Cycling
Ecuador
10/08/05 -12/08/05: An inauspicious
start!
Our check in at LHR went smoothly as they did not weigh the bikes. Too
smoothly
in fact as things could only go downhill from here. That’s
exactly what they
did. Two hours into our
The delay meant that we arrived in
Having sorted our things the next morning, we rode out of
All journeys must start somewhere and so we turned around and slowly
climbed
back through the outskirts of
This time we found a much more pleasant hotel – attractive,
secure and with
charming staff. We would stay for two days before continuing south.
After a good night’s sleep & excellent breakfast, we
went to see the sights
in
Generally, we saw no direct evidence of crime though there are armed
guards
everywhere. One man we saw had a pump action shotgun over his shoulder.
Who would live in a city like this? Apparently a twenty-something Dutch
girl. A
friend of a friend from home, we looked her up & arranged to
meet her in
the evening.
Nicole runs a bar and shop (which surprisingly manages to sell trendy
“G-sus”
–branded clothing here). The bar would have been among the
trendiest on the
King’s Road had it been located there, and is certainly the
most tastefully
over-the-top establishment I have been in. The down side of course is
that when
we came to leave, an armed guard had to escort us to our taxi.
Our host took us around town (by taxi), and up to another fabulous bar.
This
time it was the location that made it great. Set on a hill side to the
east of
the city, it had views stretching right across the valley. Not for the
first
time that evening, we regretted not bringing our cameras.
Friday was not so good. Getting out of
For a road that forms the only north-south route across a continent, it
is
surprisingly modest. At times it more-or-less disappears in the one-way
system
of a village, before re-forming afterwards.
Here, on the outskirts of
Or so we thought. We had intended to camp at a site marked in
When we finally arrived at the park things got worse. We
couldn’t find the
camp-site. We were ushered down a railway line with the light rapidly
diminishing, and told it was somewhere off to the left; this despite
the fact
that we could see a perfectly good camp-site with picnic tables
& a couple
of tents. Apparently this wasn’t in Cotopaxi NP. Our Spanish
wasn’t up to
explaining that the exact location didn’t matter. Somewhere a
little along the
track, Andrew & I took a large turn off to the left. It
didn’t lead
anywhere and so we returned after 5 minutes or so. Will
wasn’t there. Since
Will wasn’t McCavity and was not meant to disappear &
since it was now
properly dark, the light was going rapidly this close to the equator,
we were
faced with a problem.
Reasoning that it was safer to go back to the station to leave our
stuff &
get warm clothes & flashlights, that is what we did.
Fortunately no sooner
than had we set out to find him than he appeared in the distance.
Visibly
shaken as might be expected since on the first day he was anticipating
spending
some time alone in the Ecuadorian mountain forests.
Andrew explained that we would always come & look for him in
such
circumstances (although we’ll try to avoid them). Throughout
the whole saga,
the ranger had told us we should look for him mañana!
Fortunately that ranger now took pity on us (and Andrew’s
drama queen antics)
and let us stay in the ranger lodge – cooking facilities were
used, the world’s
most dangerous electric heated shower was not.
The good thing about finishing one day at 3500 metres is that the next
day
starts at that altitude. We had a long spell of magic gradient down the
Panamericana which is now much less busy.
We had intended to take a two-day side trip around the
“Quilotoa loop” but
found that the “paved road” was in fact cobbled.
This was too much for our
battered spirits and so we gave up Quilotoa and headed down the
Panamericana,
making excellent time. We decided we could reach Baños, a
spa town at 1800
metres as it involved a 1000 metre drop. Once there, we would rest for
a couple
of days. Well the roads in the
Baños is a resort town; this was the Ecuadorian bank holiday
weekend. In a
reversal of yesterday’s accommodation experience, we camped
in a hotel garden.
We are all exhausted after just two days. Rationally this is to be
expected but
it is difficult to be rational in such circumstances and I think each
of us
would rather be somewhere else.
A good feed and sleep however (despite the Ecuadorians’
parties) and the world
looks brighter. We spent a day eating, sleeping, reading, attempting to
learn
Spanish and in my case, listening to Bach. Things seem better still
and, as we
relax, we talk and get a little banter going – something that
has been lacking
so far.
It is clear that this will be a hard trip but the Panamericana may well
prove
to be our salvation – a wide, well sized road that avoids
excessive gradients.
Hopefully the traffic will not prove too heavy. At the very least, it
is a road
that traverses a continent, a road with a soul.
Unfortunately, it is currently 1000metres above us but I will have to
leave
that for another day.
16/08/05 –18/08/05: Up, up
and away
Actually, not quite so fast… The road from
Baños to
Baños is very relaxing, it is easy to see how many gringo
travellers arrive and
never leave. Another day therefore proved no problem for us. We rose
early
(ish), had some breakfast and set off for our closed road to
Well the road wasn’t bad at all. Three or four sections were
under repair but
the rest was tarmacked. The buses had no problem and neither did we
– it seems
as though the locals don’t tell the Europeans in
Baños as much as they might.
The only issue was that I began to feel unwell, just weak at first, but
when we
rolled into
The day from
Actually most of the cars were trucks and they are packed full of
Ecuadorians,
with the occasional sheep thrown in for good measure. They all wave at
us (the
Ecuadorians not the sheep) and wonder what the mad gringo is doing on
his
bicycle when he could be on a bus. It’s us and the dogs out
in the
Alausi is at 2400m, we rode most of the day at over 3000m. The descent
from the
plateau was fantastic. It began with the road swooping down through a
canyon
before barrelling us out into the most attractive valley so far. Of
course,
this being the
Just about on the tourist trail by virtue of its railway, Alausi is
extremely
pleasant. We took to it immediately and got a hotel on the main drag.
Besides,
the hill awaiting us when we leave is a monster and there is no
question of
going any further.
19/08/05 –20/08/05: The
going gets tough
Actually the climb wasn’t so bad – only around
350m. The problem was that
having climbed that height, we descended. Again and again. Round,
through and
up from valley after valley. A monstrous day’s riding. After
40km, we had
climbed 1000m. Soon after however, as Andrew put it, it ceased to be
fun. It
became mere survival. We had hoped to reach Incapirca, apparently a
90km ride
and we had left early despite the local gathering in out hotel which
had
hampered out sleep and more or less destroyed the shared bathrooms. It
became
clear however that Incapirca was probably at 100km and that we could
not
possibly reach it today – we didn’t have the time
or energy.
Crossing a pass before descending to Zhud, we passed a perfect campsite
next to
a lake. We should have taken it but decided to press on into the next
valley.
Where it had been calm as calm a moment before, in Zhud’s
valley it was blowing
a gale. We had to pedal hard just to go downhill and find that there
was no
accommodation at Zhud! There was only one option, and we took it, to
continue
until there was a spot to camp. After a while, the wind was too strong
to ride
safely. Even walking, our bikes would get blown over.
Eventually, when Will was beyond his limit and we were fast approaching
ours,
we found an uninhabited spot right at the top of the next pass. It had
some
shelter and so we set up camp.
The gale blew all night, but next day we rode on and a few kilometres
further
it became calm. Maybe that valley is always windy.
We were too far from
Azogues was actually very pleasant. We had an excellent (and very
large) dinner
at a pizza/ ice-cream place, incorporating 4 pizzas, 4 milk shakes, 2
beers, a
coke and 3 huge ice-creams for just $20. There was a fast internet
connection
as well and I was able to make a date on MSN messenger with Malin for
the next
day in
The ride to
The internet is a marvellous thing at home. Here it is a lifeline. For
under $1
an hour, we can e mail, update our blog, and instant message. This was
my first
venture onto IM. Andrew has been using it extensively with Alissa, who
is in
Malin has booked her flight out to
I think I would always regret it if I didn’t go, so I will
now research as much
as possible (internet again), and cross my fingers. Mum will doubtless
worry,
but most likely, it will be tough and I will be fine.
We weren’t quite sure what awaited us out of
It was getting late but we felt we had just enough time to make it to
Pasaje
15km away. We rode fast, the near-sea level oxygen content helping
considerably
and we made it at dusk. Unfortunately Pasaje has not made it into the
Lonely
Planet despite its size. We were therefore somewhat blind and at the
mercy of
the hotel owner when we stopped – a seller’s
market. Whether he owns the only
hotel in Pasaje, I don’t know. He may well. Whatever he
wouldn’t budge on $10 a
person, a frankly extortionate amount and double what we paid in
Now for the good news, we rode 150km today and because of that we will
spend
tomorrow night in
The phones do indeed work here so I’ve had the first direct
contact with Mum
since I left – hopefully we’ll have plenty of
reception from here. The internet
remains cheap & fast.
I’m getting ahead of myself. We rode out of Pasaje this
morning in the rain – a
fine mist of drizzle that seemed to pick up all the spray from the road
and
cover us in it. We were filthy within minutes. The road itself
continued
through banana plantations until the rain stopped and the vegetation
changed to
a desert brush.
