peru->A Different Bicycle Experience in Peru

Tayne Ruddock is traveling South America; here he shares one of his adventures in Peru, involving Mount Allincapac, an old bicycle, cocoa leaves and a near death experience

I rented a bike today. It wasn’t easy. There are no tourists in Macusani, so there are no bike rental companies.

There was a market selling a variety of things, including bikes, but no one was willing to rent them out. I started asking random people on bikes if they would rent them to me. No joy. but I wanted to get to the base of the mountains for a closer view, and nothing was going to deter me, even if it was 25km,mostly uphill, and rising from 5000m and even if I had to rent 20kg of steel with a couple of wheels attached and one stiff gear. So that’s exactly what I did.

There was an old lady in the market place selling fruit. Next to her stand was a bike. I asked her if it was hers. “Yes.” I offered her a price to rent it for the day. We haggled. I got a pretty decent deal, and gave her my passport for deposit. She asked where I was going. “To the base of mount Allincapac,” I said.

“You´re loco,” she said.

She was right. It was like a postman´s bicycle, made out of heavy steel, and with metal mud guards attached. It only had half a break. I mean that literally. There was one worn down break pad for the front wheel. It was designed for riding a block or one through town. Its two best features were an extremely comfortable suspension saddle and a really loud bell, so that I could go “tring, tring” and shout, “hola” at everyone I passed. I have to admit, it was a bike with a lot of character.

To get on the road out of town, I had to carry it up a flight of stairs as the plaza area was set down from the road. Maybe it wasn’t only made of steel. I think there may have been lead plating around the steel. Whatever its composition, it was gravity´s mortal enemy.

The first stretch out of town was awesome. It was about 8 o’clock in the morning. There were rolling hills with stone walls separating pieces of farm land, each with a grouping of mud or stone houses, complementing the scenery perfectly.

Once out of town, it was dead quiet - not a breath of wind. For perhaps 6km, I rode over the low hills, between stone walls, crossing streams with iced up edges, enjoying the fresh morning. There were many turns and forks, so I just took whichever path looked like it would take me to the mountain.

Once I left the main farm area, I could even ride through the sparse grass off the road if I wanted to go here or there for a quick photo.

Then I got to a hill. Not a small gentle one, but a big steep one blocking the nice view of my destination mountain. But I had expected this, I was prepared. I whipped my bag of coca leaves out of my pocket, and stuffed my cheek full of them. I rested for a while and chewed, savouring the disgusting bitter taste. Coca leaves are amazing. They give you energy, help with altitude sickness, and take away hunger. Off I went.

I pounded away up the hill, standing on the pedals. It got steeper and steeper, then the road veered across the hill and I could see the road trailing away into the distance in the wrong direction. I turned off the road and rode straight up the hill. Soon the ever increasing incline got too steep for the one hard gear. Undaunted, I stopped for a water break, stuffed more coca into my mouth, and started pushing my lead pony up the hill.

It got ever steeper, and now the grass was studded with small boulders. Things were getting really tough. When the gradient was around 45 degrees, I resorted to taking 10 paces at a time, then stopping to breathe for a while. My tongue and left cheek was becoming numb from all the coca. Damn the air was thin up there! In this way, I finally crested the hill, and boy was it worth it. a steep ridge fell away below me. There was a series of three small lakes in a mountain valley, with snowy peaks in the background. Thankfully, there was also a road down there, but I had to get to it first.

There was only one way. I shouldered my bike/tank, and had a hairy scramble down the slope. I don’t know how I didn’t fall. I must have stumbled or skidded at least a dozen times, once doing an ungraceful pirouette followed by a neatly controlled skid to regain my balance.

My decent was rapid, and soon I was on the nice, gentle slope near the bottom of the hill where I could jump on the bike and ride across the slope at an angle to join the road at the bottom. I rode to a point where I had a stunning view of the lakes and mountains, and sat down to take it in for a while. Time came to leave. I noticed I had a slow puncture in my rear wheel. Oh crap! I had to jump on and cover as much distance as possible before it went totally flat.

I sprinted down the valley. I was rushing downhill with curves approaching. I ran into a dilemma here. When I pulled the break, there was no discernible reduction in speed. This could be a problem. I stood on one foot on the left pedal, and tried to use my right shoe as a brake on the front wheel, but the mud guard was in the way. The first corner was almost upon me, and I was gaining speed. There was no way I could make the corner on the loose gravel. For a few milliseconds, I pondered what the best course of action might be and I made a decision.

I steered left and ramped up the half meter high road embankment (which thankfully was not vertical, but still very steep). It was quite an exciting moment. I sailed through the air, nosedived into the bush and made solid contact on a rock with my front wheel. The bike stopped. I decided to continue my impromptu little off road journey in an air-born fashion. Just for fun, I did a half somersault once I had cleared the handlebars, and made a perfect landing on my back in a clump of grass. My intention had been to come to a stop without serious injury, and I had succeeded in style.

I thought the front wheel of the bike would be buckled into a figure 8, but miraculously, it was still perfectly straight - not the slightest wobble. Not the best bike in the world, but it sure was a tough bastard! Guess they don’t make ‘em like they used to.

I wheeled the hazardous contraption down the rest of the twisty downhill section to where the road was almost flat. The tire was almost out of air.

I hopped on and rode as fast as I could. The road went all the way around the ridge I had climbed over.

I will skim over the last bit of my trip. Had a very enjoyable section of riding, relishing the speed and beautiful scenery. Over-exerted myself when I got chased by 2 large, mixed breed farm dogs, which I’m sure were part wolf. Continued at high speed for another……roughly 7 or 8 kilometres, then my vision started going starry and I nearly fainted. Had to stop to rest and recover for a while. I was officially buggered. Rode another 100m or so before my back tire died on me.

I started walking. Thankfully, around the next corner was a 4 x 4 vehicle had come from another side road. The driver had stopped for a piss. He drove me back into town. I quickly went to the market place where there was a bicycle repair man, had the wheel fixed, and totally exhausted, I returned the bike to its owner, who looked at me with concern and said something I couldn’t understand in Spanish. Guess it was something like, “Are you ok? You look very pale.”

I thought it best not to tell her what her bike had been through.

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