There's something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine
in yourself.
It's the only true guide you'll ever have, and if you cannot hear it, you'll spend all
of your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.
This ancient trail wanders along through relentless weather with 6,000 meter giants touching the
sky above.
Everything we've heard of this place, everything we've read, nothing could prepare us.
This is all a spur of the moment idea, part of the vicious cycle of making every adventure
more thrilling than the last.
Our goal is to circumnavigate the y-wash range and the Peruvian Andes, perhaps disproportionate
to anything the three of us had ever done.
After several blurred days of travel from Colorado, we dialled in the gear, built up
the bikes, and we're stoked to ride.
The
With our wheels set in motion, we made some final preparations before going out on our
own into the mountains.
We're leaving at 4am tomorrow morning and we start our ride and we're going to ride
the Cordillera oi wash in Peru.
The next morning we made our way to the outskirts of the range.
Local skeptics watched our every move as we slipped out of the town of Chican and rightfully
so as only one other group had ever attempted this journey on bicycles.
The typical method is to trek the route fully supported with gear touting donkeys and local
guides.
The fact that it was the rainy season only instilled more doubt.
These are the biggest mountains I've ever seen.
This is ridiculous.
With every pedal stroke, the lines begin to blur between the developed and the wilderness.
Some smiles and curiosity greeted us as we climbed to the village of Yamac, the entrance
to the oi wash.
Here we were introduced to the peaceful nature of these mountains and with that we were off.
Got our first view of the glaciers up here in the oi wash range and we're heading up
to Mata Contra Pass which is just up there in the clouds so it's about to get foggy.
Let's put the horse power down on us, literally.
One word Thomas, one word.
Starting our first big climb, definitely hike a bike.
There's no riding up this.
We're about halfway up Kwok Kwan Naan Pass.
We got maybe close to a thousand more feet of vert to climb and then it's descent down
to Camp for the night.
A little short of our goal but it's going to have to make time up in the next couple
of days.
Rolling into camp, wet, filthy, and exhausted.
Somehow we had forgotten the day's struggles, the rain, the elevation.
We've come alive in the mountains and there's nowhere else we'd rather be than right here
right now.
This is going to be the start of our third day.
We've only got one pass to make it over and at least we're getting an early start.
The air was cold and thin, the gear still wet from the day before.
Nothing could hinder our enthusiasm for the best single track of our lives in the wildest
place we'd ever been.
As we charged on, our smiles grew larger.
We had never felt so far away.
How do you guys feel?
Good, huh?
Woo!
We felt small and insignificant when setting up the tent below 6,000 meter peaks.
The thundering sound of glaciers cracked as we managed to get some rest.
Let's cook some hash browns.
It's raining.
We're at 14,000 feet.
Camping.
Third day.
Could you get a wet wash?
Hell yeah.
Oh, I don't like this.
How to cook an vestibule of 101.
Isn't that what they tell you not to do?
Yep.
The only way to get here is a pass off to my left that we came over yesterday.
The only way out is a pass to my right, which is what we're going over today.
The fact that we got ourselves here on our bikes by ourselves with all our gear just makes it that much better.
Just keep climbing higher and higher.
The views just keep getting better.
It's all worth it.
Sam, get over here.
He's not breathing.
Come on.
Oh, shit.
Come on.
Sam and I were trying to get him stable, wake him up, and I was about ready to run for the spot beacon.
Today is one of those days.
I never want to have to experience again.
Joey took a pretty good digger up here at the base of this glacier below Sula Grande.
We're about three days in either direction from any sort of substantial help, so we're out here.
We've got a pretty good concussion and knocked himself out for a little bit.
And we're just in the tent out of the rain, and we're going to keep pushing on tomorrow and just try to get out of here.
Definitely one of the gnarliest things that's ever happened to me for sure.
The previous day I got the worst concussion I've ever had.
It scared the hell out of me, but the only option was to keep going.
There was no help to be found out here.
After hours and hours of climbing, we made it to the highest point on the loop.
Nice analogy for those of you at home.
I feel like pushing a wheelbarrow up a staircase while trying to breathe through a drinking straw.
I think Joey and Sam would agree with me on that one.
Having not seen any people in days, we rounded the corner and were caught a bit off guard.
But we thought we're two local cover heroes turned out to be quite the opposite.
We ran into those two guys and that super drunk guy immediately pointed the gun in my face.
It was super sketchy, but not scared a long time.
He's just pointing his pistol finger on the trigger right in my face and then lifts it up and shoots it.
It's not super cool.
Cruisin' out of the Cordillera Wild Wash right now. I've been chased out by rainstorms as usual, but super stoked that the guys brought some beer and didn't tell me.
Slammed some nice new Belgiums. Now we're cruisin' on our way. Definitely a little bit tipsy. We're up here in altitude.
In the end, we didn't quite make it as far as we had hoped. Only three quarters of the loop in seven days.
Between rainstorms, concussions, and waving guns, the Wild Wash had ripped at our eager ambitions.
Adventure of this kind can't be scripted nor planned, and for that, we are grateful.
A sense of wonder was fulfilled, an understanding of distance and height learned, and the friendship of three adventure-loving friends reinforced.
You can't wait for what's next.