We reached the border at 70km to find the formalities were somewhat
optional.
Despite being 2 foot taller than average and riding bikes with yaks,
caked in
dirt, I am sure that we could have just ridden straight into
Tumbes was the first town to be conquered by Pizarro in
The ride to Mancora was rather dull. Flat desert with a road through it
does
not make for exciting cycling. There was little in the way of life for
60km
although holiday shacks indicated that at some time of year the
exceptional
beaches must attract holiday makers. A shame then that most of the
beaches are
covered in trash. At what level of GDP does society start clearing up
after
itself?
For quite a distance along this route I questioned why I was doing
this. Why
would you choose to cycle this road in the name of fun? Aside from the
“because
it’s there” answer, I found a better reason. We
arrived at a pay station (we do
not have to pay for the road) but next to it, joy of joys was a
beachside
restaurant. Good, very cheap food and incredible views of the ocean.
Our moods
changed almost instantly and it all became worthwhile. Had we been in a
bus, we
would most likely never have come here. If we had we wouldn’t
have enjoyed it
half as much.
Refuelled and with greater enthusiasm, we rode the final 30km to
Mancora.
Interestingly, at some point during the day, and at least 100km from
the border
we found the Peruvian customs post. What good it does I have no idea.
They just
waved us through.
Mancora is a little oasis of a backpacker centre. Apparently the waves
are very
good which accounts for its positioning – otherwise it could
easily be anywhere
else on the coast. It’s pretty cool here although the famous
wave is not
evident currently. We are in a very pleasant hostal, complete with
bamboo
thatching and hammocks (in which I am currently writing this). We met
some
Dutch girls and an English gap-year student who made for pleasant
dinnertime
company. Our trips are rather different but in many ways we have a lot
in
common and standard travellers’ conversation flows easily.
Five questions asked
of everyone: Name, age, where are you from? Where have you been and
where are
you going? Actually I don’t bother with the first two
– I’ll only forget the
name and the age is pretty easy to guess.
We spent a very relaxed second day in Mancora before heading out for an
easy
70km to Talara, a desert oil town on the coast. Beach and good food are
the
order of the day and we are in good spirits.
We’re in Talara. For the second night. Being that Talara is
not really what you
might call a resort town – it is an oil town in the desert,
something must have
gone wrong…
Will has finally succumbed to tummy trouble and so we can’t
ride for the day.
Talara has little to recommend it – it’s not
particularly bad, it is just that
as a tourist there is absolutely nothing to do. There are basically no
decent
restaurants and so we try our best shot and go to the swankiest hotel
in town,
- the one for all the oil business men, for our lunch. Lunch is OK but
comes
with one major benefit, we manage to lie by the pool in their quiet
garden for
more-or-less the whole afternoon.
I was pretty frustrated by our lack of progress in Talara. In fact we
are all
quite frustrated. I think – this is not a holiday, it is an
experience, an
expedition, call it what you will. It has had its enjoyable moments
thus far,
but there have been plenty of hardships to get them. At present we are
faced
with a thousand kilometres of desert between here and
I think Will is finding it hardest, not physically but mentally. He has
a
five-week chunk of time and probably didn’t envisage it being
quite like this.
He has never done anything remotely off the tourist trail before and I
feel he
resents being here. Though he was the one who decided to join us, I
feel partly
responsible. Andrew feels more so and there is a negative vibe amongst
us. Left
to our own devices we would travel differently and it is hard to
reconcile
these differences.
I expect however that in the long run, this will be a trip he looks
back on for
a long time and most likely, he will never do anything similar again.
Andrew “understands” the trip, and may have been
better prepared for it mentally
than I was. He spent 6 months in rural
It is ironic that I was frustrated by Will’s illness because
today it is me who
is ill and holding us back. Tomorrow we’ll be on the road
again, presumably
through more desert. We’ll pass some sort of a salt lake
which might break it
up a bit.
The truth is, I’m a little scared of what lies ahead,
especially as the near
future appears to have little of interest. I want to get back into the
Positives: I’m feeling better today, frequent texts from
Malin are great, we
have hot water here, Jesse may come out and ride with me, I’m
listening to Bach
and so the world can’t be too bad. Thank God for technology!
A lot has happened since my last entry and not much of it has been
cycling. We
did indeed ride into the desert for 110km and into a headwind. It
wasn’t
actually too bad for a while as there were some trees and farms. Normal
service
resumed after a while however as we knew it would. When we camped I
began to
feel unwell once more and after dinner I went straight to bed. The
major
symptom was initially a headache and eye pain but I soon became
feverish as
well.
In the morning I managed to drag my stuff together though really I just
wanted
to sleep. I knew I couldn’t, we had camped in the middle of
nowhere and needed
to press on to get food and water.
If riding 110km in a desert headwind is bad when one is well,
it is a lot
worse when you are running a temperature. I felt truly awful from 30km
and when
we reached the town of
(Appalling representation of rickshaw)
I’ll stick to writing… I was in bed for nearly 40
hours. Fortunately we had a
hot shower, and Mum & Malin were able to call me. It was pretty
miserable
however and I definitely need to avoid this when I am on my own. Not
necessarily possible, I know.
Our options became fewer & fewer. Obviously with the time left,
we need to
get a bus in order to reach
The bus was not an easy decision for me. I had intended to ride the
whole route
though without knowing quite why. After all, my major reason for
touring by
bicycle is because I enjoy it. If I am not enjoying a section it makes
sense to
skip it. The view from the bus window proved that I hadn’t
missed very much! Of
course I won’t have cycled a continuous route from
We are very wealthy here. Of course, we knew we would be but
occasionally it is
really brought home. A teacher’s salary for instance, is $200
a month. Life if
of course cheaper here, and we are quite comfortable on $200 a week
each. It is
pretty obvious though that a Peruvian teacher couldn’t
undertake a similar trip
within
I’m not sure what yet but the gods are smiling on us today.
The desert was not
so deserted, the topography had some contours, the sky was bluer and
the wind
cross & then tail. Best of all I’m writing this by a
swimming pool.
After a very pleasant and relatively rapid 60km from
Unfortunately, I do not have an accurate distance to Huaraz. A couple
of
websites suggested 149km, we will see. I am writing this in a tiny
road-side
stall where I bought a bottle of Coca-cola. Other than the friendly
proprietor
and his toddler daughter, I am alone.
Yesterday, the three of us rode 70km from Casma before camping at a
beautiful
spot by a stream. The ride was long & hard and took us all day.
It was also
very hot and Andrew developed some kind of heatstroke. He felt rough
all night
and predictably didn’t really feel that a 2500m climb would
make him feel any
better. William decided to join him in taking a bus. I hope that this
enterprise is going OK because today, I have ridden 30km and they
haven’t come
past yet! I’ve met some nice people today, the guy here, a
lady who came to
chat while I rested by the roadside. The conversations are somewhat
limited by
my poor Spanish and non-existent Quechua but they are nice to have
non-the-less. Some teenage girls threw stones at me which was less
pleasant,
fortunately their aim was poor and they are now the proud possessors of
a new
English vocabulary.
Apparently it is 1.5 hours from here to the pass by bus, how long I
will take
is anyone’s guess. From there it is 30km downhill to Huaraz.
I’m currently at
3000m and the pass is at 4200m so there is still plenty of climbing to
be done!
Well, I made it! I am camped overlooking the Cordellira Blanca, right
on the
top of the pass. In truth, I had the time to reach Huaraz, but I am
very tired
and the view from here is phenomenal – I worked hard to get
here (very hard!)
and I want to enjoy it. Tomorrow, the sun will rise over the mountains
and I
will have a 30km descent into Huaraz.
The only worrying thing is that I didn’t get passed by Andrew
& William on
the road. Only about 5 cars/buses overtook me and they
weren’t in them.
Mid-afternoon, 2 vans offered me lifts and so presumably, they could
have
hitched with one of those. It’s possible that since nothing
came up the road
all morning, they decided to cut their losses and head back to Casma. I
hope I
have a message when I have a phone signal and I hope that they are OK.
Sometimes it is easier just to look after yourself. Today, I rode at my
own
pace, stopped when I wanted, and when I wanted to camp I could. I
suspect that
the Dunns would have wanted to be in Huaraz. My view is that this is a
spot I
will remember forever, a budget room in Huaraz, though more
comfortable,
wouldn’t be.
I am absolutely alone right now and thoughts inevitably turn to what
everyone
is doing. Malin is presumably asleep in her new flat. Hopefully she
& Ali
are getting along well, I think they will. Im will be at home with the
new
boiler. Mum is on her French course and Dad, I think is in
One negative, my Yak broke today – I’ll have to
find a welder tomorrow. Spanish
for weld anyone?
