When faced with the largeness of the Andes and the Amazon, it seemed to us logical to proceed with the smallness of the monkey bike. It's like the yin and yang of adventure, the vast and the tiny, perfectly tessellated into one large slap around the grinning chops of our riders.
Since it's beginnings, several cohorts of fellow Adventurists have seen such logic and joined us in attempting to drive over some of the world's highest mountains and into one of its biggest rainforests on a bike highly disproportionate to the size of the task.
The Monkey Run Peru fleet lined up in all their tiny glory at the Start Line in Ayacucho.
The pioneers
Whenever we launch a new adventure, we test run it via the Institute of Adventure Research, which is our completely made up institute of adventure innovation. An important step in such adventure development, is the opinion of the pioneers. Our hunches about adventuring excellence do sometimes fail and turn into unmitigated adventuring disasters, so our pioneers are a brave bunch. The initial cohort of riders back in 2017, consisted of just 6 pioneers and on that particular occasion, they had a splendid excursion through the modest landscapes of Peru and paved the way for 338 further riders (so far) to take on the gauntlet.
The Monkey Run Peru Pioneers working out where the buggery they might be going, April 2017.
The steed
As on all of our Monkey Runs, the Monkey Run Peru pits riders against some of the more sizeable aspects of the planet on nothing but a very small bike. So we take a moment here to consider the tiny bastion of engineering that is the monkey bike.
A detailed look at the Monkey Bike design.
Main strengths
As you can no doubt see, this is the perfect companion for attempting to cross the world's second highest mountain range before heading into the Amazon rainforest. Apart from having wheels, steering and a luggage rack, the monkey bike's other strengths include being close to the ground; small enough to squeeze through traffic or rocks; lightweight enough that you can carry it if it stops wanting to carry you; basic enough that most mechanically minded people can fix it (we're not necessarily talking about our riders here.)
Engine allowance
Because this is in part a high altitude jaunt, we deemed it acceptable to furnish riders with a hefty 90cc engine. This is equivalent to 5.1 horsepower. Such power was initially a source of great consternation here at Adventurists HQ. We usually offer a maximum of only 2.1 horses (equivalent to 49cc) to ensure maximum unsuitability for the task of tackling large distances, so much murmuring was had about it all being too easy.
For the Andes however, where these diminutive bikes have to climb to a height of about 14,000 feet, we found the extra 3 horses to be essential in not rolling backwards when trying to go uphill. And, not wanting to lose too many riders in the mountains, permission to use greater power was granted.
"Luggage" rack
We use the term "luggage" flexibly here at Adventurists HQ. Imagine the sort of space you need for some spare pants and a shoe. The monkey bike is perfectly equipped for both. We jest about how light our riders have to pack, but we actually do mean it. When you're trying to get a tiny bike up some of the planet's biggest hills, you really don't want too much ballast. It's a tricky balance to strike given you also need to survive the mountain weather, followed by the jungle weather which makes temperature control difficult without spare clothes.
Over the years, our riders have found ingenious ways to overcome such luggage based challenges, including wearing more clothes than necessary, wearing less clothes than necessary and adjusting their luggage racks to accommodate their adventure survival techniques. You can see more on the world of luggage racks in our blog The Art of Strap-Ons - Monkey Run Luggage Racks.
The Un-route & its weather
The geography of the Monkey Run Peru is varied. The adventure is essentially a painfully slow, gravity-defying ascent into the Andean mountains followed by a slightly less slow plunge into the Amazon rainforest. It's a jaunt through many of the ecosystems the planet offers, served up on a plate of monkey bike shaped chaos.
A detailed map showing the many dotted un-route of the Monkey Run Peru.
The Andes
First, you have the high-altitude mountain phase. The Andes have an abundance of gentle looking foothills, which are excellent for pootling through on two undersized wheels. We personally tend more towards the jagged, bone-chilling passes where the air is thin enough to make both you and your carburettor question your life choices, so as not to let adventuring complacency set in. It does get rather cold up there. It's the sort of chill that acquaints you with the idea of losing all your fingers as you try to persuade your miniature steed up thousands of feet of rock-strewn mountain terrain.
