Intro
It’s nearly 10:00 PM in Cabanaconde, and the cold is beginning to seep through the thin walls of the Posada del Conde Clasico. Today was a vertical tax on the lungs, starting in the freezing shadows of Huambo and topping out at 4,020 meters where the air feels thin enough to snap. The paved road was a mechanical blessing, but no amount of smooth asphalt can mask the physical reality of a 900-meter climb into the Andean sky.
The Estofado Engine
- The alarm at 6:30 AM felt like a physical weight. My first sensation was the familiar, scratchy dry throat that seems to be the price of admission for sleeping at this altitude. I stayed under the blankets for five minutes, mentally mapping out which layers to put on first to minimize the time my skin would be exposed to the 16.3°C room air. By 7:00 AM, I was wandering the empty main square of Huambo, my breath blooming in white clouds. A local woman pointed me toward a nondescript white house a block away, promising food.
- Inside, the air smelled of damp earth and slow-cooked meat. At 7:15 AM, I was staring down a massive plate of chicken estofado. It wasn’t exactly light cycling fare—a heavy leg of chicken submerged in a rich, dark gravy with peas, carrots, and potatoes, flanked by a massive mound of rice. I washed it down with steaming camomile tea and a cup of thick Avena. The host, opened a Wi-Fi hotspot for me. It was the first time I’d had a signal in three days, and sending a quick ‘I’m alive’ ping back to Germany felt just as nourishing as the chicken. I left the house feeling heavy but fueled, ready for the wall of rock ahead.
The Hallway Hurdle and the First Wall
- Getting out of the hotel was its own technical challenge. The hallway was so narrow that a parked motorcycle completely blocked my exit. I had to hoist the entire weight of my loaded bicycle—panniers, water, and all—over the motorcycle’s handlebars, the metal of my frame scraping slightly as I maneuvered the bulk through the gap. My arms were already burning before I even hit the pedals at 9:05 AM. The sun was finally cresting the ridges, turning the 16°C air from biting to bearable, and I quickly stripped down to a t-shirt and shorts.
- The climb out of Huambo didn’t offer a warm-up. It was a 210-meter vertical gain packed into just 2.5 kilometers. My legs, which have seen 319 days of this, felt every single meter. By 10:10 AM, I reached the first ridge and looked back; the village had already shrunk into a handful of toy houses. The road twisted around a sharp bend, and a new valley opened up—a massive, layered expanse of rock and shadow. I stopped at noon for a lunch of avocado bread, sitting on a sun-warmed rock. My throat was still dry, the dust of the road settling into my lungs as the wind picked up to 15.9 km/h, whistling through the spokes of my bike.
The 4,000-Meter Reveal
- The second major ascent was a slow, rhythmic grind. I spent two hours watching the corner where I had emerged after the first climb slowly recede into the distance, eventually becoming a tiny speck 475 meters below me. At 2:00 PM, the gradient finally flattened. I checked the computer: 4,020 meters above sea level. Just as I crested the pass, the landscape shifted violently. A grey, jagged mountain range tipped with brilliant white snow appeared on the horizon, standing in stark contrast to the deep, plunging shadows of the Colca canyon. The scale was impossible to capture, even as I launched the drone to try and frame the bike against the massive canyon walls.
- Then came the reward. A 20-kilometer descent dropped me nearly 800 meters back down toward the valley floor. The pavement was glass-smooth, allowing me to tuck in and let gravity do the work. The wind roared past my ears, and for the first time all day, I wasn’t fighting for oxygen. I reached Cabanaconde at 4:30 PM, the sun already beginning to dip behind the peaks, casting the town into a premature, chilly twilight. After 45 kilometers and nearly 1,000 meters of climbing, the simple act of standing still felt like a luxury.
Cold Showers and Colder Tomatoes
- I checked into the Posada del Conde Clasico, a basic spot near the square. The shower was a bracing, ice-cold affair that did little to soothe my muscles but at least washed off the high-altitude dust. After an hour-long call with a friend in Germany, I headed to the hotel restaurant, hoping for a repeat of the morning’s culinary success. I was wrong. The Pollo Saltado was a disaster. While the asparagus soup was hot enough to scald, the main course felt like it had been pulled directly from a refrigerator and waved near a microwave.
- The tomatoes in the saltado were literally refrigerator-cold in the center, and the onions were dry and leathery. Instead of the rich, salty soy sauce that usually ties the dish together, there was only a thin, dried-up film on the plate. It was a disappointing end to a day that had been so visually spectacular. I retreated to my room to catch up on the logs I couldn’t post during the communications blackout. My throat is still feeling scratchy and dry, a nagging reminder of the thin air at 4,000 meters. I’m hoping it’s just the dust and not a cold, but for now, the only solution is to bury myself under three heavy wool blankets and sleep.
Overnight
I stayed at the Posada del Conde Clasico near the main square. It’s affordable and functional, but the food is a gamble.
Reflection
The transition from 16°C in the sun to the freezing shade of a 4,000-meter pass happens faster than you can reach for a jacket.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-08-31
- Distance: 45.26 km
- Elevation gain: 919 m
- Elevation loss: 917 m
- Duration: 7 h 19 min
- Time in Motion: 4 h 24 min
- Average Speed: 10.3 km/h