To weld is “soldar”, so not too difficult at all.
The descent was all it
promised to be and fortunately the Dunns had managed to reach Huaraz
via 2
buses. The second involved Andy sitting on the stairwell next to a
goat, trying
not to be violently sick!
I very much enjoyed Huaraz, a kind of Peruvian Chamonix, The mountains
are
omnipresent and we stayed in probably our best hotel yet. Not pricey,
but clean
with good, hot showers and a great terrace for breakfast. They are also
affiliated (by means of being brothers) with the mountain bike guide in
the
area. His workshop is in the building.
It’s a cycle friendly place and an American yoga teacher who
practically lives
there, was extremely helpful in route planning and Yak-fixing. The
welding done
by Hector, her friend is first-class, almost invisible and he also
re-sprayed the
trailer. Hopefully it will be as strong as it looks!
The possibility of some single-track in the Cordellira Blanca was too
good to
miss and the second day we hired Julio Olaza to guide us. It was some
of the
best riding I’ve ever done, with hundreds & hundreds
of trails just waiting
for mountain bikes. Our loop over varied terrain gave us some fabulous
views
and the riding itself was as good as anything the Welsh purpose built
trails
had to offer. It easy to see how you could spend years here and hardly
repeat
the same trail, exactly what Julio has done.
All good things must come to an end, and we must keep heading south.
The
repaired Yak was therefore pressed back into action and today I rode up
the
valley towards the pass to
I am on my own again as the Dunns’ are off to
Tomorrow or the next day I’ll be in
The ride down from the pass to Barranca was initially a great deal of
fun. Once
I had reached the top of the climb (more stupendous views, this time
with
llamas), I waved goodbye to the Cordillera Blanca and whistled
downwards at
50kph for a whole hour. At the end of this hour I met a Dutch couple
coming the
other way and naturally we swapped stories of cycle touring. They fall
into the
“sold everything, no deadlines, world tour”
category. They had started in
By now the Dutch will be in Huaraz having had an excellent ride down
the
valley. The second half of my day by contrast, though also downhill,
was rather
dull as I re-entered the desert and, of course, a headwind.
I reached Barranca easily enough and decided that if possible, it would
be
vastly preferable to be in
I enjoyed
Nasca was interesting. We took a flight and saw the lines, possibly
used as a
form of ceremony to the gods to plead for rain. Easy to see why this
was so
precious to them surrounded by desert. The animal figures are
impressive but
smaller than I imagined. Perhaps more remarkable still are the huge
variety of
straight lines in the desert connecting various points. It is a sad
reflection
of today’s Peru that the panamericana runs straight through
the lizard – they
seem incapable of managing even what has been handed down to them by
their
ancestors.
Again and again, we find that if only they really understood what
westerners
want when they are on holiday, they could charge a premium and make
some money.
Mealtimes are particularly galling. We ask for fried eggs and tea and
are
happily delivered scrambled & coffee. It is not our inability
to speak good
Spanish! They just don’t care about service.
Today we are camped at the school in Hualhua, not a town you will have
heard
of, comprising, as it does of seven shacks and a donkey. They are
friendly
however and can sell us water which is all we need. For some reason,
the kids
are not at school this week. The town marks the midpoint of another big
climb;
tomorrow we will reach a pass at 4400m, the highest yet. Apparently
there may
be snow up there though I suspect we will be able to get across. Our
road is
paved and has regular, if infrequent bus and lorry traffic. The sunset
is
great, I’m off to take a photo.
Interestingly and rather against all expectations, shortly after dusk
an
Australian couple rolled in in a camper van. We were to say the least a
little
surprised! They were excellent company over dinner and achieved number
1 trail
magic marks by sharing a bottle of wine with us. A most pleasant
evening in
rather unlikely circumstances.
We woke to the sounds of a donkey being strangled. Actually it was
unharmed;
maybe it was practising for strangulation. It certainly sounded absurd.
We
were, once again surrounded by the village children who were fascinated
by us
and all we had with us.
Once we had packed up, ensuring that nothing went astray except the
empty water
bottles that the children seemed especially keen on, we continued up
the hill.
That, pretty much is the story of the day. We are once again
surrounded, this
time by adults in a vicuña reserve. Ten guys wearing cowboy
hats are counting
our gears. Our bikes are worth $300 we say. They soon realise that we
are not
that interesting, presumably partly because we are wrapped up in
sleeping bags
against the cold. It is 4000m here and bitter, doubtless
it’ll worsen as the
sun sets.
Vicuñas are much smaller than llamas and much prettier, with
big brown eyes.
They are everywhere here, roaming the hillsides. One appears to be a
pet in the
sanctuary compound. Apparently they are endangered in most other areas
so it is
good to be able to see so many. They are almost deer-like in their
movement,
very graceful.
We, on the other hand are not so graceful, and, as Andrew put it, are
buggered.
Not literally you’ll understand. It has been a hefty two days
of riding and
thinking about it, a sizeable nine days in total for me. The altitude
of course
takes it out of you. Tomorrow, with luck, some downhill and a shower in
Puquio.
Puquio did provide a warm shower and perhaps a little too much downhill
given
the fact that we know we’ll be going back up it again. It
didn’t provide much
else, the first restaurant we tried for our late lunch
couldn’t provide a
veggie option, not even a tortilla de verdures, the usual staple.
Fortunately
we located a chifa (Peruvian Chinese) place and were able to have a
huge arroz
chaufa, excellent bike food. Lucky I got this as the pizzeria we had
spied out
for dinner had run out of pizza and I had to make do with some
sandwiches. The
perils of vegetarianism! In general I think I’ve done pretty
well so far
although the next meal is always a concern. We need good food like a
car needs
petrol. When we can’t eat out, we have been able to get pasta
and occasionally
super noodles to cook. Our absolute staple are Oreo cookies which are
easy to
find and we use like the granola bars on the Great Divide trip. Luxury
is a
Snickers, this trip’s equivalent of a power bar and worth
several packs of
Oreos in my book.
As I write this I am in a tent in the middle of nowhere. It is snowing
quite
hard and the altiplano has been covered in white. I pity the poor
llamas and
vicuñas we have passed, but I guess they’re used
to it. We had expected a 25km,
800m climb out of Puquio and it shouldn’t come as any
surprise to find that we
were wrong. It was 47km and over 1000m until we reached the altiplano.
Even
from there we climbed a further 200m over rolling terrain. We would
like to
have ridden further in our bid to reach
I neglected to mention the Irish chap we met last night, travelling
with his
Spanish girlfriend. We saw their BMW touring motorcycle at our hotel
and, as
you can when staying in Puquio, just banged on their door and suggested
dinner
together. They (especially he) were a lot of fun and it was interesting
to
compare our methods of travelling. They, for instance will be in
19/09/05 20/09/05: Down to Abancay
All in all, an excellent couple of days riding. We were aided
by the
150km we have ridden down a river valley since coming off the
altiplano, magic
gradient most of the way and something of a reward for all the climbing
we have
done.
The first day in particular was a really good ride through very varied
terrain.
Initially really cold, I was riding in most of my clothes, then as the
sun came
out and we descended, it warmed up considerably. The scenery was
incredible, we
had photo opportunities around every corner, from the alpacas on the
altiplano
to weird rock formations in our river valley. Best of all we have been
three
days from Puquio rather than a possible four, putting us a day closer
to our
relaxing week in
It was indeed one hell of a climb out of Abancay but we made it to the
top
before
We descended, and then just kept on going down. This was great from a
distance
perspective, we reached 100km with ease, putting us just 96km from
It was around
Once again, the map was wildly inaccurate. Our pass, stated as being
4100m
high, was in fact at 3600m. Of course, this is the right sort of error
so we
weren’t so upset! From here, it really was plain sailing, a
very shallow descent
around a gently sloping bowl-shaped valley and a short ascent back to
3600m
before the final stretch into
I am currently in a lovely colonial courtyard in Niños
hotel, fountain in the
centre and well-rested after a day of eating and doing odd jobs. I am
wearing
clean clothes.
Somehow, after having eaten and drunk in the tiniest shacks in the
tiniest
villages between Nasca and
On our first day, we were impressively productive, managing to organise
hotels
for our sacred valley tour, a Machu Picchu trip, new books and Lonely
Planets,
e mails left right and centre, big photo upload, the list goes on. We
also ate
a lot. On the second day we paid a somewhat extotionate70 soles for the
Cusco
Boleto Touristico which allows entry to various tourist destinations
only to
find it didn’t include the cathedral. That was an extra 15
soles, but included
guide. Ours apparently spoke English, though the only phrases that we
could
decipher were “18 to 24 carat go…old”
applied to anything with a gilt
appearance and the somewhat ironic “I speak very slowly so
you understand”. We
resisted the temptation to point out that we would understand English
at
whatever speed, being, in fact native English speakers! He reminded us
of
Umberto Eco’s character Salvatore who speaks at once in
“all languages and
none”. It was, as Andrew said, simultaneously the most
entertaining and worst
tour he’d ever been on.
