Mountains are big. They don’t fit into a camera.

The highest peak in North America is Denali (Mount McKinley) in Alaska at 6,190 meters (20,310 feet high but there are 46 mountains taller than Denali in the Andes and, as we wind our way south, we have been enjoying a peak fest that will not stop.

In Peru we stayed in Huaraz right under Huascaran (6768 meters), in Ecuador we rode around Chimborazo (6,267 meters) and experienced the climate altering power of these mountains as it is arid and sterile on the downwind side but lush and humid and full of cattle ranches on the other.

In Bolivia the view of La Paz is dominated by Illimani that provides a 6,463 meter backdrop. (Photo above where we had a chance to detour closer to the summit)

Crossing from Chile into Argentina across the high arid Puna de Atacama, we passed Llullaillaco (don’t even try to pronounce this one properly) on whose summit were recently discovered sites where the Incas sacrificed their children to strengthen their community bonds and appease their gods. 

In Barreal, Argentina we stayed in a ranch house on the Rio de los Patos river and the view from the back yard included Aconcagua (the highest peak in the Americas at 6,962 meters) and Mercedario at 6,720 meters.  Not a bad view from the barbecue. (Panorama above) 

The trouble with all this is the impossibility of doing the spectacle justice. As we rode down into Barreal and the peaks come into view as you clear the canyon, the impression is truly breathtaking but disappointing when photographed.

You have to be here.