Sleeping at a hostel in Oyon (~11,000 ft) 

5 hours of biking, 25 miles and 2800 ft? 

~6 hours of bus rides 

~30 minutes of taxi rides 

The people here are extremely kind. Time after time again, in the past week, we have encountered extremely kind and helpful people despite our limited Spanish. Of note, it is very limited for Erin (I should have listened to you Dad and taken Spanish instead of French in high school), while Megan did take high school Spanish. Despite this language barrier, or perhaps sometimes, as a result of it, people have showed great kindness. Today was no exception. 

This morning we woke up early to start climbing. It was a crisp morning—our frame bag still frosty. But there were clear skies and we knew we would bike into the sun. While we were packing up, a man and a women on horseback came by with their dog. As usual, they waved hello and kept trotting on. That’s what we have learned so far—no one minds that we are camping, everyone just waves hello. Also, cars honk— a lot—but usually it is either their form of hello or letting others know they are coming around a blind curve on a narrow road (and there are plenty of those). Now that we are used to the honking, we know to wave and not be so jarred by the loud noise. 

We started biking up the first pass of the day, around 14,700 ft. We were lucky - there were few clouds in the sky, so we could take in the vast views around us. After our first pass, we descended to a very peaceful grassy area next to a river, filtered some water and started to climb again. This time, up to ~15,800 ft. Passing huge herd of sheep and their shepherds along the way, and then up through some mining areas, we eventually made it past the lake and to the pass! The altitude was challenging but doable. Today is the highest Megan has ever been! At the top, we layered up, adjusted our brake pads and descended. And descended and descended some more. Along the way, we ran into a gal named Emily— a bikepacker from New Zealand — who was doing the route in the opposite direction. In fact, she has been biking all over South America for about two month now. So cool, and very impressive! Megan had previously interacted with her via WhatsApp, so we knew we’d run into her. She offered us a spare tube, but since we were close to Oyon we decided we didn’t need it because we planned to go to a bigger town anyways to address our larger tire problem. However, we still swapped stories for a while and she gave us helpful advice on where to stay in Oyon: Hotel de las Andes. She had even warned the owner of the hostel that we would be coming and might need help with our bike issues. Thanks Emily! And thanks to the South America Cycling WhatsApp group for connecting us - the cycling and bikepacking community really is incredible. 

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We biked until we arrived in Oyon, around 12:30pm. We headed straight to Hotel de las Andes where Isabella—the owner— could help us. Apparently, many bikepackers have stayed with her, so she is used to people like us coming in and she has a room where she stores bikes. We knew we needed to go to Huacho - a larger town - to get help with our bike. It’s too hard to travel with the whole tandem, so we took the wheels off the bike and left the tandem in the bike room. Isabella helped us get the bus schedule to Huacho - there was a bus leaving in 15 minutes! We quickly grabbed our wheels, food, and extra clothes in case we needed to spend the night in Huacho, and we literally ran with wheels and a huge pannier bag in hand across town to the bus station. The locals were all watching a soccer game in the middle of the square and laughed at us and smiled as we went by—what a sight, two white girls still dressed in their biking cloths running with two wheels and a big bag through the Main Street of town. But it was worth it since we made the 1:30 bus to Huacho. Megan had messaged the owner of the bike shop in Huacho and he said he would wait for us. The bus ride to Haucho was—dynamic? Wild? Not sure how to describe it. The driver drove fast and there are wild areas of rock fall—“zona de derumbe” as they are called. Luckily we made it to the Huacho bus terminal safely three hours later. Our wheels—strapped on top of the car—did too. (Note, this is more like a large sprinter van than a bus). Now we needed to get to the bike shop on the other side of town.

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Kirsten KaarsooLovely smiling faces! You made the bus. Hurrah.
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We were ushered into one of the three-wheeled teeny taxis that are part car part motorcycle that roam the Peruvian cities. The driver was very confused at where we wanted to go and despite showing him multiple times on Google maps, he got very lost. We went the right direction and then the wrong direction and then the right direction, but eventually we made it to the address of the bike shop.

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However, there didn’t appear to be a bike shop…it was dirt roads and empty looking houses. The driver was confused too. We asked him to call the owner of the bike shop for us to confirm his address. Sure enough, the owner walked out of a building and it was the right spot. Who knew bike tools could be hidden behind the brick walls of the dusty neighborhood? We thanked our driver—muchos Gracias—and headed inside to the shop. Yet another kind and patient human. The owner of the bike shop showed us what he had and let us look around. He unfortunately didn’t have any tires small enough—we need gravel tires and all he had was mountain bike tires. However, he did have 29” tubes and sealant—we could try our tubeless set up again with different sealant this time—not sure it will work, but it seemed like it was worth a try. He helped us go tubeless again, but sealant was still occasionally spraying out of our tires afterwards. We bought 4 tubes as a backup (so now we have a total of 6 tubes), as well as some extra brake pads. Like everyone else we met, the bike shop owner was very kind, patient, and helpful - even helping us catch a taxi back to the bus terminal so we could get back to Oyón that evening. 

Our current plan is if our tubeless set up doesn’t work, we will ride as far as our six tubes take us on the Peru Great Divide. Who knows where that will be? We sure don’t, but it will get us further along in our adventure. We definitely need to fix our tire and tubeless set up before our next big bikepacking adventure (the GDMBR), but we will do what we can in the meantime since that is all we can do. We are sad that we can’t figure it out perfectly and it might mean not completing the route, but we are just trying to take everything as it comes. We have already seen amazing parts of the Andes and been pushed outside of our comfort zones—and that is what we came for. To be pushed both physically on the bike and emotionally by everything else. As we sit, writing this, we are in the back of a big van/bus, covered in dirt, still in the clothes we have been wearing for the past 5 days, eating small cartons of yogurt with spoons that have touched everything but were doused in hand sanitizer to try to keep them clean. We are perhaps the dirtiest we have ever been and perhaps the most out of our element—trying to navigate difficult tasks in a language we hardly speak on a timeline and a budget, but we are also very fulfilled. Challenge can be rewarding. Ironically, on this trip, the biking is what feels most at home. Yes, it is hard too, but the unknown elements of everything else feels way harder than biking uphill does right now. 

Yet again though, we feel lucky to have made it back on a 7pm bus to Oyon where Isabella—the hostel owner—has a bed and shower awaiting us. We have 6 spare tubes, sealant, and extra brake pads on the bus next to us, and of course, we have each other to navigate this journey with. For that, we are thankful and we will go to bed happy and hopefully—a little more clean.