Unfortunately we woke on the third day for our ride to Pisac with
Andrew’s
stomach playing up. Fortunately, a largely downhill 32km is not too
taxing
regardless of your state of health and the riding wasn’t a
major problem though
sadly I don’t think he was really able to appreciate some of
the Inca sites we
passed. We were also unable to carry out our plan of riding up to Inca
Pisac
that afternoon, settling instead for a taxi the next morning. It was
market day
in Pisac, which was fun although for the stall holders trying to sell
us rugs
and pots, a little unproductive. We also ate well at Ulrike’s
café. This leads
me to the observation that businesses run be ex-pats are inevitably
better run
than their Peruvian counterparts and certainly a great deal better at
appealing
to westerners. But then also to the inevitable follow-up -
why do they
want to live and run a business in Pisac? I can’t really
comprehend this; maybe
it has to do with the fact that most of them are Dutch.
The next morning, I very much enjoyed our visit to Inca Pisac, a large
fortress
600m above the valley. It is a spectacular site with some fine
terracing and
stone-work. Most importantly, it is nearly empty and one can just
wander
around, free to go anywhere.
A pleasant 40km down the Urabamba to, in fact, Urabamba, was broken up
by
meeting the same Dutch guys that we met in Huaraz. It was interesting
to hear
of their experiences taking the dirt roads and high passes into the
middle of
nowhere but also having to catch an aeroplane from
This is the place that Jigga stayed on her
As if the gods knew that we had been relaxing too much, they threw a
rather
larger hill at us than we had anticipated. Rather than a short, sharp,
up the
edge of the valley climb, we got 30km of up. It was fine really and
would not
have been a hard day if we had been expecting it – the
surprises are always the
nastiest climbs. We met the Dutch guys again, it turns out that they
are booked
into Hostal los Niños as well, so we arranged to go for
dinner. We rode for
four hours without a break which probably explains why I felt as tired
arriving
in Cusco following the gentle Sacred Valley tour as when I rode in on
the same road
after eight days of serious climbing! At least this time we knew where
everything was and headed to the Blueberry Lounge for one of their
excellent
sandwiches.
If I’m honest, I wasn’t as blown away by Machu
Picchu as everyone else appears
to be the last time I visited. Maybe it is travelling there by train,
maybe it
is the whole package tourist experience – there
isn’t really any other way. The
Inca Trail doesn’t really appeal either, shared as it is with
500 others each
day, camping in the same spots as them each night with your guide and
porters.
This is adventure tourism for middle aged Americans. To be frank again,
this
time was no different. The place is undeniably impressive, doubtless
more so if
you’ve walked there and arrive at dawn, but it
isn’t that much more impressive
than Pisac, where you can wander to your heart’s content, or
in Andrew’s case,
climb (see photo).
£100 is a lot of money in
The train journey home deserves a mention. This time (feeling wealthy
having
worked for a year) I decided to take the
“Vistadome” train for an extra $30 as
it was more comfortable and got back two hours earlier. An added, and
unpublicised benefit was that the stewards, one male & one
female were
transformed midway home into models of alpaca-wear. The aisle became a
runway
and elevator music gave way to Kylie and the Bee Gees. Half-an-hour of
this
amusement, followed by a further hour of watching the American ladies
around us
buy the stuff (having inexplicably asked “what brand is
it?”) was well worth
the extra fare.
I am writing in Andahuaylillas, 40km south of
Today’s ride was the easiest yet, magic gradient downhill
with a following
breeze and only 40km. Near the end, we passed pre-Inca Pillakta which
shows
where the Incas got their stonework skills from. Other discoveries in
Andahuaylillas include the fact that the red tap in the shower delivers
ice-cold water whereas the blue one provides water which, though not
cold, is
enough below body temperature to make for a rather unsatisfying
experience.
As usual, just when you think you’re up to date, something
else comes along.
This time in the form of a native Columbian lady who is temporarily
running the
hotel. As well as being s vegan and “qualified”
alternative healer, she recites
Native American poetry, speaks good English, is learning Quechua and
has lived
throughout
The following day, after our breakfast of a kind of mixed grain and
banana
porridge (prepared by the mystic – apparently this is all she
eats), we were on
the road again. Despite the uphill, once again we made excellent time
to
Sicuari; a rather uneventful day though the destination was
quite
pleasant from Peruvian small-town standards. Undoubtedly the nicest
place
between
The only obstacle we could see between us and Titicaca was the 4300m
Abra la
Raya. Even that, we expected to be rather mellow. We rode most of the
gentle
incline (the road is alongside a river and railway after all!) with a
Sicuanian
for company. Actually Andrew did most of the talking – I find
it rather hard to
cycle uphill and talk at the same time. Besides, mystic woman is still
worrying
me.
Who better to allay these fears than some cycle tourists?
That’s exactly who we
found at the pass, two Argentines and a Spaniard doing the exact
reverse of our
route. One had loved Bolivia, the others didn’t. More
conflicting opinion even
from those who had shared the same experiences.
To get back to
Back at Abra la Raya, the Argentines informed us that there were four
more
English cyclists just ten minutes ahead of us. Of course we had to
catch them,
a task which turned out to be rather easy. Not only were they on day 3
(2?) of
their tour and getting used to the bikes and the altitude, they also
had an
extraordinary amount of stuff. These guys hadn’t just packed
the kitchen sink,
they’d packed juggling balls. Nevertheless, the ride was easy
and we were more
than happy to have some company to Ayaviri, a town that displayed all
of
It is interesting that this road should be so popular with cyclists.
Its chief
benefits are that it is between two major tourist draws and that it is
essentially flat. Of course that could also be viewed as a negative.
For us, it
didn’t hold a candle to Nasca –
Once again, the riding was slightly dull, though improved by the stiff
tailwind. Only two memories stand out, the sting-in-the-tail of a 200m
climb
before Puno, and meeting Swiss tandem tourers coming the other way.
Titicaca itself was initially a let down as well since where the road
came alongside
the “lake” as it appears on the map, the only view
we had was of a cow on a
mudflat. Fortunately, it has turned out that the lake is not totally
empty and
there is plenty of water elsewhere, you just have to know where to
look.
For some reason, between Puno and Juliaca and further along the road to
Bolivia, we encountered the worst traffic of the trip. Basically the
drivers
appear not to be able to see us and just drive two abreast in our lane.
Puno on the other hand was quite pleasant and we took a fun half-day
trip to
the floating islands amongst the reeds on the lake. Touristy, but quite
unlike
anything anywhere else. Leaving Puno, we decided to break the ride to
What a contrast then to arrive in Copacabana, not quite as fine a
setting (or
temperature) as its namesake but very nice nonetheless. The hotel was
cheap and
excellent, the internet rather pricey. In fact everything here is
cheaper than
even
Anyway, I am 3-0 in the Scrabble series much to Andrew’s
disgust. Unfortunately,
our hotel in Copacabana didn’t have Scrabble, it did however
have Chess, a game
neither of us has played for at least 10 years. Final score 2-1 to me!
Undisputed board game champion.
There are two other things to mention about Copacabana, firstly that it
is the
home of the Bolivian navy. Possibly the second most fearsome force on
The second thing to mention is Isla del Sol. we took a touristy trip to
this
island which, with its spectacular cliffs and blue water was not
dissimilar to
an Aegean island. The only things missing were the olive trees and
cicadas. The
oxygen was rarer too. We were on the full day tour which meant a boat
trip to
one end and a 2-3 hour walk at the other. Andrew and I were blown away
by the
scenery which, spectacular in its own right, was even more so as it was
so
different from everything we had experienced to this point.
I am a little behind in my diarizing and have been since
A café is a nice place to come and sit alone. It is
certainly preferable to a
hotel room and whilst I will clearly be eating alone for some time now,
this is
more out of necessity than choice. Restaurants aren’t good
for single people.
Cafés for some reason seem right. I can sit, sip and write
in a pleasant
environment, nice music, good smells and with good opportunities for
people
watching. There will be more of this!
Back to the story; Andrew’s final couple of days were a
fitting send-off.
Sunday 9th was utterly unproductive; we tried
but we were thwarted
by the fact that everything was closed. I was however able to find a
barber’s
(on a street of at least 20 barbers’ shops) and indulged in a
haircut, beard
removal including proper cutthroat shave and general follicular
pampering. Only
the moustache remained and I took that off this morning. I look normal
again!
In marked contrast Monday and Tuesday were fully occupied by two trips
with
Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking, an Aussie-run company organising
downhill
trips around
Sensational on the other hand is exactly the word to describe the
single-track
trip. A real eye opener as to the possibilities on a mountain bike,
particularly one with lots of suspension. The highlight for all was our
final
run, a route down and along some of the most incredible rock formations
I’d
ever seen, let alone ridden. The photos will have to do the talking as
it was
almost indescribable – the memories are there in our minds
however and I will
be doing some more of this some day!
