High Altitude Lows
Hey y’all!
I have gotten some down time here in Argentina before figuring out what I am going to do next. I thought I would say hi and give a lil’ update. My mom was able to join me since Cusco (what a crazy time that was with the appendicitis). She returned home from Chile a couple of weeks ago. It was great getting to share some of these experiences with my mom and to see how her grief journey is going.
Last time I emailed I mentioned I was getting nervous about Peru, and it did not disappoint! Everything I was nervous about was more than justified. There were protests, weeks where I didn’t descend in altitudes below 14,000 feet, days of 7,000-10,000ft of climbing, and so many crazy dogs. And to top it all off there was rain, snow, wind, heat - everything. I was able to meet and talk to so many people in Peru. I cannot recommend this country enough.
At one point in my travels through Peru I felt like I was breaking. I was tired and wet for days on end. I was camping and cooking for days with only an alpaca or llama for company. Most challenging of all, I was alone with my thoughts. I started to worry about everything. From money to food to altitude…it all started to pile on. The only thing that seemed to help was riding my bike because on my bike I could be present on my journey. With every day that I focused on my trip and let my emotions in, I started to feel more capable and more at ease. I realized I was not breaking; I was letting myself feel and be present. I stopped chasing expectations of what I thought I needed to do and stopped worrying about the future. Without the distraction of people and towns I had to face my grief and emotions, and just BE in the present. I started to accept that I was going to be wet and cold for days at a time and that some days I could only travel 35 miles. Then I realized that I was not actually breaking. I was growing -in my comfort zone as well as in my self-awareness and understanding of my grief and my emotions. Then I really began to see Peru for how incredibly beautiful it is. I no longer worried about things I could not control (also, I bought a poncho, which made me feel invincible in the rain!). I was looking up and there is a lot to look up at in Peru. The people and the mountains there are something wildly special and unique.
When I arrived in the town of Abancay I started to experience some pain in my side. I called my mom, and she had the same thought I’d had about what it might be (appendicitis). I decided to get to Cusco as quickly as possible, where I knew they would have a larger hospital. Once there, everything went swimmingly. I ran into an amazing couple, Marianna and Nacho, who had a place for me to stay and sent me to a great hospital. If you are ever in Cusco, you must visit Marianna and Nacho at their Barrio Café. Or even better, stay there at their place! The original plan with my mom was for her to fly to La Paz and ride to Santiago de Chile with me. But due to needing surgery I would be delayed in my arrival to La Paz by a couple of weeks. She flew to in to Cusco instead and we left from there together after I recovered enough to ride again.
The ride through the Andes is one that no one can prepare you for. The mountains demand that you ride in all conditions and at higher altitudes than most places on the planet. My mom was a trooper. We rode through insane cities and passed blockades of protesters. We slept in abandoned buildings and chewed coca leaf with some of the town elders high in the mountains. We stayed at sketchy hostels and camped in remote and beautiful places. Peru did not disappoint. It was challenging, but thanks to all the support we shall continue.
On Good Friday we arrived in Copacabana, Bolivia, just across the border from Peru. There we experienced one of the biggest celebrations I have ever seen on Easter - or Good Friday. The next day we had another novel experience, hopping on a rickety wooden barge alongside cars and tour busses to cross Lake Titicaca over into Bolivia proper. We camped next to the Andes and were lucky enough to have one of the best sunsets and skyline views I have seen on my trip. We stopped in La Paz, which was a wild city to try to get into with so much traffic and pandemonium. I overheated one of my brakes on the descent into La Paz. The top of the city sits at 13,500ft and the main area of the city sits at 11,250 in a canyon - which is probably why they use gondolas as public transport (we used the these when leaving the city). In La Paz we found deliciously good food and coffee for 3 days (plus we went to the witches market or Mercado de Brujas) and after that we “plunged” into the desert of Bolivia, also known as the Altiplano, which sits around 12,000 feet in elevation. The roads were rough and the days intense. Finally, we approached the salt flats of Uyuni. It is indescribable. The following is me attempting it in my IG post:
“The last week has been spent in the desert and two of those days on the salt flats in Bolivia! What a rad place! The endless horizon and white salt earth is breathtaking for sure. It is definitely a place, you feel you can ride your bike like a captain sails a ship. All you have to do is pick a direction and set off. We ran into some brothers (and a cousin) out there on the salt but other than the occasional bike packer or Land Cruiser...you have salt to keep your company. I took the traditional nude and extreme tan lined photo on the salt (I'll keep it classy and spare y'all the results of that lol) I definitely would recommend seeing this particular bald spot of the earth. Can't thank @konabikes and
@ortlieb_waterproof enough for the support and a special thanks to @officialmauijim and my friends at Modesto optometric for hooking me up with some amazing glasses that definitely saved my eyes from the unrelenting sun.”
