We got here yesterday after a few delays traveling. Not bad though, just some mammoth queues in customs that snaked the full length of the airport, twice.
Eventually got through all that and thankfully the guy we’d arranged to pick us up was still waiting. We then had a fairly baking hot journey across Rio. Major traffic jams due to a car crash, at which point all the kids pile out of the fervelas to sell fruit and bottles of water.
Hostel seems fairly ok, busy, noisy, hot and humid, but to be expected at this time of year really. Room is clean (even if it is the size of your average prison cell) and there’s only the 2 of us in it, as opposed to the 5 lads they’ve crammed in down the corridor!
Yesterday was baking hot and sunny but we were shattered from the journey so just had a lazy day and caught up on sleep and did a bit of exploring with plans to hit the beach today. Unfortunately we now understand what they mean over here by ´rainy season´ as it pretty much hasn’t stopped all day!
So rather than sightseeing, we’ve been food seeing, working our way from one snack bar to another (Fiona’s favorite moments so far). The snack bars are ridiculously cheap and can feed both of us with drinks for under a quid!
This rain better ease up soon otherwise we’re both going to be the size of houses!
Well the sun finally came out today. Ventured up to Sugarloaf Mountain in the cable car, some cracking views over the city. Then to recover we went and laid out on Copacabana beach for a few hours.
Yesterday was pretty cool as well. We went to the Maracana Football Stadium to watch Flamengo vs Fluminese. There is a tournament for all the teams in Rio at this time of year, not sure how many Rio teams there are in total, at least 4, but Flamengo and Fluminese are the biggest two.
Not a bad game, 2 all draw, drizzle throughout the second half, crowd trouble broken up by the police, all in all, just like a Saturday at Goodison, except they bring you food and beer to your seat throughout the game, no queuing from 20 minutes before half time!
We have also discovered a dining concept we would like to introduce to the UK. Last night for tea we discovered a Brazilian style grill house, you pay your entry fee (a whopping 3 quid each), you grab your plate then avoiding the buffet of salad and chips etc (only wastes valuable stomach space), then you sit at your table whilst about 15 blokes bring you freshly cooked skewers of beef, pork, beef, lamb, chicken, beef, sausages and did I mention the very, very nice beef they had, also tried chicken hearts, a bit like kidneys but tougher, not a favorite.
All washed down with plenty of local beer and very sweet red wine and finished off by one of the most potent cocktails I’ve ever had mixed, once Fiona had polished off hers (and half of mine) I just about managed to guide the wobbling girl home.
Well, it’s all been a bit hectic since we last wrote.
The carnival finally landed on this side of the city. We went out as usual and immediately found ourselves amongst complete chaos. The streets were absolutely jam packed with street entertainers and the usual hoard of drink and food sellers that follow any kind of activity.
Eventually managed to find a seat in a place on the front at Impanema Beach and got some food, then ventured out into the massive street/beach party which was happening all around us. A stage had been set up on the beach with a samba band and thousands of people dancing on the sand (well it is Rio).
Yesterday we dragged ourselves out of bed early and went over to Corcovado (hill with the statue of Christ on). We took the cog railway to the top and then walked the 200 odd steps to the summit, unlike the American tour party who all climbed into the lift and then took the escalator the final few yards. I kid you not!
It’s really quite an impressive statue that appears to loom out of the clouds.
We will return to this trip later.
On to the reason we’re here, The Carnival!
Got back from Corcovado, grabbed some lunch, then went to bed in preparation for what we knew would be a late night. Although we didn’t realize it would be all night, and the following morning as well. We finally stumbled back into the hostel at about half nine, grabbed some breakfast, and then collapsed.
Cracking night though, absolutely mental amounts of colours and dancing to that samba beat. Have put some photos on the website so you can get an idea of what we’re on about (including some of the ´locals’ for you Ian). Just follow the link from Bert’s page.
Was indeed a fantastic night which we will not forget for a long, long while (it’s going to take us that long to recover anyway!)
Only a couple more days in Rio to go, we are planning to head south down the coast from Thursday then West to the Brazil/Argentina border.
Well that’s the plan anyway, we’ll see what happens!
9th Feb 2005
Anyway I promised to return to our trip to Corcavado, statue of the Christ.