I went for lunch with the four English guys/gals which was a very nice
contrast
to the sense of isolation that I felt with Andrew gone. We spent some
time
going over routes and I am pleased to say that they came round to my
way of thinking!
We have to wait a day for Phil’s wheel to be rebuilt, but the
good company is
certainly worth the wait. When you know you have plenty of time it is
surprising how long you can spend without accomplishing terribly much.
So it is that I can leave this entry here – two days bumming
around the
altiplano doesn’t need much to be said.
We’re currently camped on what must have been a lake bed some
time ago. The
landscape is slowly becoming even flatter and watercourses and lakebeds
are dry
and caked in salt, an indication of what is to come.
The ride from
This is our second night of camping, broken by a stay in a hostel in
It turns out that the thunder did pass but the rain turned to hail. My
bathtub
floor proved waterproof but had the strange effect of becoming a
waterbed. The
pots that had been left outside overnight revealed that over an inch of
rain
had fallen, most of it within half an hour.
For me, riding has been pretty easy recently, particularly as I am much
faster
than the others on the bumpy dirt roads. It has been a flat ride with
only the
washboard and gravel to slow us down. Because the others are struggling
a
little, distances have been pretty low. It has been much less taxing
than most
days on the Divide and has reminded me of that ride frequently.
I have certainly enjoyed the “outdoors” element, we
have camped almost
exclusively (part choice, part necessity) which is something that I
missed
earlier in the trip. Much of the landscape has been very similar, flat
altiplano but punctuated with some incredible vistas with salty stream
beds,
llamas and rock formations. The highlights have undoubtedly been the
evenings;
as the sun sets, there are amazing colours in all directions such that
we have
difficulty knowing where to look.
A few difficulties arose around Huari and Quillacas with respect to
route-finding, mainly due to the map being utterly incorrect.
Nevertheless we
found our way to Santurio de Quillacas (confusing enough in itself,
especially
when there in a Santiago de Huari as well.) and the true road to
Quillacas. How
one can have two pairs of towns with the same names in the same place I
can’t
imagine. Daft!
We’ve made it to Incahuasi, a cactus-laden island in the
middle of the Salar.
This place is quite incredible but it did take some getting to! We had
a
headwind all the way across the (rather bumpier than expected) salt and
speeds
were down to around 12kph, rather less for the others. I arrived at
around
Juggling balls are non-essential items.
The free refuge here is open only to independent travellers, mainly
cyclists
and is a warm room built into the rock with a big window over the Salar
–
exceptional. The restaurant is good and makes a great change from
typical
Bolivian fare. All-in-all an almost perfect stop-over. It’s
all terribly
photogenic and I’m pleased I bought a big memory card!
Whereas the day before was a battle against wind and bumps, yesterday
was
probably the perfect day on the Salar. We decided, mainly because three
out of
the five of us were knackered, to ride only 40km and to camp on the
salt. This
allowed a leisurely morning on lovely Incahuasi, eating well and taking
yet
more photos. All this before the tourists arrived in their jeeps.
A lady called Vicky is warden on the island and is one of those rare
things – a
Bolivian conservationist. She has done really well here, the tourist
complex is
small and non-intrusive and there are well-marked trails around the
cactus
forests. Tour groups are only permitted to lunch and all cars stay on
the salt.
Since there will only be a limited number of cyclists, we are not
considered a
major environmental burden and can stay – perfect!
Yesterday’s ride was also perfect. Clear blue sky, white
(creamy!) salt, gentle
following breeze, flat surface and no time pressure. We camped in the
middle of
nowhere. The temperature palpably dropped the moment the sun set, and
it kept
falling. We all stayed outside in sleeping bags to watch the stars and
to wait
for the ¾ moon to rise. All quite spectacular but very cold!
The experience was
worth it however and I still have all my toes, so no lasting damage.
Tonight
will be spent indoors in Uyuni and there, for the first time in a week
I can
shower! Smelly.
For the second time in ten days, I said goodbye to friends today.
Laura,
Kirsty, Phil and Tom have been excellent company from
I will miss Laura the most. She and I were outsiders when the others
talked
about caving which is how they all know each other, and we also seemed
to be
the two who either complained less or suffered less on the bumpy roads.
The
constant complaints wound us both up as it really isn’t that
bad and, after
all, we all knew what we were letting ourselves in for! Hopefully I can
persuade her to come mountain biking when we are next up in the Peaks
or Lakes
–Malin has always wanted another girl to ride with.
Today’s ride was pretty straightforward although 25km longer
than expected. I
had a strong following wind which helped and just rode steadily at
20kph until
I reached Atocha, on the surface a really nice little mining town
– I’ll check
it out more later. Riding alone is certainly quicker than riding even
with
someone of equal speed and, barring roadblocks, I can see no reason not
to
reach
Famous last words! I am currently camped next to a railway line
somewhere
between Atocha and Tupiza. Not content with riding across the Salar,
today I
decided to add some real adventure to the trip.
I enjoyed my night in Atocha very much. Everyone was friendly; I ate at
street
stalls for dinner and breakfast and generally enjoyed the
town’s relaxed vibe.
Leaving apparently meant riding up a semi-dry river bed, sadly not
quite dry
enough and it went on and on and up and up. I struggled to make 10kph.
At some
point however I must have gone wrong because, after cresting a 4200m
pass and
going down the other side, I arrived at Tatasi, a town which according
to my
map is not on any road! I had been taking the largest track all day and
there
really didn’t seem to have been an alternative! Dead end.
Back over the pass
and, since I couldn’t find another road and the locals
suggested it, I set off
down the railway line.
There are some good things about riding along a railway, notably in
this case,
the fact that if I follow it far enough, I will arrive at
Tupiza… It is also
rather bumpy, has tunnels, bridges and of course trains. Actually I
think that
trains are the least of my worries as they travel incredibly slowly.
Still,
there are more than enough other obstacles to contend with. Apparently
it is
50km to Tupiza (it was 100km this morning and I’ve ridden
75km – damn!) so it
should be achievable tomorrow. Fingers crossed because I
can’t wait for the
paved roads in
Tupiza feels like heaven! I cycled a further 50 odd kilometres along my
railway
this morning and to tell the truth, I feel I’ve now done
cycling along railway
lines. The scenery was impressively wild-west, by far the closest
approximation
I’ve seen outside the
I am now ensconced in a very nice room ( three beds) with shower for
about £3.
Luxury is cheap in
Well it’s funny how things work out, I was tired and decided
to stay in Abra Pampa,
discovered that there were no rooms, and ended up riding another 85km
to
Humahuaca. The Quebrada de Humahuaca was not as impressive as
I’d hoped; some
colourful rocks but generally as dry and desolate as everything else in
the
past month or so. Approaching
It’s been a funny day. If, at
Yesterday, I rode from Cafayate, a pretty (probably the prettiest yet)
wine
town, white buildings, plush vineyards and clearly some money. I rode
south on
Ruta 40, the big red line on my map, and all of a sudden it turned to
dirt. Now
this section only lasted 5km (why?!) but it raised the possibility that
there’d
be more. Tourist information told me that it was unpaved all the way to
Belen,
160km away – fortunately they were wrong as the first 90km
were nicely paved.
Then dirt again! In order to relieve the boredom of yet more scrubby
desert, I
listen to my mp3 player which, occasionally on this trip has been an
absolute godsend
– this was one of those days, 120km and unsure what the road
was like. This
time Werther kept me company.
10km into the dirt and with 100km under my belt, I happened upon a bar
(the
only one in 100km) and it happened to be open. A bottle of coke and a
surprising number of unrequested glasses of beer later, I rolled out
the door
with 20km to cycle, a promise to send a post card from
I’m safely in a hostel in Hualfin, so no worries there and it
must be said that
that two hour “conversation” in Spanish made my
day. Just as things were
getting on top of me (the road), something happens to make it all
worthwhile.
They don’t know why this section of road is unpaved by the
way, and think that
since vast wealth gets dug out of the ground just there in the form of
copper
and gold, it ought to be.
These days are beginning to merge into one now. I’ve been
riding some big
distances through desert, mostly on pavement, but from time to time,
some dirt
is thrown in, usually on a “Cuesta”, which seems to
indicate a hill.
Fortunately, these cuestas do break up the monotony of the desert
straight
roads, and tend to follow spectacular gorges up and over the mountain
ridges.
In this way I have already begun my journey westwards and back over the
I’m now sitting in a café in
Anyway, finally arriving at
This stroke of luck made my mind up on whether to stay for a day in
I think that I was more tired than I imagined because my ride from
The chances to rest and cool down are a godsend given that temperatures
are now
over 40۫
C at times.
