South America by Bike

Home!

2010-12-14T18:32:00.001Z

I spent a lovely week in Barcelona getting know my little niece Emilia. She’s lovely, a little angel, and I had a great week getting to know her in person. She really likes bouncing and swinging in her bouncy swingy thing. She is trying solid foods now, many for the first time, and her reactions to salmon, avocado, cooked pear and white fish, seem to indicate that she has working taste buds.

Then I cycled over the Pyrenees via Puigcerda, camping at about 1700m with temperature dropping below -5 at night. Brrr. Then down towards Toulouse. In Toulouse I thought about just getting a train. There were a few little irritating things wrong with the bike (chain and brakes) and a few things wrong with me (cold and sore knee). And the weather was lousy. But after I'd polished off a croissant and a coffee, and warmed up a tad, I fancied taking a look at the canal path. I followed for the next two days.

With running repairs my bike was in reasonable shape, and my knee and runny nose improved too. I continued up through france. I struck a route taking pretty much straight line. There are loads of quiet roads and at one point I followed a great marked cycle route that I stumbled across. I wild camped all except one night. Mainly in picnic areas, laybys, in woods or in fields.

In Tours I realised I was running out of time. In fact I had somehow forgotten a whole day. So I hopped on a train and nailed it to Caen in time to catch the overnight ferry to Portsmouth. I met up with a group of mates for breakfast and we all cycled up to Hambledon to my Mum's house.

We celebrated with a beer and I took a much overdue shower!

So that's it for this bike ride! A life-long ambition fulfilled. I thought I might write a post linking back to some of the highlights (so stay tuned...) but perhaps this is a good chance to say a few thank you.

I never would have fulfilled a dream if I hadn't of had it in the first place. So firstly I must say THANKS to Mum and Dad who always encouraged me to dream big ideas, to be open-minded, determined and, with all the stories, gave me insatiable wanderlust. When Dad died, one of the reminders was that life is short and you must take your opportunities when you get them. That was maybe the spur that really got the trip under way.

Next, thanks to my sisters Penny and Caroline and Ben, my brother. They were all really supportive and helpful

Ben: Thanks for helping to put Mum at ease when I first broached the idea. And thanks for the camera and all the enthusiasm about getting good photos.

Caroline & Alejandro: Thanks for making me an Uncle and a Guardian, and thanks for all the help along the way, and when I was planning.

Penny: Thanks for opening my letters, sorting out banks, and being "HQ", thankfully I didn't have to turn to you for too much emergency help but it was fantastic peace of mind knowing you were there to help if it all went tits-up.

Many thanks to everyone who cycled with me. Especially...
Russ: Wish you'd been there the whole way, man. Thanks for joining me, being a delivery service, for great conversations, ipod filling, pizzas, and inspiration.

Also, "Rocket Scientist" Mike, "Bullshit" Brett, "Iron" Mike, Monika and Thorsten, "Bird Shit" Chris, M,J&C the "Plastic Sheet" Chileans, Ray "El Chino", "Bus Stop" Frank, and "1000 Mile Stare" Dot.

Also my friends at Sacred Suenos and everyone I met out and about...

All my climbing and hill walking and tour group companions, particularly>>>>> Ashley, Sam, Dave P, Dean, The Hyuana Potosi Gang, the Villaricca Girls, Los Llanos Gang, Maricabo german girls and and guides...

Thank you to the musicians who I recorded along the way, particularly Nick, Carlos and El Camino.

Thanks to the many many people who gave me a place to stay or food. Especially Josmir, Sergio, the Casa de Ciclista people. S&K and the warmshower and couchsurfing people. Flacco, Jordan and other equally generous Colombians.

Thanks to everyone who supported me and kept in touch via email, phone, facebook, etc. Thanks for all the comments on my website and on facebook, especially thanks to my CAAC friends.

Thank you to Chas Roberts for my fantastic bike, stanfords, edinburgh bike coop and crosso for sponsoring me with great quality maps and equipment.

And everyone else I have forgotten, sorry...if you fancy donating a few quid to the Mother's Union please do, I will leave the donation thingamy up there.

What a great trip, eh?!

Airport Ugliness

2010-11-22T13:54:00.002Z

"It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, 'as pretty as an airport.' Airports are ugly. Some are very ugly. Some attain a degree of ugliness that can only be the result of a special effort."
-from The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams

I feel increasingly despondent about air-travel. The worst bit is airports. They are hollow, soul-less places. As I stood looking out of a house-sized pane of glass in Caracas airport, I watched the baggage handlers loading up the plane that would take me out of South America. I was watching for my bike, but I happened to notice that about half the suitcases whizzing up the conveyor belt were wrapped in cling-film. Indeed, as I walked in the airport I had been acosted by several people offering their services to wrap up my stuff in cling film. But why? For security, to protect your precious bag, for waterproofing? I don't see how it does any of these things really. This is a fairly new thing, which seems to be popular, but I'm pretty sure it is a swiz. A waste of time, money and, in the end, a lot of cling-film.

Wastefullness is part and parcel of air-travel. The microwaved food comes in disposable containers, with plastic cups and plastic cutlery which can all be ditched. The headphones, to listen to a film on a post-card sized screen on the back of the seat in front, are disposable. The plane itself is burning through who knows how many gallons of fuel, churnning out waste gasses.

I'm in Barcalona now. My bike (she's a hardy thing) and I survived an overnight bus, overnight flight, and overnight train. I will be glad to sleep in a bed that doesn't move.

I will take flights again. I like to travel and, unless I get into sailing in a big way, I will have to put up with air travel as a necessary evil.

Venezuela Safaris!!

2010-11-17T21:10:00.006Z

After I got soaking wet yet again in a walk in the mountains I decided to sign up for a tour to Los Llanos. This is a flat land area with tons of animals and birds. First stop was Barinas to collect a Russian couple from the airport (strong silent types) and go rafting down a big bouncy river. Next morning we headed to the camp in Los Llanos but before we even arrived there were animals to spot.

Junior, our guide, spotted some howler monkeys in some trees. When we piled out of the truck to take photos. Later, near the camp, we saw a load of caimen surrounding a lake.

The camp was a collection of homely shacks with numerous children, an anteater and a very humourous parrot. We looked forward to slinging ourselves up in hammocks for the night but first we climbed on the roof of the truck to go caimen hunting. The goad was to catch a caiman: just for a laugh! Junior and Ali, his friend from the camp, set off into the fields, and after a few false starts came back carrying a bundle of baby caimen. We oohed and ahhed, took photos and had a little race. Then Junior and Ali (AKA the black dolfin) set off to find some bigger ones...

The following morning we fished for parahnas (despite looking really easy...I caught nothing), hunted for anocondas (and found a little one) and went on a fantastic boat trip to spot fresh-water dolphins, capivaras and many exotic and beautiful birds. Then back for an eight-year-olds birthday with dancing (for everyone), rum (for adults), piñata (for kids) and cake (for those who lasted that long).

After a painful attempt to hang on to a cantering (or trotting?) horse, we piled back into the truck and drove back to Merida.

I was lucky enough to have a fantastic group: the Belgium stallion, two chain-smoking Germans and a couple from the UK.

After all that excitement I ended up back in Merida, it was still raining so my hope to climb Pico Bolivar was out. I was thinking of having a day at a natural hot-spring, but a recent land-slide had filled it in...So I booked on another trip.

This time I had a pair of very pretty young German girls as companions and the trip was to see the famous Catatumbo Lightning. I guess it isn't that famous really. Odd though. We stayed in a house on stilts right in the middle of the lake and watched this silent lightning going on all night. We also took in a night safari on the speed boat and spotted loads of birds of prey. The next day we visited a village built on stilts. This was a real highlight for me, a very strange and wonderful place of fishermen and more children than you would imagine. They all get about by boat. Kids paddle around on bits of polystyrene, plastic buckets or anything else that will float. There are two pubs, a church, a school, shops and about 800 people live there. There is also a power plant which fires up in the afternoon for the telenovelas (soap opreas) and then in the evening for the lights.

And that was it for Venezuela, and for South America.

Shivering In El Cocuy

2010-10-20T23:24:00.003+01:00

Getting to the Sierra Nevada del Cocuy isn't an easy thing to acomplish by bike. I had anticipated it taking me a day or two from Bucaramanga...But then I did get a little waylayed by some paragliders, a surprise birthday party, some basketball fans, a man in a wig, a maricahi band and something that I recommend you never drink called "aguardiente".

Then came the toughest stretch of road I've cycled sinse the Careterra Austral. Stupidly steep, narrow, ugly gravel and crossed by gushing rivers on every bend. I arrived at the little village of Guican almost a week and a half after leaving Bucaramanga. A small pueblo perched on the side of a mountain valley with a steep sloped central square.

At five-thirty in the morning, at the corner of this square, I found myself waiting along with 5 or six locals, for the lechero. This is an open-sided truck that drives a loop of the mountain roads, collecting small pails of milk from tiny farms and moving about various things like sacks of potatoes, kids going to school, boxes of tools, cowboy farmers (in thick woolen ponchos, ganster hats and welly boots) and a weirdly dressed gringo who wants to go hike in the mountains.

Well, after a very cold ride (for those poncholess idiots), getting stuck in the mud and stopping every five minutes to pick up milk the journey to Cabañas Kanwari took five hours. I could have walked in three, but I guess it was a novel experience. By the time I reached the cabañas it had began to rain. I scutled into a hut and downed a few tintos (coffee) and ordered a slap-up lunch. This would be the last decent meal before the hiking rations of pasta, rice and oats. It was still raining after lunch but I began the walk.

Once I'd hiked to the end of the road, I continued along a track up to a pass and down into a valley. By this stage I was in the mist and couldn't see much at all. The valley was waterlogged and vegetated by the strange, triffid-esque cojine plants unique to this mountain range. Just as it was getting dark, with the rain still lashing down, I found the first lake and put my tent. I was in for a cold night. My sleeping bag has now lost a lot of its feathers. With a wet me inside it, it doesn't provide much warmth. Also, I wasn't well aclimatised and insomnia is one of the first symtoms of altitude sickness for me. But the cold was the worst thing. Every few hours I warmed up the tent by boiling up some water. Unfortunately I couldn't make tea as I forgot the tea bags so I just had bowl after bowl of hot sugary water.

I was packed and walking as sunrise broke. I didn't see it as it was still misty. The terrain switched from bog to rocky trails. I climbed another two 4000m passes with towering cliffs disappearing into the clouds with Laguna del Isla in between. At mid-day I reached Laguna Avellanal and stopped to cook some pasta for lunch. Just as the water came to the boil a hail shower started pelting me. There was no shelter but I decided to wang the tent up by the lake double quick. Then I moved my bag indoors and clamboured over the boulders with the furiously bubbling hot stove in my gloves. Inside it was quite plesant as the hail bounced off the flysheet. I settled in to eat dinner and read "Flashman".

With the rain still hammering away, and being tired after a sleepless night and seven hours hiking, I decided to stay put and spend the night here. However, as it got dark outside, I realised that water was starting to seep up through the groundsheet. I had put my tent in a depression that was filling up like a pond. Within a few minutes everything in the tent was soaked. I did my best to move about and find a dry spot but it was hopeless. Moving elsewhere was out of the question. It was pitch black outside with a craggy path to follow in mist and heavy rain. I would twist an ankle in minutes. So I rolled over and tried to avoid touching the soggy clumps of icey wet sleeping bag. No sleep. Cold. Shivering. I put my headtorch on and looked at my thermometer: zero degrees. It was time for a cuppa. Got the stove out, and sat up (heat rises). I thought about burning the tent down, and carbon-monoxide poisoning, but really my only concern was warming up. I downed the water and left the flame burning as I laid down and turned out the torch. I still didn't sleep and after a few hours I put the torch back on and finished Flashman. That was supposed to last me for bedtime reading for the whole walk...

By morning I had made up my mind I was going to just turn around and march a nine hour slog back to the cabañas and give up on this hiking lark. But when I got out the tent the mirror flat lake reflected the surrounding mountains. The mist had risen, not completely, but enough to encourage me. I packed and set off. Even so, I wasn't keen on too many more cold nights in my clapped out sleeping bag. I put in a 10 hour march, rolling together two of the planned days.

It turned out to be quite a nice day, and by lunchtime the mist had risen quite a bit. I crossed Valle de Cojines a swampy place with rows and rows of triffids. I didn't bother to pick a careful route through the marshy ground. My feet were wet anyway so I just stomped through spashing mud. I had a quick bowl of cold oats for lunch, an insurrance measure against rain. Rain that began shortly after I put the pan back in my sack and started on the next day, if you see what I mean.

Now I was back to mist and rain and after 4 hours I reached Laguna de la Plaza. It looked like a sea, the other side disappearing into mist. The map said an hour walk to the campsite. It was 2:30pm so, although I was cream-crackered, I assumed I would have time to walk the further 3 hours to the nearest Refuggio. Ha.

The walk round the edge of the lake was more like a scramble on a series of wet terraces which sloped a hundred metres above the lake, with a film of water running over them. I slipped up several times and decided that going slow was the best course of action. I'd been walking nine hours and hadn't slept for nearly sixty. There was no trail and the cairns were far enough apart that you couldn't see the next one in the mist. My photocopied sketch map was next to useless.

And then came the reward.

The skies cleared. The mist rose. The rain stopped and the view opened up. Laguna de la Plaza was revealed in all its glory. Unreal. Snow capped mountains loomed over the lake. I stuck up the tent and walked around snapping off hundreds of photos. Fantastic. (it would be another night of shivering but who cares, eh?)

How to Open a Coconut

2010-09-27T15:04:00.004+01:00

I'm sure some of you are sat at a desk, as autumn sets in, and that nagging thought is bothering you again...How do I get my hands on a tasty snack and refreshing drink if I happen to be lazing on a Caribbean beach? Well fear not, for here is How.

Firstly, you need a machete. And if you don't have one a hand axe. Failing these a knife of some kind. A heftyish fixed blade sort of knife or at the very least locking one. I saw a dude open a coconut with a Swiss Army Knife. He succeeded... but there was blood.

Next, you need to find a coconut. Look under coconut palms. But beware these things fall down without much warning and can kill (also worth bearing in mind when putting up your hammock). Look for greenish ones of a fair size. Avoid old rotten looking ones.

Step One: Remove the husk. Make three lengthwise cuts in the husk on the flat parts. Then, cut out a smaller segment. This should give you a hand hold to pull of the first third of husk. The other two follow quite easily. The fiberous stuff that makes up the husk is quite easy to cut through but it is grabby so watch out.

Step Two: Drink the milk. Clean up the coco and drill a hole with the point of your knife through one of the black "eyes". Drink up.

Step Three: Crack shell. Twat the coconut against a log or rock until it cracks. Don't obliterate the thing, just make a crack. This can be levered wider with your knife to prise open the coco into several peices.

Step Four: Get the meat out. Use a small sharp knife to score the meat and cut it out. Put in your mouth. Eat.

Cali to Cartagena: ¡Bienvenidos Caribe!

2010-09-14T20:33:00.005+01:00

"Mi interés fundamental es pintar una naranja más naranja" - Ferdinando Botero

Cycling through Colombia is a joy. The scenery is beautiful. The people are the most open, friendly and generous of my trip. Especially as you travel north. Also the girls get slimmer and prettier, the weather gets warmer and even the traffic seems to ease off. Most days someone will offer me some fruit, beer, cake, or share their lunch with me. Many cyclists or motorbikers will slow down and accompany me for a chat.

I camped at the Casa de Ciclistas in Cali and Hernan, who is a great guy, showed me a map of Colombia that had elevation profiles. I copied these out into my note book and it has been fun to watch the last few hills roll by. I tried to leave the large, long and complex city. Navigating out of a South American city is no easy task. Firstly, there are little or no road signs. If there are signs they are not necessarily acurate. Then, there are road works, often with a single diversion sign. It seems to say: turn right into the barrio and fend for yourself.

But back on the open road things are simple again and the PanAm winds up and down, loosely following the course of the Rio Cauca. I swerved the Pereira and Manizales conglomoration and stopped in Chinchina which is in the heartland of coffee production. This is the sort of place that comes alive at night. Street vendors selling arepas con queso (a fried maize bread, stuffed with melted cheese, and dribbled in honey), girls gossiping on benches smoking cigarettes and men laughing their way through cans of Poker beer in cafes.

Before long I reached Medellin. Another stretched out city. Tower blocks, built on a hillside, continue for mile after mile. I took a rest day and visited an art gallery which has a lot of stuff by Botero. He makes paintings and statues of thick people (but not fat because it doesn't hang - just looked it up and the arty term is "exaggerated proportional deformation"). I think they're great fun. His pictures are a bit of a game too. It takes a while to spot some of the things he does. The security guard told me that doors and windows in his pictures are always open. You notice there are lots of horses often with humourous expressions. There are lots of hands and feet too.

Enough of that, time to hit the last hill. Very cold and raining. I needed waterproofs and thermals again for the first time since Patagonia. Also, I got a bit of a dodgy tummy again so I checked in to a swankyish hospedaje and visited the phamacy. Then down down down. The Cauca was huge when I rejoined it and full of brown mud. It whips along at a fair old pace too. The coconut palm lined valley is full of people living in shoddy shacks and eating fruit whilst lazing in hammocks.

The fruits are fantastic and juices too. Zapote, Lulo and Cheremoya are some of the best. Once, when I was leaning against a tree reading my book and munching some bread, an old man walking past threw me a fruit. I have no idea what it was or what it is called. It was green outside, pink inside, not sweet but very flavourful and delicious.

It is very common to see people walking, or cycling about, even quite far from towns. Often they have a machete sheathed on a belt with colourful leathery tassles. Sometimes you see 8 year old children hacking away at stuff with a machete taller than them. There is also a distictive straw hat here, sort of like a cowboy hat but with black and white weaving. It's pretty neat.

From Caucasia the road takes you away from the river and through mainly flat and hot countryside. Then I reached Cartagena and my first view of the Caribbean sea!

Good Things on the Internet Part One: Blogs

2010-09-01T22:40:00.013+01:00

Here are a few blogs that I have enjoyed reading...

1. Alastair Humphreys

Who is he? Al Humperdink is a round-the-world cyclist who is now eeking out a living for himself as a writer and motivational speaker. His abition is to be a sort of proffessional adventurer. His recent adventures have been on a smaller scale (six week walks) but include several interesting approaches such as using carrying an inflatable pack-raft in his rucksack.
What does he write about?
He writes about his expeditions with a focus on photography, motivation, and his emotional response to the journeys. He often quotes from literature, poetry and old duffer explorers. Many of his posts refer to other adventurers and he has contributions of photography and guest posts. He writes a huge number of posts, almost one a day.
Some good posts
Make a living doing what you love

Work hard

India

2. Andy Kirkpatrick

Who is he?
A very very funny man. Also a mountaineer with a penchant for hard, dangerous big-wall climbing. His mountaineering lectures are more like stand up and well worth seeing.
What does he write about?
He writes about climbing, writing, his life and things that amuse, iritate or interest him. He writes informatively about climbing and outdoor equipment and techniques. He writes about his hatred for William Shatner, Ben Fogle and Bear Gryls. He often will dwell on the humourous and uncomfortable aspects of climbing.
Some good posts
Rock Me Sexy Jesus

Closer

The Balance

3. Ride Earth

Who is he?
Tom Allen is a cyclist who set off on a round the world trip but became entangled, and married, in the middle east.
What does he write about?

Cycling in some out of the way spots like Sudan, Iran, Yemen, Syria and Mongolia. Ranting about life, polotics, the environment, culture, history, and also practical stuff like photography, equipment,
Some good posts

Tenny

How to wild camp

Finance for a big trip

Building an expedition bike

4. The Hungry Cyclist

Who is he?

Another Tom. This one is a bit of a foodie. His cycle tours are often spent searching for local recipes and the perfect meal.
What does he write about?

Food, travel and cycling in the Americas, Europe and SE Asia. He's pretty handy with a camera too.
Some good posts

Faces

Discover your inner...tube

Energy Bars

5. Dave McLeod

Who is he?

A Scottish climber who put up an E11 on Dunbarton Rock in Glasgow at the time the hardest rock climb in the world. His trials were made into a really good film called E11. Dave comes across as the humblest bloke you can imagine but his hard work is inspiring stuff. He is an all round climber going for hard trad climbing, bouldering, sports climbs and winter climbing.
What does he write about?

Climbing. Particularly about the physical training, the mentality of climbing and philosophising on the risk. He is an advocate of setting and acheiving goals.
Some good posts

Baños to Cali: Into colombia.

2010-08-31T17:58:00.003+01:00

Baños is a place for tourists. Ecuadorians and Gringos alike go there to get a hot bath, go bungee jumping, whitewater rafting or to rent a mountain bike and cycle downhill to Puyo. It seems like the big cycling attractions are always downhill (the big hitter being "The Road of Death"). Its a shame as, truth be told, some of my favouirte cycling has been uphill.

I too headed to Puyo. I hadn't yet been to "The Jungle" and I fancied cycling downhill for a bit. (I know, I know, what goes down must come up...) Also, I had been told that the road from Baños to Puyo is a great cycle ride. And it was. Along the way there are many waterfalls and the scenery is never less than dramatic.

Puyo is a medium sized modern hot and sweaty place full of shops selling flashy jeans and people sitting at tables eating hamburgesas and wearing shiny jeans.

I resolved that it was probably too much of a detour to go further down into the rainforest (plus there are insects down there I'm told) and so I rode out to a zoo, of which there are 100s, in order to see some jungle wildlife. I feel a bit weird about zoos, but anyway I went. The place I wound up at had monkeys, turtles, parrots, crocs and some tigrillos (miniture tigers). All very nice. Most of the monkeys just run free around the place. Gringo volunteers were working in the zoo which I imagine must be a fun way of spending a few weeks, and really I think that would be the length of time required to get any enjoyment out of a place like that, or even to suss it out. Putting together a zoo like this would cost very little. Just knock up some cages from bamboo and chicken wire, drive 3 hours east, fill your van with animals, drive back, put up a sign, and charge people like me $2 for a 20 minute walk round. If you call yourself an "Animal Refuge" instead of a zoo, it makes people like me feel better. But in order to remain in existance they need customers and so they need animals, so the "refuge" aspect is only really wordplay. I suspect.

Anyway, I got back on the hot and humid road and cycled to Tena through countryside of strange trees and cobbled together shacks. In Tena, I stayed with a guy called Jorge and his father, called Jorge, and tried not to get confussed. We ate fantastic breakfasts, had fried fish and yuka dinners and went to a kareoke. Then it was time to head on.

From here the weather took a turn for the worse, and as I climbed back up into the mountains, it was cold. A stop in a small mountian town proved a lucky find as the hostal had a small scalding hot swimming pool in a basement.

I pressed onwards through Ecuador's hilly north, crossed the Equator and crossed into Colombia. The change is noticable straight away. You are no longer in an "Andean Country" but in a "Caribbean Country". People are more relaxed and friendly, you get given gifts of fruit on a regular basis and salsa-pop thumps louder than ever from every house.

Modes of Transport (Part II)

2010-08-18T23:37:00.007+01:00

Following on from this. Here are some more methods of getting about.

Very Long Distance Walking
As I was packing up my tent one morning, about 100km away from Cusco, in the middle of nowhere, a rather odd man appeared. He was dressed in shorts and a bright red Peruvian Fire Brigade jumper. He had attached to his tiny backpack a huge Union Jack. I asked him where he had walked from. Mexico, he replied. How long did it take you? I wondered. Three and a half years. He had bits of car tyre glued to the bottom of his boots. He didn't carry a sleeping bag.

I think it is fair to say that walking is just about the slowest form of land transport. I can see a few advantages though. You are not stuck to roads, you can go just about anywhere, over mountain passes and through fields and forests. There is little to go wrong; the only thing to break is you. On the downside you can't take as much stuff and crucially you can't free-wheel down hills.

Other googlable or wikipediable (very) long distance walkers are:
Karl Bushby
Rosie Swale-Pope
Nicholas Crane
Hamish Brown
Colin Skinner
Chris Townsend
Ffyona Campbell

Hitch-hiking

Hitching like many of the best things is not easily pinned down. It can be fun, frustrating, challenging, dangerous or very boring. It can be a great way to learn a language, meet interesting people or even a dive-in-at-the-deep-end way to learn to drive. It is generally either free or low-cost, so in my mind that makes it better than buses. Jack Kerouac wrote a classic about it in On The Road. Douglas Adams broadened the scope a bit more in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Tony Hawks hitched round Ireland with a fridge. In the Mighty Boosh there is a weird green cockney with a giant polo mint where his eye should be.