So we did the tourist snap happy bit early on and then found a nice quiet shady spot over looking the city to have a bit to eat and generally chill (well you can see as that’s were the photo of the two of us is taken). There where Para ascenders circling peacefully by, as we sat eating crisp sandwiches, well I sat while Mark jittered like a cat on hot bricks getting cross with every tourist who happened to wander over our way, which is going to happen at the biggest tourist attraction in Brazil. Just as I turn around to question his bizarre behavior, Mark drops to one knee brings out a box and a gold (elastic) ring and asks me to marry him. Surprise doesn’t even come close, as my heart stopped, words failed me and I stood aghast. Finally my heart pounded into action once more, and I composed myself enough to respond and pull him up from the floor. Well what’s a girl to say, but yes, definitely yes!
He had apparently been scheming all this for a while, asked my dad and everything. And because I made such an issue about not bring any jewelry away with me he left my ring proper with my dad, so until my folks work out how to email pictures I can’t even see it, which is killing me especially as Mark won’t tell me anything about what it looks like, he keeps saying it’ll be a surprise when they email it, but am as ever impatient.
All in all a very eventful day, still in shock with enormous butterflies, very excited, a little overwhelmed, it may take a while to sink in, we’re getting "MARRIED"
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13th Feb 2005
Well it’s been a few days since our last update and a fair bit has happened I suppose.
There was the whole proposal thing which Fiona has already mentioned. Not really sure what I was thinking. I suppose the thumbscrews were starting to niggle somewhat which may have prompted me into action.
After that, well it has been a bit up and down really, we got done on the beach by the standard, ´distract the stoopid tourists and nick their bag scam´, which was very annoying. Obviously we hadn’t taken anything valuable down to the beach like camera/money/passport etc, but did have our Spanish phrase book, our guide to south America and both our glasses all in a damn useful little bag.
We got the persistent drinks seller to the front of us whilst his mate lifts the bag from in-between us from behind. We got down to the police station only to hear various other Brits, Aussies and Americans with variations on the theme. A few of them had lost cameras or been physically attacked though so I suppose we can be thankful on that front.
Anyway, lesson learnt so shouldn’t happen again (he says just inviting trouble back again).
So got to spend a couple of extra days in Rio going to shopping malls to get replacement glasses (pretty cheap designer frames over here if anyone wants to place an order), a new bag and try and find a replacement guide book. Was quite pleasant couple of days actually, pottering round shops and went to the cinema a couple of times (Meet the Fockers: by the numbers sequel but with plenty of laughs, Million Dollar Baby: not quite the film you expect but pretty good)
We got most of the things we needed, only struggled on the guide book, we got one of Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay which are the next 3 countries we are visiting so gives us some time to keep our eyes peeled for another South American footprint book.
Then yesterday said goodbye to Rio and traveled down the coast by bus for about 4 hours (200 odd kilometers) to a place called Paraty (or Parati sometimes???). Strange little place, very quaint in the old town with no cars allowed on the cobbled streets, mind you its hard enough trying to walk along some of the cobbles never mind drive. Fantastic Ice cream shop with amazing toppings.
The place if a bit of a fishing/tourist boat trip port so plenty of little boats tied up in the harbour with massive cruise ships anchored on the horizon. It seems to be quite a draw with the cruises with the big ships rolling up all the time.
Nice place but not really a lot to do (even when you find a replay of the Everton -Chelsea game on pay per view in a bar, cos your girlfriend wont let you watch it and storms off into the night on her own) so heading off tomorrow. We’ve got an 11:40 bus to Sao Paulo. Not sure about looking round the place itself but it’s the only location we can get a bus to south of here. The idea at the moment is to then get another bus out of the city and head further down the coast to a place called Paranagua. Then to travel west through Curitaba and then on towards Paraguay. |
Well another update, another country. Argentina now, finally, after a slight mix up at the border, we forgot to get off bus to get passport stamped for leaving Brazil and ended up in Argentina with Argentinean entry stamp in passport. So we were basically in two countries at once. Sure there must be a law against that, we were smuggled back across the Brazilian border in the back of a bus with a load of Paraguayans who looked like they’d been to Argentina on an illegal, onion smuggling mission! The bus was packed with sack after sack of them. So stashed ourselves amongst the onions and hopped out once we were clear of the border post. Then acquired the Brazilian ´leaving´ stamp and confused the hell out of the next bus driver that came along by not getting out at the Argentinean border because we already had an entry stamp! Made the journey a little more interesting anyway!
Have now settled in a pretty decent hotel which is the same sort of price we’ve been paying for accommodation, but this one has a pool! Maybe a bit lavish and will probably look for cheaper places in future but for a fiver for B&B with ensuite and swimming pool, you can’t really complain.