I had another day off in
It is a little warmer here in
I’ve now left
My first day out of
There was a breeze the next day too. More of a gale really and straight
at my
face. I had left the exceptionally nice camp at Uspallata (shaded by
poplars,
views of snow-capped peaks and a Dutch/English couple who gave me
beer!) rather
later than hoped and was on several occasions blown right off the
bike.
Progress was slow, half the speed of the day before but I reminded
myself that
this was nothing compared with Shackleton’s experiences!
The spectacular views helped of course and tired, but not unhappy, I
reached
the ski town of
Well the headwind persisted but the 20km to the tunnel were so
spectacular that
it barely mattered. Right in between a series of 6000m peaks with snow
all
around and occasional glimpses of
They put me in a pickup to get through the tunnel; I think it is rather
good
that they drive your bike across for free and everyone else has to pay!
The Chilean side was, if possible, even more spectacular with huge
waterfalls
cascading down the cliffs. Anywhere else, just one of them would have
warranted
a tourist attraction, here they just lined the roadside. Gradually the
snow
gave way to verdant river valleys and the temperature went from very
cold to
very hot. I am fortunate to have found a campground right by the turn
off to
The ride from Los Andes to
Happy House Hostel deserves a mention as probably the nicest place
I’d stayed
so far. Other than that, once the excitement of familiarity wore off,
there
wasn’t much to do. I went up the nearby hill by funicular and
then remembered
the one thing that I really had intended to do in
This is something that I’ve been thinking about for a while
and though it
didn’t seem sensible proposing and then disappearing on a
five month bicycle
trip, to do it when Malin comes out in a couple of months seems right.
I hope
she thinks so too! I also wondered whether I needed a ring, but I think
that if
one is to be romantic at any time then proposing is that time; it
wouldn’t seem
right without a ring.
As I’ve discovered, decent jewellers aren’t
two-a-penny in
The ride to
What I should have done before getting on the bus was to check the
weather-forecast. In
I wanted to ride a loop through Park Nationals Conguillo and
Villarrica
which would take around 5-6 days and put me in Villarrica with a couple
of days
to spare before seeing Malin. Maybe I could do some kayaking, or climb
the
volcano.
In the event, I rode one day in the pouring, constant rain to Cunco and
ended
up with everything drenched. It was obvious that to continue like this
would
not only be miserable, it would be profitless too. It is impossible to
see
anything with the rain like this, so I might as well be riding in
I sat out the rain in Torres Suiza Hostel, run by a rather odd Swiss
couple of
ex-cycle tourists. It wasn’t a perfect place but pleasant
enough and cheap. I
had four days where I did nothing but read and hope the rain cleared.
One
evening we took a trip to some thermal baths. Much needed relaxation
this far
down the “long and winding road”.
My two days of exercise involved a nice bike ride sans Yak and a trip
to climb
the volcano. This was a great experience and a real change from the
rest of the
trip. In reality, despite the snow which covered the whole route, this
was a
long, hard walk. We started at 1400m, grabbed an ice-axe and donned our
crampons. Quite an experience, especially as this is an active volcano.
The
sulphur fumes at the top choke when you take a deep breath and the wind
is in
the wrong direction. On the return, we slid most of the way on our
bottoms,
ice-axe for control. Needless to say, getting down was faster than
going up. I
don’t think I’ll be taking up mountaineering any
time soon, it is a bit too
much trudging up, walking line-astern. Of course, the really exciting
stuff is
rather dangerous too. On the other hand, as a one-off, this was great.
After not nearly enough rest following the climb, I packed my stuff up
and
today rode to Panguipulli. Yesterday’s weather was good, the
volcano was
cloud-free but cloud blocked much of the view. Today’s
weather was even better
and I could enjoy looking up at yesterday’s summit as I rode
round the base. I
could see two other volcanoes as well and managed to include four lakes
on my
ride as well. The lake-district is beginning to live up to its billing.
One nice feature of staying put for a while is that you meet people. I
spent
the time with two adventure-racing Brazilians, a Swiss girl and her
son, two
Swiss travelling by car, a
Well it’s all change again, I had the sun for the first time
in a while for my
trip from Villarrica. The whole area is quite different seen in this
light!
Beautiful blue lakes reflecting the sky and a series of perfect conical
volcanoes, including the one I’d just been up. I stayed at
Panguipulli having
taken a longer, more scenic route to get there. It was one of my
favourite
towns so far (perhaps helped by the weather). Great views of lake and
volcano,
making the most of its setting unlike Villarrica. I had an excellent
lasagne in
a tiny Italian place which also added to the good memories.
The next day couldn’t really hope to live up to the three
lakes and four
volcanoes of the day before but it was an excellent route to get into
All very exciting and now we have even more to talk about. We were
already
discussing where to live, where to work, PhD or no PhD, house-buying
etc. Now
we have wedding: where? When? Who to invite? And a whole host of
others.
The weather has been mixed since leaving Valdivia, sometimes rain,
sometimes
sun, mostly cloud and sometimes all three at once. Fortunately the
rain-showers
are short-lived and we have often been able to shelter at a bus stop
for the
worst. Malin can her gear (i.e. the things I don’t already
have) in two
panniers and we are quite evenly matched in terms of speed like this.
In La
Union we stayed in a huge Germanic hotel; the next night in Entre Lagos
we had
a beautiful view from a cabin by the lake.
This was a memorable spot after the fairly mundane couple of days to
get
there. Since they didn’t have a free room, they
gave us a cut-price rate
on a big cabin which could have slept eight. Dinner was also excellent
at a
restaurant with a lake view. Today the sun is shining and we are back
in the
lakes proper- much more interesting than the flat farmland and
eucalyptus
plantations by the coast.
We rode out from Entre Lagos under some clear blue sky, a little sorry
to say
goodbye to our beautiful lakeside cabin. Breakfast was pretty good too!
Fortunately Lago Rupanco was also pretty though we only got a passing
glimpse.
The majority of the day was farmland, made more interesting by the many
ibis
and other birds in the wet grass. Approaching Lago Llanquihue (?) the
clouds
had rolled in which was a pity, as Volcan Osorno had its top half
hidden. Never
mind, there are plenty more volcanoes to come.
We stopped in Las Cascadas at another excellent, yet very different
accommodation option. This time it was rustic simplicity to follow up
the
fading grandeur of the hotel and beautiful setting of the cabin. There
was a
garden full of flowers, a vegetable garden, chickens, puppies and a
very
friendly hostess. At breakfast in Entre Lagos, the owner had boasted
that all
the food was grown locally (with the exception of the tea). This
hostess went
one better, it was all from her garden. By this time it was raining
again and
very cold in the absence of any heating; we were delighted then with
our
super-thick duvet which must have had a tog rating of about 50!
Another great breakfast, this time with enough toast to feed an army
and we set
off. We were fortunate to have only drizzle for the first
section, a dirt
road to
Then it rained again. We should have expected it really since it has
rained
every day so far but Malin in particular was unimpressed and felt that
it oughtn’t
to have done. It carried on raining for most of our stay in Puerto
Varas so we
haven’t much of an opinion on it but it is a glitzy resort
town, complete with
casinos and unimpressive hostals, one of which we found ourselves in.
To make
it worse, we were sharing a kitchen with Israelis who generally
aren’t good
people to share anything with. In reality, it wasn’t all that
bad, just not as
good as we were used to – a sure sign we were back on the
tourist trail.
Twenty dull kilometres later and we’re in Puerto Montt to
sort everything out.
We need to organise ferries, decide whether to go to
It was a shame to leave our comfortable hotel for a night on a ferry,
especially after paying £20 for it, quite a bit round here,
but Puerto Montt
had very little going for it and the Carretera Austral had quite a lot.
Malin in particular took an instant dislike to Puerto Montt. The
combination of
being a port town and an occasional cruise ship stop over whilst at the
same
time providing land transport in all directions gives it that
unpleasant air
that frontier towns and ports share. For my part, I didn’t
mind it so much;
I’ve been in far worse places in the last four months.
Anyway, the boat was an experience in itself. Perhaps to aid
access to
the lifejackets, most of the seats were missing and most of those that
weren’t
had been claimed. Still, we found ourselves a little corner for the
night and
watched an odd mix of travellers, locals and truckers before crawling
into
sleeping bags for some fitful sleep. Fortunately, arrival in Chaiten
proved
we’d made the right decision. It was tiny and very pretty.
Everything, air
included, felt clean and fresh although a little damp. It rains a lot
here.
Our plan was to ride north for a day into Park Pumalin, spend a day
there and
then to ride south back through Chaiten and off down the Carretera
Austral.