Ah, whatever. Check out Road Junky for advice and for inspiration check out Tom.

Stowaways, Boathitching and Trainhopping

"Keep everything dark, dark clothes, dark pack, dark sleeping bag or blanket. This will make it harder to get caught by the railroad cops as you blunder around the train yards."

That is the sort of terrific advice you get from Wes Modes on his website that makes for thrilling reading. He also encourages Urban Adventures, such as sneaking around factories for a laugh and climbing buildings. Check out his great website The Spoon.

Stowing away obviously has a great history as a method of crossing oceans. And on a practical level you can see why. Once the boat has left port the captain is stuck with you. I can't see it all panning out like in Treasure Island thesedays. Starving to death on a long voyage, freezing to death in the wheel-well of a plane, or being hearded into the back of a lorry don't sound like much fun. But many desperate immigrants still resort to these measures.

Boat-hitching might be a better option. How to go about it is detailed quite well by wikitravel on this page. There are a ton of websites where you can look for people who require crew on thier yacht, such as crewseekers.net, or you could just turn up at a port and get to know people.

Vilcabamba to Baños:

2010-08-17T02:36:00.002+01:00

For a few days in Vilcabamba a lovely retired couple put me up on their farm. In exchange I picked coffee for a few hours in the mornings, and did a bit of painting in a flat they are renting out. Then I loaded up the trusty steed and headed for the Panamerican. It rained most of the way to Loja and from there most of the way to Cuenca.

Weird that it is so cold so close to the equator. But then I was still cycling along above 2000m. Camping in an unfinished house that a shop owner said I could use kept me out of a biting cold wind. The next night I found a Wild West themed restaurant out in the middle of nowhere and the owner let me camp outside. There must have been something about the clay hereabouts as I saw many little brick factories as I climbed up, up, up.

Cuenca is a delightful old colonial city and so it is also quite expensive. I got my fill of architecture and slept in a bit too much comfort. Then I headed on towards Riobamba. Nice campspot in a corn feild with a beautiful sunset. Met a huge gaggle of cyclists heading south. Fully supported. There website is bike-dreams.com. Check out the price 8400 euros for 129 days. Phewy!

Also met Ewan McGreggor. Or at least someone who looked a bit like him...

Got to Riobamba and found my couchsurfing host, Wladimir who had also fixed me up with a climbing partner and guide to have a crack at Chimborazo. Dean and I got a bus to the national park and hiked up to the refuge at 5000m where we spent 2 days eating, playing cards, warming ourselves by the fire, eating, drinking tea, eating and waiting for Ediverto, our guide, to show up. Occassionally we went and lay down pretending to sleep. The weather outside shook the refuge and we saw nothing of the mountian we intended to climb. All this time we saw groups arrive and looking at the conditions, turn back. There was much discussion about an accident earlier in the week in which a climber was injured by a rock fall/avalanche. Very few even left the refuge. Also, a slightly creepy Russian bloke, called Igor, started probing us with questions. It was soon clear that he intended to follow us when we set off. Bit cheeky seeing as we'd paid for a guide and he hadn't.

Ediverto showed up and at 11pm we set off. The sky was clear now but it was very windy. The fresh snow, warmed up by that blanket of cloud, was described by Ediverto as suave (soft or gentle) and later on loco (crazy). I began to get the impression this wasn't going to happen. As we headed up we saw that Igor was following us. Then, as we stopped to have another good look at the snow, he overtook. At the base of "the corridor", the site of the accident, we couldn't see Igor above. Ediverto said he was very worried about him as it was a very dangerous part to be on your own. He decided that the risk of rockfall in this spot was too high especially with the strong wind. And higher up the chance of avalanche was also strong because of the poor snow conditions. He explained all this to us and we had to accept his decision. As we walked down he was very worried about Igor. Soon we saw his head torch following us down.

Back in Riobamba I got a full day's sleep and then set off again. Due to my lousy sense of direction, and Ecuador's lack of sign-posts, I ended up going up a very long hill in not quite the right dirrection. I ran out of water and had to top up from a village tap, bit risky. Then got some dry bread to eat for lunch. In the end I managed to work out roughly were I was and the bonus of all that climbing was I got to freewheel for thirty odd kilometres down to Baños.

Next, I head for the jungle town: Puyo...

Ecological Farming on a Ecuadorian Mountainside

2010-08-03T22:26:00.004+01:00

"We are stardust. We are golden. And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden."
-Woodstock by Joni Mitchell

My friends Ryan and Jenn travelled through South America a few years ago and visited an ecological farm called Sacred Sueños. Jenn wrote an article about Permaculture farming in a Canadian magazine. Ryan recommended the place to me so, with my bike safely locked up in a garden shed at the base of the mountain, I hiked the two hours up the mountain to the farm.

Yves Zehnder bought the land here 7 years ago. He is a ginger haired Canadian driven here by his frustration with modern society. He put up his tent and set about trasforming the 10 hectares of land. The soil was very low quality, years of slash-and-burn farming had left only bracken fern. He built himself an adobe brick house which now acts as the kitchen and communal area for the volunteers like me who come to live and work here for a few weeks.

In his first few years the local Ecuadorians thought this young gringo who had bought land would make an excellent husband for their daughters. They would bring their loveliest seventeen-year-olds which he would politely decline. Rumours spread that he was gay. One day, after a hard day building the kitchen, Yves decided it would be fun to strip naked, jump in the mud pit, used to make the earth bricks, and splash around and make monkey noises. Perhaps too much time alone on a mountainside was to blame. Unbeknownst to him a local farmer was on his way with another angelic young daughter. They got the shock of their lives and Yves pulled on his jeans. His muddy legs stuck to the inside.

Seven years on and things are in a little more order. Yves and his partner Jenn are live at the farm and a stream of volunteers come up to help out for a few weeks. The farm has been designed along permaculture principles and aims to become self-sufficient and sustainable. All sorts of trees are in the ground such as Hazelnuts, Avocados and Peach, but it will be several years still till they reach maturity. The garden is fairly fruitful especially with salad, beans and grenadilla. I spent 3 weeks digging trenches, building trails and steps, building new raised beds and helping to build a new water tank. Here is a summary of the kind of thing they are doing.

Improving soil
Chicken Tractor (Chickens are kept in a movable coop. Their droppings help to improve soil fertility)
Humanure (The result of the composting toilet. One of the best fertilizers on the farm)
Compost (Layers of dry grass, donkey shit, kitchen scrap, ash, fresh green matter and more donkey shit. Turned infrequently in the hope that nutrients don't escape to the air)
Compost tea (Fish beans and comfrey mixed in water or urine. Water soluble nutrients are more likely to form in a liquid, bit smelly though)
Planting native species
Planting dynamic accumulators such as nitrogen fixers.
Heavy prunning
Protecting with mulch, contour ditches, bunds and tree roots (to stop all that good soil being washed down the mountian).

Building
Cob - A building technique using clay, sand and earth bonded together with straw fibres tradditionaly but recycled plastic strips can be used. The dormitory where I stayed had a "Bodega" built from cob with a wooden structure above.
Adobe bricks - Tradditional building material in South America. Bricks are made from clay, sand, earth and water and dried in the sun. The communal kitchen is built from adobe.
Earthbags - Another technique using earth, this time in polypropelene bags (3 cents each) which are filled and rammed in place. Sucessive layers are tied with string and help in place with barbed wire. The water tanks are built in this way.
Natural timbers and rocks.
Cement, Tin roofs, transparent plastic sheeting and lumber from down the hill

Animals
Donkeys and horse (used for logistics, i.e. for carrying food/gas/people/building materials up the hill and thier shit is collected to go in the compost)
Goats (Yves runs a small goat cheese business so he can afford to pay the weekly $25 for food)
Dogs (companionship and security)
Cats (companionship and pest control)
Chickens (eggs and soil fertility)
Bees (polonation, in the future hopefully honey, wax and propolis)

Human Services
Toilet (Composting toilet for poo. Essentially just a glorified bucket. Sited with great views of the mountian. A scoop of sawdust (which they get for free) goes over the shit. The bucket is emptied into a pile where it decomposes into a firtile soil called Humanure. Wee on trees, or collected for compost tea).
Shower (A lovely outside heated shower with a coil of black pipe that heats up in the sun)
Laundry (bucket and washboard. There is also another spiral of black pipe to heat up the washing water.)
Cooking (gas bottles from down the hill)
Food (some fruit and veg from the garden plus $25 a week each for food from the market in Vilcabamaba)
Light (candles and headlamps)
Computer (solar charged)
Batteries (charged down the hill)
Cell phone (solar charged)

Stimulus
Music (mp3 players and a solar powered amp and speakers)
Musical instruments
Books (well stocked library)
Animals
Radio
Games box
Firepit
Conversation and stories

Recycling
Food scraps and peels is used for compost or animal feed.
Paper is burned.
Plastic is reused where possible. Milk and oil containers are turned into planters. Other plastic bags are either reused or cut into strips to be used in cob building.
Only the most scanky of stuff, and non-rechargable batteries, go down the hill.

Water
Water tanks
Dammed creeks
Drainage ditches and contour bunds
Ponds
Gutters to collect rain off roofs which is then diverted to plants.
Mulch
Micro catchment (when a new tree is planted, ditches are dug to provide proper drainage)
Greywater system (waste water from washing up, showering, laundry etc is used for irrigation)
Dry toilet (so no water lost in flushing)

Sucessful Plants
Naranjilla (for juice)
Granadilla
Tomate de arbol (for juice)
Scarlet runner beans (causes lots of farting)
Lettuce and salads
Herbs (oragano, thyme, basil, rosemary, lemon verbatim, mint)
Aloe
Raspberries
Blackberries
White carrots
Tomatoes in greenhouse and outdoors
Uvillas
Capeberry
Kale
Zuccini
Tarro root
Laconi
Zambo (a type of squash)

Gardening Methods
Grow from seed
Biodiversity to combat pests and disease
Hand watering
Free labour from volunteers
Pollycropping
Plant with moon

Future Ambitions
Self-sufficiency
A small permanent community
Reforestation
Edible forest garden (trees are all too small still)
Juice bar (for sale to passing horse riders and hikers)
Herbal medicine for use and sale
Preserves for use and sale
Honey and bees wax
Social Projects (Yves set aside the most firtile part of the the land he owns for a future project. He invisages that a women's refuge, a rehab clinic or something like that might be built and run by future residents.)
Internships (They hope to get people willing to stay for several months (rather than a few weeks) so they can take on more responsibility)
Free festivals (primarily just to get more shit for humanure)
Free permaculture design courses for Ecuadorians subsidised by pricey courses for westerners.

Challenges and Setbacks
Doing everything manually (screws up your back and takes longer but is free (especially with help of volunteers))
Poor soil
Unpredictable climate
Runoff
Mosquitos
Cultural separation (Jenn is having a hard time learning Spanish even after living here for 2 years as the volunteers mostly speak English)
Isolation
Social dynamics (During my stay there were a few moments of friction between Jenn and other volunteers. I think she would freely admit that at times she is not the easiest person to get along with. At one stage, when I was amidst a frustrating plumming dilema (I put the faucet on backwards) this included me, but when she made us both a vodka and freshly squeezed orange juice our differences where set aside.)
Transitory nature of community (It is hard for Jenn and Yves to invest much effort into getting to know people who will be gone in a few weeks.)
Exposure to wind, rain, sun.
Limited personal funds (Jen has a dwindling savings account and Yves is, more or less, broke).
Distance from medical assistance
Mistakes
No refrigeration
Animals (unpredictable)

Best things about living here
Healthy diet
Plenty of exersize
Beautiful setting
Meeting lots of interesting people
Closer connection to food/land/environment
Not wasteful
Learning/experimenting
Sunsets
Donations from people inspired by the project. Land, books, seeds, tools, clothes, animals.
Tranquility
No city bullshit, usually
Waterfall
No boss or 9 to 5. (7 to 7 instead!)
Stars
Animals

Gringo Biker

2010-07-25T21:44:00.000+01:00

I am probably working away on a farm at the moment but I have written a few posts to keep regular readers amused...Next up, Gringo Biker.

Well, the name is a bit naff, but I wanted something that instantly explained what I was doing. Basically, my inspiration came from Heinz Stucke. This well-travelled cyclist has been on the road since 1962. He now travels from the licencing revenue of over 100,000 travel photos and from sales of his booklet discribing his travels.

Well, I decided to follow suit and bash out a little booklet of travel stories. I filchered most of them from previous posts on this blog. Then I copied them to word, ran a spell check, used Booklet Creator and made a front cover with one of Mike's photos of me. Then I printed off one master copy for 5 soles and had 30 copies photocopied for 30 soles. I sold each copy for 5 soles and had made back my investment in the first day by wandering around Miraflores in Lima and irritating anyone who looked like they might speak (and read) English.

It is my first dabble with entrepreneurialism and was fun. Especially seeing those 30 fresh copies roll hot of the press.

I am looking forward to making another one with a different set of stories and now I have learned a few important things about manufacturing.

-Photocopying is cheaper than printing.
-Print the master copy to highest standard possible.
-Spell check and read through for mistakes.
-Make sure the pages are in the right order.

And here are my sales tips...
-Grab a few copies in a plastic bag and look for white people.
-Someone on a bike is a safe bet.
-Always approach good-looking girls.
-People with rucksacks.
-People lingering at road crossings, cafe tables, queues and bus stations.
-Mention it over breakfast in a hostel.

A Chat With A Guide Called Eric

2010-07-20T20:12:00.002+01:00

I am probably working away on a farm at the moment but I have written a few posts to keep regular readers amused...Firstly, back to the Huayhuash trek in Peru.

Halfway around the trek there are some hot springs where you can soak your aching legs. Dave and I got chatting to a trekking guide with one of the tour groups. He was sat in the hot bath drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. We had already been in and out, and eaten dinner, and sat, in all our warm clothes, on the edge.

To start with we had asked him about his job, whether he was interested in moutain climbing or prefered trekking. He told us that he was keen on climbing but has a knee injury and finds trekking easier.

The knee injury was from carrying a teacher downhill. She was accompanying a group of British children that he was guiding and started to show symptoms of oedema (a potentially life-threatening form of altitude sickness). He ran downhill for 4kms with her on his back. There was no phone reception of course but the group had a British Army emergency transponder with them. A message got through to London and from there to Huaraz. Anyway she survived and Eric got a sore knee.

I asked Eric about the standard of mountain rescue in general and he was, to say the least, disparaging. Helicopters are theoretically available but they have to come from Lima. They won't even take off before insurance details have been sorted out.

Eric didn't have much faith in Peru's government. The country has a wealth of mineral resources and is one of the world leaders in the production of stuff like arsenic, copper, lead, silver, tin and zinc. However, from Eric's point of view, there is no sign of this wealth benefiting the people. He thinks this is due to corruption in government. He sited the example of Alberto Fujimori, the president during the nineties. Fujimori was a university lecturer before being elected, with a modest income. He privatised many state-owned enterprises raising an estimated US$9 billion barely a fraction of which would ever benifit Peruvian people. Last year he was convicted of human rights abuses and corruption and has been sent to prison.

So perhaps it is unsuprising that Eric considers politicians with a great deal of suspicion. The poverty gap is as bad as ever. Some people in the poorer areas of Cusco and Lima live on 2 or 3 soles a day. About 50 pence. Around 35% of the population live below the poverty line.

Peru has a thriving tourist industry. But, yet again, most of the money dissappears. In Cusco, most of the bars, restuarants and hotels in the centre are foreign owned. There are many government schemes to encourage foreign investment. Perurail, which runs the trains to Machu Picchu, which is visited by over 850 million people each year, is owned by a British company. Eric said that Inca trail guides and cooks are fairly well-paid but porters can expect 120 soles for 4 days. About 7 pounds a day. The entrance fee at MP goes directly to Lima as do the entrance fees to the various National Parks in the country. Getting money back from Lima to invest in the tourism industry is like getting blood out of a stone.

The Cordillera Huayhuash itself used to be a national park but the status was revoked. The area was used as a hideout by Shining Path untill that group was defeated in the early nineties. In 2002 two hikers were murdered in a robbery. Then, in 2004, another 4 hikers were shot whilst resisting an armed robbery, one died from blood-loss before rescue. The local police and government felt there was little they could do to police the area any better so instead they instigated a "protection money" system. As you pass by small communities on the trek you must pay between 10 and 35 soles, for which you get a receipt, in total you pay around 150 soles. The money goes toward "upkeep of the trail and to support local communities". This has made the area generally safe but infuriated the Israeli hikers we met.

This year the tourism industry was dealt an additional blow with the flooding in Cusco. At the hight of the floods this year Peru was loosing US$1 million a day due to cancelations. The train to MP was suspended and helicopters were sent to rescue about 2000 stranded tourists and locals. The repair bill has been estimated to be around US$300 million.

We finished our beers and went to bed. It was cold. We pitied those still enjoying the hot water because at some point they had to get out.

Piura to Vilcabamba: Into Ecuador

2010-07-08T22:22:00.003+01:00

It was hot as I pedaled out of Piura and on towards the border. I made it to a little town called Las Lomas. In the morning I crossed the border into Ecuador.

And almost at once the hills began. The first night I camped next to a river and was attacked by insects the minute I unzipped the tent to make tea. Pegs don't work very well in sand so I had to use plastic bags filled with sand. Then I had a day of uphill, I ran out of water and very thirsty I came across a gas station and chanced it and drank litres of water out of the tap (so far it hasn't made me ill).

That night I reached a small village and asked if there was anywhere I could camp. I was pointed towards the church and camped on the concrete veranda.

The next day, fuelled by boiled eggs, I reached Loja. On my way into town I bumped into a French bloke on a motorised bicycle. A strange choice of transport I would say. Anyway he showed me a cheap hotel and we got some beers and drank them in a plaza. In the morning I headed down to Vilcabamba. It is hot here so quite refreshing when there is a rain shower. Found a campsite for $1 a night with a pool and camped under a lime tree.

Dave Patton: Couchsurfer, CAACer, Roadtripper and Backpacker extraordinaire!

2010-07-06T22:17:00.003+01:00

After a few months on the road I discovered that a fellow CAACer was in hot pursuit. Dave, using buses, caught me up and he signed me up for a 9 day hike. He is a pretty nifty photographer and it is definately worth checking out his photos here.

1. We recently hiked the Huayhuash trek together. Where did you first hear about this trek?
At one of the weekly Wednesday night Edinburgh couchsurfing group pub meets, a Scottish CSer who´d visited S America highly recommended the hike, saying it was far superior to the Santa Cruz hike. She wasn´t wrong, in my opinion!

2. Which was your favourite day of the trek?
Day 3 - many stunning lakes and mountain vistas; difficult but very rewarding mountain pass with lots of surprises. At camp (Huayhuash village)... politely asking the locals who lived in a couple of mud brick houses for dinner to break the daily routine of spaghetti and pasta sauce. Result... wonderful cultural experience and insight into mountain life, and delicious homemade dinner and breakfast direct from the farm.

3. Why wash?
Huayhuash? Top hike in the world. Why wash? Bar some hot springs, it´s the longest I´ve gone without washing and shaving! The post hike shower has never felt so good.

4. You make good use of Couchsurfing on your trips. What have been your best
experiences?
I´ve had many great CSing experiences, such as Hawaian surfing and many road trips with the locals to places well off the tourist trail. But my favorite was probably my first, near Perth in Western Australia. My host lent me his bike and snorkel to visit Rottnest Island. He took me to one of his Aussie Rules football sessions so I could "give it a go". He welcomed me on a typical Aussie camping weekend with his pals in Margaret River, experiencing swags, fine wines and chocolate tasting. Plus a bedroom to myself in his family home and home cooking were delightful after months of hostels!

5. How many countries have you visited now? Which are your top 5?
46 I think, hope to make it to 100 one day! Top 5, tough question; I like to think of the top 5 places I´d most like to return to.

New Zealand - for people who love the great outdoors.
Thailand - beaches and tasty food at low prices.
Bolivia - adventure travel in a nutshell and very cheap.
South Africa - many natural delights and wild safari.
Italy - it almost has it all; great history, cities, coast, mountains, lakes and food.

(Check out how you are doing against the official list of countries here. I only manage a measly 28.)

6. Can you recommend a book?
Nelson Mandela´s autobiography, to learn what the great man has to say.

7. What is the most inspiring travel tale you have heard?
I have probably been most inspired by an Australian fellow who hitch-hiked almost the length of Africa with another guy and girl. That was real adventure and getting off the beaten track, things that I strive for.

Trujillo to Piura: Rastas, Gorditos, and a Thirsty Supposedly Hydrogen Powered Calamity

2010-07-04T23:32:00.009+01:00

One of the cool things about staying in the Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo is getting to meet other cyclists. I was lucky enough with the selection on offer. A pair of dreadlocked Argentinians and a trio of Columbians. Good practise for my Spanish. We cooked several meals together including several spicey rice dishes from the Columbians and a tradditional Arroz con Leche from the Rastas. Although, I still think rice pudding is a superior dish.

One evening we all set off the University. I hadn't really understood why we were going but it turned out that David, one of the Columbians, was going to give a talk to some uni students about Hydrogen.

Unusual choice of subject, I thought. Then, out of his bag, he produced a thing. The thing turned out to be for making hydrogen gas by electrolysis of water. Three hours of explanation in Spanish followed. The hard wooden stool I was sitting on didn't help.

A few days later, in a conversation about a dangerous section of the road ahead, I discovered that David had a car. Funny sort of cyclist to have a car. But he was acting as a support driver for a large expedition of cyclists. Over 30 Columbians who were spread out over the route, a circumnavigation of the continent. He offered to give the Argentinians and me a lift past the dangerous bit. Sure, why not?

That night I came back from looking around the town and saw it.

"What's that?"
"It's a car!"

I could see it was a car, but I thought to myself, that is a calamity.

It was also a fairly small calamity considering it was going to carry six people, 4 bikes and a small mountian of gear. And the Columbians had a lot of gear. In pre-dawn darkness we began the task of lashing all the kit on. I went back to check if I had left anything and noticed a small orange glow above me. Sebastian was sat on the top step smoking a joint.
"Desayuno," he whispered.

My bike was the last thing to be loaded on. A good choice as it wasn't crushed under a pile of other junk. A bad choice because all the ropes had been used up and I had to tie it on with a wet t-shirt. We finally all piled in. Easier said than done as the back door had been blocked up with lashed on bikes. We climbed through the windows negotiating the roll-bars with limbo-dancer agility. The back of the jeep was taken up by boxes of the Columbian's junk. The four of us were squashed together. As we lurched off it was obvious that Calamity was dangerously top-heavy. Everytime we hit a speed bump the four of us in the back were thrown around. There were no seats and not really enough room. Especially with Christian, Carlos' son. He is affectionately known as Gordito (the little fat one) and calls his dad Gordo. This is a very strange young man. Carlos is a stocky build but not really fat, at least not like his son. At twelve years old he has thighs that are bigger than mine. And it isn't down to cycling.

Calamity supposedly ran on hydrogen but in reality it ran on plain old petrol. Lots of it. David and Carlos had almost no money. So, at each petrol station we would all pile out and David would issue us with stacks of Columbian CD's and posters which we would try and sell to unsuspecting passers-by until we had made enough for the next tank-full. When we headed across the desert we filled up a large petrol canister which had to be squeezed in through the window, under the roll-bars, and gave us even less room. And it leaked.

As we pressed on, wind rattling through the hunk-of-junk, Gordito sang loudly and tunelessly. Or, if he felt so inclined, he would imitate the noise of the engine. This could keep him entertained for hours. If we were unlucky enough to be overtaken by a police car then he would be singing "nee-nah" for the next 15 minutes. Sebastian had had enough and told him to sing out of the window. I began to suspect that there might be something amiss with Gordito. Perhaps some sort of hyperactive problem.

Anyway, at this juncture, Andres took out his homemade pipe. I had seen him carve it out of the pip from a giant avocado a few days before. And started trying to light it in the windy squishy chaos. He wasn't having much success and threw each used match on the floor. Right next to the gasoline canister.

I have never been more pleased to leave a vehicle in my life and seriously hope it will be a long time before I get in another car. But I guess better than being robbed by bandits.

In Pirua we had a free bed in a fairly wierd place. A recreation facility for miners. There was a meeting going on to try to stop a new mine being built by a big company. But too much Spanish for me so I went and sat by the pool in the dark and listened to the radio. There was a free dinner too which was good. The Argentinians ate their fill and then went off to find a park somewhere to smoke. I went to bed. More exhausting than a day cycling.