So what have we been up to since we last wrote. Well, left Parati for Sao Paulo and after we’d arrived at 5pm booked ourselves on the 11pm night bus to Paranagua. Had enough of big cities after Rio and didn’t fancy a night with 17 million other people so intention was to just get out of there as quick as poss. Possibly a mistake in retrospect as we found Sao Paulo to be a really nice city. Easy to use metro system which took us to the heart of the city, where we found a massive bookshop and were able to not only replace our stolen footprint guide to south America (with a newer 2005 edition) but purchase a footprint guide to central America which we couldn’t even find in the UK. And to top it all we we’re given a discount because we joined their free book club. Not sure what we’ll do with any vouchers they send us but it saved us a fair few quid this time J
Then had massive mixed kebab for tea which was lovely before returning to the bus station.
Onto the night bus which was baking as they refused to turn off the heating. So sweated through the night before arriving in Paranagua before dawn (she was on the other bus which didn’t get in till late!).
Anyway, had to suss out where the Paranagua train station was as the reason we’d gone there was to do this train journey from Paranagua to Curitiba which is supposed to be pretty impressive. We eventually found the station, which was closed, so went across road for coffee till it opened, only to find that the train no longer runs to Parangua any more. Arse!
So we had to hop on a bus to Morretes, the most picturesque town in the whole of Brazil according to Footprint. We reckon the Mayor of Morretes may have been loaning out his daughters to get that sort of a review. It was ok but not anywhere I’d want to spend any longer than the 4 hours we had to wait for the train.
Train journey was well worth waiting for though. It was absolutely fantastic as the train wound its way up the mountains through 13 tunnels and across over 400 bridges. It would have been even better if the stoned Swedish guy behind us had ever shut up, but not to worry.
So we got to Curitiba and found a nice cheap hotel in what turned out to be a fairly seedy area. Did double check and we weren’t paying for the room by the hour so that was a relief. Ventured out at night to find food and immediately stumbled into three drunken tramps having a fight on the street. Thankfully we were right outside a police station so the Brazilian police diplomatically resolved the situation by giving em all a good kicking!
Fed and rested and after a good nights sleep we spent a long hot day in Curitaba where there isn’t a great deal to do (despite it being the fastest growing city in South America apparently). Looked around the botanical gardens (their palm house has 3 domes not just the one like in Sefton Park. Although why they actually need a palm house in humid 34 degree temperatures I’m not sure).
Did a bit of pottering round town, and lazed in the city zoo for a bit before catching another night bus (yay) to Foz de Iguaçu. Arrived at about half 7 in the morning, threw our bags in a locker and made our way straight to the waterfalls before the bus loads of tourists got there. Did quite well as we got maybe an hour of fairly quiet time before the hoards descended.
For a load of water rolling off a cliff it isn’t half bad. It was very, very impressive. Layout of path is pretty cool so they tease you with glimpses of better and better waterfalls before you emerge onto a walkway which leads you out over the river and below the ´devils throat´ where you get absolutely soaked with spray.
Once it got busy we retreated above the falls for a more panoramic view and some lunch, where unfortunately we were the victims of a bag snatch for the second time this holiday. This time however, the only thing that went missing was our bag of biscuits and I hope the pesky Coati chokes on em! Will see if we’ve got a picture of one to put up but basically they are raccoon type creatures who are afraid of practically nothing and have been seen to jump up onto a table to swipe a child’s burger from his plate. Fi was fairly determined to hang onto her chocky biccies and gave this (rabid, do not touch under any circumstances) animal a couple of good clouts, but the draw of the bourbons was to much for it and it scampered off bag in mouth. Fi was later consoled with a cornetto.
Really good (long) day, shattered now so think will go see if I can remember where our bed is. Fi is gonna be no help, she’s blind again. She has had new glasses for less than one week and she’s broken em already. So we’ll be on the lookout for another South American optician. Argentinean this time, think we might check em out in each country and write a guide book.
Right, where am I?????
Erm, Argentina again, I think, but not for much longer, just waiting for a bus to take us across the border to Uruguay.
So what have we done since we last wrote. Well had a day at the Argentinean side of the waterfalls. Much better than we thought it was going to be after seeing the Brazilian side. We managed to get on the first train out to the top of the Devils Throat and were blown away by the sheer volume of water thundering down.
We spent the entire day in the park exploring different walks and waterfalls. Shattered by the end but finished the day with a refreshing dip under one of the falls to cool us off. Decided to put the nice picture up on the site and not the one of Fi going arse over tit!
