We lean against the wall of a supermarket and take our siesta in 33°C heat. We don’t feel like going any further, as the landscape here in northern Peru is boringly flat and the area is terribly desolate. It’s a good opportunity to write a few lines about the past weeks and revel in refreshing memories of the cool mountain air in beautiful Ecuador.

Our report picks up where the last ended: in Ambato. What was supposed to be a two-night stay in this modest city ended up lasting four nights. The extended break was mainly due to waiting for better weather, and it was well worth it. Since there wasn’t much to see in Ambato, we weren’t even tempted to be out and about all the time. We turned off the alarm clock, slept a lot, and sampled the many specialties our hostess had recommended. On our daily walk to the market for lunch, we were already greeted with a handshake and didn’t even have to place our order anymore: “The usual, please.” We really enjoyed the dish called llapingacho—a kind of potato hash brown topped with a fried egg, avocado, beetroot salad, and optional sausages! We were less enthusiastic about the “Ponche Suizo,” a frothy, sinfully sweet drink made from eggs and sugar. Apparently, this dessert is said to be derived from a Swiss specialty. Just which one remains a mystery to us.

Speaking of mysteries: On Monday, the big weekly market took place in the streets around our lodging. The women sat shoulder to shoulder next to their market stalls or on the street, selling vegetables, meat, clothing, and plastic goods. We wondered how they made ends meet, since they were all selling identical goods.
On the last day of our stay in Ambato, it rained almost nonstop. Good thing we weren’t out and about! But when we stood on the rooftop terrace the next morning, we caught our first glimpse of the snow-capped peak of Chimborazo. Great, this was our starting signal!

Well rested and well fueled, we pedaled lightly along the river toward what is supposedly the world’s highest mountain, measured from the center of the Earth. Then again, who actually measures from the center of the Earth😉? The weather kept getting better, and so did the view. Things went so well that by evening we’d reached the entrance to Chimborazo National Park at 4’360 meters above sea level and camped there, sheltered by the visitor center. With frequent looks back at the cloudless Chimborazo, we zoomed down 30 kilometers along the Pan-American Highway the next day. We followed it for four days through beautiful mountain landscapes, covering plenty of elevation gain along the way. No problem, since we’d already planned another break in Cuenca.

Cuenca is said to be the most beautiful city in Ecuador, and the prices for lodging were correspondingly high. The cheapest place to stay was at Miryam’s. She accommodates travelers by car in the parking lot of her B&B and rents out a small room for cyclists to camp out in. We classified our accommodations as being “original”: Access to the empty room was only possible via a rickety folding ladder, and we even had to use the very last step, which had a large sign warning that it wasn’t intended for people. Luckily, we never fell during the countless ascents and descents and didn’t end up in the hospital. Instead, we were able to focus on fixing David’s bike. In our last report, we reported on the mishap with David’s rear rim and how a replacement was to be shipped from Europe with the help of a helpful Ecuadorian expat. Here in Cuenca, the moment of truth arrived, as we were able to pick up the rim along with other replacement parts from Carolyn. We were relieved to find everything in perfect condition. Thank you so much! That very same evening, David repaired his rear derailleur using the parts she had imported and installed the new back light along with the matching cable. Afterward, we took his bicycle to a trustworthy, knowledgeable bike mechanic, who re-spoked the rear wheel within half a day. Apart from that, we mostly ate and cooked a lot in Cuenca, marveled at the beautifully piled-up sweets in honor of Corpus Christi, and visited a fascinating Panama hat museum. By the way, Panama hats got their name because of their popularity during the construction of the Panama Canal, which made them famous in the West. They were always manufactured in Ecuador.

From Cuenca, we headed down toward the coast, since that’s where the only open border crossing into Peru is located. We had imagined that we’d easily roll down the 2’500 meters in elevation over three days and soon be entering a new country. But it wasn’t that simple. On the first day of riding, we’d already covered 90 kilometers by noon when a motorcyclist stopped us and told us that the road further down had been blocked by a landslide and was impassable. The only way around was a huge detour that would probably take us two hours. Now that he mentioned it, we realized there was no traffic at all.

We decided against starting the steep detour right away and instead rode a bit further to a gas station in the middle of nowhere. There, we asked about the situation again and checked what the detour would actually entail: a 75-kilometer route including a 2’300-meter climb, instead of a fantastic 16-kilometer descent. Ugh! But it seemed there was no other option. Fortunately, next to the gas station was a small shop with plenty of snacks and a restaurant, where we boosted our morale over cups of coffee. That way, we were well prepared to tackle the pass the next morning. If the alternative hadn’t been soooo much easier, we would have really enjoyed the detour up to the charming village of Pucará. At the top, we were treated to a beautiful view of the sea of clouds, which we had to dive into on the descent.

Downhill, the road was no longer paved and as we descended in the drizzling rain, it became increasingly muddy. In the lowest section, landslides had also buried the road and at times we could only get through by pushing our bikes. Phew, were we glad, exhausted and soaked, when we reached the main road again in the valley after an eight-hour ride. Note that this was 16 kilometers from the gas station where we’d set off that morning. As dusk fell, we arrived at Suzanna’s little shop, where we were allowed to spend the night in a moldy basement room.

From there, we descended nearly 1’000 meters in elevation to sea level. The climate became more tropical with every kilometer we covered, and soon the cow pastures gave way entirely to banana and sugarcane plantations. Although Ecuador’s coastal region is currently considered dangerous, and the locals warned us that the situation in their villages was “very complicated”, we didn’t encounter any problems and felt safe the whole time on the main roads. We arrived happily in the friendly border town of Arenillas, where we spent the night at the fire station. This morning, after an hour’s ride and some straightforward immigration formalities, we entered a new country: “Bienvenidos a Perú”!

Written on June 20, 2026, published on June 28, 2026.