Try This: Downhill Mountain Biking in Peru

Image of Melissa McGibbon BASE Jumping
Perilous Pursuit | What motivates big risk?
October 2, 2014

Try This: Downhill Mountain Biking in Peru

We are somewhere near Calca in the Sacred Valley of south-central Peru. My friend, Kelly, and I decided to squeeze some downhill mountain biking into our Andean adventures. I feel like I’m wearing more body armor than Iron Man, but that’s a good thing—my downhill mountain biking talent is a trifle on the thin side. I’m pretty sure even the llamas ambling about the hillside are laughing at me. Given my proclivity to gravity checks on bikes, this is not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but here I am and this is happening.

A driver from Gravity Peru, our tour operator, picked us up at our hostel in Cusco early that morning to take us to the small mountain town of Urubamba. We were starting our tour there and meeting up with our biking buddies, Justin and Ryan, who happened to be staying in nearby Ollantaytambo to take advantage of the stunning terrain and burgeoning downhill mountain biking scene. The difference being that they are legit downhill riders, whereas the two of us are what you might call dabbling downhillers.

DH MTB in Peru's Sacred Valley

The van dropped us at the top of the Abra Azulcocha mountain pass, which gave us a 4,265-foot vertical descent before the next shuttle rendezvous point in the town of Lares. I picked my line, scooched my rear as far back off the saddle as it would go (bike in front!) and headed full-bore down the gravelly singletrack. My mind and body agreed—the simultaneous joy and fear were palpable. Though our guides were incredibly hospitable, I doubt they would be able to do much—barring prayer—if one of us were to snap a derailleur or, god forbid, break a bone. (How do you explain a femur traction splint in Spanish?)

We took in majestic views of the famous Urubamba River flowing far below and snow-capped peaks jutting high above as we rode the grassy riverside trails passing through the ancient Inca roads that carved the desert highlands and deep canyons. There were many ruins, some waterfalls, a few stone huts built sometime in the 15th century, and llamas galore along the way. When we approached the small farming villages, Quechua children—known for their distinctive rosy cheeks and big dark eyes—would run up the hills to watch us ride and wave at us. I grinned ear to ear when I heard them shout, “¡Hay mujeres también!” Yes, girls, you too can ride bikes with the boys.

We opted out of Los Baos Termales de Lares while stopped there for lunch because some of us didn’t pack hot springs attire. Plus, we thought we might never want to leave if we relaxed in the thermal baths too long. If this had been our last stop of the day, I would have been so down for a soak. Our driver took us back up to the mountain pass so we could lose another 4,993 vertical feet before reaching Calca and the end of the ride. There’s some spicy, exposed singletrack on the Inca road and that part was somewhat horrifying for me because it combined everything I’m not good at all at once. It was ruthlessly steep, narrow, winding, and featured rock gardens with unforgiving ancient Inca staircases.

Image of group of downhill riders in Peru

The best decision we made that day was taking the opportunity to cruise down a zig-zaggy isolated canyon road instead of riding the last 12 miles in the van on the way to Calca. This paved road has no official name, but is sometimes referred to by locals as the road to Calca. The towering sienna-colored canyon walls were magnificent, but I was more focused on the rapid elevation plunge. My eyes were watering, my knuckles were white and my bike was making a lot of noises—there was zero pedaling. The exhilarating minutes of my life that I exchanged for this particular experience were some of the best I’ve ever spent.

We celebrated our safe passage to the Plaza de Armas at Calca with a round of Cusquenas, “The Premium Beer of Peru.” I’m honestly not sure there are other beer options in the entire country, so “premium” might be superfluous, but either way it was a befitting way to cap our ride.

At the end of the day, Kelly jokingly posited that there might be something wrong with my brain because I seem to be missing the inner alert system that warns, “Danger! Danger! Do not proceed!” I’ll admit there could be some truth to that, but, hey, I only crashed like nine times during our nearly 10,000-foot descent and it was a very unique way to see the Peruvian countryside. After some I Love Lucy-style translating, we got a ride back to Cusco, where we concluded our feats with más Cusquenas, hot showers, and the sleep of the dead.

*This article originally appeared in the Summer 2014 issue of Women’s Adventure Magazine.

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