Too tired to even go out for tea at the end of the day we just collapsed and slept. Fiona would like it known at this point that she had a massive blister on her foot and it really hurt so a big awwww from everyone please.
Next day we crossed back through Brazil and into Paraguay via Ciudad Del Este. Should really have thought this through a bit more and not done the journey on a Saturday when every Argentinean and Brazilian in the region is trying to hop over to Paraguay to stock up on cheap goods from the market. Oh well, lesson learnt, next time we're here we'll know.
Then a long bus journey south through Paraguay to the second largest metropolis in the country, Encarnacion. It's about the size of Earlestown, just with a smaller market.
Stayed there for 3 nights (don’t think anyone has ever stayed that long before), and for the first 2 days we represented the entire tourist population of the city.
Discovered that buses weren’t running on the Sunday so is the reason we stayed longer than we expected. It was quite good actually as were forced into a day of relaxing by the pool, in the 'best hotel in town' not bad for six pounds sixty a night for the pair of us!
Monday, the town was open again so public transport was again available. Got the bus out to the highlight of Southern Paraguay (unfortunately we didn’t have time to head for the real crème de la crème of the country, the hydroelectric plant in the North), the Jesuit Ruins. Think we upset the staff a bit by waking them up at the ungodly time of half ten in the morning and they were forced into making themselves look busy whilst we were there. Initially a bit worried about walking in the wrong place as we didn’t want to damage this world heritage site, but soon realised that erosion by thousands of pairs of feet was not really an issue.
Caught what we thought was the connecting bus to the second site of ruins (our thirst for crumbling rocks had not been quenched) and were promptly dropped off at the main road and told the site was 12km down a dirt track disappearing over the horizon. After some serious thinking about how we made the journey out here and what an important archeological site it was we were intending to visit we caught the next bus back to the hotel and sat in the pool eating choc chip ice cream.
Next day we said a tearful goodbye to Paraguay and crossed south into Argentina. Then a not so luxury bus journey for about 9 hours found us in Concordia on the Argentina/Uruguay border where we are now.
We got in at about midnight last night but thankfully found a hotel just across road from bus station. We decided to go posh and stay in the hotel rather than join the masses sleeping on the floor outside the bus depot; I know, I know, very la de da.
So Uruguay next then, hope it has a little more to offer than its other 'guay brother.
Due to there being a Man u v Portsmouth game on the tele mark is distracted and I am being let loose on the computer.
Well we are In Uruguay or as mark says URGay, which he seems to find funnier with the repetition of this Simpson’s joke. Unlike Paraguay it seems a poorer country with a much fatter population. Mark insists this is due to their obsessive drinking of ¨mate¨ an herbal tea that is drunk by everyone all the time. To be without a flask and cup at all times is unthinkable, the obsessiveness of this habit is freaking him out. I attribute it more to their love of hideously sickly and delicious dulche de leche (a kind of caramelized condensed milk) used on all cakes, pasties, even in ice cream. Transport is pedal and pop motorcycles, nothing over a 125cc in the country, Mark is very disappointed and his itching for a bike is starting to show as he keeps suggesting we off road (most roads are dirt tracks as it is), to me a clumsy clutse who in learning to ride managed to drop two bikes, off roading sounds like a recipe for disaster, think four wheels or better still legs will be safer.
So Uruguay, Salto to Termas Del Dayman hot springs, well its only 28 degrees now we’ve come this far south, thought we could do with warming up. A morning at the hot thermal springs that go up to 38 degrees that’s hotter than I have my bath, so before we both passed out we decided to go to Aqua mania water park for an afternoon of slides and drowning.
Barbeque is a way of life in Uruguay, they are everywhere so with jaws drooling we set off on Wednesday night and ordered what we thought was a nice fat juicy BBQ steak only to be bitterly disappointed with a thin dry battered steak so after researching Spanish for grill -"Parrillada" ordered a plate for two and again were somewhat disappointed although it was indeed mixed grill, was mostly organ meat (kidney, liver, black pudding and heart) and all very fatty even by marks standards. It didn’t stop Mark having a good go at polishing it off though!
Now in Fray Bentos, and despite my initial skepticism a really very good museum at the meat pie factory it was like walking back in time and thankfully Bert avoided being canned! Ice cream and now escaping the storm as the baking heat of this morning broke with some force in a torrential downpour and we wait for yet another bus to Colonia on the south coast of Uruguay.
