{"id":2392,"date":"2026-04-05T01:46:43","date_gmt":"2026-04-05T01:46:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/?p=2392"},"modified":"2026-04-05T01:46:43","modified_gmt":"2026-04-05T01:46:43","slug":"day-244-2026-04-02-from-sawdust-naps-to-the-stone-carvers-of-cajamarca","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/2026\/04\/day-244-2026-04-02-from-sawdust-naps-to-the-stone-carvers-of-cajamarca\/","title":{"rendered":"Day #244 – 2026-04-02 – From Sawdust Naps to the Stone Carvers of Cajamarca"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Intro<\/h3>\n

I left Yanacancha this morning with a stomach full of nothing but four small, over-sweet bananas and a handful of dry biscuits. The sky was a heavy, unmoving grey, and the road immediately turned into a steep, loose gravel grind that forced me into my lowest gear before I\u2019d even cleared the village limits. It was the kind of start that makes you question your gear ratios and your breakfast choices simultaneously.<\/p>\n

The Gravel Grind and the Cliffside Pass<\/h3>\n
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  • The first four kilometers out of Yanacancha were a slow-motion battle against gravity and traction. The surface was that frustrating mix of loose stones and dust that makes the rear tire skip if you stand up to pedal. I kept my head down, focusing on the rhythmic crunch of the tires, eventually reaching a brief reprieve\u2014a short downhill section that cut through two massive cliff faces. The rock walls towered over the road, narrowing the world into a stone corridor that felt eerily similar to the Donau Durchbruch back in Germany, though the humidity here was a constant reminder of my actual latitude.<\/li>\n
  • After the cliffs, the second stage of the climb began. It was five kilometers of better-packed surface, which felt like a luxury after the morning\u2019s struggle. I stopped around 11:30 am to supplement my meager breakfast with more bananas and a few crackers smeared with peanut butter. The air was getting thinner as I approached the 3,800-meter mark, and the silence of the high-altitude vegetation was only broken by the heavy thud of my own heart against my ribs.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n

    The Sawmill Sanctuary<\/h3>\n
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    • Two kilometers from the summit, the clouds finally gave up their weight. A cold, aggressive rain began to pelt down, turning the road surface into a slick mess. I spotted a roof structure nearby and ducked under it, finding myself in an open-sided sawmill. It was filled with the scent of freshly cut timber and the gritty, pine-scented sawdust that seemed to coat every available surface. There was a large plank-cutting machine in the center, surrounded by stacks of raw lumber and a lone, battered broom.<\/li>\n
    • I wasn’t in the mood to fight the storm, so I used the broom to clear a space on a stack of flat planks, brushing away the thickest layers of the gritty, pine-scented sawdust. I laid down right there on the wood, the sound of the rain drumming on the corrugated metal roof acting as a heavy-duty white noise machine. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for thirty minutes. When I woke up, the rain had tapered to a drizzle, and I felt strangely refreshed by my temporary bed of lumber.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n

      The 3N and the Artificial Mountains<\/h3>\n
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      • I reached the 3,800-meter peak around 3:00 pm. There were no sweeping vistas to reward the effort, just low-hanging mist and scrubby mountain grass. However, the descent led me to the 3N highway, and the transition from gravel to smooth pavement felt like gliding on silk. Starving, I pulled over at a roadside spot for a late lunch of seco de pato. The syrupy, fermented tang of the cilantro-heavy sauce was exactly the fuel I needed to tackle the final paved climb of the day.<\/li>\n
      • The road wound through a massive mining district. It was a surreal landscape where the natural peaks were dwarfed by huge artificial hills of moved earth and rock. The scale was industrial and slightly unsettling, but the grade was gentle and the pavement held. By the time I reached the final crest at kilometer 35, I knew the hard work was over. The map showed a straight thirty-kilometer shot downhill all the way into the heart of Cajamarca.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n

        Chisels and City Lights<\/h3>\n
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        • As I descended, the industrial mining landscape gave way to artisan villages. This is the land of the stone carvers, and the air began to carry a new sound: the metallic clink-clink of hammers hitting chisels. Every workshop I passed was crowded with half-finished stone figures\u2014massive saints, animals, and abstract shapes emerging from the grey rock. The metallic clink-clink followed me through several villages, a rhythmic soundtrack to the easiest thirty kilometers of the trip so far.<\/li>\n
        • Ten kilometers out from Cajamarca, the sun dipped below the horizon and the rain returned for a final round. I pulled over, wrestled into my full rain gear, and pushed through the darkening streets. I rolled into the hostel at 7:30 pm, just as the downpour ceased. The staff here are incredibly accommodating; they\u2019ve agreed to store my bike in a back room while I head off on a multi-day side trip to the Chachapoyas region. After a quick shower, I wandered toward the Plaza de Armas for a celebratory shawarma, the syrupy, fermented tang of the lunch sauce still a lingering memory as I finally sat down to rest.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n

          Overnight<\/h3>\n

          I\u2019m staying at a hostel near the center of Cajamarca. It\u2019s a relief to have a secure place to leave the bike while I head toward Chachapoyas for a few days of non-cycling exploration.<\/p>\n

          Reflection<\/h3>\n

          Gravel climbs are twice as exhausting when you\u2019re fueled primarily by bananas and biscuits.<\/p>\n<\/section>\n

          \n

          Route summary<\/h2>\n
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          • Date: 2026-04-02<\/li>\n
          • Distance: 65.80 km<\/li>\n
          • Elevation gain: 969 m<\/li>\n
          • Elevation loss: 1521 m<\/li>\n
          • Duration: 10 h 15 min<\/li>\n
          • Time in Motion: 5 h 16 min<\/li>\n
          • Average Speed: 12.5 km\/h<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<\/section>\n
            \n \n <\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/section>\n<\/article>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

            Intro I left Yanacancha this morning with a stomach full of nothing but four small, over-sweet bananas and a handful of dry biscuits. The sky was a heavy, unmoving grey, and the road immediately turned into a steep, loose gravel grind that forced me into my lowest gear before I\u2019d […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_themeisle_gutenberg_block_has_review":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2392","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-travels"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2392","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2392"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2392\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2393,"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2392\/revisions\/2393"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2392"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2392"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/spokesandshoes.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2392"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}