Intro I’m writing this from a bed in Callao, my lungs finally adjusting to the thick, humid air of sea level after a week in the thin stuff. Today was a 108-kilometer gravity-fueled plunge that started in the high, green folds of Canta and ended in the grey, chaotic sprawl Read more
Intro I woke up in my tent in a house with four stone walls and no roof, the Andean air settling over my sleeping bag like a wet sheet. The morning was mostly sunny, but at this altitude, the light doesn’t provide much warmth until the sun is high. Today Read more
Intro I’m sitting in my tent tonight, tucked behind four stone walls that don’t have a roof to match. The day started with a heavy breakfast in Huayllay and a paved road that promised speed, but the Andes have a way of taxing you in ways the map doesn’t show. Read more
Intro The morning in Ayaracra began with a sharp, high-altitude chill and the quiet hum of a village living entirely off the sun. I rolled out onto a gravel track under a wide-open sky, trading the predictable pavement of my digital map for a local’s promise of a better view. Read more
Intro I’m writing this from a wooden table in a house that isn’t mine, while the wind rattles the window frames of Ayaracra. The day started at 4,600 meters with a layer of frost so thick it looked like the world had been dipped in sugar, and it ended in Read more
Intro The rest day in Oyón is officially a distant memory, replaced by the reality of a 1,300-meter vertical wall. I rolled out this morning under a hard, cloudless blue sky, but the easy pavement lasted exactly four kilometers before the Andes traded asphalt for a crumbling, sandy mess. My Read more
Intro Today was a rest day in Oyón, though the word rest is a bit of a misnomer when you’re staring down the barrel of a three-day remote stretch to Huayllay. The sun was out for once, finally drying the paved streets of this mountain town while I pivoted from Read more
Intro I rolled out of Antacallanca just after 9:00 AM today, a start time that felt reasonable until the scale of the Andes reminded me otherwise. The sky was a hard, dominating blue, and the sun felt thin against the gravel tracks that climbed steadily toward the mining outposts. The Read more
Intro The morning in Paracsha was sharp and cold, the kind of air that makes your lungs feel brittle until the sun finally clears the eastern ridges. I started the day on a steep gravel pitch that lasted two kilometers, a blunt reminder that the Andes don’t offer easy starts, Read more
Intro I rolled out of El Tambo at 9:00 AM, my nose still running but my spirits significantly higher than they were during yesterday’s miserable crawl. The plan was to tackle the 10-kilometer climb I’d bailed on when the rain hit, and for once, the gravel under my tires felt Read more