk watching the process with a look of genuine bewilderment. Even with 6.7 kilograms of gear already shipped ahead to Huaraz, the bike still looks like a pack mule. We talked until the sun was high, and by the time I finally pushed off, I felt the weight of the delay.
- Seven kilometers into the ride, the paved road hummed under my tires, but the rhythm was broken by a sudden, sharp realization: the cheese. I’d left the block of cheese and its plastic container sitting right there in the hostel fridge. I fired off a quick message to Sawa telling her it was hers now—a small, dairy-based apology for my late start. I stopped briefly to top up on oats, nuts, and trail mix, knowing the next three days offered little in the way of resupply.
The Roasting Plaza of Jesus
- By 12:30 PM, I rolled into the village of Jesus. It was election day, and the central plaza was a vibrating hive of people. The air was thick with the smell of roasting cuy, a heavy, fatty scent that clung to the back of my throat. I sat down for a plate of the guinea pig served with wheat rice and boiled potatoes, fueling up for the climbing I knew was coming. The crowds were dense, gathered around vendors selling sliced fruit and sweet breads. I managed to snag a slice of watermelon and a piece of sweet bread for dessert, but my search for wheat tortillas or pasta was a bust.
- On the way out of town, I spotted a man struggling with a motorbike. His chain had jumped the cog, and he was trying to pry the cover off. I pulled over, thinking my multi-tool might save his afternoon, but the bolts were the wrong size. Another local on a bike stopped twenty minutes later to try his hand at it, but by 2:40 PM, the 800-meter climb looming over the valley was calling too loudly. I had to leave them to it and start the grind.
The Sand and the Serpentines
- The road turned to a brutal, unrefined surface almost immediately. It wasn’t just gravel; it was a loose, treacherous texture of sandy gravel that swallowed my tires. Every time I stood up to put power into the pedals on the switchbacks, my rear wheel would lose traction and spin uselessly in the grit. It was a slow, physical fight for every meter of elevation. The serpentines were merciless, but as I gained height, the valley floor dropped away, revealing the sprawl of Jesus and, eventually, the distant silhouette of Cajamarca.
- Six kilometers short of where I wanted to be, the sky turned a bruised purple and opened up. I scrambled into my full rain gear, standing exposed in a sharp curve of the road as the wind picked up. I pulled out a bag of dried garlic bread I’d bought earlier. The crunch of the dried garlic bread was loud in my ears, the hard, twice-baked texture the only thing keeping my frustration at bay while I waited for the worst of the downpour to pass. I was cold, damp, and the light was failing.
The Unfinished Comedor
- I pushed on for another kilometer until I saw a neat-looking house. I flagged down the owner and asked if there was anywhere nearby to camp. He gave me the standard ‘maybe a bit further up or down,’ but when I pointed directly at his garden and asked, ‘And here?’, he paused and shrugged. ‘Yes, here too.’ He led me toward a building that turned out to be a recently constructed comedor, still unfinished and empty of customers. He started brooming the floor immediately, offering me a dry, wind-shielded space to pitch the tent.
- Before the sun fully disappeared, I spent thirty minutes playing soccer in the garden with his kids, Angela and Andre. My legs were heavy from the sandy climb, but chasing a ball around a mountain yard was a different kind of tired. Later, they invited me into their kitchen for a meal of rice, fried plantains, and eggs. We talked easily until 7:45 PM, the kind of simple, grounded conversation that happens when the day’s work is done. I’m in the tent now, listening to the wind hit the walls of the comedor, glad I’m not out on the shoulder of that sandy road.
Overnight
I stayed in an unfinished dining hall (comedor) on a family’s property. It provided total protection from the wind and rain that picked up after dark.
Reflection
A sandy surface will negate any weight savings you made by shedding gear.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-04-12
- Distance: 27.61 km
- Elevation gain: 607 m
- Elevation loss: 241 m
- Duration: 7 h 14 min
- Time in Motion: 2 h 47 min
- Average Speed: 9.9 km/h