Down to the White City

If anyone came on our 2018 South America Trip expecting it to be an easy tourist doddle around the continent, they would have been greatly mistaken. This trip was never designed to be "easy" and, ever since we landed in Lima three weeks ago, the pace has been pretty relentless. Yesterday was no exception.

The day began with my alarm(s) simultaneously sounding at 5.00 am. With the high altitude and deliciously cold overnight temperature I had enjoyed one of the best night's sleeps of the entire trip and it took a degree of discipline to open my eyelids and crawl out from under the blanket.

Outside it was still dark, the air was still and the stars were shining brightly. It already looked like the day would be just as fine and clear as every other day since we arrived in South America. In fact, the run of continuous fine weather has been nothing short of amazing.

In my half awake state I quickly sorted out my cycling gear, added a thermal top and jumper and stuffed everything else into my suitcase. Either the case is getting smaller or the contents are getting larger, because the zipper is getting progressively harder and harder to close. After a bit more wriggling and rearranging of items I was able to lock the case and take it to the hotel foyer.

At 7.00 am we were met by a new bus and driver. It was just as well as there was no way we would have been able to cram all our riders and luggage into the small bus we had been provided with yesterday. Since this was to be our final day of riding I think there were mixed feelings within the group. While many were happy to be successfully completing the cycling part of our adventure, I think that there was also a feeling of sadness that our time in Peru was drawing to a close.

The bus headed out of Peru and was soon climbing steadily out of the Colca Valley. The narrow road had somewhat precipitous drops down to the valley floor and we often collectively held our breaths as the driver slewed the bus around each corner. He was certainly a more "adventurous" driver than most of the previous drivers we had had. I grabbed on to the seat in front to avoid being thrown from side to side, although I did manage to avoid the temptation to adopt the dreaded "Brace" position.

We finally reached the top of the plateau at around 4,900 metres elevation. We calculated that this was about 5 times as high as our own Mt Donna Buang, therefore a new scale of elevations was born. We therefore classified this as a "5 dongers" ride. Challenging in anyone's language.

We stumbled out of the bus and were soon confronted by the twin sensations of freezing temperatures and painfully thin air. The surrounding ponds were all frozen solid - and so soon were all my fingers. Immediately I regretted my negligence in leaving my long fingered gloves in my suitcase. All I had between my extremities and impending frostbite was a pathetic pair of fingerless riding gloves. Sometimes my own stupidity surprises me.

We were soon on the bikes and ready to go. The guide pointed towards Arequipa and the towering silhouette of Mt Misti. This huge active volcano is situated right near Arequipa and would be our constant companion during the day. To our right the now familiar Mt Sabancaya was letting fly with yet another early morning volcanic eruption. It no longer seemed as dramatic as it did two days ago.

We started riding through the eerie landscape. When I was here last I described it like "riding on Mars" and my opinion had not changed. At this elevation there is almost no vegetation, apart from some moss on the rocks. Thousands of piled rock towers dot the landscape and a few tiny black and white Andean mice scuttered about between the rocks. It really is like an alien world. At least the bitumen was smooth and the traffic was very light.

Within a couple of minutes my fingers lost all feeling. I tried to switch on my GoPro camera but could not feel the buttons at all. I started to wonder how long it takes for genuine frostbite to set in. I have shared the company of my ten digits for quite some time and was not ready to part company with any of them just yet. I even tried riding with one hand in my pocket, just to relieve the pain. I helped a little.

Of course the other challenge was the very thin air. At this elevation you find yourself hauling in huge lungfuls of air, just to keep moving. With the high altitude also come very low humidity, so you also find that your throat dries out completely. This makes it almost impossible to swallow. It is certainly an interesting challenge.

In these conditions every person is affected differently. While some really struggled to make any headway, others did not seem to notice any difference. This is where Janna amazed everyone. While most were languishing to make headway, Janna just effortlessly cruised up every hill, just as if she was riding the Warburton Trail. David also reverted to his usual behaviour of riding away, completely oblivious to anything or anyone behind him. Even when we called for rest stops, no amount of shouting would stop him from just disappearing into the distance as an ever diminishing red dot.

As we rode along we were often accompanied by small herds of vicunas. These lovely animals are a type of camel and have some of the best fleece available anywhere in the world. They are all coloured brown and thrive at these harsh high elevations. From time to time they stopped, put their heads back and let out a high pitched cry as we rode by.

Each time we reached an uphill section (and there were many of them), the going really got hard. Even in the lowest gears it required a supreme amount of effort to keep moving. Each time I crested another hill I hoped for a long descent. It never came.

At the end of 35 km of this section, we finally reached the turn off. My GPS showed that we were still at 4500 metres (4.5 Dongers). It was no wonder it still seemed hard. At least the temperature had increased and my fingers had thawed out. One by one our riders arrived at the turnoff. Some were not in a coherent mood. What Lynda (aka Fumblefingers Maconnachie) actually said when she collapsed over the line cannot be printed on a public blog site. Suffice to say it would have made a hardened sailor blush. Others had already made the sensible decision to call it quits and revert to the support vehicle.

We were then shown a pot holed, rock strewn dirt track and told that this would be a downhill section. It wasn't. It actually alternated between hair raising, bone shaking downhills interspersed with tough little climbs. We were still well above 4 Dongers of elevation when we finally arrived at a small village.

I looked at the remnants of our once large and proud peloton. "Well done everyone", I said. "That is now the end of our cycling and no one had an accident". I was wrong.

Just when I thought the riding was over, the guide took off again. It was a steep uphill. My thoughts at that time were not pleasant. I reluctantly climbed back on the bike and headed off again.

A short distance further on my worst fears were realised. I rounded a corner and found Steve lying motionless on the rocks. He had apparently come adrift on a particularly treacherous corner and had fallen heavily. After a few moments he stirred and started examining his body for protruding bones and areas of bleeding. Fortunately it looked like he had escaped serious injury, but was quite shaken. At that point I lost my appetite for further cycling. The thought of being admitted to a Peruvian hospital did not excite me greatly. I decided to walk the remaining few hundred metres to the real end of the trail.

That marked the real end of the riding section and, apart from Steve's recent incident, we had all escaped from serious mishaps. It had been a great effort from a group of "mature aged" riders. Of course we could have settled for a sedate holiday, but we had all chosen to do something that required a real effort. It had been a wonderful experience that I am sure no one will ever forget.

After a picnic lunch by the railway track we climbed down a steep path to see some amazing rock paintings in a cave. These date back some 10,000 years and are amazingly clear and well preserved. The hard part was climbing all the way back up the path to the waiting vehicle. It had already been a long day.

We finally rolled into Arequipa at around 4 pm. The traffic was bedlam, just like it is in all large Peruvian cities. Arequipa has a population of 1.6 million, making it the second largest city in Peru and it looked like they were all driving on the same road as us.

After checking into our hotel and enjoying a well earned shower and change of clothes we took a walk to the beautiful central plaza. Arequipa is known as the "white city" because of the stunning array of lovely colonial buildings, all constructed out of white volcanic rock. A few of us chose a balcony restaurant to enjoy the evening view down into the plaza. At "only" 2500 metres (2.5 Dongers), we savoured the denser air and found that we didn't have to struggle to breathe every time we moved. It was a wonderful sensation.

Tomorrow we have a rest day here before flying out early the following morning for the Iguassu Falls in Brazil. Another 3.00 am start ! Oh well, someone has to do it.Read more