A few peruvian recipes...

2010-07-02T22:16:00.001+01:00

My favourite Peruvian dish is without a doubt Lomo Saltado. This hits the spot every time. It is kind of a beef stew with chips in it served with rice.

Ingredients:
Beef cut into strips
Oninon sliced into strips
Tomatoes cut into eighths.
Potatoes cut into chips and fried in hot oil
Yellow chili pepper sliced into thin strips
Chopped parsley
Balsamic vinegar
Soy sauce
Oil
Lemon juice
Salt
Pepper

Method:
1. Fry the strips of beef.
2. Add the onion and tomatoes for 2 minutes.
3. Add the rest of the ingredients.
4. Serve with rice.

Another classic from Peru is Ceviche. This is a delicious lunchtime snack made from raw fish marinated in lemon juice.

Ingredients:
Sea bass cut into chunks
Lemons (lots)
Onions
Chili
Garlic
Pepper
Salt
Coriander
Lettuce
Sweet potoato
Corn on the cob

Method:
1. Put fish in a bowl with crushed garlic and salt. Add lemon juice, finely sliced chili, pepper and chopped coriander. Leave for 10 minutes.
2. Slice oninons over the fish.
3. Serve with cooked corn, sweet potato and lettuce.

Many meals in Peru are served with a simple onion salad. Just sliced up with a herb (parsley or coriander) or some lettuce and then drenched in lime juice. I quite like it.

Also, a good snack often found sold on the street is Papa Rellena. This is mashed potato with some mince mixture, and olive and a bit of egg inside. Then fried.

Another street snack is Anticuchos. These are kebabs of beef hearts. When you ask for one you get a roast potato on the end of the skewer.

Card Games

2010-06-28T22:48:00.003+01:00

In need of a new card game? Give these a go...
Egyptian Rat Screw
Sevens
Shithead
Slam
Spite and Malice
Peanuts
Casino
Cribage
Hearts
Knockout Whist
Big Two

Huaraz to Trujillo: Cañon del Pato

2010-06-28T21:40:00.004+01:00

I left Huaraz. One day I would like to return and climb more of the peaks in the Cordillera Blanca. A fantastic place. I rolled out of town and soon was passing through Cañon del Pato. The canyon of ducks. I didn't see any ducks but there were several thousand tunnels, or so. The canyon is beautiful. At nightfall I ended up in a little town called Yuramarca. I stayed in a basic adobe hovel and had chicken and chips for dinner.

In the morning I continued downhill into a stiff headwind. Lunch and an asphalt road both arrived at Chuquicara and then the mountains receeded to be replaced by a wide flood plain. I met a pair of German motorbikers. I continued cycling into the darkness again and ended up in Santa. I found a resonably priced place with a TV and ensuite. The height of class. 3 quid a night. I had, you guessed it, chicken and chips for dinner and listened to a passable salsa band composed of school kids. Then I watched Beverly Hills Cop 2 in bed. In the morning I woke early enough to watch Germany give England a thrashing in the world cup. Then I headed off along the Panamericana. A pretty miserable ride into a headwind. I passed huge sand-dune mountains and a continuous stream of trucks passed me. Some traffic police stopped me to tell me to speed up as it was dangerous to enter Trujillo at night. I camped shortly after in what I think was a bamboo plantation.

Today was a short day to arrive in Trujillo and locate the "famous" (in the cycle-touring world at least) Casa de Ciclistas and meet the famous Lucho. Safely ensconced, I met the other cyclists staying there. A pair of dreadlocked Argentinians and a couple of older cyclists from Columbia in matching t-shirts. Cute. The Columbians had whipped up a bit of lunch. A spicy stew of rice, lentils, banana and avocado. Delicious and a nice welcome. Now I am off to have a look around the historic centre of the city.

Pisco

2010-06-25T00:18:00.005+01:00

I watched the bad weather roll out across Huaraz for 5 days. In the back of my mind I pictured the growing hostal bill. One good thing was that I got to meet some lovely people. I managed to convince two of them to come on a mountaineering trip.

Convincee 1: Ashley Atkins
Nationality: Confused American or wannabe Canadian.
Age: 20
Hair: Blonde.
Special Talents: Good looking, had used crampons before, takes up less space in the tent than a man, good at cooking, knows some card games, owns a large rucksack.
Weakness: Bit slow.

Convincee 2: Sam Stephens
Nationality: Cornish, English.
Age:24
Hair: Curly tangled mop.
Special Talents: Banter, homebrew knowledge, tent making knowledge, boundless enthuaism.
Weakness: Not aclimatized, might have eaten something dodgy.

Our target was Pisco. Not to be confussed with the drink or the coastal town, this 5760m peak is a Cordillera Blanca classic. It was to be a DIY trip. No guides, no donkey, no cook, no idea what we were letting ourselves in for.

First stop: rental shop. Ricardo sorted us out with a photocopied A4 map and a bunch of rental equipment. Ice axes, crampons, harnesses, rope, snow pants, etc.

Then, supermercado, bed, bus, another bus, walk, and bed again. Only this time it is in base camp. We wern't able to afford the plush refuggio with its delightful toilets with seats, soft beds and tasty nosh. Instead we used a squat toilet, squeezed 3 people into a 2-man tent, and ate pasta and sauce.

Let's rewind. Three people in a tent, at best, suited to half that number. It required either tetris like organisation or spooning.

Day two. Not a lot to do today except play cards. Ashley taught us a game called Egyptian Rat Screw. Like climbing it required quick reflexes, good judgement, and a keen eye. I lacked any of these skills and went out very fast each time we played. After lunch, which Sam couldn't face, we crossed a luna-landscape of glacial moraines. Not easy as the path is hard to make out. We set up the tent and squeezed in. Alarm set for 11:45pm.

Day Three.We woke. I unzipped the flap and pulled in some oats, powdered milk and granola. We mixed it up with some icey water in a pan and ate. Sam had one spoonfull before unzipping his side of the tent and spraying vommit on my flysheet. We got out and got dressed for the occasion. Then, roped up, we got on the glacier. The first 20m were a steepish climb if you've never used an ice axe in anger before and Ashley slipped. Fortunately I had her on a body belay and I was brased in a bucket seat I had kicked into the snow. The going got easier.

Sam's condition was not good. We were taking very frequent rests. He hadn't eaten properly for 3 meals now. He tried some biscuits which he managed to keep down. At least for about 10 minutes when he threw up again. We continued. We got slower and slower. Sam was in a bad way leaving a trail of little orange sick stains in the snow behind us. Eventually he stopped, lay down on the snow. I asked him if he was ok and he said he was exhausted and had no energy. It was inevitable we had to turn back.

Down happened a bit quicker with the only real problem being the steep section. Here Sam managed to negociate the hard part, with a progressively dimming head-torch, only to bag himself in the eye with his ice-axe. Poor guy. Ashley and Sam scampered off back to bed. I turned around and, in the breaking dawn, headed up to the top alone.

After passing our turn-around point I headed up several snowy slopes, all walking but with progressively more dangerous outcomes if you slipped. Fantastic snow formations, crevases and icicles.

Further up the snow became more powdery and the trail more blown out. It was very windy. I climbed a seemingly never-ending slope right beside a 3000m drop. Then the slope eased and I just plodded upwards. Very little air up there and I had to breathe hard and walk slow. Eventually I reached another steep section and the summit. My third mountain above 5000m and in the most adventurous style yet.

Dorothee Fleck Interview

2010-06-23T15:26:00.001+01:00

Dorothee is one of a number of RTW cyclists I have met. We bumped into each other briefly in La Serena and then again in La Paz. She's nearing the end of her trip after over two years on the road.

You have nearly cycled all the way around the world. Which countries have been the best for you? Which countries that you have missed this time would you like to visit?
There are around 200 countries on this Earth, so far I covered only a fifth. Even if there are some countries I don't want to cycle in, there are still a lot missing. But first of all all the "-stan" Countries and Iran, and all the African countries (I cycled only in Madagascar). Hopefully I still can cycle when I am 90 years ald to cover all of them.

Can you recommend a book? What is it about?
No, not really. There are so many good books. Perhaps I can recommend you a very good book, after I have written mine :-), it will be about my trip around the world of course, about all the fantastic people I met.

It is a shame I missed making a recording of your flute playing but can you tell me which is your favourite piece to play and if you have a favourite piece to listen to on the road...
If I have a good piano player: Franz Schubert: Die Schoene Muellerin Variations, Cesar Franck Sonate, When I am alone, JSB Bach Solo Suites, and Philip Emanuel Bach Solo Sonata.
On the road on my bike, I don't listen to music, I prefer to listen to the birds, the water in the rivers, the leaves in the wind. What I don't like are barking dogs and whistling men.

What is the best thing for you about travelling by bike?
Everything! You should know about it, I could write a whole book about it, perhaps I will.

When and where will be your next cycle tour be?
At first I have to finish this one, but I think after two years it's time to take off again for a longer time. Hopefully I can visit then the "-stan" countries and Iran.

If you could make an international law to make the world a better place what would it be?
Actually the world is a very nice place, if there wouldn't be just a few people who are destroying it. There are a lot of laws already which are ignored.
But if I could introduce something, which makes it easier to see the world, I would introduce a World Wide Visa for cyclists.

What is the best bit of equipment you carry?
Lucky me I have some good bits of equipments, of course my solid bike, my tent which keeps me dry, my stove for my essential coffee in the morning... I hope they hold out the last months

best of luck with the rest of your trip...
Thanks same to you

Hiking Huayhuash

2010-06-18T22:21:00.014+01:00

Donkey Daydreaming

Sometimes I wonder what donkeys are thinking. It's hard to tell. I was sitting by the side of the track on the Cordillera Huayhuash trek with Dave. We had just eaten our sandwiches and were sat enjoying the view. Towering peaks with elegant flutings of snow that, seemingly defying physics, cling to the near vertical slopes.

Up the track behind us came a line of donkeys and a Peruvian on a horse. The donkeys are used to carry all the equipment for the many tour groups that are continuously hiking around this trail. They didn't seem to have much enthusiam as they walked past. Thier backs were loaded up with tents, rucksacks, gas canisters, wooden crates, guitars, fold up seats and mountains of food. The tour group, some way behind, are left with nice light packs. The big donkey eyes gave away nothing on their expressionless faces.

The trek, which takes between eight to fourteen days, was recently voted the second most-beautiful trek in the world by National Geographic. It is located South of the Cordillera Blanca. Huaraz, the Peruvian equivalent of Chamonix, is a good place to base your stay in the region.

In some ways Dave and I had at least some idea how the donkeys felt. We didn't have the nice light packs and we didn't arrive in the camps with our food prepared and our tents errected. Instead we lugged ten days of food up each pass in heavy packs. We had an affinity to our four-legged friends. We had cleared the supermarket in Huaraz out of spaggheti and, on alternate nights, we looked forward to adding a tin of tuna.
Getting a good square meal...

One afternoon we arrived in the little village called Huayhuash. Well, village is a grand word for two adobe shacks and a dozen tents. We took off our rucksacks and rested against some rocks. The donkeys were being unloaded and, as far as we could tell, seemed to be enjoying it. Some of them ran about but most just munched grass.

'It would be very convinient if humans could eat grass wouldn't it?'
'I expect it would get boring after a while,' replied Dave, humouring me.
'Yes. Like pasta.'

We decided to try asking at one of the houses if we could buy dinner. Not only was the pasta diet getting tedious but we had quite limited amounts of both food and fuel. Happily, the farmer, in a rustic wide-brimmed hat, agreed and told us to come back at seven that night. When we arrived, the single room of the house was filled with smoke. It poured out of an adobe built wood stove which was being stoked with dried grass. We took our places on a bench with a sheepskin. The nicely laid table was lit with a candle in an old tin can. As the smoke cleared, we saw that a few women in tradditional dress were sat in the corner beside a wall. Alfondo, the farmer, brought us big bowls of soup. Big chunks of potato floated in the broth. Dave explained in basic spanish that his father was a potato farmer in Northern Ireland and he loves potatoes. Alfondo brought us another plate full. After making short work of the main course, rice and chicken, we wished the family good night. On our way out we were invited for breakfast the next morning.

Alfondo's mother was full of life in the morning and dancing to Quechua music playing from a small radio that hung off a rusty nail. She served us fresh homemade cheese with crusty bread which was washed down with warm milk. All from the cattle that grazed just outside in the massive valley. Once we had eaten our fill, Alfondo showed us the cheese-making equipment. Very basic stuff.

'This could be Ireland a hunded years ago,' said Dave.

Touching the Saftey Pins

Most of the campsites along the route have a squat toilet. These vary in design and quality but smell equallly revolting. Some are made with a few bits of timber and turf. Others have a solid block of concrete with a hole in the middle. Some are nicely built little things, others just a bit of tin with no door or roof. In one toilet the hole in the concrete was rather small and, in full squat, I had to do a little crab-shuffle to drop the bombs on target. They drop into an enormous void.

Joe Simpson, the acident-prone mountaineer and writer, was probably thinking of a different kind of void when he named his famous book Touching the Void. The mountain where he and his rope-cutting partner, Simon Yates, got into so much mischiff can be seen from Paso San Antonio.

We stayed an hour on the top of the pass admiring the view. Sulía Grande, the cravase strewn glacier, the lake at the bottom. I went through the story from the book in my head trying to spot where the events occured.

The track down the other side of the pass was steep scree. Dave set off at a Kamakazee pace and I did my best to keep up. Then, perhaps inspired by Mr Simpson, Dave lost his footing and fell onto a rock with a yell of pain. He's broken a leg, I thought, and started to think how I would pull off an epic rescue. I felt in my pocket to check I had my penknife.

The graze ran the length of his shin interspersed with dull blue bruising but otherwise he was fine. His trousers were ripped at the knee. Savlon and saftey pins from Dave's first-aid kit sorted him out. Although, he did look like he had stolen his trousers from a seventies punk rocker.

We lost the track a little and followed directly down the valley which became a gorge. We teetered down loose black sand, and hopped between boulders. I saw Dave standing at the top of an overhanging waterfall. There was no way past. Fortunately we had no rope, so there would be no need for the penknife. Dave found a slippery grass ledge and cautiously made his way down past the waterfall. He said it was ok. Oh great. Now I have to do it too.

In the valley, we were able to hide our rucksacks behind some boulders. Then, unladen, we headed up to the lake for a superb view of the glacier and Sulía Grande.

A Donkey's Dream

At the end of our trek we followed a narrow path into Llamac to wait for a bus back to Huaraz. We stood off the path to let some pack-donkeys past. I wondered if they had the same sense of satisfaction getting to the end of the walk. Did they have the same memories of indescribable beauty in their heads, somewhere inbetween those oversized ears. Probably not. They were probably going to be glad to have more grass to eat and less stuff on their backs. So, when I think about it, I am glad I am not a donkey.

Mike Hayes Interview

2010-06-10T01:22:00.000+01:00

I met mike just outside of a town called Ayaviri as I was heading from Lago Titicaca towards Cusco. We cycled together up to Cusco and for a jaunt around the sacred valley. He started his trip 4 months before in Puerto Montt and he flew home from Cusco this time. Check out his blog and his photography site.

1. Can you quickly describe your cycle tours, your bike and your philosophy. Don't go on and on!!! ha ha
Oh heck, philosophy is something I don't think about... just like riding and experiencing the 'places & people in between' that you don't get to see any other way. There needs to be mountains though... "as for describe my tours without going on and on".. ya ok, short and concise then I've bike toured in India, Ladakh, Kashmir, Pakistan, China, Morocco, Colombia, Ecuador, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Croatia, Bosnia, Spain, France... raced in a bunch of countries and travelled a whole bunch of other countries too. short enough?I like journeys that represent something of a challenge...
Oops, forgot my bike,... for wild and woolly stuff I have a Mk1 Thorn Nomad now in it's 7th year and showing a nice patina of wear :-) for lighter road tours I have a Salsa Casseroll built up with some classic components... The Nomad appeared on my blog in 2007 here (minus marathon tyres) and my Casseroll is here.

2. Can you recommend a good kayak trip in Cornwall, please.
The whole of cornwall is good, if looking for a good day out though then launch at Sennen, paddle around Lands End to Porthgwarra or Porthcurno, and return - perhaps with a detour out to the Longships reef is good.. lots of caves and rock arches to explore if not too rough, tidal races to play in, seals, dolphins and in summer enormous (8m) basking sharks to see

3. What is the your favourite phrase in Spanish?
Es la lucha... it's the fight.. used in same way as english folk use c'est la vie/that's life

4. Do you have a cycle touring tip?
no... wait, yes actually I do... stick a rolled up copy of your passport inside your handlebars, that way if bike is nicked and recovered it's easy to prove ownership. Inside your bars is also a handy place to keep spare spokes.

5. Can you recommend a book? What is it about?
hey what is this.. Radio 4? but seeing as you asked yes I think I can....it's called The Art of Looking Sideways, it's like a posh scrapbook about turning ideas upside down, looking at the world differently... something I like doing :-) It's not a book to read all at once, heck it's 4 inches thick, but rather one to pick up and open at a random page when you need some inspiration or have an idle moment.

6. You are a bit of a nifty photographer...Can you give me advice on taking a good shot on tour...What was the best photo of your trip this time
Ah thank you very much :-) advice, oh that's difficult, I tend to shoot on instinct but perhaps one good piece of advice is always to pay attention to the edges of your viewfinder.. so many photos get trashed by random 'things' appearing at the edges that distract from the point of the picture itself. Don't listen to all the bollocks people say about a photo telling a story, it doesn't have to... a picture can be completely abstract with no subject or point at all beyond colour or pattern. It helps as well before you pick up your camera to think about what you were about to photograph... look with your eyes before picking up the camera... I'm not articulating very well but that's best I can explain, you have to be receptive to seeing a picture before the camera gets in the way... and don't be a slave to the camera, you don't have to take a picture of everything :-)

Very difficult to pick a best photo from this trip, one of my favourites tho is this one... it's in Cafayate and I like it because it's just perfect (for me) instinctive street photography.. it's simple, graphic, captures a moment in time and manages to give a feel for the places well. I'm a 'lazy' photographer in that I don't pre-plan or premeditate or anything. I just go for a walk with my camera and see what catches my eye or what situations I react to.

If I have a favourite photo of all time I think it's this one... tribesmen on the Pakistan/Afghan border in 2000.

7. What is the best thing for you about travelling by bike?
Oh that's easy... absolute, unbounded freedom (and extreme coolness... haha)

8. you could make an international law to make the world a better place what would it be?
Yep, that would be to make greed and selfishness a criminal offence punishable by community service... or something. Shit, I sound like Miss World...

9. What is the best bit of equipment you carry?
My Rab sleeping bag... oh, and a big knife :-)

AMA work in Lima

2010-06-06T02:50:00.016+01:00

I've not posted much about my ride over the mountains from Cusco to Lima. It was terrific and took in some superb scenery and some lovely remote villages and several great campspots in the hills and beside rivers in picturesque valleys. I was just too busy enjoying it. Sorry.

Now, I make no appologies that this will be an unusually long post for me. And possibly rather serious at times. If that's not your bag...shame on you!!

In Lima, I've been lucky enough to meet up with Judith Godfrey who is the wife of Bishop H. William Godfrey, or "Bishop Bill". I got in touch with her through the Mother's Union to visit some of the outreach projects in Lima.

So, we hopped in Judith's 4x4 and set off through the crazy Lima traffic. It is especially bad at the moment because of road works associated with a new train line being built on concrete stilts. I have discovered on my bike that the traffic was pretty bad to start with. Traffic lights make it worse and traffic policemen just cause gridlock.

We made our way out through the poorer areas of town skirting a hill. Judith pointed out the yellow concrete staircases built between the houses. These are the brainchild of Luis Lossio, the Mayor of Lima. Judith had good words to say about this politician who seems to have a very practical approach. The staircases replace treacherous dirt roads. Other projects by the Mayor include using old cargo containers as makeshift hospitals in the shanty towns.

We turned off onto a dirt road and into a steep valley. Here the houses are all shacks. As the shanty town has been pushed further back it has crept higher and higher up the slope. Shacks are perched at incredible angles. We parked beside a huge ramshackle graveyard. Not a solemn attractive municipal cemetry but a area of brown sandy ground where people go to bury their dead. In their hundreds.

Here, Lima is expanding. People arrive and claim a plot of land and put up a shack. This often happens at night and with quite a few people from the same area. Sometimes these people have come from other areas in Peru but sometimes from overcrowded areas of Lima. Almost immediately they have to defend, perhaps with violence, their claim from other people who claim to own it. The Police and even the Army might get involved. If they get to stay they are perched in a shack on a mountainside. To begin with they have no services. No road, water, sewerage, electricity or fuel. The first service to arrive is electricity. This is because they steal it. They set up a cable on some bamboo poles and some lucky chap shinnies up an electricity pole and connects it. For water a truck from the water company comes by and fills up blue water barrels. These then have to be transported up slippery muddy tracks to the hillside shacks. Sewerage is a hole dug in the ground.

Imagine living in such conditions.

Now imagine bringing up children there.

Now imagine that one of your children has a disability. Whilst travelling through Bolivia and Peru I have seen disabled or mentaly ill people being treated in a way that to me seemed apalling. It is considered a stigma. Judith told me about a family who locked a man away on a roof terrace and he had no contact with anyone other than someone bringing him food each day. Out of sight out of mind.

We visited the Shalom centre. This is a small school and theraphy centre for disabled children. The building it is housed in at the moment is rented. There is a small physiotherapy room, a room for language therapy and a room for ocupational therapy. The mothers sit in on the therapies. It is important to teach them that it is nothing to be ashamed of to have a disabled child. They are given encouragement that they will be able to cope. Pat, who runs the centre, has found a new building that she has bought and hopes to move to. We took a look. It is much bigger but has no proper roof yet. Also, as it turns out, the foundations are not too good. So there is no room to expand with an extra floor as had been planned. But, when it is finished, it will certainly be an improvement. As we walked in there was a woman Judith knew sitting on the floor sewing. She had about six factory made children's jumpers. They needed finishing off by hand. For each one she will earn about half a sol. So, she might earn about 75p.

Sewing, knitting, shoe-making and needlecraft are taught in a group in the back room of the Santa Maria church. These are skills that can be used to make things to sell. I wondered how these skills have not been passed on mother-to-daughter. Judith explained that life in the shanty towns has disturbed the way these skills would normally have been taught. I won't pretend that I have much interest in knitting groups in general...but the importance of these projects can't be understated.

The Arpilleras project is interesting. Arpilleras are not easily described (but I will try!). They are a form of three dimensional mixture of tapestry and collage. Basically, little pieces of material are sown into little people, trees, animals etc. and they are then all sown onto a background to make a scene. Often these are biblical scenes such as The Good Shepard or Noah's Ark. Each arpillera is made individualy without a pattern. There are no two alike. The technique is used to make decorative pannels, bags, glasses cases, purses and that kind of thing. They are works of art.

The Association of Anglican Women (AMA), which is Peru's version of the MU, supports this project. In an upstairs room of a small church, called "Jesus of Nazareth", a group of women meet up to sew the arpilleras. An AMA member who previously worked on a similar scheme in Africa has helped by introducing a level of quality control. The meeting means the women can share ideas. The project has an interesting financial model. Many of the arpilleras are sold in the USA, yet the women are paid for their work at a good Peruvian rate. In the States they are sold at double. The difference in put in a fund. The women who make the arpilleras can use the money in the fund for operations, education, house extensions, or similar life-altering reasons.

In more advanced areas of shanty town proper roads are built. The roads are built by the local people and will often resemble the roads from the areas they come from. For example if they are from the mountains they bring their horrid cobbles. In one of the more established areas the water company has built a water tank. This means a better quality of water at a better price. Eventually, all these areas will improve but I wonder how long the city can keep expanding in this crazy way.

AMA works alongside the Anglican Church's NGO in Peru. The Anglican Church has little political clout in Peru but its social projects are noticably valuable. They have their work cut out. Children projects attract money quite well. As do "novelties" such as a project to teach the rearing of ducks for food or sale. Ducks are more disease resistant than hens and some breeds require very little water. Other projects, the bread and butter, are less glamorous. There is no end in sight for the work that can be done. That needs to be done. Just a shortage of money to acheive it.

I could not possibly visit all the projects. There are projects to teach bakery, jewellery making, gardening (to cultivate small plots for food), work in prisons, health centres, children's homes and there are plenty of areas beside Lima that could use this kind of help.

