Crawling into Cusco

Crawling into Cusco

I’d had a couple of loo visits during the night, and wasn’t feeling great when the day started. I got about 10km, before stopping for over an hour for a breakfast of omelette and coca tea which I hoped would give me the energy I needed to get to Cusco. About 10km of exhausted pedalling later, I stopped by a speed bump, stuck my thumb out and was picked up by the first truck that came past. He helped me put the bike in the back, I could barely lift it, and then told me to come and sit

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Oruro aka mini Brazil

Oruro aka mini Brazil

We were up and out of the police station just after 6am, the police officer so eager to go home that he was asking us to take our bags outside and put them on our bikes there. The breakfast options were slightly more varied than lunch or dinner, as there were a few old ladies with tables and what turned out to be overpriced and badly tasting quinoa with a piece of llama that was basically all bone. A bus left at 5:30, and then the next one at 8am. I was insistent on taking the bus because I had

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Crawling to Potosí

Crawling to Potosí

Although it was less than 50km from Potosí, there was more climbing to come. We were around 3300m, but had to get up to almost 4000m to arrive in Potosí – the world’s highest city. Normally the downhill that started the day would have been welcome, but it just meant even more climbing. Thankfully as we were going along a train line, it was a very gradual climb nearly all day long. However, that didn’t mean we went quickly. Even though I’d only tried the Bolivian custom

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Getting ready in Sucre

Getting ready in Sucre

Yelson has his own Shish bar and lives above it, meaning he is a 2-3 minute walk to the central square. Sucre isn’t big, even though it’s constitutionally still the capital, but I was very glad to be there and not in the outskirts. It definitely makes getting things done in a city much easier.

HJ had picked up a bike in Lima, Peru, and found her way down to Sucre to ride with me for a couple of weeks in Bolivia. She didn’t have any bags, and Bolivia really isn’t the place

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Arriving in Sucre

Arriving in Sucre

Padre Perez was eager for me to stay longer. It was a Friday and Tarabuco would come to life on the Sunday when everyone from the local communities would come to peddle their wares, but I couldn’t. HJ was waiting for me in Sucre, and I was still eager to get my Bolivian riding done before the rain came, so we had breakfast and I set off on the downhill to Sucre feeling much better than I had been the night before.

The downhills were good fun, although I did notice a wobble in my rear wheel

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