a self-supported bicycle tour through South America

When one contemplates a bus ride in Northern Peru, the only image that comes to mind is of chickens and guinea pigs running around on the floor of a 1970’s bus running on bald tyres with a crazy driver swilling rum from the bottle as he takes all the corners at break neck speed. This was how we envisaged our bus trip to Huaraz. I am sure you can therefore imagine our apprehension of an overnight 8 hour journey into the mountains.

The day before we left, we had visited the Movil Tours to book our tickets and to make sure that our bikes would be allowed on. A response of “sure, no problems” was met and I was more than happy and satisfied in the knowledge that all would be ok. The Mountain Goat, on the other hand, was a little more suspect as to the certainty of our bikes actually getting on the bus. I am constantly reminding the Mountain Goat that positive thoughts are essential if the universe is to manifest what we want and bring it to us. This is often met with eye rolling.

Nevertheless, his suspicions were well grounded. When we rocked up at the station with bikes in tow we were told that because the morning bus to Huaraz had been cancelled there would be no room for our bikes and that they would have to go the following day. We politely explained to the cashier that the fact a bus was cancelled was not our problem and that perhaps they should offload some cargo to fit our bikes on! This suggestion was met with giggles and head shakes; not very promising.

We sat at the terminal for 3 hours anxiously waiting for the news that “yes” our bikes were on. Yay! My positives thoughts were working overtime. Thank you Mr Universe.

After settling into our luxury lie flat bed, yes you did read correctly. No chickens, no guinea pigs and no rum swilling crazy driver. We were ushered (very Flight Attendant like mind you) into our sleeper compartment on the lower level of the two story coach. We were also met with two very large, and very soft seats with red fleecy blankets; National Express, take notes. This is THE way to travel by coach. And this was only the beginning…..after takeoff, woops I mean after we set off (we were finding it hard to differentiate between Movil Tours and our Air New Zealand business class experience by this stage) we were served…wait for it….ham and cheese croissants, Oreo Cookies, and a glass of Inca Kola!

For those of you unfamiliar with the world of Peruvian soft drinks, Inca Kola is a staple with every meal. A meal without Inca Kola would be like bacon without eggs, scones without jam and cream or a burger without chips. It tastes a little like Creaming Soda or medicine; not very nice. In fact Coca Cola, unable to crack the soft drink market in Peru (apparently one of the only countries in the world) were forced to buy out Inca Kola. The saying if you can’t beat them, buy them comes to mind!

Nevertheless the service received on Movil Tours was very satisfactory to say the least. More service in our first 5 minutes that one would experience on British Airways in 4 hours! And we managed to sleep soundly - well, as soundly as one might expect ascending to 4,000 metres on winding mountain passes to arrive in Huaraz at 0530 in the morning.

Upon arrival, we jostled with waiting taxi drivers offering cheap accommodation at local hotels, but we had already made a reservation with a B&B that we couldn’t remember the name of. So, we replaced our pedals, screwed the handle bars back into position, loaded up the bikes and set off in search of Olaza’s, Oraza’s, Onassis’….Mr Universe could only help us now.

The first thing we noticed upon arrival had been the clear air. The second thing we noticed was how bloody cold it was! The third thing we noticed was how incredibly friendly and accommodating the locals were. After explaining to several taxi drivers that we already had a reservation at a B&B that started with O, one promptly jumped on his bike to show us the way through town and the early morning markets. He left us on the high street with sketchy directions and out of breath after only 10 minutes of cycling. The altitude had kicked in. The sun was shining though and the promise of a gorgeous sun drenched day ahead lay before us.

We found our B&B, checked in, ate breakfast on the rooftop, and then began to feel that old altitude feeling again. Dead head and overwhelming fatigue. We took the rest of the day fairly easy taking in the local markets, the town, and then adopting the art of afternoon siestas. Personally, I am very familiar with this siesta tradition and think, quite frankly that we should all sleep in the afternoons. I do appreciate, however that we probably wouldn’t get anything done. I am speaking from experience here.

We managed to find Cafe Andino for mango smoothies, Pizza BB for the best spag bog (even rivalled yours, Mum), book mountain biking for the next day, meet the wooly locals, and get a real feel for life in the mountains (although Simon thought that perhaps they were exploiting the traditional dress for the benefit of the tourists…but we soon realised that this was not the case as these outfits are worn everywhere). Apart from the altitude hangover, a surprisingly successful day!