After the salt flat we set off towards Chile. On our first day off the salt, we stayed with a quinoa and potato farmer named Willie. He offered to wash the salt off our bikes and his wife cooked a mean meal with what Willie was able to grow there in the high desert. The next couple days were filled with the most sand and washboard roads I have ever seen at the same time. So much so that it broke a latch on one of my saddlebags (still working on that) causing it continually to bounce off my rear rack. On Border Day (a big day for me at every border I have crossed on this trip), we had a lovely 45 mph headwind, but we were also surrounded by stunning and numerous volcanoes. We crossed the border late due to a rather complicated visa process and finally made it to Chile and the Atacama Desert. My mom and I then headed to the beachside town of Antofagasta (even though I was scared to leave my high altitude nest) so she could fly back to California.
I then continued back to San Pedro de Atacama where we had come from previously and started my climb back into the Andes. Out of San Pedro, I decided that I didn’t need to look at the topo map, assuming there wouldn’t be much climbing. I was wrong and the first day was spent covering only 25 miles and 7,500ft of climbing to where I camped in strongest winds I have experienced on this expedition. The next day, I didn’t think it would be Border Day. I set out climbing up to 16,000ft again, in the wind. It was a spectacular day mostly alone in the high desert, surrounded by volcanoes. The wind was strong enough to push my bike and me along with it, any which way it decided. At the top of the mountain pass I ran into what looked like a fox or foxlike creature? The coloring reminded me of a coyote. Coyotes have been my good omen for a long time now. I am probably adding meaning to this encounter, but I am human, and it is just what we do. I was taking a rest, using my bike to block some of the wind, and looked up as this foxlike animal came up and sat next to me. We shared water and peanuts. Feeling inspired and knowing I was at the top of my climb I decided I had a good chance at making it to the border. As I started to descend the mountain, my enemy this whole trip reared its head. I was descending quickly without the ability to brake. And while that doesn’t sound like too bad an issue, going 35-40mph without the ability to stop is not my favorite thing or the safest. I was able to walk down some of the hills and the road was very smooth, so once the switchbacks ended, I was able to ride to the border. Finally, I made it to Argentina, the last country on my planned journey! The next day I felt good and decided to push for another big day riding another 80 miles. I realized half way through that I had broken two spokes on my rear wheel. One of my best friends and my constant companion (my trusty and beloved bike) started to limp. It has gone over 10,000 miles and could use a lil’ TLC. I rode to a small town where I was able to share dinner and wonderful conversation with a couple from Brazil traveling in a motor home. After that I made it to the city of Salta where I am now waiting for some replacement brakes to (hopefully) arrive so I can get back at it!
So now what??? I have a lot of things that I have been thinking about. Winter is coming and people are saying that it might not be possible to make it to Ushuaia until after winter. So, I could detour to Brazil, Paraguay and Buenos Aires before heading south. Or I could head south and confront the harsh winter head on (maybe not the most popular or wise plan). Another possibility is I could travel south and stop in the ski town of San Carlos de Bariloche and see if I can get a job there. I don’t know what I am going to do yet, but I will keep you all updated! I thank you all so much for your support on this journey. I have been asked a lot if this has helped me live with my grief and the answer is not always easy. It is complicated but I do believe it has helped and is helping me.
The plans for WSCWS are always growing and we would love to be able to empower and support others continuing with style. At the moment, your support is beyond incredible, and I could never have done it without you all. Losing Paige was and IS hard. I wish she could see all of this. Paige died at 26, I turned 27 last year and in my 28th year I have been able to tell Paige, “I will pick up where you left off. I will continue. “Every single one of you made that possible. Continuing is something that we all have to do. It is the nature of grief and being human. But to continue with style is something that is hard, maybe impossible, to do alone.
I have struggled to share recently, and the road hasn’t been easy. It can be hard for me to share the lows. I have a tendency to bottle up my emotions (understatement), but I am starting to reconnect with that vulnerability and hope to be able to share even more of this journey over time. I am still both thankful and sad that I have this many names and “friends that go with me” on my bike. They are my community and travel companions. I am forever grateful to share it with them.
Cheers until next time,
Austin Andrew