In 2007 there was an earthquake on the central coast of Peru. Emergency projects established in towns south of Lima have remained their ever since. There are many other places where the same could happen.

Another day I visited a school called San Mateo with a volunteer from Manchester called Mike. Lima has a state school system but the standard is very low. There are also private schools, to a good standard, but they are very expensive. Anglican schools such as San Mateo offer affordable education at a good standard. In particular they place importance in dance, music, art and sport which are neglected in the state schools. San Mateo is in NE Lima is quite a marginalised area.

The day I visited the school with Mike there was certainly a good deal of dancing as the children practised for a big celebration dance the next day. One of the dances, from the jungle I was told, included the boys pretending to be tigers and then doing something rather suggestive with swords whilst girating thier hips...All the dance practise happened in the small patio area which was also used for sport and for lunch. The school has the normal classrooms as well as a small computer room with a jumble of different makes and ages, a library with too many books in English (mostly too advanced for the kids) from well meaning donations, and a nursery with tiny children sleeping and one, the entire day I was there, crying for his mummy.

Seeing a school for a day really only gave me the briefest look. Although small and basic the children seem to be getting a good normal schooling. Mike is certainly a helpful chap and no doubt his time at the school will be of great value to the pupils.

Websites

Anglican Church in Peru
San Mateo School
AMA blog

I'm in Huaraz just now for a bit of trekking in the mountains...I will fill you in soon.

Please consider supporting people, like my Mum, who give up their time to help others by donating to the Mother's Union.

Doggy Defence

2010-05-27T00:47:00.003+01:00

Iritatingly, a dog has bitten a hole in one of my rear panniers. I have had to fix it up with the last of my duct tape, but it won't be so watertight now. It could have been worse. The delightful hound could have bitten my leg. So. Now I feel I need a weapon against "man's best friend". But which? This has been a favourite topic amoung cyclists so here are the options I've heard.

1. Squirt dog with water from your water bottle.

2. Hit it with pump, length of bamboo, truncheon, or bit of metal. (I'm keeping my eyes peeled for something suitable.)

3. Whip it with a horse whip or an old inner-tube.

4. Hit it with a machete (I know two cyclists who carry these). Perhaps more effective at getting the owner to control it, fearing the crazed gringo waving a machete around.

5. Shoot it with an air-gun, or a gun that fires plastic ball bearings (or an Uzi for all I care!!)

6. Mace it.

7. Zap it with a cattle-prod or a tazer.

8. Buy a Dog Dazer. A battery powered devise that emits a high-pitched sound that they don't like.

9. Throw rocks. I do this already. It's what the locals do so quite a good strategy. Sadly I don't have anywhere very good to store the stones and there isn't always time to pick some up.

10. Use physcology. Shout at it (suprisingly effective, especially if you use Spanish). For example "a tu casa!" Aim straight for it (dogs only attack from behind). Get off the bike (then it will recognise you as a human rather than a bike).

11. Ride the adrenaline rush and try and out run it. Not always possible.

Do you know something that works better?

Fiesta del Cruz: Sax

2010-05-24T02:03:00.002+01:00

As I was cycling along I came across some saxophonists and a bunch of locals dancing. They blocked the whole road so I had to stop and watch (which I would have done anyway). In quick succession I was commanded to down 3 shots of goodness knows what. Luckily it was only a short downhill ride to the town.

Made a quick recording. Here.

Road Songs

2010-05-16T21:29:00.000+01:00

Following from my Dylan Lyrics post here are some more song lyrics that are ringing true for me at the moment.

First up,
Outlines feat. RZA -Now That I'm Free
Now that I'm on the road again
Got time to think about where I'm going
I couldn't think before
Now that I'm free
Open your eyes so you can see
Now that I'm free
I'm going to ask this world for more

Russ put this tune top of a playlist he made for me. I loved it straight away...

Gomez - Get Miles Away

Nick Drake - The Road
You can say the sun is shining if you really want to
I can see the moon and it seems so clear
You can take the road that takes you to the stars now
I can take a road that'll see me through

I learned to play this on guitar once and never really paid attention to the lyrics. But aren't they lovely?

Unlike the song of the same name by
Tenacious D
whose lyrics aren't.

The Black Keys -Have Love Will Travel

Steppenwolf-Born to be wild

Lemonjelly Ramblin Man

Back Door Machu Picchu

2010-05-13T20:30:00.003+01:00

There are two very popular ways to get to MP. On the train and on the Inca Trail. Both are obscenely expensive. However, there is also a third way. Suitable for those with a taste for adventure, a tight budget or a penchant for the weird and akward.

I began with a scenic cycle tour of the sacred valley with Mike. We whizzed by the various fortresses on the outskirts of Cusco and arrived for lunch in Pisac. In the afternoon we hiked up to see the terrific hilltop forts there. The next day we cycled to Ollataytambo where there are some more Inca Ruins. From here Mike headed back to Cusco and I headed on alone up to Abra Malaga, a 4316m pass. The views were amazing on the way up but then I hit a band of fog that sat on the hill. Soon after beginning my decsent down the otherside the stunning scenery reappeared.

At dusk I arrived in Santa Maria, a small dusty town, and started looking for somewhere to stay. But before I could find my bearings, a lady swept me and my bike up onto a minivan to Santa Teresa. There I found a hostal without electricity and went to bed with a candle.

I was dissappointed to discover that it is not possible to cycle "up to the front door" of Machu Picchu. But the alternative was good fun. First I had to get to the river Urabamba and cross it on "La Arboya" a basket on pulleys hanging off a cable. This was the stumbling block for the bike as the basket was too small. Then a 40min hike to the Hydro-electrico and another 2hrs along a railway line, with a roaring river and towering forested mountians, to Aguas Calientes. One you get to Aguas you back with the grockles. The next day, at sparrows fart, I hiked up to the front gate and spent the next few hours getting lost in the fog. But when it lifted...

Machu Picchu has to be seen to be believed.

Hotfoot Sightseeing

2010-05-08T20:01:00.000+01:00

The best way to see the sights of a city centre is undoubtably on foot. But how to start? In my book it's a good idea to hit the ground running. In several cities I have headed off in the morning for a jog around the main tourist sights. It has to be the best way to get an overview of the character of a town.

In Cusco I decided to plot a route that took in 10 plazas. Each one joined together by picturesque cobble streets, flights of steps or narrow alleys. Running up the flight of steps to Santa Ana left my bent double gasping for breath. Running back down required care as many of the ancient cobble stones have been worn to a polish by countless thousands of feet. Here's the route.

Beer (Part I)

2010-05-06T21:24:00.005+01:00

Among the cultural differences of different countries, one of the first to be investigated is the beer. Bottoms up!

Argentina****

A good country for beer and barbeques.

Quilmes***

The most popular beer in Argentina. Named after some ruins that Russ and I decided not to bother with as we were having a mare on a ripio road into a headwind. Reasonable enough lager. Coming across a shack of a farmstead, a beaten up Quilmes sign outside caught our attention. Soon we were offered a place to camp and homemade food and a trusty bottle of lager.

Salta***

An alternative lager. Similar to Quilmes in many respects.

Imperial****

Slight improvement on Quilmes and Salta. Bit stronger and crisper flavour.

Antares*****

Five stars don't get given out lightly. It is a dark porter with a toasted malty taste. Is it a cliché to describe it as chocolatey? Nice to drink something a bit English in the midst of all these lagers. I got one in a weird little campsite beside the river on the way to El Chalten. The place was run by a gang of hippies, with spacey ambient music, wooden cutlery and purple swirls painted on the cafe walls.

Chile***
Spending the festive period in Patagonia necessitated drinking quite a bit of Chilean beer. So I have a fondness for it.

Cerveza Cristal***

The most popular Chilean lager. Similar to Quilmes.

Escudo**

Refreshing but weak beer. Has a weird golden brown colour and tastes slightly bitter and grainy.

Kuntsmann*** (perhaps **** for the bock)

Example of the German influence on Chile and her beer selection. There are several types of these. I tried the bock and the lager. The bock was a nice caramel flavoured dark brown thing and the lager was just an average lager.

Cerveza Austral****

Made in the most southerly brewery on the planet, this is a better than average lager. Probably due to using unpolluted polar water.

Bolivia**
Bit of a let down in terms of beer but this is of little consequence in such a spectacular country. Made up for the lack of quality with quantity.

Huari**

Fairly rough but drinkable. This is what you get more or less everywhere. Nice label.

Potosína***

Maybe the best lager in Bolivia but that is hardly a compliment. In Potosí, where the brewery is, (no doubt the "highest brewery in the world") it comes out with an insane quantity of fizz.

Auténtica*

Revolting.

Paceña***

Made by Cervecería Boliviana Nacional, who also make Huari, this stuff is a tad better. It is supposed to be slightly more like a French lager but I didn't really get that.

Peru
It is too early to tell (so wait for Part II). So far I have only tried Cusqueña (maybe ***) which I have nothing against. It is an inoffensive and middle-of-the-road beer.

Cheers!

Juliaca to Cusco: Cicalistas en la berma

2010-05-01T21:03:00.007+01:00

The sign read: CUSCO 244.60km. Such confidence to use two decimal places! I'd left Ayaviri and had put in sufficient distance to warrant a biscuit stop. Whilst I was sat leaning on a fencepost, munching away, swigging coke and reading, a cycle-tourer pulled up.

Mike started his trip down in Puerto Montt and will finish, albeit a little reluctantly, in Cusco. We pressed on together with mountainous scenery on the horizon looming ever closer. Gradually, the road climbed and, by lunchtime, we found ourselves at the top of Abra La Raya: a 4338m pass. Here you can purchase a great variety of tourist-tat, listen to poorly played flute or take photos of a lady in traditional costume with a vicuna in tow. A bus load of tourists were hoarded out for these purposes. As we lunched we were pestered by a maniacally grinning barefoot village idiot.

We rolled down the other side into a superb valley. Coming the other way we met four Ecuadorian cyclists. Their trip will take them from Quito to Iguazu. Along the way they are visiting the most dramatic waterfalls. Especially of interest for me were their homemade panniers made from old barrels. Very tough, very waterproof and very cheap, but perhaps a bit heavy. I am always impressed with the resourcefulness of South American cycle tourers. Basic mountain bikes, cobbled together racks but they are off and doing it!

We turned up in Sicunai in the middle of a parade of school children, all in sports kit, blowing whistles as they were an army of tiny lunatic referees. Weird. We got a hospedaje and went out to get fried chicken and chips and be interrogated by a plastered Peruvian.

"Where are you from?" he asked us.
"England," we told him.
"Argentina?"
"No, England. In Europe," we persisted.
"Ah," he seemed to comprehend. Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Where are you from?"

In the morning another parade. This time a mile long cacophony of those tuk-tuk type things, with balloons and decorations, all beeping their horns.

More peacefully, our day's cycling took us through a valley of small villages with terracotta tiled roofs. The steep-sided mountains around us were lush green and here and there were signs that they were once terraced for agriculture. We had lunch in a cafe looking out on cobble streets and bell tower of a colonial church of the village plaza. Then we got ice-creams.

Disappointingly, our downhill day was thwarted by a strong headwind. Nevertheless, we arrived in Urcos. Particularly nice was a bedsheet depicting an owl, polar bear, fox, leopard, seal and penguin. In the plaza we found a nice place with chicken being roasted over an open fire for dinner.

With only a short hop left to Cusco we climbed out of town. We passed several more typically Peruvian villages. There was a lake where some children were rolling out clay into a frame to make tiles. Black smoke rose from a shack that presumably was a kiln. Goodness knows what they burn. Later we passed a curious structure, perhaps dating back to Inca times. I think it was an aqueduct but it may also have been some kind of fortification as it was at a strategic location close to Cusco and at the top of a small pass.

Cusco is a big city. After passing the "Bienvenidos a Cusco" banner we still had another 40 minutes of cycling through suburbs and outskirts before we arrived in the historic centre. It started to drizzle. Pulling up in front of the cathedral we took photos in a brief respite in the rain and then went for a big pizza dinner.

For a different take on the last few days, a lot of terrific photos, and a rude comment about my hair...take a look at Mike's post.

Inca Kola versus Irn Bru

2010-04-29T23:10:00.000+01:00

Ingredients
Irn Bru: Carbonated Water, Sugar, Citric Acid, Flavourings, Preservative (E 211), Caffeine, Colours (E110, E124), Ammonium Ferric Citrate (0.002%).

Inca Kola: Carbonated water, high fructose corn syrup, citric acid, sodium benzoate, caffeine, artificial and natural flavors.

Look pretty similar don't they? And they look similar. Irn-bru is a garish orange and Inca Kola a golden yellow. Their tastes are not a world apart either, both falling into the same category: grim sugary gunk. Inca kola wins hands down but soley on price.

Inca Kola is the best-selling soft drink in Peru. So, Coca-cola were naturally cheesed off at not having the top spot and bought 50% of the company. It was invented by José R. Lindley, from an English family, and was based on an ancestral Lemon Verbena drink.

Only one other country does not have Coke at the "Top of the Pops". Scotland, of course. Irn-bru was origionaly called Strachan's Brew until, in 1946, they were told it couldn't be called "brew" becasue it wasn't brewed. So they misspelt the name. The "Irn" bit come from the fact that the stuff was given away to Glasgow's iron and steelworkers by the gallon. Prior to this deal the steelworkers drank so much beer, because of the heat in the steelworks, that they were killing themselves off with alcohol poisoning. Recently, E110 and E124 have been banned in the UK, so Irn Bru are looking to find a way of getting the same insane colour another way.

The exact recipe of Irn Bru is, yawn, a closely guarded secret. In a bank vault in Switzerland. Only two people know it. Robin Barr, who mixes the syrup in a sealed room in Cumbernauld once a month, and another unknown other person. They are not allowed to fly on the same plane together.

Slogans
Inca Kola
El Sabor del Perú. (The flavour of Perú.)
Inca Kola sólo hay una y no se parece a ninguna. (There is only one Inca Kola and it is like no other.)
Irn Bru
Scotland's other National Drink.
Bru'd in Scotland from girders.

Nutritional Information
Irn Bru
Calories: 100
Sodium: 10mg
Sugars: 25g
Inca Kola
Calories: 96
Sodium: 31mg
Sugars: 26g

La Paz to Juliaca: Into Perú...

2010-04-27T22:17:00.003+01:00

It was fantastic to get out of La Paz and back on the road. Although, climbing back up to El Alto was knackering. Think the city-headonism took a bit of the umph out of my legs. Next problem was finding my way throught the honking minivans and crowded streets to find the right direction to Copacabana. After a while I gave up and had lunch at a roadside cafe. Even on my second go it took another hour or so to finaly get out of the sprawling mass.

Once I was through that it was back to the typical altiplano scenery. Flat farmland, the cordillera blanca in the distance and the ocassional woman in tradditional dress walking past with some bulls. Sometime in the afternoon I had my first glimpse of Lago Titicaca. It's nice.

After a pleasant campsite near a mobile phone mast, I hit a hilly section, a bit like the Scottish Borders. Then arrived at Tiquina where I had to take a barge across a bit of the lake. First I got a big lunch. The barge I was on appeared to have been knocked together by a deranged, coffin maker, with no sense of aesthetics, on a friday afternoon just before he clocked off. Somehow it stayed afloat, and I even saw buses on these things. The ten-year-old driving, very nonchalently, with the toe of his flip-flop, got us to the otherside and I was glad to be back on solid ground. Again I was reminded of Scotland as this part of the lake looks very much like the Isle of Jura.

I stopped for the night in Copacabana and stayed in a hotel. My first time doing so. Very plush it was too. Cheaper than the hostal in La Paz too. What the hell?

In the morning, onwards. It was a very smooth border crossing because I arrived in the nick of time. Just before a bus load turned up and the queues rolled out the door. I wasted no time in scooting on to Pomata for lunch: fresh fried trout. I'm guessing not long out of the lake. Delicioso. I passed through Juli only briefly. It is supposed to be a mini Rome but looked pretty average to me. Then again, I'm not a massive fan of Rome itself.

With the light fading I had to accept that I wouldn't make it to Puno and looked for a campspot. Acora turned up first with a real cheap dive of a Alojamiento. Ah, thats better! Three course dinner was a cyclist-friendly carbo-fest: pasta soup followed by a pasta and potato stew with rice accompanied by a bread roll. Then a mug of something hot and sweet and I was off to bed.

Today I nailed it to Puno and hung around a bit, got some lunch and then continued to Juliaca. Pleanty of daylight left but I decided to stay here for a good reason. The streets are frantic. More insane than La Paz. There'll be lots of street food, weird things going on and people shouting "Gringo!" at me. Perfect!

You Know You've Been on a Bike Too Long When...

2010-04-21T17:12:00.003+01:00

A while ago, I visited Chaiten and the town had quite an impact on me. Bootsnall.com have been kind enough to publish an article I wrote about my experiences there.

Also, the next edition of the fantastic Adventure Travel magazine, out next week, includes an interview with yours truly. But in the meantime have a look at my article for their website. You know you've been on a bike too long when...

The World's Most Dangerous Road

2010-04-20T22:22:00.010+01:00

But, erm, well it's a matter of debate if it is anymore. But it is terrific fun and very beautiful. Here's a quick timeline.
-It was built by Paraguyan prisoners in the 1930s. I would imagine a fair few copped it.
-In 1983, 100 people were killed in one go when a bus slid off the edge.
-Back in the mid-nineties, 200-300 people were killed each year.
-By 2006 an alternative route had been modernised to the extent that the North Yungas Road gets very little traffic now. Except from bikes.
-A few years ago 12 Israili cyclists, a whole tour group, were killed. A bus slid and forced all of them over the edge.
-Two weeks ago a girl on a bike was killed. She slid over the edge. Her boyfriend, who had decided not to do the tour, was waiting for her in La Paz. Dorothee had served her breakfast that morning.

The road, known variously as "The Death Road", "Grove's Road", "Coroico Road", "Camino de las Yungas", "El Camino de la Muerte", "Road of Death" or "Death Road", sees around 150 cyclists tackle the 1200m decsent daily. Mostly they sign up with a tour operator for between $30 and $80. For that they get a 20-something guide a pair of brightly coloured overalls and an all-singing-all-dancing mountain bike.

Dot and I took the thing on in a slightly different way.

Yesterday morning I got up early. I had agreed to meet up with Dot, in the quirky cafe where she stays and is working, at 6am. My alarm beeped at 5.50am. I'd packed my bags by 5.57am. I got everything down to the front door by 5.58am. All I needed to do was get my bike from the locked diposito and get out the, locked, front door. I found the nightwatchman. He was passed out on the sofa. Vommit covered his shirt, the table and the floor. Porn blared from the TV. My attempts to wake him failed. Even violent shaking and loud shouting produced no results. He rolled over on to his back and I saw that he had the keys clipped to his belt. I took them and got on fetching my bike and opening the door. I switched off the telly and put some newspapers over the worst of his vom. Then, when I heard him retching, I went back and put him in the recovery position, so he doesn't choke on his own sick. He might loose his job but hopefully not his life. I got to the cafe and ate a good breakfast while Dot served a bunch of guys headed for the Death Road.

We took our touring bikes and cycled up to Villa Fatima where we caught a bus for La Cumbre. This is the high point of the road from La Paz to Coroico. We jumped off the bus and headed down "The Ghost Road" a scenic, exciting and equally well named precursor to "The Death Road". With a yell of "Whahoo", Dorothee scooted down a pile of land-slide gravel. We popped out on the asphalt and found an old lady selling choripan.

Later, we turned off on to the Death Road proper. Imediately it was obvious what the fuss is about. The drops are sheer and deep. There would be no coming back from a slip.

"I think I will stick to the right-hand-side," said Dorothee. Think I will too, I thought.

But the danger only requires that you are not complacent. Otherwise you are left to enjoy a relaxing trip on a reasonable quality dirt road. In spectacular forested-mountain scenery. We took photos on the most photogenic bends, zoomed through waterfalls that fell in the road and splashed through streams.

Eventually we go to the bottom, Yolosa. This is where the tour companies would scoop you up into a minivan and drive you up to Coroico. But not us hard-as-nails cycle tourists. No. We cycled all the way up ourselves. Why? Because we are mugs.

I thought the uncomfortable uphill ride on punishing cobble stones would never end. We were rewarded by arriving in a delightful small town which provided me with pizza and beer. Two components of a chemical formula that results in a Happy Pete.

Today we returned in a hot sweaty minivan on the new road up to La Cumbre and quickly whizzed down to a checkpoint for pollo y papas and then, minutes later, the crazy traffic of La Paz.

Guess for another road like this I will have to visit China's Guoliang Tunnel.

Modes of Transport (Part I)

2010-04-19T21:21:00.000+01:00

I like being a cycle tourist. Its the right way around, I'm a tourist who happens to get about on a bike. There are many great reasons to travel by bike but perhaps it would be of more use to examine the "competition".

Motorbikers

I guess you could think we're pretty similar. We're all bikers, right? We can both squeeze between the lines of cars stuck in traffic.But adding the engine seems to change things a bit. Firstly, lets face it, a motorbiker has a certain cool. If Peter Fonda had been riding a ten-speed in Easy Rider it would have been like replacing the rock music soundtrack with something by Hans Zimmer. As well, the Hell's Angels have done wonders for lending an edge of danger and rebellion to this method of transport. I doubt they'd of been so scary on beach cruisers. I think motorbikes are probably more efficient than cars and buses. Plus, bikers have their own pubs and their magazines have semi-clad women on the covers.

On the otherside, of course, the vibration from the Captain America bike was so bad Mr Fonda could only sit on it for half an hour at a time. Even in the hottest weather, bikers have to wear heavy leathers and a helmet. Frankly, its lazier than cycling. And surgeons are famous for waiting for rainy days so that they will have some dead bikers come in to use for donated organs. But for me all these drawbacks would be ok if it wasn't for one other thing that makes motorbiking just seem wet and dull. And that other thing is Ewan McGregor.

Backpackers

Let's get this straight. I'm not talking about long-distance hikers. They are a kind of backpacker I have pleanty of respect for. I'm talking about the traveller who gets about largely by bus, train or a well directed thumb. They are easily spotted carrying an enormous rucksack which they only ever carry around the corner from the bus terminal to their hostal. I have a certain respect for this type of traveller. Indeed, I have travelled like this before myself. At one stage I was carrying around 30 short sleeved shirts, a pair of morrocan bongos, a 3 man tent, a Greek hammock with huge wooden spreaders and a guitar in a hardcase. But in hindsight I can look back and see how much of a burden that lot was.

The downsides of backpacking vs biking are numerous and have been well described by another cyclist called Tom. See here.

Huge Vehicles

The classic Volkswagen camper van is a decidedly cool thing. Sadly, they are super unreliable these days because they are just too old. Other vehicles designed for living and travelling in just seem to have got a bit out of hand. Especially out on the dirt roads, the "adventuous" petrol-head seems to choose something resembling a small lorry to live in. Goodness knows how much deisel these monstrosities burn through. Some even hoist a quad bike on the back so they can nip around in town while their house-sized car waits for them wherever they managed to park it. How garish to travel in something so overtly costly (especially if you ship it overseas), large enough to carry 50 passengers but just used for one middle-aged couple. It smacks of being unwilling to compromise on loosing even the smallest luxury. This mode of transport, I suspect, leads to the type of tourist who is rather inward looking and lacking in empathy.

Huayna Potosí

2010-04-17T17:45:00.005+01:00

April's mountain was the highest yet at 6088m. I went with a tour group and, luckily, they were a good bunch. 2 Brits, an Aussie, a French couple and a Canadian couple. One of the best aspects for me, at least initially, was all the terrific food they plied us with.

The organisation of the trip was slick. We left the refugio, after a good lunch, and had a short but steep afternoon walk. We followed a rocky trail, with heavy packs, up to the high camp. Then we ate more and did our best to sleep at 5pm. At midnight we woke up and headed for the top. By headtorch, a string of climbers tramped upwards in the snow. Nick, the Aussie, and the two Brits, both called Sam, provided good banter and pretty soon we reached the summit snow slope. This required a good amount of puffing and panting but the reward was well worth it. Just before dawn we topped out. The lights of El Alto and La Paz looked incredible in the distance. We sat, getting cold rear ends, and watched the sunrise. Looking out over the clouds sitting in the valley, we could see Lago Titicaca and many of the other peaks in the Cordillera Blanca.

The descent, in daylight, was along a narrow snowy ridge and then down another steep slope. We passed fantastic grottos of icicles and plodded back to the high camp where we picked up our stuff and trudged back to the refugio. The next group of eager beavers were ready to go and we slumped, semi-comatosed, to eat lunch.

