West of Cuenca the Andes lift quickly, and the Mamamag label sits on the edge of that rise, about twenty-four kilometres from the city, where the cultivated valleys give way to cold, open páramo. The nearest real town is Cuenca itself, a university city of cobbled colonial streets at roughly two and a half thousand metres, and anything you need, from fuel to a decent soup, you should sort out there before you climb.
This stretch belongs to the Qhapaq Ñan, the Inca road system that ran for thousands of kilometres along the spine of the continent. The Incas conquered the Cañari people here in the late fifteenth century and built a northern capital, Tumipampa, on the site of today's Cuenca; from it, tracks fanned out to the highlands and down towards the Pacific. The segments that survive are often modest, a paved strip a couple of metres wide, stone steps where the slope turns steep, drainage channels beside it, and they reward people who look at the ground rather than the horizon.
The riding up here is serious in a quiet way. The main road west towards the coast climbs through Cajas National Park, a plateau of glacial lakes, tussock grass and polylepis trees, and it goes over four thousand metres. At that height engines lose power, and you will feel the thin air yourself, with headaches and slow thinking if you push too hard. Weather turns without warning. A sunny morning can become sleet and thick cloud by noon, and the surface can be wet with fog even when it has not rained. Wear more layers than seems sensible and keep your speed down in the cloud, because visibility drops to a few metres.
Come in the drier months, roughly June to September, and start early. The light on the lakes in the morning is remarkable, and the páramo smells of wet earth and wild herbs. Locals sell hot drinks and trout from roadside stalls near the park entrance, which is worth a stop.