Pumalin is a huge private conservation initiative owned by Douglas
Tomkins, a
We enjoyed a beautiful, solitary camp by a lake, walked to see the
Alerces,
rare, old and very tall trees; then we took a longer walk, more of a
climb to
several of the most impressive waterfalls I’ve ever seen. So
much water because
it rains so much, yet today it was clear blue sky and blazing sunshine.
Lucky
us! Malin wants to point out that she crossed several extremely scary
bridges
all by herself… I just thought they were nicely done and
imaginative ways to
cross some streams.
We moved camp for our second night in order to avoid the long trail
that lead
down to our lakeside. It wasn’t as pretty but it was still
rather nice and a
great deal more convenient. The blue sky remained for our ride back to
Chaiten,
revealing a spectacularly pointed volcano which we’d
completely missed in the
cloud of the first day. It was one off those sights that stops you in
your
tracks; I’ve had quite a number on this trip but
they’re coming thick and fast
at the moment.
One thing we never encountered was the “very difficult,
heavy” terrain which
some Italians we’d met on the first day assured us would be a
taxing ride.
Malin thinks that they’re Bianchi road riders at home and
I’m inclined to
agree. As dirt roads go, this one scores 9/10 for easy riding in my
book. A
good job they’re not in
We enjoyed Pumalin very much but I felt there was something a little
surreal
about it. A bit like the national parks in the States, this is tamed
wilderness. You get running water, picnic tables, even covered
campsites! Back
in Chaiten, we’re enjoying one more luxurious Pumalin day at
the Puma Verde
hostal run by the park organisation. It is beautifully stylish although
the low
ceiling does rather make me feel I’m still in the tent. Since
no-one collected
any money from us in the park, we felt everyone gained if we paid
£35 for this
lovely room.
Things have returned a little more to normality; yes, this lifestyle
really is
normality for me now after four months. We are once again cycling south
and
back in the real Chilean south, not the utopian Pumalin version. Things
are
rather different, much of the land by the roadside is farmed and there
are
settlements dotted every 50km or so. Nevertheless, it is clear that
man’s
impact is pretty much limited to a thin slither along the road. There
is a vast
untouched wilderness down here. It’s inaccessible for many
reasons: the
mountains, the steep rock walls, glaciers, snow, fjords, islands and,
presumably because the logical routes to most places are through
It rains a lot here, even by English standards. 4000mm a year and there
isn’t
really an off-season. Lady luck has been on our side however, and
we’ve had
beautiful clear blue skies for over a week. I might take this
opportunity to
point out that our luck has run out and I am writing this in a tent
with the
rain streaming down.
We’ve been riding about 50km a day, give or take and the road
surface has been
excellent. There is little traffic and by now, we (sadly) have become
numbed to
the standard sensational vistas of snow-capped volcanoes, lush forests
and
waterfalls. It takes something really spectacular to make us stop and
stare.
Fortunately there are plenty of those too.
Our one break from our routine of camping, usually at an appropriate
spot by the
roadside, came in Puerto Puyuhapi, a pleasant village at the end of a
long
inlet.
Our next stop at Ventisquero Colgante, a large hanging glacier was only
a short
ride away, fortunate as Malin’s tummy is giving her grief. We
managed the
considerable climb up to the glacier though and enjoyed yet another
view of
something neither of us had seen before. A huge waterfall came off the
glacier
but seemed to turn to snow half way down, somewhat like a snow cannon.
Sadly, Malin has been ill today too, the stomach is still not normal
and she is
weak from not eating. We decided to get a lift but after an hour and a
half of
fruitless waiting, she either got bored or felt better and we cycled
30km,
putting us in range of the next town. She did rather well considering
we had
the biggest climb yet in our way. The weather has now turned and we are
camped
in the rain at the top of the pass. It must be said that the view of
the other
side of the valley falls into the “stop and stare”
category. It is amazing.
Hopefully (though I’m not holding much of it), we may have a
rain-free morning
to enjoy it.
If not we will have to hope for better weather as we descend. That may
be a
more reasonable prayer.
Well Malin entered into a bit of survival mode and, I’m sure
didn’t really
appreciate the remarkable scenery even the next morning. Of course, it
was
still raining though not so much as last night. Later, we asked other
travellers and found it always rained up there. I was beginning to
suspect as
much.
Descending, things brightened quite a bit and I definitely got the
feeling that
Malin was over the worst. It was clear that she was still concerned
about
catching her flight but I felt that we should have plenty of time.
After a
little persuasion she agreed to stop at Villa Amengual, a tiny town
with a real
frontier feel. We stayed in the centre, quite literally. Our hospedaje
also
functioned as a family home, restaurant, bar, supermarket and as the
village
meeting place. All in all it worked out really well. Malin could rest
comfortably for a whole afternoon and we had everything we needed. The
sun came
out too and we had a pleasant stroll around the village. It
didn’t take long.
Other entertainment came in the form of some distorted Christmas carols
on some
loudspeakers outside the school. Later there was a football match on a
field
that was really rather too small for the number of players.
Didn’t they have
enough land for a bigger one? Maybe there was none flat enough.
Rested and with much more energy, we rode off in the direction of
Cohaique,
hoping to make the distance in two days. 130km so quite do-able if the
health
holds up. We also knew that 100km were paved. Or at least we thought we
knew.
We had decided to have our lunch once we reached the pavement, however
10km
beyond the expected point we still hadn’t found it and, which
was worse, the
road surface had deteriorated considerably. We pitied the Italians who
no doubt
felt this was extremely “heavy” stuff and wondered
whether it was so bad
because they were soon going to pave it and couldn’t be
bothered with repairs.
Certainly it looked as if the bridges were all being upgraded.
We had our lunch by a river and, of course 150m later down the road the
pavement began. As these things do in
We made good time and ended up doing 89km despite a nasty headwind. Now
we’re
well within sight of Cohaique tomorrow. It’s much better
being healthy!
I was rather sad on our last camp; I’ve loved having Malin
out here but her
three weeks have gone so fast and it was such a short segment of the
complete
trip. Maybe one day we’ll do a long trip together, I
certainly don’t think I’ll
do another one without her. Short though they’ve been, the
three weeks have
been rather special. Getting engaged and then having so much time
together,
alone and without the normal distractions of work and commitments at
home was
wonderful. Something like a honeymoon is supposed to be I imagine.
Clearly we
had much to talk about; wedding venues, times, organisation, who to
invite,
where we’d like to live, where to work. We’ve held
off deciding just how many
children for now, but they will be bilingual…
All good things must come to an end, and this was no different.
Fortunately
I’ll see her again in 3 weeks rather than the four months on
our last parting.
The scenery changed as we climbed to Cohaique, becoming drier and
largely
farmed. Recent logging was evident everywhere, the price you pay for
civilisation. Intriguingly there were thousands of very pretty flowers,
not
seen before and which my botanist informs me are lupins (shortly after
labelling them laburnum!)
I caught a bus, a long bus. 1500km to Punta Arenas although the more
direct
route is 1000km. Bizarrely, when I tried to take my seat post out to
fit the
bike on, it got stuck and now all the twisting, pulling, wrenching,
hammering
and shouting that I can muster won’t budge it. I spent the
better part of
Christmas Day engaged on this mission which, to sum up, resulted in
abject
failure. All I’ve achieved is to get it stuck an inch too
high.
It really won’t budge now, and reasoning that I
don’t have far to go now and
that I might break something soon, I’ve decided to try to
ride it as it is.
It’s uncomfortable but manageable; hopefully I’ll
be able to complete my ride
though.
This was certainly an unusual way to spend Christmas and as it is a
little
lonely out here, it was great to speak to Malin, Mum and Dad. She
arrived home
today, everything intact. Later I managed to set up a call from Andrew.
This is
the first time I’ve spoken to him since
My one treat today was my Christmas present from Malin, a Christmas
pudding.
Now I’m not usually the biggest fan of Christmas pud but
today it was special.
I wasn’t able to source brandy butter in
The pudding was obviously particularly memorable because it was my only
truly
English food for five months. It served as a reminder of home, of where
I’m
from, and where I’ll be going back to. Of course it brought
back memories of
Christmases past, particularly the one in which Mum burnt the pud. I
was very
careful with the microwave instructions! I’ve rarely had a
more appreciated
gift.
Boxing
day passed much as
Christmas Day had done and I was delighted to get a call from Fraser as
well.
He was at home in
I successfully arranged a trip to Isla Magdelena and Isla Marta for the
27th,
leaving at 7;15am. Gasp! That means am alarm clock, the first in
months.
Well it was worth the disturbed sleep. The morning was beautiful and
the
The reason for the early trip in the boat? One word, penguins. 64,000
pairs of
them on Isla Magdelena and at this time of year they have some rather
grown-up
chicks too. These are Megallenic Penguins and they were brilliant. They
really are
remarkably human-like in their actions, actually more clown-like. They
waddle,
flippers out for balance on their clumsy little legs. When they have a
short
drop to negotiate, they do a two-footed hop, often falling flat on
their
bellies. They’re absurd to watch and I laughed out loud. In
the water though
they are quite different. They float very low with just their heads out
and are
very much in, rather than on the water. They bob about like this very
happily
but can also do a fast swim in which they leap out of the water like a
dolphin
travelling at a remarkable rate. In fact, until a saw a seal a couple
of hours
later, I’d never seen anything as fast in the water
– they look like a bouncing
torpedo.