That Old Chestnut

2010-04-14T01:12:00.000+01:00

Its been a while since I just wrote some utter guff so I thought I'd make amends. I've always been fond of sayings, phrases, idioms, expressions and proverbs. What's your favourite?

Ok the BS is about to hit the fan...

Fortune favours the bold. Similarly, the motto of the SAS and Dell-boy: "He who dares wins."
Well, yes, but he probably also gets diarrhoea, gets run over by a truck and has well slapped cheeks. I remember being told by a Scottish rock climber, "there are bold climbers and old climbers but no old and bold climbers". Perhaps it was his accent but it made no sense to me at the time. I had missheard "bold" as "bald". The man in question was, in fact, old, bald and a climber. You can appreciate my confussion.

A rolling stone gathers no moss.
Once the stone becomes stationary, on the otherhand, it does. Suprisingly quickly. To avoid this moss-gathering one should never go anywhere with shops. Some moss, I think, is to be encouraged as useful padding. The problem is deciding which, or how much, moss to jetison. At the moment I am considering dumping my rucksack in favour my newly purchased charango.

The best things in life are free.
I guess we're aiming at things such as love, friendship, inspiring conversations, babies, wild camping, blackberries, laughter, swings-and-slides in the park, buskers (hee hee) and sunsets. Lovely. However, to my mind, many of the worst things in life are exactly the same price. For example, using a public toilet without taking your own loo-paper and discovering, too late, that there is none there. Also, on my "bugger-all" menu, you can have; illness, missing loved ones, poverty, having the song "Umbrella" stuck in your head, breaking up with a girlfriend (but you have to pay for divorce!), death and of course whatever it is that "happens at sea". So, the best and worst things in life are free, and so are a good deal of other, middle-of-the-road, things. Perhaps the saying should be: "In life, there are lots of freebies." Good job too, it is my favourite price.

Also, I have found it to be a helpful exersize to try and learn some spanish expressions. Here are some I have gathered:-
Boca cerrada no entran moscas.
If your mouth is shut flies don't go in. I think this means if you don't say anything you can't "put your foot in it".
Paciencia es la madre de toda las ciencias.
Patience is the mother of all the sciences. Any ideas what this means? I'm stumped.
El que no lava platos, no rompe platos.
He that does not do the washing up does not break plates. Well, I like the litteral meaning. Perhaps it means that laziness has it's upsides and from time to time it is better to rest?
Vale más pan con amor, que gallina con dolor.
Its better to have bread with love that chicken with pain. You can be happy and poor?
Beber y comer, son cosas que hay que hacer.
Eating and drinking are things to do. Enjoy eating and drinking. Or, perhaps even, enjoy all life's necessaries.
A buen hambre no hace falta condimento.
A good hunger doesn't need condiments. If you are really hungry then things taste good, with or without salt and pepper? Maybe this is a "beggars can't be choosers" or "any port in a storm" type saying.
No hay dos sin tres.
There isn't two without three. Seriously weird. Clearly there is.

La Paz: A slightly inappropriate name?

2010-04-12T23:36:00.002+01:00

Considering that "peace" is the last thing you are likely to encounter here!! Bustling markets, lively folklorico in crowded peñas and insane traffic, with Nissan mini-vans in their thousands, are the order of the day here. My ride from Oruro was a straightforward enough affair and I managed several long days with a great little campsite beside a dried-up river inbetween.

I arrived in La Paz from above. Firstly, I dropped down into the sprawling, shacks and poorly built houses on the outskirts of El Alto. Then, after an enternity cycling through the rain and being sprayed with mud by buses, I was rewarded with a spectacular view of La Paz, a city laid like a cloth on a deep valley. On all sides dramatic snowcapped mountains.

I screeched down a winding hill into the town at dusk, found a hostel, and tired as a dog hit the sack without dinner.

Next day, walking up and down steep narrow cobble streets in flip-flops, I discovered an awesome Museo del Instrumentos Musicales, where I spent a few hours looking at the weird and wonderful instruments of the region. Inspiration hit home and I later in the day I found myself the proud owner of a charango.

Today I had a lesson on said instrument and I think I am beginning to get the hang of it. Will be fun to while away the hours practising in my tent in the evenings!! After my lesson I had an afternoon to peruse the markets some more and figure out how to use the post. I had two quite sucessful conversations en Español. Firstly with the postmistress and then later with the tour operator for a trip to climb Huayna Potosí which I have booked myself on.

Potosí to Oruro: Uncle Pete Rides On!

2010-04-07T23:58:00.006+01:00

I'm very much enjoying getting out into rural Bolivia. Things are a bit on the rustic side in the many little villages. Many of them are sparsely inhabited or deserted. Usually there is one tap for the village (which you have to go searching for) but sometimes just a hand pump or a bucket and a well. My daily shopping list looks a bit like this:
6 bread rolls - 20p
2 packets of biscuits -20p
3 bananas -10p
It is often a case of looking for a woman with a wheel-barrow full of fruit. Eating out is cheap too, a 3 course Almuerzo for 80p and in the cities there are heaps of chicken and chips joints. You get half a chicken, rice, chips and a drink for about a pound...

Every afternoon there tends to be a thunderstorm.

I have got the hang of putting on my raincoat when the wind picks up. On the way in to Challapata I passed a nice lake with some mountains behind and then hit a huge open plain. The land seems fertile here and it is the first place where I have seen much arable farming. Lots of llama farming in the hills. Usually being looked after by old women. The crops seem to be grown in very small amounts. The size of a back garden. I saw a few people harvesting wheat, by hand, with small sickle. Just done a few sums, with the help of Google, and I reckon if it is a 10m x 10m plot you'd get about 50 loaves of bread. sell each one for 50p and you've made yourself 25 quid. Not bad for a years work.

The level of education here seems to me low. It is better among younger people which is encouraging. I think most people out in the sticks are illiterate and innumerate (better watch my spelling!). There are lots of young kids working in shops, cafes, looking after llamas etc. They generally do the adding up for their elders. Wikipedia says kids get about 4.2 years in school on average in the countryside. Old people seem to have difficulty understanding my Spanish (possibly as it is a second language for them too) whereas I can usually make out the jist of what they say to me. Sometimes a kid will come and translate which is fun! I have seen old people being treated badly, or at least with very limited patience, on several ocassions. Once in a cafe, an old lady, near deaf and shortsighted, who had clearly lost her marbles, got a good shouting at because she wanted paper money rather than coins, then got manhandled out of the place.

Right I am off for chicken and chips!

Bob Dylan lyrics that stick in my head...

2010-04-04T19:40:00.002+01:00

My Dad listened to a lot of Dylan. Accordingly, I have a collection of his lyrics lurking in the back of my mind (Dylan's not my Dad's!). Occassionally a few surface and seem to have some relevance.

I have a head full of ideas and they are driving me insane

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail

I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,

Oh, I wish I was on some
Australian mountain range.
I got no reason to be there, but I
Imagine it would be some kind of change.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone

Uyuni to Potosí

2010-04-04T19:15:00.003+01:00

My ride here to Potosí has included some of the worst roads I have ridden on yet. So, I was plesantly suprised to follow a brand new asfalted road from Agua Castilla to Potosí. Beautiful scenery too. On the first night out of Uyuni I camped beside the road on a llama track.

I cooked my dinner with the tent flap open and with the stars out. Dinner consisted of pasta, tin of peas, stock cube and, at the last minute, some instant mash. Oh, and some raw rice. For some reason it was in the smash container and made the entire dish nearly inedibly crunchy. I managed half of it. Such a waste of the peas (they're a bit of a treat).

Potosí is an interesting place. You don't realise you have reached a city until you are 500m away from it. It is hidden away in a complex network of mountains. The road weaves its way in with pleanty of climbs and drops. It is (claimed to be) the highest city on earth at 4090m. The city is built on the side of a hill in rather an inconvenient way. There is a mountain that looms behind, Cerro de Potosí (4824m). This is the key to the existance of the place: a silver mine. The story goes that some dude was wandering about and pulled out a bush from the ground and saw some silvery bits attatched to the roots. By 1745 the spaniards were digging the stuff out like there was no tomorrow. It became the main source of silver for the Spanish empire.

In other news... I am an Uncle!!! Caroline and Alejandro have a little girl called Emilia Mar.

Salar de Uyuni: Cycling on 10 billion tonnes of salt

2010-04-01T22:46:00.004+01:00

I set off out of Uyuni and after 20kms found myself on the edge of the world's largest salt flat: Salar de Uyuni. Here there are heaps of people scooping up heaps of salt. A bit further you come across the Salt Hotel which is a building made out of salt. If you happen to be a 4-wheel-drive car enthusiast this is surely the place for you.

Other than that the view is just of flat white salt. Five hours later I arrived at the Isla Inca Huasi, the island in the middle, where I camped for the night. Then in the morning I did it all in reverse back to Uyuni. This time with the wind behind me. It is an incredible place. Wierd really. I got a sunburnt face despite a ton of sun cream. After the first few hours the novelty factor wore off a little for me and I got my book out and read it as I was cycling along.

I attempted to take some interesting perspective photos but really you need at least 3 people to effect that "through the legs" shot, or the "racing car shoe". I tried a little me stood on the saddle but it didn't work!!

Bolivia Flickr Slideshows

2010-03-30T18:00:00.005+01:00

Bolivia so far

Tupiza

Tupiza to Uyuni

2010-03-30T16:54:00.006+01:00

In gorgeous sunshine I put my foot on the pedal and zoomed off out of Tupiza. The fantastic sandstone formations, including one that looked like a giant penis, kept me amused as I pressed on along a progressivly worsening road. Then, behind me, I spotted an enormous black cloud. That's ok, I thought, the wind is blowing the other way. Well, it turns out my meteorology skills are about as good as my spelling and the downpour hit. Rather soggy, I sheltered under an overhanging rock and started making some jam sarnies. Just then, a big lorry turned up and offered me a lift. Seemed like a good idea so I jumped in.

The truck was carrying some kind of mineral that my spanish is not good enough to work out. To me it looked like a big pile of mud. My bike was slung on top. As we drove along the driver and his mate were constantly chewing on handfulls of coca leaves which made understanding what they were saying difficult. The torrential downpour lessened a bit as we climbed up a steep hill and turned ot mist. Driver's mate brought out some tequilla and fanta. Driver knocked back quite a few of these and his voice became very slurry. He'd be driving us around a blind corner on a narrow road into mist with a precipitous drop and leaning over his shoulder slurrily telling me about how pretty the girls are in La Paz...From now on I will treat trucks with extreme caution. We reached the mine they were heading to and I got chucked out.

A bit woosy from the tequilla, I pedalled on and soon enough the rain returned. Then, I colided with a pot hole and heard the rear tyre go "pop". I fixed it up in the chilly hail storm and whizzed off downhill. On the way down I hit a big patch of mud and skidded all over the place barely managing to stay upright. Then, at the bottom of the hill, I had to pedal up through another patch of mud. I had no traction and the mud clogged up everything. I had to get off and push which only served to get my feet and legs covered with mud as well and we made little uphill progress. If at first you don't suceed and all that. Eventually, I gave up.

Camping in a muddy patch, with a muddy set of panniers, muddy bike and a muddy me, soon everything else got muddy too. Great. But the good thing about mud is that in the morning it will dry out and turn to dust, right? Not this mud. This mud bakes in the sun and turns as hard as a clay pot. Even more difficult to remove from the vital moving parts of my push bike.

Well, mustn't grumble. Got the thing going and headed back onto the mud-bath, sorry, road. Made the top of the hill and had a nice long free-wheel section. Got to Atochi, a nice basic town nestled in the hills, and bought some bread, empanadas and 2 litres of Fanta as couldn't find bottled water. Reached a nice little desert like stretch about 25km from Uyuni and camped for the night under a full moon. Pasta boiled in fanta with a can of condensed tomato was the supper of the evening and rather good it was too.

Tupiza: Flommoxed by Red Mountain

2010-03-27T17:41:00.007Z

My first impressions of Bolivia are very positive. The road from Villazón to Tupiza was pretty good really. They are in the process of asphalting it so from time to time you get to ride on a fresh new road. Otherwise you are on a bumpy diversion. I picked up a few punctures. Bit of a pain as my pump is not working very well. The scenery is fantastic. Especially the last 20km coming in to Tupiza with dramatic red sandstone formations.

I like Tupiza. As did Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Although, the Bolivian Army killed them near here.

In Tupiza, I installed myself in a hostel for 2 pounds a night and got an enormous pizza for a pound. Then I fixed a few inner tubes I have lying about and got an early night.

In the morning I set out to climb one of the great looking red mountains behind the town. I'm not sure what it was called (maybe Torre Wayhko). I am not sure how high it was (but I'd guess at least 4000m, the town is at 3160m) and I didn't take a map because it is impossible to find one.

So this was sort of visual-flight-rules type hill-walking. The first obstacle was getting out of town. After scurrying past an army base on a track, I headed up a small but steep ridge barring me from the bigger ridge behind with my hill on it. This was a helpful vantage point for figuring out the topography, which was a complex series of ridges.

I had to decend a steeper slope the other side which brought me out in a canyon. From here I took a gentle slope up to another ridge, avoiding the odd cactus as I went. The ridge at the top became at times rather exposed and narrow. It was made up of a combination of loose sand, red sandstone gravel and soil like stuff. Teetering along that I ended up at a big sandstone vertical wall. From my point of veiw unclimbable. I scuffled around a bit and found a way around the side and followed up a slot like gully. From there I was on another ridge, reasonably wide but very loose and with precipitous drops on both sides. And to make matters worse, thorn bushes and cacti in the way.

As I progressed, the ridge widened out, but as I looked up things did not look good. There were a whole series of huge vertical sandstone fins. Each one streching about 200m long and with infinite drops between them. I couldn't see these from the town as they were in profile, but now they presented a real bar to any progress to the summit. Nevertheless, I continued along my ridge untill I reached the start of the "ridge of fins". Luckily, there was an easier way up round the back.

That is, up to about 150m from the summit when my pleasant ridge walk turned into an engaging scramble. Then with the summit 20m above me, the engaging scramble became a desperate rock climb on loose sandstone. In fact the summit was formed of a series of these sandstone fins which have slots between them dropping hundreds of metres and present vertical faces with no disernable hand- or foot-holds. Much to my disappointment, without climbing gear and a partner, it just wasn't a goer. It is often the case with hill walking or mountaineering. You keep going while it is viable but when it is not you have to make the sage decision. I down climbed the scramble and found a flattish place to sit and eat some biscuits and, desponantly, guzzle down water.

To make things interesting, I decided to take a different way down. It was a good choice. This time there was a broad ridge to follow before I had to head down the bottom of one of those slots. The scenery on this side of the hill was amazing. Creeping down on loose lumps of sandstone, I eventually came down to the flat bottom of a narrow canyon. This opened out into a larger canyon with great views of the sandstone fins and pinicles on both sides. The canyon opened wider and eventually I found myself on a huge wide dried up river bed. I followed this back to civilization.

Just as I came in this internet café a huge thunderstorm began. Phew, just in the nick of time. Apparently, those slot canyons are prone to flash floods.

Top five luxury items for cycle touring

2010-03-26T17:34:00.002Z

Check out my article for Adventure Travel magazine's website.

Where I discuss the merits of some of the of luxury items some cycle tourists carry...

1. Computer
2. Normal Clothes
3. Bigger Stuff
4. Playing Cards
5. Foldable Stool/Thermarest Gizmo

Why (especially teenaged) girls aren't keen on cycling

2010-03-26T00:27:00.000Z

It just seems to me so ridiculous that such a good way of getting about is seen to be "uncool". I posted on cyclechat about this and there were some interesting replies.

"They aren't keen on exercise full stop (apart from walking around shops)."

"Add into the mix the current obsession with *celebrity* where female rolemodels are not exactly fit & healthy, but anorexically skinny, so it's much cooler to smoke and not eat as any fule noes that if you're above a size 6, you're a fat slob who doesn't deserve to be acknowleged as a human being. Besides which, once you've starved yourself to a socially suitable size, one doesn't actually have any energy left for exercise... and as any fule noes once more, exercise plays havoc with the carefully applied make-up and ruins the hair..."

"The Kid does have an ancient bike that she gets to school on, but it's only since she's aquired a boyfriend with a bike that she's been interested in getting something decent."

"My kids had little interest in bikes, walking for pleasure, mountains etc but they now do all of these things. The trick is not to force it and they'll grow up to appreciate them and you've just led by example and osmosis."

"As for it not being cool, it could be
(a) not wanting to get all sweaty and put the boys off
(b) it being seen as a male thing to do not a female"

"Don't let them use other forms of transport too readily. Or, perhaps, ban cycling."

"My daughter won't ride because the lid messes her hair and all the other girls think shes uncool. Bizarrely those same girls think her mums cool because she cycles/runs/etc.etc - go figure!"

"The UK just gives way too little prestige to sportspeople (except footballers!) and also money for sport in schools has been removed in favour of... well, I'm not sure where the money's gone, but to other stuff. Hence the 'it's not cool' tag for cycling. When I was doing GCSEs I cycled to school and the girls thought I was mad, but the boys thought I was cool cos I had a Saracen (which I now wouldn't be seen dead on ha ha ha ha ha!!!)"

"Firstly, don't try and market the cycling thing as what's cool. Market the idea of free transport long before they're able to drive angle. Market the idea that instead of begging you for lifts they can just take themselves shopping or to meet friends whenever they want.
Sadly, as they're teenage girls, you could probably also market the weight thing.
Then market this cyclechic site:
http://www.cyclechic.co.uk/index.htm
I have often been asked where I got my 'handbag' from when it's a pannier off this site. Plus if they really hate standard helmets and you want them to wear one there are some great cool ones on there."

"I've seen a marked increase in teenage girls in my area recently and I reckon it's because of the current trend for leggings and long t-shirts/jumpers. Sounds ridiculous but an outfit combining the two is totally practical for cycling without resorting to lycra.
The numbers are still depressingly low though."

"Much is down to how it is portrayed in film. How are adults portrayed in film on bikes?
Only two adult film characters I can think who rode bikes are Pee Wee and the 40 Year old Virgin. Other than that it is just kids.
How could you ever expect them to buy into that club?"

"Cycling being cool !!! I don't think it's cool, it's just a form of transport.
From a very early age, as most people, i've had a bike. Not to be cool, but just to get around, as you don't need a licence and you can ride the thing anywhere, whether you were allowed to or not."

"There's another film as well.. the one with the famous scene where a woman who dances takes her bra off in front of her boss while she's talking. URRGGHHHHHHHH Flashdance! There we go. She cycles everywhere and is portrayed as cool doing it. Pity about the 80s hair do though..."

"The 10 year old loves it, the 13 year old won't cycle, period. I don't think it's a 'cool' thing, I think it's more a pig-idle thing."

"The imprtant thing for teenagers and teenage girls in particular is to give the impression you never try hard for anything."

"We need Hello and OK (or what ever the correct mags are - I don't read them so don't know), to run a regular feature on which celeb was seen on their bike that week with photos to start to influence some of the girls."

The Guardain has also picked up on this issue. Also you can read the entire thread on cyclechat.

Catch up...

2010-03-21T22:40:00.003Z

Northwest Argentina has been a great ride. Since rolling down off Paso Agua Negra, Russ and I have cycled through some incredible scenery, camped in some strange spots and eaten many hundreds of ice creams. Chocolate con Almendra is my favorite flavour now...

Some of the highlights of the last few weeks were (in no kind of cronological order):
Camping in a field and drinking homebrew mead
Cactus strewn deserts
Sergio teaching us how to make an asado in Las Flores
Camping in the plazas of little villages
Panchos (hotdogs)
Push starting a broken down German motorbiker with horrible moles on her back
Quilmes beer
Christoph - a preposterous Frenchman
Huge wide views with mountains in the distance
Sandstone formations between Cafayate and Salta
Buying knifes
Screeching parakeets
Stars
Mountain pass between Villa Union and Nonogasta
Milenesa (steak, egg and tomato sandwich)
Condors
Meeting a family who gave us heaps of ice cold water in Pituil
Spending the night by the velodrome in Belén and watching a race through the town.
Watching a cycle race for 5 year olds. There was a false start and they all burst into tears...

Back on my own again, I left Salta acompanied by a marching police band and some men dressed in big hats on horseback. You think I could make this stuff up?! Between Salta and Jujuy the scenery is very lush. A world away from the semi-desert of the last few weeks. At one stage I wound my way through some forested hills that seemed almost like rainforest... Checked into a very sparse "Residential" in Jujuy. Cheaper than a hostal and will serve as penance for the debauchery of my last night in Salta (my second visit to a nightclub on the trip).

In other news... I am still not an uncle but my sister is 2 days overdue and enormous (saw her bump on a skype video call).

Making Mead

2010-03-16T14:46:00.004Z

Just recently, Russ and I drank a litre and a half of homebrew mead. I will have to abandon modesty here because it was delicious! I brewed it in a bottle cage and it has been fizzing away since I left Santiago. We drank it in a field with cows, chickens and dogs pestering us. It didn't seem too strong but we were a bit wobbly by the end of the night...

The history of this drink is extraordinary. It is the first alcoholic drink ever made. It predates agriculture and has been discovered independently across Asia, Europe and Africa. The oldest archaeological evidence dates to about 7000BC. Modern civilisation might well have started with this drink! In Spanish it is called aguamiel which is a good name as it sums up the ingredients.

Here is how I made mine. I've tried to write the recipe in the style of Sir Kenelm Digby.

1. Taketh a bowl of water and, when it be warm, put some honey in it.

2. In a cup, poureth a little hot water. When the mercury doeth drop under 30 degrees, put to it a spoonful of yeast and one of sugar. Then sealeth the cup with clingfilm.

3. In the bowl of water and honey, skim off the scum. Continue to skim until all the scum be skimmed and no skimming of scum can skim any more scum as the scum no longer will rise.

4. After the cup has been left aside for an hour, add it to the bowl of water and honey. When it is worked up, put it into a vessel of fit size (an old 1.5 litre coke bottle perhaps).

5. Leave it in a bottle cage on your bike, cycle over the Andes, and drink it, in a field maybe, in about 10 days time or when the fizzing has stopped.

For more mead advice see the Mead Maker's Page.

Hubb at the Laguna

2010-03-10T00:29:00.001Z

Sleeping in a goat herder´s hut

2010-03-10T00:28:00.001Z

La Serena to Las Flores: Paso Agua Negra

2010-03-08T17:24:00.008Z

Kitted out with a bike called "Scorpion" and some supermarket camping kit, Russ joined me on this fantastic cycling adventure. We shaked a bit in Santiago and then bussed to La Serena and set off to cross the Andes. You can see some of Russ' photos here.

The first stop was Vicuña. We'd cycled up a gentle slope all day and reached this pleasant little town. The campsite we found offered a pool, kitchen and ripe grapes for the princely sum of three pounds fifty. We chilled out.

The high mountains surrounding us grew closer the next day. Soon we found ourselves winding our way up a tight valley, almost a canyon. By the side of the road there were some stone shacks. We suspected these were used by goat hearders as there was a fair amount of goat excrement about. Russ got out his kite and I built a fire. We slept under the brightest set of stars I have ever seen.

The next day we continued on up the valley with dramatic scenery around us. In the afternoon we passed a "campamiento" and I enquired if we could buy bread. We were given a large roll free. Later, at another campamiento where some roadworkers stayed, I asked if we could camp. The man said no. There was a couple of beds we could have in an old shed. The room was plastered with posters of semi-clad women. Then, as I got out my stove on the front porch, the kind gent called us over and invited us for dinner too. Barbequed beef and empanadas. In the courtyard there was a fountain with a plastic barbie doll on the top. The water squirted out of her nipples. Quite a water feature. One suspects that these lads don't see too many girls up this way.

Passing the stunning, if not origionally named, La Laguna, we anticipated reaching the top of the pass. However, the tough gravel road, incline and fatigue got the better of us and we camped at around 4500m. We had just enough energy to wolf down some pasta and flake out. In the night I noted the temerature drop to -3C, not so cold really.

We woke. Both of us feeling well and with no signs of altitude sickness. After scoffing the remainder of our bread and jam and brewing tea with the last tea bags, we put in the last 10km to the summit.

We celebrated reaching the 4780m pass with some photos. Then we enjoyed 100km of free-wheeling downhill.

On our way down we stopped to make some rice for lunch. We were joined by a french cyclist, Christof, who looked as if he were a scubadiver. His cycling outfit consisted of a lot of black lycra. He sat down with us and told us the story of his life, his cycling and rather more about his recent sexual conquests than you would expect from a stranger.

