In town we found a hotel room and slept for most of our first day. In the evening we rose to find some dinner. Over soup and rice we debated if we should take an extra day of acclimation before riding. We had budgeted 7 days to ride the route miles and 2 days to get back to Lima for our flight. From Huancavelica we would start our journey on the Peru Divide route. Our abbreviated segment would take us 213 miles from Huancavelica north to its intersection with the carraterra central. The carreterra central is a main highway connecting Lima to the Andes. It drops over 14,000 feet from the mountains to the coast in about one hundred miles. Its got huge trucks and busses, cars passing on blind corners and its two lanes. It was our exit plan back to Lima and it would not go as planed. Oblivious to this as we rested and ate in Huancavelica, acclimating to the thin air above 12000 feet, we decided to hit the road in the morning. Eager to begin our ride.

We crossed the bridge in town and made our way west along the river. After five miles we turned north and began to climb our first pass of the trip, reaching over 15000 feet. The going was steady as we settled in for the 4 hour climb, breathing heavy on the thin air. I wondered if I would start to feel sick as we climbed higher, hoping badly that I wouldn’t. We knew the risks of altitude sickness and how quickly AMS can turn deadly. Its possible at any elevation above 9000 feet and can happen to anyone. Before the trip we discussed what it would look like if one of us was having issues and made exit plans in case we needed them. Aside from a mild headache that didn’t last, I felt great. The breathing was hard but with some focus I was able to catch my breath. We stopped often to take in the views, captivated by a place unlike we’d ever been before.

On top we celebrated. We were finally, truly, on our way. It had taken 6 long days to get there but we could now begin the journey we had imagined for so long. The bikes were running smooth and our bodies felt up to the challenge. As we rode off the pass the road bellow opened up before us. I could see the seemingly endless switchbacks down the valley, disappearing into the folds of the country. It was a road of my dreams. Peru, as it turns out, has countless dreamy roads. Soon we encountered our first herd of alpaca and lama, accompanied shortly after by our first group of dogs. The livestock eyed us wearily, hurrying off the road as we got near but the dogs immediately took a dislike to us and our bikes. We would learn from this interaction, and more like it in the next few days until we figured it out, but this first time, we did it wrong. The dogs came at us, bearing teeth and barking like mad, so we took off, pedaling as hard as we could. Alexander was out in front and moving faster, the dogs took off after him, gaining ground even on the downhill. I stopped and put my bike between myself and dogs, shouting after Alexander to do the same. Quickly the dogs got to him and he had no choice but to stop and defend himself. I caught up to him, forming a wall with our bikes we stood there as the dogs blocked our path. Slowly we moved on, still blocking with our bikes, walking slowly down the road. Eventually we reached the farm and the shepherds. They casually called back their dogs, explaining, from what I could understand, that we should not come down the hill so fast or try to run. We thanked them and slowly pedaled on, looking over our shoulder until we were a long ways away.

We enjoyed the rest of the downhill, a little rattled from the dogs but in awe at the effortless 3,000 foot descent. At the bottom we crossed the creek and climbed a short ways to the village of San Juan de Jerusalen. There we found Fernando Zarace and his bodega, where we filled up on water and soda. Fernando was welcoming and helpful as he laughed at my incomplete sentences after being asked where we were from and where we were going. He marveled at my bike and asked if he could buy it. I asked to take his picture instead. Fernando wished us luck and we rode off into the evening looking for a place to pitch our tents. Fernando had said we were welcome to camp in the football field in town but we decided to look for a more secluded spot. Less than a mile from town, on a steep bend in the road, we stopped and put down our bikes. On foot we left the road, climbing up the steep embankment, over cacti and boulders we walked to the level ground we had seen from below, pacing out where we could pitch our tents. It was good but in clear view from the high road. A few meters away was a low stone wall, overgrown with shrubs and cacti, but forming a perfect cover from passers by. Beyond the wall was a clear paddock fenced in on all four sides by the low stone wall. Presumably it was used at some point to hold livestock but on that night it was used to hold us. With the tents set up we started the boil for dinner, eating dehydrated pasta or chili or something. Ideally on trips like this I would be able to source all the food I needed from where I was, buying locally and eating locally, but the security of a guaranteed meal at the end of the day, wherever we might end up, is too good to pass up, especially with how easy dehydrated food is to pack. We each carried four meals and I’m glad we did, because it got quite remote at times and the going was tough, that being said we also ate a lot of Andean food on this trip which I really enjoyed.

The sun was down by six and Alexander and I were both in our tents, soon I was asleep, deeply satisfied with a good days ride.