The visit wasn’t long enough since one could watch all day,
but we moved on to
Isla Marta and its seal and sea-lion colony. We couldn’t land
but floated amid
these impressive animals as they churned up the water and generally
appeared to
be lazing away their morning either floating or basking on the beach.
They
seemed to have fights pretty regularly though what about I’ve
no idea. It was
surprising that the seals could throng around the much larger lions
with no ill
effects.
I took the ferry to Porvenir, Tierra de Fuego. Land of fire, named by
Magellan
after the fires lit by the natives to keep warm.
That Porvenir, pop. 4200 is Chilean Tierra de Fuego’s largest
town should
perhaps tell you something! There’s not much here. A few of
those who are here
seem rather well off however and that can be explained by the prominent
feature
of the landscape, sheep.
Large estancias are spread across the island surrounded by large tracts
of land
and their woolly friends. I was fortunate to have another lovely day
with very
little wind; a rarity here as the trees testify. The few that exist are
devoid
of any branches on the westward side, those that sprout there have been
bent
permanently around the trunk and the whole thing has an incredibly
windswept,
lopsided appearance.
I was delighted when I saw my first guanaco and thus completed my
quadrilogy of
South American quadrupeds. Llama, alpaca, vicuña and
guanaco. At least the
sheep don’t have it all their own way. One other aspect of
wildlife that I
haven’t yet mentioned is the birds. Since entering the
southern cone, there
have been incredible numbers of birds about which I, sadly know
nothing. One
thing I’d do if I repeated the trip would be to learn
something about these
birds, I’m sure that any bird-watcher would have loved it.
Other than that, there is remarkably little here, just undulating
grassland.
It’s not flat, I’ve seen flat this trip and this
isn’t it. As the White Queen
might remark, I’ve seen flat plains compared with which these
are mountains.
Speaking of mountains, the ride out of Porvenir had incredible views
over the
I’ve now crossed the island to
What Jerome K. Jerome might have written:
I rode into Cohaique with a certain sense of satisfaction, my carefully
prepared bicycle had held up to 8000km of rough travel. I was pleased
with
myself, for most men undertaking such endeavours have trouble with
their
machine at some time or other.
The bicycle must have overheard me because it determined to teach me a
lesson.
I attempted to remove the seat post to put it on the bus and initially
it
seemed rather stiff. I was not to be put off by this since I knew that
there
was no reason for it to be stuck. I’d greased it carefully
before assembling
it. Well, I wrestled with it and twisted and pulled for a full five
minutes and
had moved it an inch. There it stuck fast and refused to go any
further. I got
angry and shouted at it and tugged and pulled but it didn’t
like my tone and
resisted. I tried talking sweetly to it, but it just laughed and stayed
put.
At length a small crowd had gathered and a number of the men believed
they had
an idea which could assist me. One after the other they grappled with
it,
sometimes several at once. They twisted and pulled, at times sitting
astride
it, at times trying to stand on it. It got angry with them too and
upset them
by throwing them on the floor and landing on them. Then they argued
with each
other as to who should have the right to try his idea, which he was
sure would
free it in an instant. When, after ten minutes of struggling
he’d only wedged
it in harder, he’d slink off and pretend to fiddle with his
luggage.
Quite a crowd of onlookers cheered each new attempt and they forgot
themselves
and missed their buses. Then they got angry with me for having
distracted them,
and it might had come to blows had I not been rescued by my bus driver
who fit
it in the bus seat and all.
I’m sitting in what is surely one of the nicest restaurants
I’ve been in on the
trip. All the more surprising since it’s in
One thought that’s occurred to me over and over since I first
started meeting
those that don’t is that I’m so glad I’ve
something to be happy about returning
to. Imagine not having ties to home or to anywhere else. Only yourself,
and
often a spouse to travel the world with. It’s alluring in
some respects but I
think that what is lost is not made up for by the benefits. This is
personified
for me most of all by Eve (Yves?) in Huaraz who had “slept
for three years on
the streets in
Another couple that spring to mind are Beat and Claudia at Torres Suiza
in
Villarrica. They cycled round the world for two and a half years and
then just
stopped in Villarrica and set up home and started a family. Why there?
Stranger
still, it is clear that Claudia in particular hadn’t explored
the area within
100km of their house. They are on the doorstep, more or less, of the
Careterra
Austral, one of the most talked about cycle tours in the world yet
neither of
them had been there!
How could you love it enough for two and a half years and then want no
more of
it? People never cease to amaze. Fortunately, that is as true of home
as it is
out here.
One thing, on a completely separate track, that is quite unmissable
down here
is the “Islas Malvinas son
Up north they didn’t seem the least bit bothered, preferring
to discuss
Maradona when they discovered I was English. Of course the politics
there are
rather better since they won! Everywhere here are signs regarding the
Isles
Malvinas, roadside, at the border, at town entrances. All the maps
include the
Clearly the desire for land runs deep here and Argentinean maps all
also show their
claimed Antarctic territory. The fact that this almost entirely
overlaps with
the “Chilean Antarctica” on their Chilean maps
doesn’t seem to bother anyone.
In fact, if anything the Chileans seem the most absurd. Tourist
brochures of
I’m in Ushuaia, the self-proclaimed “end of the
world” and the end of the road
for me. As I had been informed, the only bit of really good riding was
the last
130km or so. It is no coincidence that this is where I entered the
I should mention Tolhuin, which is where I spent the last day of 2005.
It’s a
quiet little place, but very welcoming. Far superior to
2005 has been an excellent year; obviously it is going to be memorable
for the
trip and the engagement, the rest of it has been pretty good too!
Certainly
I’ve got a better idea of where I’m going in life
now than I did 12 months ago.
For all that, New Year’s eve was a bit of a non-event. For me
the big day was
New year’s Day, at about
Actually, it’s rather a good place to finish up. It is
certainly spectacular:
mountains and glaciers, the Beagle Channel and an attractive harbour.
It is
quite touristy, but that in this case is a good thing as I have eight
days to
kill and it’s nice to have some entertainment. I spent 2 days
in a smart hotel
(less smart after I’d cleaned all my gear there!) and then
moved into a hostel
for the rest. It’s a lot cheaper and is a good way to meet
people but the two
days of relative luxury were much appreciated.
One thing that is unfortunate is that I keep meeting people either
going to, or
returning from
I’m in an incredible corner of the world right now though so
rather than waste
it, I went on a sail boat trip on the Beagle Channel today.
It’s an excellent
sailing location and it baffles me why anyone would take the trip on an
IOW-style catamaran when they could, for the same price be doing it on
a yacht.
Doubtless the same people who asked on an Antarctic trip I’ve
been hearing
about why anyone would go looking for Emperor penguins when they could
see them
in a zoo. Why do these people travel?! Apparently it is so they can but
Antarctic souvenirs and show them to their friends. Isn’t
there something
rather odd about shipping souvenirs to
It was a big pizza, and very good, in fact, best yet I think. Time to
waddle
home…
Time soon not just to waddle home but to fly there, permanently.
I’ve not done
much in the last couple of days, nor, I suspect will I do much in those
to
come. Today I did manage to box the bike albeit with the seat post
protruding.
Hopefully it’ll get home in one piece for the fun and games
of trying to
separate things.
I’ve been pretty lucky with mechanical things all in all.
Here’s the damage ; 1
bike puncture, 5 yak punctures, 2 yak welds, 2 cassettes, 5 chains and
numerous
paint scratches. That’s not bad in 5 months. The wheels have
been utterly
bombproof and I wonder if they were perhaps overkill; better safe than
sorry
though. The other major change on the bike was the Pace carbon fork and
on
reflection, I think that this was fabulous. I didn’t really
notice it (a good
thing), and the noticeable flex must surely have softened the ride on
the dirt
and even on the road. No problems of course with leaking seals or other
such
things which could have been an issue with suspension.
Off the bike, most of the gear has worked really well too. The tent was
perfect
as expected but again probably heavier than required. Losing a kilo or
so here
would have been better I think.
I think it’s fair t say that I wouldn’t want to do
a longer ride alone,
possibly not at all. Long distance solo bikers tend to be very strange
people
though I suspect they started out that way too. Those riding as a
couple are
much more likely to be sane. Even so, I am definitely travel-weary. I
feel that
things that ought to be awe-inspiring no longer are.
I’ve seen most of
the topography that is on offer here.
As I’ve mentioned before there are many things I’ve
missed on the trip. The