Our freewheel ride continued on a tar road and we headed across a huge plain surrounded by mountian ranges. Then we arrived in Las Flores.

I asked Sergio if there was a campsite and he said we could camp in his garden for 2 pounds. Then he invited us to drink mate. After a bit of a chat he decided to show us how to make an asado, the classic argentinian barbeque. We bought a mountain of meat and local wine and he showed us the tradditional method to get the fire going. The wood is placed on top of the grill and as the embers fall through they are pushed under the meat and sausages. We ate, drank, chatted and it felt like a wonderful welcome back to Argentina.

Terremoto

2010-03-08T16:04:00.003Z

It would be remiss of me, I think, not to mention something about the earthquake in Chile. I was asleep on the top bunk in a hostal in Santiago. At about 3:30am, so I am told, the earthquake hit. I woke up and the whole building was shaking. This lasted for a few minutes and was not unpleasant. When it stopped I rolled over and went back to sleep. A while later I was woken up by one of the hostal's staff and we were all asked to go outside, like a fire drill. After half an hour or so people went back to bed. It was apparent that the building wasn't falling down and there was little to be achieved by standing around outside. During the remainder of the night there were several aftershocks which felt like being in a gently vibrating bed.

In the morning more of the consequences became apparent. There was a power cut which lasted most of the day and most of the shops and resturants were shut. Russ and I wandered around the town in a search to buy him a bike. Several buildings were quite severely damaged. A few water mains had burst. Generally the damage didn't seem too bad.

On returning to the hostal the power was back on. 20 odd travellers were queueing to use the internet to let thier loved ones know they were ok. The BBC News website had the earthquake as the top news story and the photos were horrific.

The epicentre of the quake was off the coast of Curanipe, about 100km north of Concepción, a city where I had stayed in January. I was offered generous hospitality there by the owner of a bike shop. I am glad that he and his family are ok. Also, as I cycled along the coast from Conception, I met 3 lads from the area out on bikes and we cycled together for a few days. It was great fun, we crossed a river in a fishing boat, we sang songs by a fire and we went to see a chilean band perform in a small beach town, Cobquecura. These guys are also fine. Matias wrote to me and said:

"Nuestra ciudad se encuentra muy dañada y es una pena verla así... sin embargo ya comienza a mejorar todo por aquí... espero que pronto llegue la normalidad...Y todas las playas que recorrimos hoy ya no existen... es una pena pensar que esos lugares tan bonitos desaparecieron..."

"Our city finds itself very damaged and it is a shame to see it like this...however already everything has started to improve around here...I hope that things will be back to normal soon... and all the beaches we visited no longer exist...it is a shame to think that such beautifull places have disappeared"

Many of the small villages I passed along the coast were on gravel roads. These are easily damaged and make them hard to reach. To make matters worse many of the houses are made from adobe bricks that I imagine probably shake to peices fairly easily.

Perhaps worse even than the initial quakes, fires and tsunamis are the human chaos of prison breakouts, looting, riots, arson, vandalism, sexual assults, vigilantism. Intense grief, fear, confusion and panic drive people to extreme actions.

Chile is badly located when it comes to earthquakes. 6 of the 20 strongest recorded have been in Chile including the strongest ever (9.5 in 1960). This quake was 8.8 and the 7th strongest ever. Boffins think it has shortened the length of a day by a microsecond!

So far this year there have been earthquakes in Haiti, Chile, Venezuela, Solomon Islands, California, Hawaii, Japan, Argentina, Taiwan, Sumatra and Turkey. 2010 seems to be a year with bite.

Five Extrodianary Adventures

2010-02-24T18:41:00.004Z

1. Reinhold Messner

Extraordinary Adventure: Considered the best young climbers in Europe, Reinhold and his brother Günther were drafted up to join a 1970 attempt to climb Nanga Parbat. Nanga Parbat is a 8126m peak, the ninth highest in the world, located in Pakistan. The climb was only the third successful ascent of the mountain and also the first ascent of the enormous Rupal Face. This cliff face is 4600m from its base and is the highest in the world. They found themselves unable to descent by the same route and, in an epic fight for their own survival, traversed the mountian and tried to go down the Diamir Face. Günther was killed in an avalanche and Reinhold lost 6 toes to frostbite.
Then what?
Disillusioned by the seige tactics used in climbing high mountains, he pioneered a fast and light alpine style. With this in mind he returned to climb Nanga Parbat again, in 1978, this time alone. This was the first solo of an 8000m peak. In the same year he made the first ascent of Everest without bottled oxygen (saying "by fair means or not at all") and then the first solo ascent in 1980. By 1986 he had climbed all the mountians in the world over 8000m, the first person ever to do so. In later life he has crossed the arctic, greenland and travelled 2000 miles in the Gobi Desert. His latest project is to establish a series of museums about mountains.

2. Oskar Speck

Extraordinary Adventure: Oskar canoed from Germany to Australia from 1932 to 1939. At the beginning of his journey Oskar was off to find work in Cyprus. He paddled down the Danube. Then he changed his mind and decided he wanted to travel and see the world. He arrived seven years later in Australia and, after taking one look at the swastika on his kayak, the Aussies threw him into an internment camp.
And then?
Whilst in the internment camp, Oskar developed a way to polish opals which would later make him a wealthy man.

3. Mike Horn

Extraordinary Adventure: Mike crossed the South American continent in 1997. Climbing from the Pacific Ocean to the source of the amazon, high in the Andes. He then decended the full length of the amazon (over 7000km) by hydrospeed. At one point an indian tribe saw him floating by and asumed he was the river devil that had been eating their children. Perhaps it was his sunburnt face? They had him in the pot ready to boil him alive but he was rescued at the last minute by Brazillian Army helicopters. They had been alerted by the emergency beacon that the natives had unwittingly set off.
And then?
He got interested in sailing, breaking all kinds of records, and then set off on a circumnavigation following the equator. He then became interested in polar travel and got to the North Pole in Winter.

4. Heinrich Harrer

Extraordinary Adventure: Already a champion skier Heinrich, aged 26, was a member of the 4 man team that successfully climbed the North Face of the Eiger for the first time. Perhaps even more impressive is his journey in Tibet. Following his escape from an internment camp in India he and his friend Peter Aufschnaiter crossed Tibet to reach Lhasa. In Lhasa he became the tutor of the Dalai Lama when he was 11 years old.
And then?
He wrote many books. The White Spider details the climbing history of the North Face of the Eiger and Seven Years In Tibet details his travels in that country. He also continued to climb mountains all around the world. In his later years he became a champion golfer.

5. Karl Bushby

Extraordinary Adventure: In 1998 Karl set out to walk around the world in one unbroken route. He began in Ushuaia and walked the entire length of the Americas. This included being disguised a tramp and floating down a river to get through the extremely dangerous jungle of the Darien Gap. From Alaska he crossed the frozen Bearing Straights with Dimitri Kieffer. The 90km crossing took them 15 days. They were arrested for not entering Russia at a border control.
Where is he now?
With the economic down turn Karl is short of funding. He is now languishing in Mexico trying to find sponsors to fund his crossing of Siberia and onwards journey across Asia back to the UK. He also hopes to be alowed to walk through the Channel Tunnel and return to the UK by 2014. His website explains more.

Leonera 5050m

2010-02-20T00:43:00.008Z

I know what you are thinking:

"I havn't heard Pete Hubbard's dulcet tones in a while."

Well fear not. I have recorded my thoughts as I wandered up Leonera, a 5050m high mountain near Santiago. I headed off alone for 3 nights and had a headache caused by altitude for most of that time. I left the bike with the hostal owner and told him my plans and roughly when to expect me back. I ran out of water and had to melt some muddy snow and drink muddy water for a day and a half too. All the heights I mention in the recordings are wrong (giving a clue to the quality of my map) and I have probably pronounced most of the names wrong too. But hopefully you'll get the general idea. (Fbookers will have to visit the actual post for the recordings I am afraid.)

First message from Laguna Parva (my appologies for the wind noise):

Second message from summit of Cerro Pintor:

Third message from summit of Cerro Leonera (It is actually 5050m and I have forgotten how to say "mountains" somehow. Perhaps because I have been drinking liquid mud for the whole day?):

Fourth message from Camp Piedra Numerada (when I say "run" I mean "cycle"):

Day 100

2010-02-15T23:49:00.002Z

I have been in South America now for 100 days. I spent the day trying to hunt down a hiking map in Santiago. Then I cyced up to a ski resort 52kms from Santiago but almost 2000m higher. I took in 40 hairpin bends.

Ok to celebrate 100 days here are 100 photos from the trip so far. (fb users might have to visit the blog to see this slideshow!)

La Serena Beach Jazz

2010-02-12T16:56:00.003Z

Some photos from a fantastic free jazz concert on the beach in La Serena. Flash just made everything look like white ghosts so I have embraced the blur!

The first group was a five piece with piano, guitar, bass, drums and a frontman who sang and played flute and saxophone. They were all super tallented but the frontman was particularly gifted and spiralled off on outrageous solos. The obese guitarist "Piqueño" was great too, with tight question and answer sections with the pianist. Sometimes his solos verged on metal. The bassist, who looked like a physics teacher, was the only one not to play a solo.

And who could blame him because the next act "Bass" was comprised off three bass guitarists. The sat down to tune their basses and out of the melé their first song emerged. The set continued with an appropriately unusual mixture of ambient, jazz, funk, experimental, world, and even some Chilean folk. A typical song sounded like hearing 3 ten minute long bass solos played simultaneously. But not nearly so bad as that sounds. The Maestro played a solo piece which thumped, rolled and widdled. The uber-tallented-one played a mind-boggler, just as much of a technical feat as a musical one. Then they regrouped in a sloppy way to finish on a crescendo.

The last group of the night where a nine piece with drums, purcussion, guitar, bass, sax, flute, trumpet, trombone, and a wierd brass instument I didn't recognise that sounds like a big trumpet. They played an afro-latin sort of style and also some bluesier numbers that sounded like a latin version of the band from Blues Brothers.

All in all a great night on the beach!

Algarrobo to La Serena

2010-02-10T21:42:00.003Z

I ran out of options for avoiding Ruta 5. So, screaming downhill, I entered Valparaiso the way every other road user does. In town, I found the hostel where I had arranged to meet Ray, a Chinese cyclist who I had crossed paths with on the Carretera Austral. Also in the hostal was a cyclist from the UK called Sam. Together, we went out for a few drinks before Ray headed back to Viña del Mar where he was staying.

Although the hostal was full of friendly travellers, and the town seemed to have a Bohemian feel, it was quite a struggle to find anywhere to get a pint. The first place we tried you couldn´t hear yourself think from a howling Jack White/Kurt Cobain wanabee singing in bad English with a wierd, and huge quantity, of tremelo. The next place we got a beer and a talented trumpeter leaning off a staircase and playing a few jazz tunes.

The next morning Sam and I rode out to Viña to visit the bike shop. It was a nice sunny ride beside the coast. Viña and Valparaiso are really one long conglomeration along the coast. The towns are both built on the sides of several hills. A bit like a huge ampitheatre focusing on the coast. We had a good long chat and a few empanadas and headed back to the hostal. The hostal owner had organised a night of beer, pizza and a "supresa". The surprise turned out to be a guitarist and a singer, they were superb and played a number of songs from Chile and also from other Latin countries.

I had arranged to meet Ray in Viña at noon on Sunday. It would have been like a cowboy showdown if it had not been for the fact that it was at Burger King. Anyway, we "rode out of town".

After a few km we hit the Ruta 5 and, cycling side-by-side on the broad shoulder, we put in a good stint along the motorway. It got dark and we looked for a campsite by headtorch. What we found instead was Fransisco. This Chilean hardnut was fixing a puncture without much success. In the end I gave him my spare tube. In return he took us to Pichicuy where we camped for free in a squalid backyard of one of his mates. I just put up the inner-tent part of my tent as there was not much chance of rain. Fransisco put up his tent. Only it wasn't a tent it was a miniscule bio-bag, a lightweight tent just bigger than a bivvy bag. We took in the town, bought Frank a beer, and watched something dreadful. If you have seen the film "Little Miss Sunshine" you'll have an idea.

Waking up to mist, dew covering the sleeping bag, and the repugnant smell of the "out-house", we packed up double quick and got back on the road. Ray and I headed off a bit faster than our new Chilean amigo and soon had quite a lead over him. We stopped at service stations for either ice-creams, or to clean up in the baños. At one of these stops, I saw Fransico fly past. At nightfall we put on headtorches and racked up a 136km day. We stopped by a sliproad to look for a campsite, and with his roll mat laid out under the bench of a bus stop we discovered Fransisco. Finding a better spot, in a field, we camped.

With strong tailwinds we flew along with blue skies. The landscape was semi-desert now with western movie cactus and shapely arid hills. At sunset, we cooked up dinner in a bus shelter. We had passed a nice looking campsite earlier in the day and regretted carrying on. It was only another 40km to La Serena and, despite the darkness and the 140km we had already done, we considered doing it that night. Fortune prevailed and a campsite appeared advertised from the motorway as only 4km away. We stayed there, getting a good hot shower.

Without breakfast we nailed it to La Serena. On the way, in the busy city traffic, we lost F which was a bit sad as we didn't get a chance to say "Adios!" The city is a university town and beach resort. We found the main plaza and got dirrections to the campsite, but first we got some cheap and nourishing food in a cafe.

Now, Ray is fixing his stove and I am off to sample the delights of the beach. Maybe dip my toes in...

Bicycle Repair Man: Classic Python's Sketch

2010-02-10T19:26:00.000Z

I love the way it mocks the lazily written Superman scripts. Especially the bit about international communism at the end.

RTW Argy-Bargy

2010-02-07T10:00:00.000Z

A little more about circumnavigations, following on from my History Lesson.

Firstly, the frankly odd world of RTW cycling worldt record.

A record was "set" by a man with the faintly unbelievable name of Steve Strange back in the heady days of 2005. He did 277 days. Mark Beaumont (yeah? Scottish guy. You saw him on a phone advert) managed 194 days. Then a bloke called James Bowthorpe, using a bike with a belt instead of a chain managed it 20 days quicker. Then a bit of a angry-young-man, called Julian, appeared on the scene and did it even faster: 165 days. Although it all still seems a bit unsettled at the moment...

This Julian chap has a bit of an axe to grind with Mark Beaumont which gets a bit heated, odd and, well, unreadable by the end (I skipped to the more interesting bit: the comments).

My thoughts on the matter are that it is slightly silly (which I like!) to turn the world into a race track. Because of that, the "contenders " have had to conjour up "sensible" motivations: Mark wanted fame, a tv series, book, and a springboard to his next adventure. James wanted to raise money for Parkinson's desease, and Julian wanted to moan about Mark, the world and everything. I think there is still a lot of leeway left in the record and I wouldn't be suprised to see several more attempts. Perhaps by retired proffessional cyclists?

Regardless, at the moment I wouldn't dream of going as fast as those guys (around 120 miles a day) because if I did I would miss out on so much good stuff. More fun is to get involved with local events off the beaten track, to go off on adventurous side trips (very slow going on gravel or bad roads usually) and just spend time chatting with people you meet.

On a more positive note, Vin Cox (with a name like that the record is practically in the bag) will set off on his record attempt today (7th February 2010). His route is more adventurous than the ones to date taking on as it does Africa and South America. However, his choice of name for his expedition leaves a lot to be desired: The Great Bike Ride. In 2012 he plans to organise the first ever round the world race. I've got to tell you: I'm interested!

Ok, next there is the controversy over the Human-Powered RTW record. (Which I am interested in as a possible future expedition!!!) Colin Angus has basically done it, but not to Guinness guidelines... Jason Lewis too. Here are the guidelines. Here is a bit of Colin's website. Even if someone does it to the guidelines, it would still be a great trip, possibly even worth trying to do it faster or longer!

Cazuela Recipe

2010-02-06T14:34:00.006Z

Cazuela is, as far as I can make out, a cross between a soup and a roast dinner. In fact, it's a bit like a roast dinner tipped into a soup. Its a simple dish you can find throughout Chile. I like it.

Calzuela has a piece of meat (usually chicken or beef on the bone), then there is a potato, a sweet potato, some other vegetables and a piece of sweetcorn. I'm not sure how you are tradditionally supposed to eat it. I usually use a spoon to drink the soup and then attack the rest with a knife and fork. I'd hazard a guess at the recipe being a bit like this:

1. Put all the ingredients (beef, potato, sweetcorn, veg, etc) in a pot with the stock.
2. Cook.
3. Pour into a bowl.
4. Eat.

Pedal Pusher

2010-02-05T19:15:00.001Z

Pedal Pusher
by MC Abdominal (featuring Young Einstein the DJ from Ugly Duckling)

Squirt a little cross country on the chain,
Get a fresh rag wipe down the frame,
Ready to go, tie my army pants at the knees,
Already got enough pants covered in grease.
Slip on a discman, eyes so sharp,
They do the listening,
While suplying vision at the same time,
Waste no time to slide my ride in to a break in the line of traffic,
Don´t ask me why man, some reason I need a matchstick,
Inbetween my lips to help me concentrate,
Until I reach that zone where there is no need to contemplate,
Every movement,
Muscle memory compute the conclusion quicker than the thinking mind,
Strictly relying on insticts to wind,
Through this river of grime,
Exhuast pipes, potholes, pigeons,
Streetcar tracks you can slip in,
Pedestrians, pretty girls to divert your eyes at that crucial juncture
Plus the constant posibility of a puncture.

I'm a pedal pusher, push pedals like crazy, from A to B
I'm a pedal pusher, push pedals all day, from A to B
I'm a pedal pusher, I push pedals,
and I would say "Eat my dust" but it's already settled.

Desde Cobquecura hasta Algarrobo: Carpe Diem!

2010-02-04T18:12:00.003Z

I press on keeping the sea on my left (the only method of navigation that hasn't let me down). Passing through many seaside resort towns and a few incredible national reserves. Now only a handful of kilometers from Valapariaso where I intend to brown off a little...

A few days ago, I woke up and didn't have the usual bleary-eyed feeling. I leapt out of bed, packed up my tent, downed a coffee and gobbled a cheese sandwich a bit too quick. It was a day for cycling and I got on the road. Cranking uphill, out of the forest, I needed a low gear. Nearing the crest, in blue skies, I was sweating, panting, and enjoying myself. I'd only been awake 30 minutes. I spotted a small shop and drank a bottle of something bright red and fizzy. The road sloped downhill into the distance.

Today was a day for music. Not mellow chillout. Today I needed go-faster-music: Brazilian Drum and Bass! I set of and shifted up to 14, my top gear, and stiffly pushed the pedals round. As I gained momentum, my legs were wizzing round like crazy. Today was not a day for freewheeling with your hands on the brakes. Today was about careering round corners leaning at an alarming angle. Farmland and dotted low shrubs and trees blurred past but I kept my eyes focused on the road. Today was a race. I saw a sign and it informed me, or rather, it challenged me: San Antonio 86km. I did a quick mental sum and realised, yes, it was a race, against the sun. I was in the mood to give it everything. I'd be exhaused by the time I arrived in the town, at sunset, but it would be worth it. I dug in.

There was a slight incline approaching and instead of shifting down I sped right at it in top gear. I kept going until my thighs started to burn and then shifted down, but only to 12. Then back to 14 as soon as it flattened out. I needed higher gears that day. Instead, I turned up the music.

No Excuses

Tomé to Cobquecura

2010-01-30T16:30:00.003Z

Standing on the furthest point of the spit of sand that pushed out in a bay, I turned to Christian.
"Impossible," I said. We looked at the river, more of a lagoon really, with crashing waves about 30m wide. And, having a track record with rivers, I knew it was out of the question.

The most dissappointing aspect of this was that we (myself and 3 Chilean hardnut cycletourists) had spent a good 2 hours riding our bikes through cow fields, carrying them over fences, and pushing them through loose sand. And now it looked as if we would have to repeat the journey in reverse.

I should have known not to trust these guys as the previous night their "tent" had turned out to be little more that a few bits of tree and some transparent plastic sheets. They did have a guitar, a drum and some shakers. So we built a fire and had a sing-song.

But then we'd continued on our way and realised that the bridge was a 20km detour inland. Nevermind, I thought. But these guys were built of stuborn stuff. When we reached some little yellow fishing boats we considered stealling one, but decided against it.

After pushing the bikes back, tediously, through the sand we found a group of fishermen at the boats. We asked for a lift and they agreed. It took for people to load my bike aboard and then I jumped on and off we went. Two eager Chilean lads did the rowing. Hard work I imagine.

On the other side of the river I hopped off and they went and set their nets before picking up the Chileans. After another 40mins of pushing through san we reached the pitiful excuse for a road. The coastscape here is incredible with amazing little sany coves. The downside is that between each smugglers bay is bookended by a crazy steep descent and crazy steep climb.

We reached Cobquecura and plonked ourselves down in the Plaza de Armas. There were some table-football tables so we had a game or two. Then we saw a poster for a band called "Los Tres", that the Chileans told me were fantastic, playing that night. So we found someone's backyard to camp in. At first 1000 pesos but then the owner liked us so let us stay for free. There were a bunch of kids camping there drinking wine and coke ("jote") and playing loud reggaeton from an SUV that I blocked in with my tent.

Los Tres were interesting. Think Dad Rock: Rolling Stones leaning towards Status Quo with a bit of Chilean folk thrown in for good measure. But the crowd was awesome. They knew, and sang, every word to every song, danced, jumped around, shouted, screamed and this made the atmosphere electric. It was a big gig for a small town and everyone was there from 1o year olds to grandmothers, and they all seemed to be having a whale of a time. It cost 1000 pesos for a ticket but my Chilean friends negociated it down to 800, about 1 pound. Then we went back to the campsite to whip up a bbq and cook some longanisa (sausages) and make sandwiches with them choripan.

Cañete to Tomé: Sergio, a fantastic guy!

2010-01-28T17:19:00.006Z

Cycling up and down hills in forests. Often overtaken, a little too close, by great long trucks full of tree trunks. I looked for a place to camp between the rows of pines. Then I thought. Screw it, I'll go to Caranilahue. I cycled around a bit and struggled to find a campsite or hospedaje so I asked for dirrections in a bike shop.

Sergio, the shop owner, would have none of it. I was to stay with him, he said. Seriously, what a generous man. He introduced me to his lovely family, gave me food, a shower, internet, washing machine, and a bed for the night. I listened to his son and his friend practising trumpet and viola for a concert the following night. He was constantly thinking of new ways to be generous. And to make me laugh. He had great fun teaching me Chilean slang words: Modismos.

In the morning, after a great breakfast, Sergio insisted we take my bike into the workshop for a tune-up. I began to fix the minor damage to the front brake. I thought I would just bend it back in place, but Sergio replaced the bent part and rebuilt the whole thing. And put new blocks on. Then Paulo, Sergio's assistant, cleaned the whole bike, tuned the brakes, adjusted the chain, plus oiled it, tightened all the bolts, and pumped up the tyres. I tried to pay but he would accept nothing, not even for the parts. Then it was time for a massive lunch of pasta and eggs. Sergio then decided that it was too dangerous for me to cycle to Conception so my bike and all my bags went in his pickup truck and he drove me to his other shop. Then he, his wife Nancy and I, went out for Once, hot-dogs and juice. Again, I tried to pay but he wouldn't have it. He said that I had to come with them to the concert.

Mozart and Beethoven. Fantastic stuff, even if you know nothing about classical music (like me), you'll recognise that great opening to "The 5th". Duh Duh Duh Der. Duh Duh Duh Der...
I was exhuasted by it, and all the clapping, but then we had to go and watch a football match at Sergio's brother's house (on telly!). The match was in a stadium nearby and on the way back we drove past with all the crowd spilling out. Then, I slept in his flat above the shop. In the morning, another huge breakfast and sandwiches for a packed lunch. "Thank you," didn't come close to being enough, but it was all I could say. And to tell him how generous he is: a massive understatement.

I set off out of Conception, overtaking a horse and cart, with a huge grin. Here is an idea. If you see a cyclist, tourist or a backpacker wondering around. Go over and chat. Invite them to your house, feed them and put them up for the night. You´ve got a sofa, right? This world needs more Sergios!! Better yet join Warmshowers.org

He does look a bit like Baldrick....