The Amazon
Just when you think you’ve mastered the art of freezing to death, the un-route drops you off the back of the mountains and hurls you into the sweaty bosom of the Amazon rainforest. Within a matter of hours, the rugged cold is swapped for a slightly squishy, tropical heat that will turn your riding gear into a personal (often smelly by this point) sauna. You can expect a delightful cocktail of torrential rain, muddy pools and the occasional landslide to ensure you are paying proper attention to the adventure.
Emotional Regulation (Or Lack Thereof)
Like all worthy adventures, the Monkey Run Peru is a masterclass in physical and mental degradation. It is exhausting to a degree that will have you whimpering into your handkerchief and there's the possibility your kidneys will never forgive you. But it is also entirely excellent in its adventuring mastery. Take these fine monkey runners for example, all of whom suffered the classic monkey run "face plant" somewhere along the way, but kept buggering on anyway. It is this battle against gravity, and other core elements of life on earth, that makes an adventure worth having.
And as you battle the earthly elements, you might notice your own internal battle against your wits. We advise despite the ruckus with yourself, that you don't give up. There is an odd, borderline-spiritual phenomenon that happens somewhere between the third mechanical breakdown and the fourth mountain pass. Being faced with the staggering, infinite largeness of the planet - the vast stretches of the Andes and the Amazon unfolding before you - whilst you sit heroically astride a vehicle that looks like it escaped from a primary school, gives you profound sense of your place in the universe. You are tiny. The world is massive. And your mode of transport is gloriously inappropriate for the task.
We consider this the ultimate antidote to a modern, oversanitised life. You will be cold, wet, deeply questioning why you signed up in the first place and grinning so hard at the ridiculous nature of it all that your jaw will ache. We firmly believe it will change your life one way or another, even if you don't notice that for some time after you've made it home with most of your limbs intact.
The Bosom of Adventurism
If this all sounds like nonsense, that's because it is. Welcome to the world of The Adventurists. We have been waging a war against the bland and fighting for proper, old-school adventure for nearly two decades. Our philosophy is simple: if everything is planned, safe, and curated via a smartphone app or a package tour provider, it isn’t an adventure. You need to be pitted against the odds a little.
The magnificence of being tiny, when everything around you is not.
By stripping away support crews, fixed itineraries, and any semblance of appropriate transport, we force you to rely on the two things modern life has tried its best to extinguish: your own wits, and the most excellent grace of the strangers you will hopefully meet at the start line and on the road. There is a unique, unspoken bond that forms when you look over at a fellow rider who is also covered in mud, missing a wing mirror and being harassed by a llama. It's in these moments you realise you're part of a movement of glorious fools who believe that only by getting terribly lost and a bit stuck, can you really come out of life unscathed.
Saving the World (A Bit)
While we're busy making a mockery of the transport sector, we also like to save the world a bit. We think the planet's foresty bits are inherently excellent and it would be a tragedy if there were none left to get stuck in.
So we ask our riders to do their darnedest to raise £500 for our official charity partner, Cool Earth. They work directly with indigenous rainforest communities to protect ecosystems from logging and deforestation. So, as you drag your 90cc engine through the undergrowth, you can sleep soundly knowing your pain is actively protecting the very jungle you are currently bogged down in.
The Next Collective Mistake
If you think you have what it takes to join the next edition of this glorious Peru shaped circus, you can check out the dates and throw your entry fee at us on our Monkey Run Peru page. We'll supply the comically undersized machinery, the pre-adventure beers, the start and finish line and their respective celebratory essentials, an entourage of our most excellent crew, some lessons in monkey bike mechanics and a mandatory game of monkey bike football to settle any premature delusions of grandeur. The rest—including getting yourself unstuck when the road vanishes—is entirely up to you.
A serious moment on the Monkey Run Peru as the riders prepare for some monkey-bike football. No silliness here.