Dancing Saddle

Exhausted and with my bike box in tow, I cleared customs. The midnight hour did nothing to thin the crowds. Jorge Chávez Airport was still packed with people. I made my way to the check-in desk, only to discover that check-in wouldn’t open for another two hours. So there I sat with my giant bike box, unable to go to the toilet or find something to eat. Eventually, I boarded my final flight to Arequipa. The dawn landing was stunning, with the skyline dominated by El Misti volcano.

View of Misti Volcano from Alfredo Rodriguez Ballon International Airport. Me and my first alpaca.

I arrived at the hostel at eight in the morning. Unable to check in, I fell asleep on a sofa in the hostel library. The altitude, lack of sleep, and a persistent cold had taken their toll. I eventually woke up groggy and confused but was finally able to check in and grab a much-needed shower. I hoped that a change of scenery and an escape from the constant rain would revitalize me and restore my motivation.

Touring the Basilica Cathedral of Arequipa. Witrh its pulpit made in France and the giant organ made in Belgium.

Over the next few days, I explored Arequipa. I toured the Basilica Cathedral, the stunning architecture, gold treasures, and massive organ were standouts. The view toward Misti Volcano from the city and the energy of the busy plaza added to the experience.

The view of El Misti from the Basilica roof and one of its famous towers.

At the same time, Christmas celebrations had begun. Parades and dancers passed along the main road and through the plaza in vivid colors and stunning costumes. It was a wonderful distraction from the mental preparation for the journey ahead.

One of the many groups of colorful dancers passing in front of the cathedral. The most colorful dancer I saw on the day.

The traditional food was a significant improvement over what I’d experienced in Costa Rica, and the coffee and beer were exceptionally good. While preparing for the next leg, I sent some unnecessary gear home and finally got around to mailing postcards. Sometimes I never quite know what to write.

This ice americano with orange juice was absolutely delicious and became part of my daily ritual. The 20 plus post cards I mailed around the world.

I rebuilt my bike and moved to an Airbnb for two nights so I could get properly organized. My new improvised stove turned out to be a double-ended steel shot glass. When I bought it, I also purchased isopropyl alcohol, the combination must have looked hilarious.

My gear, food and clothes all laid out ready to be packed. My new cooking system, isopropyl alcohol and a steel shot glass.

Mentally, I knew I wasn’t fully ready, but I hoped that getting back on the road would bring that familiar feeling back. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It took me several extra days to get going, and even then, it was a struggle. By early afternoon, I reached the tiny town of Characato on the outskirts of Arequipa. I couldn’t push any farther and found a cheap but comfortable family hotel. My mind hadn’t caught up yet, and I knew the route ahead would be challenging.

The church in tiny Characato facing the plaza where I would watch the sunset. Delicious three types of Picarones.

I actually loved the little town. It felt safe and secure, and I could remain anonymous. I didn’t do much, but I quickly realized I didn’t have enough cash or airtime, which required a local bus trip back to Arequipa. Once that was sorted, it was time to go. Reluctantly, I said goodbye to the family and began the ride. It would be uphill all day.

On the road to Pocsi and the camp site. A virgin Mary on the side of the road for a moment of spiritual reflection.

The dry, barren Altiplano had a stark beauty, and I made slow but steady progress to the tiny village of Pocsi. I stopped at a small tienda for water and food. The Quechua store clerk was highly perceptive and quickly sensed my low mood. It was amazing how much we communicated with so little shared language.

The tiny little village of Pocsi

About five kilometers farther on, I found a small wild campsite listed on iOverlander. It sat beside a drainage stream about 150 meters from the road. The view of Misti was stunning, and I also saw my first alpaca. I set up camp and, for the next hour or so, felt content—happy to be back in the rhythm of camping.

My first and last alpaca right by my campsite. Setting up camp for my sleepless night.

Soon after dinner, the cold drove me inside. I was optimistic about getting a good night’s sleep, but that didn’t happen. I ended up not sleeping at all. My mind raced, and the problems with my sleeping pad continued.

Waking up to stunning Misti volcano and keeping my toes warm by my stove.

In the morning, I packed up, unsure of what I would do, continue on or return to Arequipa. I rode back and forth for several minutes before finally deciding to return. I made it back to Characato to give myself more time to think, and eventually decided to head all the way back to Arequipa. I would get my sleeping pad fixed and make sure my gear and setup were perfect, hoping that if everything else was in order, my mind would be too.

A tiny scorpion by my tent. Breakfast back at the family hotel where I could take some time to think and decompress.