Pucon to Cañete

2010-01-26T18:23:00.003Z

There were a few options. The big roads: Ruta 5 in Chile and Ruta 40 in Argentina. Neither really appealed. So instead I headed out to the coast. First beside Lago Villarrica, with Volcan Villarrica behind me I arrived in Villarrica (the town). Next I headed into a westerly wind to Freire and up the motorway (shudder) to Temuco where I stayed in a Hospedaje. Then, further west along the Rio Imperial to Nueva Imperial. Then to Carahue which has an impressive collection of antique steam traction engines.
Soon enough I crossed the river and struck north on a dirt road. I camped beside the road in a forest.

Then. I had one of those mornings when everything conspires against you. Firstly food. I had eaten all the bread, oats and biscuits so the only option for breakfast was to cook on the stove. Which I was too lazy to do. Then, as it was a hot sunny day, I drank all the water double quick. Throughout my thirsty, hungry morning I headed along a hilly forest gravel road in very bad condition. No rivers, no houses and no shops or cafes. On the up hill sections I was slow enough for the horseflies to catch up. They love a sweaty cyclist. Just as good as a horse as far as they are concerned. I will have you know, I'm rather talented at catching and squishing horseflies left-handed. (Horseflies if you are reading this - watch out!). Anyway, I ended up punching myself in the face a few times whilst waving my deadly-horsefly-killers (ok, arms) around.

The only effective relief came from nailing downhill at stupid-km/hour (I don't have a speedo). With the quality of the road (terrible) I should have been more careful, and I ended up hitting a patch of loose gravel and my front wheel, which doesn't have much grip now, went one way, and I went the other. I took a spectacular header. Rolled over a few times. Came to a stop in a crumpled heap. Damage: grazed elbow, grazed wrist and minor bending damage to part of the front brake.

After a few more hours of suffer, sorry, cycling, I reached Tirua and dived into the first cafe for a feast (Cazuela and about 5 bottles of coke). From there I managed to push on as far as the lovely Lago Lleu Lleu (which is just too many vowel sounds for my liking!). I found a great campsite which would have been: 1 pound 90p with cold water showers, a view across the lake, a picnic table and a fire pit. Instead, it was free because the owners were away and they turned the water off. So just the lake, picnic table, and fire to enjoy. Plus the fetid bogs.

This morning, unshowered and ripe, I dived in the lake. Woken up by the cold swim and a couple of coffees I scooted along to Cañate. Coast has its interesting moments but I have been spoiled by Patagonia and the Lake Districts.

Brief History of Circumnavigations of the Globe

2010-01-26T01:37:00.001Z

Going round-the-world is something that has appealed to people sinse it was discovered that the globe wasn't flat. Here are some of the significant Firsts in the history of RTW adventures:

1519 to 1522
Juan Sebastián Elcano is the first person to circumnavigate the globe. He was second in command of Ferdinand Magellan's expedition with 5 ships. Magellan was killed in 1521, in the Phillipines, in a battle. The voyage left its legacy with the Straights of Magellan between Tierra del Fuego and mainland South America. It also took its toll. Of 241 men who began the expedition, only 17 returned to Spain alive.

1884-1897
Thomas Stevens: The Grandfather of Round The World Cycle Touring. Tom, an Englishman, was so keen he left to cycle around the world before the modern bicycle existed. Instead he headed off on a Penny Farthing. As the story goes, he left San Fransisco with a spare pair of socks, a coat (that he also used as a sleeping bag/bivvy), and a Smith & Weston 38! He crossed the US and got a steamer to Liverpool and pedalled his way across Europe and Asia with a devious route using a few ships. In recent years a loony called Joff Somerfeild has repeated the feat and toured the world on a penny. He writes a good diary too check out his crazyguyonabike.com page.

1895-1898
Captain Joshua Slocum. First singlehanded sailing voyage around the world. Captain Slocum wrote a fantastic book about his adventure aboard the Spray called Sailing Alone Around the World. Its a great read and includes his maps for the carribean being eaten by a goat, flying fish jumping on board and hiring an Irishman to pretend to be a shark expert. The Spray, which he built himself, was fitted out with a wood burning stove and a small cabin, and he found his way by taking noon sun sights for lattitude and using dead reckoning for longitude as he only had a $1 tin clock without a minute hand. His journey involved crossing the Atlantic 3 times, and rounding Cape Horn.

1929
Wiley Post. A one-eyed Texan aeroplane nut was the first man to get in a plane and fly around the world alone. Took him 7 days, 19 hours. Go him!

1970-1974
David Kunst. 450 years after Magellan's expedition, someone had the idea to circumnavigate the world on foot. Mad bugger! David set off with his brother John. They walked across the USA, then flew to Portugal and walked across Europe and as far as Afganistan. There, John was shot dead. David was shot in the chest and survived by pretending to be dead. He resumed the walk with another brother called Pete. They got as far as India but couldn't get a visa for USSR. They flew to Australia. After a while Pete went home but David continued walking. The mule that he used to carry his supplies died and he had to pull the cart himself. A kind school teacher called Jenni stopped her car and offered to help and hitched the cart on to her car. David walked alongside the car for the remainder of the Australian leg. Jenni and David later got married and lived happily ever after.

20?!
Well! No one has ever successfully completed a "true" circumnavigation by human power alone. Guiness World Records state that the journey must cover 36,788km, cross the equator and each leg must start where the last finished. It can be done with rowing boat(the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian Oceans have all been rowed across) and bicycle (there's many a RTW cyclist out there). But who will do it? Maybe you?

(NB: Jesper Olsen in 2004, Colin Angus in 2006, Jason Lewis in 2007 and Rosie Swale-Pope in 2008 completed circumnavigations using solely human power, though none conformed to Guinness guidelines.)

Volcán Villarrica

2010-01-22T20:59:00.004Z

Knowing that I would spend the day today climbing a volcano, and that I had to be at the minibus for 6.30am, I got an early night. Trouble was the neighbours didn't. Got about 4 hours sleep before the alarm clock beeped.

So, a little bleary-eyed, I bundled into the minibus with the other punters (mostly Israelis). Then the choice: walk up to the top of the ski lifts or pay 5000 to go up the lift. It was a fine walk.

The climb up was generally a snowplod in perfect conditions. Neither crampons or ice-axe were really necessary and the guide didn't really add much either. At the top we messed around taking silly photos, ate some food, looked as deep as we dared into the crater, and enjoyed the stunning views, especially of the other nearby volcanos Lanín and Llaima. Then we slid back down on our bums.

San Martin to Pucon

2010-01-21T18:56:00.003Z

I was hoping to find a guide to climb Volcan Lanin in Junin de los Andes but everything was shut between 1pm and 5pm. I arrived at 1.10pm and I didn't want to waste that much of the day there as it was a fairly grim spot. I did however stop at a roadside cafe and have a platefull of empanadas which are a great snack food for cycling.

Then I pushed on as far as the Chilean border for my 5th border crossing. Along the way the road returned to probably the worst quality gravel road so far. However it was hard to be distracted because I was cycling through amazing forests of Monkey Puzzle trees and Volcan Lanin was looming larger as I pressed on. As this was a national park there were heaps of signs everywhere saying NO CAMPING so I was keen to find a very discrete spot to camp. It grew darker and still I didn't find anywhere and then the forests disappeared to an area of low bushes. When I reached the border at dusk there was a campsite and I stayed there. As I turned up a Mapuche man had a grill going with a few sausages left on it. He sold me one in a sandwich and then I pitched my tent in the dark and slept.

The next morning I felt a bit lathargic and had some unpleasant bowel movements. Nevertheless, I pressed on. It was one of the hottest days so far. In fact rather too hot for cycling as I am not used to the heat yet. I stopped for a long lunch at a roadside cafe. Then continued along a road that is in the process of being paved. Whilst this process goes on it is in terrible condition with perilous loose gravel and sand. By the time I reached Cararrehue it was about the hottest time of day and I was exhausted and thirsty. I bought a litre of fizzy orange in a shop and colapsed on my back on the concrete and poured it down my throat. Despite only being halfway through the afternoon I decided to camp there. I asked a kid if there was a campsite and he said he would take me. I set about following him and asked how much the campsite cost. He said 500 pesos which is about 60p and much less than any campsite I have ever been to. Well, he just led me to the football pitch, near the river and asked for his 500. I had to laugh at that and paid up and camped in a really nice spot. Still feeling a bit iffy I just ate bread and jam for supper and read a little of my book before sleeping.

Today, I made a relaxing cycle to Pucón being constantly overtaken by racing cyclists. As I reached Pucón I saw many runners too. "Wow," I thought, "What a sporty town!" Then I saw a poster: Domingo Iron Man de Pucón. I'd love to stay and watch but not sure I can justify staying here for another 4 days. So, I am installed in a campsite here and I have just registered for a guided trip up Volcan Villarrica tomorrow. Should be fun. Watch this space!!!

Entre Lagos to San Martin de los Andes

2010-01-18T23:17:00.003Z

From Entre Lagos it was back on a paved and winding road that led to the Argentine border. It also led through a fantastic national park. I camped with Chris (he's just toured Route 66 in the USA and now finds himself down here...) in a great little meadow off the road behind some trees. The next day we set off up the never-ending hairpins until...er...they ended. Then, in the pouring rain, we shot down to Argentina, past the gorgeous Lago Espejo (mirror lake) and on to Villa Angostura. A nice enough little touristy town. Rain treated my tent to a well needed shower (to remove bird excrement) and I had a shower too.

In the morning I waved adios to Chris and set of up Ruta 234 (camino de los siete lagos) and set about counting the lakes. It was a hot sunny blue sky day and the scenery was out of this world. Only, sorry folks, I had no camera to record it. Nevertheless, I will try to describe instead. Basically you've got a gravel road, then on one or both sides a lake of deep blue water. Behind that you have either forested mountains with rocky outcrops poking out above, or higher more distant snowcapped peaks. When there is no lake beside the road you have raging rivers with big cascading rapids, or forests with unusual native trees that I don't recognise.

I reached a campsite beside a lake and popped in to buy bread, pepsi and biscuits. The man said to me:
"There is a big party by the lake tonight, man," and then with a conspirational wink ",there'll be muchas chicas..."
So, well, basically I was persuaded and spent the night drinking a couple of beers on the lakeside beach, playing guitars, eating bbq'ed cow bits, and watching the view, and the sunset.

Today the road was equally impressive but was soon paved all the way to SMdlA. When you hit the crest of the last pass it is a thrilling ride down to the town. The best moment for me was rounding a turn to see the full length of Lago Lacar and at one end San Martin.

I took in the town, interneted a bit, got a sandwich, bought a new camera, and was about to leave town when I passed "Bike Hostal" a hostal full of bits of bicycles and with a workshop at my disposal. The owner invited me in and we sat in the garden drinking mate. Oh well Junin tomorrow.

Swimming Lessons

2010-01-14T23:48:00.006Z

This post focuses on some close shaves. So, I suppose it is appropriate to begin it by announcing that after over 70 days of trying I have abandoned my facial hair experiment and shaved the pathetic beard away. Damn it feels good. I will warn you now that this might all get a bit dramatic later but, if you are of a nervous disposition, don´t worry. The only damage was a bruised hip, cuts and bruises on my shins, a sore knee and a soggy camera.

Puerto Montt tried to do me in. Twice. I won't hold that against it. However, it is an ugly port town. Makes Portsmouth look like Venice.

The first attempt on my life came with my arrival into the town. I was overtaking a row of cars down a steep hill when my front wheel hit a patch of oily water and slipped from under me. Bike and I slid our separate ways. Damage: bruised hip.

The second failed assassination occurred when I was on foot. I was looking in shop windows, hoping to find something tasty to eat, and fell (cartoon style) into a man hole. I was held up by my shins and swayed back and forth like a punch bag. Damage: cuts and bruises on both shins.

Having escaped with my life I made for Puerto Vargas. Why, oh why, hadn't I stayed here instead? It was a delightful lake side town 20km further. As I poodled along the side of Lago Llanquihue I wondered, among other things, how to pronounce that name, whether Volcán Orsorno would come out of the clouds, and whether there would be somewhere to eat soon. Answers: Yankeeoeh, yes(!!!), and yes(!!!). Volcan Orsorno is a beautiful volcano, very similar to what a child would draw if you asked him, except without red and orange crayon lava flying out the top. Its best enjoyed drinking a huge glass of fresh raspberry juice and eating a giant hamburger. I cycled past it mesmorised.

Then, I took a road that looked to me like (but wasn´t) the road to Entre Lagos. After 20km I camped by the side of the road, ate some bread rolls and listened to a dog bark at my tent for over an hour.

In the morning I packed, in gorgeous sunshine, and continued on my way. The gravel road was fine for another 20km but then started to narrow. Then there was a bridge in very poor condition. Then there were some very boulder strewn parts of the road. Soon I began to deduce that this road wasn´t particularly popular with cars. The scenery, of forested mountains, was wonderful and there seemed to be a few farm buildings here and there. Then I reached some very large puddles and took exceptionally pedantic measures to keep dry feet (Ha!). Then, with grass growing out of the middle of the road, I nailed it down a huge steep hill which ended up going straight into a wide river.

At first, it seemed that the river was wide but not particularly deep. I wheeled out the bike a bit, but then decided it was too deep for my boots. Back on the bank, I took off boots and socks, and changed out of trousers into shorts. Barefoot, I started to cross the river in shallow, but icy cold, water. About three-quarters of the way across, I realised that it was starting to get a good deal deeper. The current was pushing into the bike and, up to my waist in water, I was struggling to stand up and pull the bike. Then, as my panniers are watertight, the bike became afloat. Shortly afterwards, trying to hold on, I too lost my footing on the riverbed. Holding on to the bike with one hand, and attempting a little of the old one-armed-doggy-paddle with the other we rushed down stream perilously fast towards some rapids. I managed to get a footing and heaved myself and the bike up on some rocks. In seconds we were about 100m downstream from the road (if you can call it that!).

Now in shade, I began to shiver. My feet were especially cold, so I wrung out my socks, and poured out the water from my boots and put them on. Then, I had to take off the panniers and scramble over the rocks to the road with them, and then go back for the bike. Damage: bruised knee. Camera was in my pocket and got a good soaking (I hadn't expected the water to come above my knees) and won´t switch on. Hopefully it will work once it dries out.

After that I faced another 10km of terrible road, not even gravel now just mud. But us Hubbard's are built of stern stuff: so I headed on. In the end I reached a meadow with a few cows grazing in it. The road just ended. Dead end. A Chileno appeared, out of the woodwork, and I asked him if the "road" led through to Entre Lagos. He said, "You have to go that way," and pointed in the way I had just come.

"But you will need a horse. It cannot be done on a bicycle," he advised. Then he added helpfully, "There is no bridge over the river."

So I retraced my tracks, dreading another river crossing. This time I took the bike and panniers separately. In fact I took the panniers in two goes. In total I crossed the river 6 times. I followed the same route I had come back to the paved road and found the correct turn off in another 10km. In total I had put in more than 100km of detour. Been totally lost. But I had seen some awesome views of the two volcanoes in this region and had a great adventure (and I didn´t drown or loose my bike and all my stuff down some rapids...

Later, on the right road, I med a Switz called Chris and we cycled together chatting and then arrived in Entre Lagos and found a beautiful lake side campsite. Now I´m off to get us a beer to share...

Chiloe so far...

2010-01-09T19:35:00.004Z

Arriving in Quellon fresh off the boat from Chaiten was a bit of a shock. Despite only being small writing on the map it was bigger than any town I've been to sinse Punta Arenas. I took it slowly along to Chonchi. The whole way along there were houses by the road or barbwired farmland. There are gently rolling hills but that's not a problem if you've got the Carretera Austral still in your legs. Chonchi is a delightful little fishing port with colourful buildings. I walked into a shop and bought a bottle of fruit juice and asked if there was a campsite.
"Yeah," the shop owner said, "Juan Carlos´s house." He said it as if everyone knew that.
The selfsame Juan Carlos was a funny little character with a beard that made him look a bit like a leprichorn. The campsite, in his back garden, was a nice enough spot and I met an american couple of cyclists heading south.

From Chonchi it was a short 20km hop to Castro, the capital of the Island, where I am now. I headed out last night in the hope of finding some traditional Chiloe folk music but first I went for a pizza. Whilst getting my bill a pair of Brazillian brothers and a German guy asked if I wanted to join them for a drink. We had a couple of beers and the one brother, Rodrigo, kept getting extra chairs and inviting Chilean girls to come and join us. Good spanich practise. Then we all climbed into taxis to go to a nightclub a few miles from the town.

The place was thumping out Reggaeton: sort of a beat heavy mixture of Dancehall with Merengue which origionates from Puerto Rico. There is also definately a hip-hop and R&B influence to Reggaeton with many a Beyonce remix with a gravel voiced rap interlude (what I think of as urban music's equivalent of the guitar solo). All reggaeton songs have the same drum beat which, depending on your viewpoint, is either infectious or infuriating. In short, reggaeton is pretty dreadful. Nevertheless it is very popular across Latin America and also seems to have a growing toehold in the USA and Europe. I think the reason is that it has a strong beat to dance to.

And dance I did. Although, because I was wearing hiking boots, I was unable to unleash the finest moves held in my reportoire. Well, that's my excuse. Later, having sampled the dangerous chilean poison Pisco Sour and its partner in crime Piscola, I walked home, getting fairly lost in the middle of some farmland when I attempted to take a shortcut. I arrived back at the Hospedaje Bellavista just as dawn was breaking and found the front door locked. I rang the bell but when there was no answer I tried pushing one of the windows open. I managed to slide it open enough to climb inside but there were a range of little orniments balanced on the window sill. So, whilst balancing tentitively on the window ledge I had to move them all out of the way. I spent the morning comatosed.

Recordings

2010-01-08T17:13:00.012Z

Ok, I've not posted many of my recordings for a while so I thought I would upload a bumper issue. Firstly a snippet from a long, rambling and highly amusing interview I made with the very wonderful Seth and Kirsten. I first contacted them through Warmshowers looking for somewhere to stay in Santiago. They have a blog at thespokenword.blogspot.com. The whole interview is both too long to put on here and also in several parts as I ran out of batteries halfway through. Another problem is that instead of choosing a set of questions to ask them I tried to "freestyle" and frankly the results were somewhat mixed. If you don't know what a Bob trailer is look here. Here is the recording: Seth and Kirsten talking about trailers and long hair

Next up. Here is a nice little charango piece from Nicolas de Penna who I met in Chaiten. The recording was made in the back of his mini-bus. The song is called Dos Palomas (two doves).

Next more interviews with fellow cyclists.
Michael from Switzerland Michael, Brett, Monika, Thorsten and I all shared a great Christmas together in Coyhaique. This interview with "Iron Mike" was made beside a fire in the campsite beside Lago O'Higgins. He mentions the song Love is Shield (slightly dubious euro pop...)

Brett from South Africa Sorry, it was a bit windy and I forgot to use the windshield... Made in the campsite in Cochrane. Brett is a lively character with lots of stories up his sleeve.

Monika and Thorsten from Germany Thorsten and Moni are a very friendly and generous couple who played leap-frog with me for a while. We camped in El Blanco at the confluence of two rivers, 30km before Coyhaique. Thorsten is a journalist who writes for cycling magazines about his tours. He takes fantastic photgraphs.

Graham from Cumbria in the UK Graham is riding a Dawes Audax, a fast tourer, with very minimal equipment tucked into 2 panniers. He's cycled from Prudhoe Bay in Alaska. We met on new year's eve and shared a few drinks in a bus shelter not far from La Junta.

Chaiten

2010-01-06T15:38:00.005Z

(Note for Facebookers: There is a flickr slideshow of my photos from Chaiten that can be seen on the blog or here.)

From the 30th April 2008, Chaiten, a port town towards the north of Patagonia (and for me the end of the Carretera Austral), was hit by a series of low and medium intensity earthquakes. The 7000, or so, people of the town began to worry. At half past midnight on the 2nd May 2008, their worries were validated. A loud bang jolted them awake and they felt, and saw against the night sky, Volcan Chaiten erupt. The volcano, thought to be extinct, was 10km from the town and the plume could be seen 180km away. The water supply to the town was soon cut off to prevent poisoning. The largest evacuation in Chilean history, involving navy ships, left about 1000 people in the town that night. On the 6th May there was a secondary erruption and by that night there were only 20. The rivers filled with ash and the town was flooded. A new branch of the river formed and wiped away hundreds of houses. Of the houses left, many are severly damaged by the mounds of ash.

Now, 20 months later, Chaiten is a ghost town. But people do live there. About 150. A few supermarkets are open. A few hospedajes and a few restuarants. A man I spoke to said, for the first 6 months after coming back he had not unpacked, just in case he had to go again at short notice. The government have now decided that Chaiten will not be rebuilt and instead Santa Barbara, about 6km away, will be expanded to replace the town. As yet no new houses have been built in the region.

On a miserable grey morning exploring the town, feeling self-conscious, I took photos of the destruction and graffiti. Here are some examples with my attempts at translations. (Spanish speakers, please help or correct me as necessary.)

EL GOBIERNO NOS NIEGA LA LUZ Y EL AGUA. AQUI ESTAMOS HACIENDO PATRIA.
The government refuses us light and water. We are making our homeland here.
CHAITEN NO MORIDA. VOLVEREMOS.
Chaiten is not dead. We will return.
ZONA 0. CERO LUZ. CERO AGUA. CERO APOYO.
Zero Zone. Zero light. Zero water. Zero support.
SI EL GOBIERNO STANARVAEZ HUBIESE PUESTO AGUA!!! MI HOGAR EXISTIRIA 30 ANOS BE ESFLERZO
[Sorry, this is beyond my translations skills.]
ESTA PROPIEDAD NO SE VENDE AL FISCO NI A PARTICULARES
This property is not for sale [not sure about the "al fisco" bit.]
CHAITEN NO MORIA SEGURIREMOS CONSTRUYENDO. PATRIA AL SUR DEL MUNDO, POR ESO EXIGIMOS. CAMINO CHILE, AHORA!!!
Chaiten will not die, we will keep rebuilding. Our homeland is in the south of the world and for this we demand a Road of Chile now. [This refers to a proposed extention of the Carretera Austral through Pulmin Park which has shelved since it gained sanctuary status.]
RECONSTRUCCION CHAITEN VIVE!!
Reconstruction. Chaiten lives.
VIEJO PASCUERO: EN ESTA NAVIDAD TE PIDO LA LUZ Y EL AGUA. CHAITEN VIVE!
Fater Christmas: for this christmas I ask for light and water. Chaiten lives.
NO ROBEN. Don't rob us.
LADRON: ERES UN HIJO DE PERRA
Thief: you are a son of a female dog.
OYE LADRON ERES UN ZANGANO Y CANALLA. AHORA ESPERA EL CASTIGO DE DIOS. PUTRETE!
Listen thief. you are a [not in my dictionary] and a swine. now wait for the punishment from God. Rot in hell! [literally: putrify]
Finally, I saw this at the Church, on the banner the "malos politicos" bit has been cut out. Maybe by the police :
SENOR, PROTEGENOS DEL VOLCAN, DEL RIO Y DE LOS MALOS POLITICOS. AMEN.
Lord, protect us from the volcano, from the river and from the bad politicians. Amen.

As it lashed down with rain I headed towards the sound of a generator, and sure enough, found a supermarket. I bought a packet of biscuits and was munching away when a minibus came along. They were heading up to visit the Volcano and wondered if I wanted to come along. I said I didn't really have the money and the tour guide asked, "What else are you going to do? Sulk around here?"

So we drove along the last section of the CA and into Pumalin Park (officially trespassing as it is now closed to the public). We drove across a part of the road that has been widened as a makeshift airstrip. A cartoony cherry-picker control tower, made everyone chuckle. As we drove, the sky cleared up a bit and we had a sight of the decimated forrests. Our guide pointed out that the giant rubarb plant I have seen everywhere is edible, even raw. We came to a point were the road is destroyed and stopped. From here we had to walk. The first thing I did was get some giant rubarb and eat it. Its disgusting just so you know. The road was split into several sections by landslides and rivers was strewn with volcanic rocks. Lumps of glassy black Obsidian were everywhere along with the solidifyed white frothy lava: pumice stones. After crossing and recrossing the newly appeared river, we reached a view point for the volcano and waited patiently for the clouds to part.

While we waited, I asked our guide about the Pumalin Park. The area, which has a unique ecology, has abundant mineral wealth and so industrialists wish to exploit this and also develop forrestry. This is one of the primary reasons to extend the Carretera Austral: to better facilitate the industrialisation. The granting of sanctuary status has forestalled this threat for the moment. I also asked about Chaiten and tried to peice together the events of the eruption. I asked about insurance. People were fighting in the courts but many companies refused to pay out. Many people did not have home insurance. Also many complex issues. The town people had to fight in the courts to have the river properly levvied. On the way back from the volcano we stopped off at Santa Barbara which is a lovely little secluded beach, over shaddowed by a forrested hill called Vilcun. I tried to imagine it growing to the size of Chaiten. The guide, Nicolas, pulled out a charango and played a few songs, including one he had written about the beach, and "Don't worry about a thing" the Bob Marley tune. Later, in the back of his van, I made a lovely recording of a traditional andean song called "Dos Palomas".

I went for dinner in a place called Turco, one of the few open. Miranda and Pete, who'd also come up to the volcano, were there so I joined them for a good chat, a few beers (luke warm as fridges don't work) and a big plate of fried salmon. They are a pair of teachers working in Columbia and very friendly. Despite my protest, they paid for dinner. (Thankyou very much guys!) Feeling very happy and content (full stomach, faith in human kindness) I walked back to the Don Carlos Hospedaje in starlight (street lights don't work).

Conservation Issues in Patagonia

2010-01-03T21:15:00.003Z

You can't travel far on the Camino Austral without seeing chipped windscreens, mangy barking dogs and the car sticker saying "Patagonia sin represas". Meaning Patagonia without Dams, the campaign is aimed against a multi-billion dollar project to build dams on several of the rivers in Chilean Patagonia. The company which wants to build the dams, Hidroaysen, hopes to provide hydroelectric power to cope with Chile's increasing energy demands, not least because of mining in the north. The environmental problems stem from the building of the dams, the building of the power lines. There are also many controversial political and social issues asociated with the dams such as people who were offered insentives to live down here in the 60s and 70s (for political reasons) now being offered insentives by Hidroaysen to ship out again.

Another issue is the improvement and extension of the Carretera Austral itself. Especially a proposed 100 million dollar extention through Park Pumalin (and Park Pumalin). The park is owned by a North American entrepeneur, Doug Tompkins (of The North Face fame) who has got himself deeply embroiled in conservation work down here. See here here here. He and his wife have bought up 900,000 hectares of Patagonia. The origional plan was to run the road straight through the park. Tompkins is arguing for a more sympathetic coastal route.

It is worth noting that before the building of the road very few people lived here at all. In fact, several of the towns I have stayed in are younger than me!! The Carretera Austral was the brainchild of General Pinochet with the aim of strengthening Chilean sovereignty in the region. Especially with the development of border disputes with Argentina in Laguna del Desierto much as the Beagle conflict. In 1976 more than 10,000 soldiers worked in one of the most expensive engineering projects undertaken in Chile and also one of the most difficult, due to glaciers and fjords. Many soldiers died of explosions during ground-breaking. Much of the road is still unpaved but, even whilst I ride it, the asphalt creeps out further from Coyhaique. Also there are plans to extend the road to Region XII (Magallanes). This seems to me frankly a bit ludicrous as the plan involves 935km of new road, with 9 ferry crossings, when a perfectly good road already exists (albeit running through Argentina).

I have a suspicion that if I come back in 20 years, this road will all be asphalt, there will be few if any gauchos and there will probably be Macdonald´s Restaurants in every town. There are not many wilderness areas left in the world and you wonder how long Patagonia has left.

Another North American environmentalist with links to Patagonia is the owner of the Patagonia clothing company, and Doug's friend, Yvon Chouinard. A film about a climbing and surfing trip the American pair made in the sixties is released this year. It is called 180 degrees South. Here is the trailer.

180° SOUTH from Mark Kalch on Vimeo.

I suppose the caveats are that these men are now extremely wealthy, they are not Chileans and they can have a very heavy handed approach. They are charactarised as being "Eco-barrens" and in turn Hidroaysen are nicknamed "those dam monsters".

Here are some websites to look at if you are interested.
http://www.conservacionpatagonica.org/
http://www.theconservationlandtrust.org/
http://www.parquepumalin.cl/
http://www.patagoniasinrepresas.cl/
http://www.greenpeace.org/espana/news/patagonia-sin-presas

New Year´s Resolutions

2010-01-01T00:00:00.001Z

I think its a good idea to use the excuse of the calendar clunking around each year to reflect on what you would like to achieve for the next year and make some firm commitments.

Resolve to renew all your old resolves,
And add a few that are new.
Resolve to keep them as long as you can,
What more can a poor man do?

Okay, here are mine for 2010.

1) Learn a new word of Spanish each day, including a verb each week.
2) Climb a mountain each month.
3) Don't get a haircut, man.

"I don't advise a haircut, man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hair are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald-headed men are uptight." - Withnail and I

For me a specific idea ("Eat 5 fruit and vegetables every day") is better than something general ("Eat better"). Here are some ideas if you havn´t decided on your goals yet:-

Eat at a table everyday. Learn a new recipe each week.
Only watch TV for an hour each day. Only watch films at the cinema.
Run or walk at least a mile each day.
By the end of 2010 read the 10 books you have always wanted to read but have always put off.
Write a diary each night.
Once a week, phone your mum.
Tidy your house/flat/room/tent each night before you go to sleep.
Learn a new skill (language, musical instrument, art, etc) practise each day.
If you are a busy and stressed out kind of person. Take an hour out each day to sit, drink tea and just "be chilled".
Volunteer regularly for a community group. Sports clubs, kids groups, arts clubs, or whatever you want to help with. (NB the Scouts are looking for more volunteers at the moment.)
If you are grumpy, try to do something to make someone smile each day (or each week if that's all you can manage...)
If you are lazy, try to get up an hour earlier than usual and use the extra time to read, run, study etc...

Hope that lot helps someone...and tell me what your resolutions are if you've decided on something yet...

Alternative posts from the Blogosphere:
Tom "Ride Earth" thinks you shouldn´t make resolutions (but he thinks you should enter an ironman instead!!)
Alastair Humphreys is bound to post something about new year's resolutions (like this, this or this)

Happy New Year!!! Slideshow

2009-12-31T15:10:00.001Z

Coyhaique to Puyuhuapi

2009-12-30T14:10:00.003Z

Off to work with a chainsaw and some bulls.

From one barely pronoucably named town to the next, eh? Having said goodbyes to the Christmas crowd, I headed out into the rain and, climbing uphill out of Coyhaique, Brett wizzed by in a pickup truck he'd hitched a ride with. I pushed on. Endless rain and cloud obscured the mountian views but fortunately the waterfalls, which are incredible, were full to bursting with vast quantities of the wet stuff. It almost made me want to strip off and film a rudimentry Timotei shampoo advert.

I failed to reach Manihuales because the lights went off and I camped by the side of the road. In the morning, as I was packing my tent up a couple from Switzerland cycled by and had a chat. They've been on the road for 2 and a half years crossing europe and asia to reach Japan and then flew to Mexico and cycled down here. Epic. In Manihuales I had some coffee and cake and in a few hours time caught up with Moni and Thorsten. We got wet together as the weather continued to throw water down on us. Eventually we stayed in a lovely Hospedaje in Villa Armengual. But first we watched a man off to work with a chainsaw over his shoulder and two giant bulls harnessed together.

In the morning it was still raining and I decided to put in a big day and reach Puyuhuapi. The first obstacle was a mountain pass on a narrow and steep gravel road. Through what looked like forests of giant rhubarb, I hairpinned my way upward and then, in a crazily dangerous way, spiralled my way down. I reached Puyuhuapi and set up in a lovely campsite with canopies for the rain and a wood burning stove to cook on (if you have infinite patience) or dry your socks.

Tips for getting started on your Big Ambition

2009-12-28T17:02:00.000Z

I have been asked on a few ocassions how I managed to be able to take a year off to go cycling. I think the general priciples are probably the same for whatever big ambition you have. Here are a few things that I think we're helpful.

Save money. Open a savings account (a tax free ISA is a good place to start). Most things in life require a little money to grease the wheels. Set up a standing order for at least 10% of your salary each month.

Write down your idea and decide what steps you can take today to make it happen.

Read. Books, websites, forums are a good place to start researching your plans. Then try something small (like a short cycle tour) to see if you like it...

Don't tell anyone. Let the idea build up inside you and grow to the extent that you have to do it. I told people I was getting into cycle touring but I waited several years before telling everyone the South America plan. Almost till I'd bought the ticket and quit my job.

Accept that you will need to make sacrifices but don't make comprimises on your dreams.

Don't rely on luck. Don't listen to the naysayers.

Don't wait till everything is absolutely perfect. It never will be. Just go!! Get on with it.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!!

2009-12-24T18:04:00.002Z

Brett and I woke up at 5:30am, in the pouring rain, to get to the ferry port at Chile Chico in time. We waited, getting soggier, whilst everyone else got on the ferry but we were made to wait till last. Cycle prejudice is rife. Inside the ferry was crazily crowded so we squeezed ourselves in to a cafeteria to eat breakfast of oats and yoghurt and coffee. I headed off from Puerto Ibanez with the rain still lashing down, selected a low gear and started climbing. I left Brett faffing about with getting warmer clothes out of his panniers.

I bumped into Monica and Thorsten again at the junction with Ruta 7, where the tarred road snakes its way up to a 1100m pass. We had a bit of lunch sat in a bus stop shelter and continued up the hairpins. Thorsten and I had a good chat and, once we got to the top, took some photos in the snow. (White xmas!) When Monica caught up we continued in sleet and then snow.

As we sped down hill the sky cleared and huge mountains loomed over the road. Fantastic views waited around each bend of forests, lakes and fast flowing rivers. Probably some of the most dramatic scenery of the trip so far. Another uphill bump and the scenery changed again turning into rolling green hills and farmland. Not unlike Hampshire believe it or not. However, a headwind picked up and, after I stopped for a few biscuits, M&T caught up. We camped in El Blanco beside the confluence of two rivers and ate pasta, cheese, chocolate, walnuts and cake (not all together (or necessarily in that order)).

Today, Christmas Eve, began with filthy wet weather and a biting cold headwind. The big mittens made their first outing of the trip. Fortunately it was only a short 33kms to Coyhaique, where I soon found Brett, the campsite and, later, Michael. So there is quite a crowd of us now. I think Monika plans to cook a traditional German xmas dinner tonight which should be nice. Crimbo Vino is bubbling much slower so fingers crossed it will be drinkable tomorrow. Planning to have Boxing Day here too (to recuperate).

Hope you all have a fantastic Christmas time and all the best for 2010!!! Stay tuned for my New Year's Resolutions...

The Boatman

2009-12-23T22:53:00.000Z

I'm really enjoying listening to The Levellers at the moment. Especially I like the lyrics from The Boatman.

If I could choose the life I please
Then I would be a boatman
On the canals and the rivers free
No hasty words are spoken
My only law is the river breeze
That takes me to the open seas
If I could choose the life I please
Then I would be a boatman

If I could choose the life I please
Then I would be a rover
And if the road was not for me
Then I would choose another
Cross mountains and the valleys deep
Where I would take these weary feet
If I could choose the life I please
Then I would be a rover

Hygine and Food

2009-12-22T15:40:00.002Z

I'm reading a James Michner book called Journey that I picked up in a hostal. Its the story of an expedition during the gold rush to the Klondike River in northern Canada in 1897. Some pertinent advice is to be found near the bottom of page 120.

"We must change our socks at least twice a week and wash the worn ones in soap and hot water, else we'll develop a horrible fungus. It's not good to sleep in your clothes or to wear your underthings for more than a week. The latrine is to be kept well back from the cabin, and I want to find no one just stepping outside the door and pissing."

Ok, fair enough Jimbo, I will do my best.

Right, now on to food. I think its fair to say that I'll not be writing a recipe book any time soon. Nevertheless, I thought I'd give a taster of my culinary tendencies are on the bike. The key thing is to be able to store stuff for about a week or so. I have a few old plastic containers (the kind you get hot chocolate in) to keep things like oats, pasta and rice in. Plastic bags are ok but tend to split open and go everywhere.

Breakfast: I've got oats, powdered milk and sugar all mixed up in a container and I just pour some in my mug, add cold water, and shovel it in. It is considerably less faff and less mess than hot porridge and, if I ever felt the need, with the addition of raisins and nuts it is almost muesli. I like this and it sets you up for the day. If I have left the stove out I can make tea and pour in hot water into the oats which is also good.

Lunch: Bread with cheese, dulce de leche, jam or banana. Or with any combination of the above, or with all of it. Bread only lasts a few days before going stale so another option is to carry crackers which last a bit longer or flour. You can use flour to make chapatis (flat bread made from flour, salt and water) or "beer bread" (rises a bit, made with beer and flour). Good to cook these over a fire but its ok on a stove too.

Dinner: Pasta and stock cube. Or, if I fancy a change, rice and stock cube. Cheap and quick to cook. Occasionally, I will buy a few random tins, tuna, sardines, sweetcorn, peas, etc. Also I sometimes have things like olive oil, garlic, fresh ginger, herbs, curry powder, onion, salami, parmazan and the odd carrot. Powdered soups also good as an alternative to stock cubes. In towns I go wild and eat vegetables, red meat, eggs and yoghurt, as these don't travel well.

Snacks: Biscuits, chocolate and mints. I have to hide these from myself in the bottom of the panniers. Fruit and other healthy food doesn´t tend to travel well so I do a good deal of healthy eating outside shops. Apples and oranges are about the best for taking with.

Drinks: Water or black tea. In town, the occasional beer or wine. I'm also brewing some strawberry wine in time for Christmas. Its fizzing all the time now and I have to unscrew the cap to release the pressure every 10km. Following a tip from Brett, I activated the yeast in a little lukewarm water covered with a lid for 45 minutes and then added it to the strawberry juice with a spoonful of sugar.

Cochrane to Chile Chico: Salchicha the dog

2009-12-21T19:53:00.003Z

Rolled out of Cochrane and put in a shortish day to Puerto Bertrand. Rear tyre blewout and I had to bodge a fix with duct tape. There I met a dog that looked suprisingly similar to one I had seen in Cochrane. But I thought nothing of it. However, as I attempted to make chapatis and read my book the crazy little dog kept pestering me. She followed me when I moved up to a campsite and met up with Bret for a dinner containing both rice and pasta. Bret gave me his spare tyre which looks excellent. After a good dinner, good hot shower, good coffee I hit the sack. The dog slept next to my tent.

In the morning, we breakfasted on porridge, coffee, leftovers and stupid jokes. Then I left before Brett as he was buggering around packing and he wanted to take it slow because he's picked up a little knee problem. As I rode out of town (I love saying that, it feels like I'm a cowboy!!) the dog followed me. I call her Salchicha - stupid name for stupid animal. I tried my best to persuade her to go away but she followed me for 65kms. She could run up hills faster than me and could catch up in a few minutes after I had nailed downhill. She had a great time chasing after other dogs, rabbits and birds. Eventually she decided that a campsite where there were people cooking on a bbq was a better chance of finding a generous human (I refused to feed her).

Today I met up with the German couple Monica and Thorsen who told me that Salchicha followed them from Cochrane to Puerto Bertrand. So in the last 3 days she has covered over 115kms!! Cycled on with M&T to Chile Chico a delightful little lake side town.

Only a 1100m pass between me and Christmas in Coyaique. Strawberry wine is coming along nicely fermenting all over the place. I have to unscrew the cap every hour to let the gas out. Will meet up with M&T and Brett. Not sure if Michael (nick named by Brett as "Iron Mike") will make it as he's still in Cochrane, but should be a good crowd anyway.

Tortel to Cochrane

2009-12-18T12:25:00.004Z

At Tortel I loaded up on supplies. This involved knocking politely on what looked just like someones house, only I had spied shelves of food through the window, and then asking in my finest spanish for oats, chocolate and one of each flavour of biscuits. To get bread I had to go to another house and knock on the window. The woman inside delved into a huge sack and brought out 6 homemade rolls for 10p each.

Biscuits and chocolate have a short shelf-life in my panniers and were, of course, devoured before the end of the day. As is the usual fashion hereabouts the road was in a dire pot-holed, washboarded, gravely and hilly state and there was a head wind. Nevertheless the sun shone all day and as the light faded I found a nice spot off the road and under some trees to pitch the tent with a mountain veiw and a river nearby.

The next day I set off hoping to make it to Cochrane and when I passed a lovely cycling couple from Belgium they confirmed it was 65kms so I had a sporting chance of getting there before nightfall. Being about the time of day we decided to retire to the dining room for lunchoen together. By which I mean we sat on the dirt and ate cheese sandwiches.

After a good chat and feed I hit the road again but changed my plan when, 15kms outside Cochrane, I chanced upon Lago Ezmeralda. It was a beautiful spot so I decided to camp there and save a nights camping fee in Cochrane.

Cochrane is a little bigger than Villa O'Higgins, the internet a fraction faster, and it has a nice feel about it. There is a supermarket which is ideal if you need to pop out and pick up some cereal, milk, an outboard motor, a chainsaw and some plastic toys. Truely everything you might ever need is on sale.

Brett arrived and we bought some steaks to bbq. Also, led astray, I bought some lavadura and some strawberry juice with which I intend to concoct a "special" christmas vino. Wish me luck!

Chalten to Caleta Tortel

2009-12-15T17:55:00.008Z

I have been through quite a bit since I last posted but not come across a decent internet connection. Incredibly, it seems to be quite good in this tiny village, Caleta Tortel, in a seaside cove, made entirely of wooden houses with boardwalks and wooden staircases connecting them. extrodinary. Its been tough going getting here. From Chalten to Lago Desierto was a nice enough gravel track and on the way I met up with a South African guy called Bret who likes to eat and drink. After getting the ferry across Lago Desierto we camped with a Switz guy called Michael. The next day was a grueling one. If you wanted you could hire a horse for US$30 but us Hubbards are made of sterner stuff. The bike had to be pushed up steep and deeply rutted horse tracks for 10km before coming down a heavily potholed and steep gravel track.

The campsite was stunning, looking out over the turquoise waters of Lago O'Higgins and the surrounding mountains. We spent a day looking at it, reading books and tinkering with bikes while we waited for the ferry to turn up. The 4pm ferry arrived at 8pm and took us across Lago O'Higgins (bit Irish sounding,eh?). By the time we got to the other side, after watching a great sunset, it was dark and the 7km in to Villa O'Higgins had to be made by head torch.

I decided to get going after stocking up on supplies in VOH. Not many shops open as it was a Sunday and election weekend, and I couldn't face another day sat around scratching my bum. It was good to get moving on the bike, but hard work. The gravel road here is tough going with many potholes and washboard tracks, not to mention the hills and winds (they're normal now!). Scenery is stunning to the point that there is no need to listen to ipod, or even think much, you just look around and soak it all in.

El Calafate to El Chalten

2009-12-08T23:35:00.005Z

After listening to a folk band in the campsite bar, and sampling (yet more) litres of Quilmes, our trusty pedal-powered hero woke fairly late and drank several cups of coffee and ate lots of toast and alfajor (yummy chocolate/ducle leche things). He then spent what seemed like an eternity trying to reorganise his panniers to be a) more convienient for commonly used items and b) with more weight at the front of the bike (who shall henceforth be known as Foxy Lady). Neither of these objectives were achieved and so the mission was abandoned in favour of cycling.
Weather was nice but reasonably windy. Lunch was ducle de leche and bananas on crackers and some turron.

Soon after Lago Argentina had slid behind a hill I came across a house in the middle of knowhere with "Bar" written on it. I headed in chased my barking dogs and it turned out to be a campsite too. So I gave in and ordered some food. On asking what he had on offer I was offered some piddling sandwiches and cakes, and then he offered a plate of beef steak. My eyes lit up and no more communication was required. Then dead cow was served with grated carrot and tomato and washed down by a black beer called Antares.

The next day was the sunniest and least windy day I have had yet so much so that my jacket stayed off all day and my arms got a touch of sunburn. I put in 120km to reach El Chalten just as it was getting dark. The whole day I was heading closer and closer to the mind boggling peaks of Mount Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre. I installed myself at the campsite and got a pizza. Disappointment ensued as I was unable to manage the entire pizza. The first time such a fate has befallen me. I think my stomach is getting smaller. Either that or it is the enormous quantity of cheese they use here.

Today the weather is much the same: balmy. I walked up to the Laguna Torre which is an excellent viewpoint for Cerro Torre, a crazily steep and magestic tower. I wore shorts (but long sleeves because of sun burned arms) and carried a very light pack with water, biscuits and not much else. Quite a relaxing walk through delightful countryside. I may have to stay here some time as my timing for the ferry to Villa O´Higgins is a little muddled. In fact I still can´t work out if it goes on Fridays or Saturdays such is the quality of the infomation. Well, tomorrow I plan to hike to the Mount Fitz Roy viewpoint and then we´ll see. If I miss the Friday/Saturday ferry there is one on Tuesday (or maybe its Wednesday). All a little confusing.

10 Interesting South American Mountains

2009-12-07T19:01:00.001Z

The Mighty Cerro Torre (as yet unclimbed by anyone from Finland)

Another cheeky list post. With some peaks I´d like to climb or at least visit.

1. Anconcagua - At 6962m this is the highest peak in South America. You really have to go with a guide, and at US$3000 I think I´ll have to pass this time.
2. Mount Chimborazo - A volcano at 6268m in Ecuador. The summit is the point on the Earth's surface most distant from its center, because of the equatorial bulge.
3. Torre Central 2460m the middle one of the Torres del Paine first climbed in 1963 by the legendry British mountaineer Sir Chris Bonnington.
4. Fitz Roy - 3375m. Named after the captain of Darwin´s boat, the Beagle, this is a spectacular looking peak first bagged by Lionel Terray in 1952. He is the French guide who famously tried to rescue a bunch of climbers from the North Face of the Eiger.
5. Volcan Villarica - 2847m an active cone-shaped volcano in the Chilean lake district that I should be able to have a go at climbing quite easily I hope.
6. Volcan Lanin - 3747m another candidate.
7. Cerro Torre - 3128m has a huge reputation and is a very tough mountain because, amongst other things, horrific foul weather. The history of the climb is worth reading and involves many disputed attempts, an attempt with a gas powered compressor drill to put in bolts and was not finally climbed in Alpine style until 1977.
8. Cotopaxi - 5897m. An altitude mountain that might be a good possibility for me in Ecuador.
9. Charquini - 5392m, Bolivia. An aclimatisation mountain that might be a spring board to bigger things. . .
10. Pichincha - 4784m Ecuador. Climbed by an eccentric adventurer called Alexander von Humboldt in 1802. I´ve read one of his books and it was a terrific read. Should be a straightforward climb. Also it is a very active volcano.

Raphael and Bettina

2009-12-06T02:26:00.003Z

Met a great cycling couple from Switzerland at the campsite. They have cycled from Ecuador and were kind enough to answer some of my daft questions. Here is a mini interview with them I recorded. Listen to find out a great tip to get more from your cycling tour and to find out how fast dogs run.

Also I spent the day checking out the amazing Perito Moreno Glacier.

21 of the World´s Most Famous Walks

2009-12-05T17:46:00.000Z

I´ve just finished a week trekking around Torres del Paine national Park in Chile. I had a fantastic time and its great to translate those photographs I had seen into actual memories. (This process is a bit like when I saw Chuck Berry play at Portsmouth Guildhall when I was 10 years old. It was my first gig and I went with my Dad. I was so excited because I had worn out my Chuck Berry tape by playing it a thousand times and was obsessed with him. Nothing compares to seeing the man in the flesh playing "Johnny B Goode".)

Anyway, I´ve been thinking about other treks for future holidays/expeditions. Here is my international wish list. Is one life long enough?

1. Torres del Paine circuit (Chile) (Pete has done it!!)
2. Los Glaciares (Argentina, options to veiw Cerro Torre and Mt Fitzroy)
3. Cordillera Real (Bolivia, 7 day circuit)
4. Bruce Trail (Canada)
5. Inca Trail (Peru)
6. Pacific Coast Trail (USA)
7. Continental Divide Trail (USA)
8. Appalachian Trail (USA)
9. Kerry Way (Ireland)
10. South West Coast Path (England)
11. West Highland Way (Scotland) (Pete has done it!!)
12. GR5 (Netherlands, Belgium, Luxombourg, France)
13. Snowman Trek (Bhutan,21 day hike in Himalayas)
14. Israel National Trail (er...Israel. 1000kms)
15. Everest Base Camp (Nepal, 18 days)
16. Annapurna Circuit (Nepal, 3 week loop)
17. Great Baikal Trail (Russia)
18. Nordkalottleden Trail (Finland, Sweden and Norway)
19. Grand Italian Trail (Italy, 6000kms)
20. Heysen Trail (Australia)
21. Milford Track (New Zealand)