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6th March 2005
Been a bit lax I’m afraid, haven’t updated the diary since last month!
Left Fray Bentos, once it finally stopped raining. From there got into Colonia (on the South coast of Uruguay) at around midnight. Took the first affordable room available and even though it was pretty late at night and we were both shattered, I did get to go on top. Admittedly it has been a while since I’ve last done it but you never forget how to scramble onto the top bunk! Slept well and was nice to not have the covers stolen for a change.
Breakfast was the best one we’ve had so far. Upstairs on a little patio overlooking the estuary. Croissants, little pastries and toast, the first time we’ve actually had toast on this trip!
Then spent the day looking around the old town of Colonia. Little cobbled streets, quaint little harbour and from the top of the old lighthouse you can see across to Buenos Aires on the horizon. Restful day spent pottering and then sat back on the hotel patio reading our books till the sun went down (yes your eyes aren’t deceiving you, Fiona was reading. A proper book and everything!). Bit of a Fiesta (not the 1.1 litre variety) in the evening with a stage set up on the sea front and local music being played, which generally means lots of drums.
Decided on Monday that as Sunday had been so nice we would have a bit more of an active day and we would walk the length of the long beach to San Carlos (about 5km away). Awoke to find it grey and overcast and before we’d got a kilometer we were putting our waterproofs on. Not the walk along the sun kissed beach we’d hoped for.
Somehow along the way managed to attract a traveling companion, and this stray mutt followed us all the way to San Carlos where there is an old bull ring. Now abandoned so we thought we’d be safe from being exposed to any barbaric blood sports, how wrong you can be. As we walked round the outside of the ring, mutt startles a couple of baby chickens. One is sensible enough to realise he is on the other side of a fence, is perfectly safe and just sits there looking at this barking dog. The other, in his infinite wisdom decides attack is the best form of defense and attempts to subdue the dog by lodging itself in its throat. A plan flawed from the beginning and the dog can’t believe its luck. In fact, it’s so impressed it brings its prize along to proudly show to its new 'owners'. So for the next few hundred yards we’re accompanied by the happy canine and the slowly fading "cheep, cheep" sound of the stupid bird, before thankfully the dog decides to finish the job properly and we’re spared any more anguish. Think I’m still going to wake up in the middle of the night for a while every time I hear a door squeak.
Thinking we’d made our escape from the distracted littlest hobo we set off for home but soon enough we hear the familiar scampering of paws, and this time its with the not so familiar scampering of paws as the dog has acquired a new mate, literally. Boy dog spends the next 5 kiliometers going through the romantic courtship ritual of trying to get his end away at the side of the road. He was persistent I’ll give him that.
Arrive back into the town centre with these two dogs still in tow now miles away from home. No amount of shooing by Fi drives them away and they kind of enjoy the new "stoopid gringo girl waves her arms around and shouts" game. After a while, enough is enough as we’re getting many funny looks from tourists and abuse from drivers as these dogs dart into the road so we decide to hide in a restaurant. Then decide to change seats so that we’re not sat next to the large front window with two dogs salivating at us. Thankfully when we emerge after dinner the dogs have latched onto someone else and disappeared.
Last of Uruguayan Pesos are spent on sweets for the ferry to Buenos Aires (guess who’s idea that was) and we say good bye to the country of BBQ´s, Mate, painfully slow drivers and the largest waistbands in South America.
So the capital of Argentina then. A cosmopolitan city of architecture, parks, shops, restaurants and culture. Think it was about 10 minutes before Fi hated the place. Or to put it in her words, loud, smelly, polluted, full of pushy people and yuck.
Still had a nice time though. Walked round the city centre on Tuesday taking in all the grand buildings and even managed to blag our way into one of the oldest buildings in Buenos Aires. Just walking along the street and suddenly Fi darts into the foyer of an office building. Just stood there looking at the impressive hall when approached by little old Miss Marple type lady. Expecting to be asked to leave but instead she starts chattering away to us telling us the history of the building, next thing we know she’s talking to the security guards and ushering us past into this fantastic old style lift with the double sliding gates on the front before giving us free reign of the building to go exploring. From the 14th floor where the lift stops there is then about a 5 story high tower with spiral stair case which rewards you with a fantastic view over the city.
After this, spent the rest of the day then brazenly walking into other official buildings and snooping round them. Basically, look confident enough and like you know where you’re going and no one stops you, was fantastic.
Following day went around the Colon Theatre (whether the Argentineans know what that means in English I don’t know). Massive place taking up an entire city block and the workshops stretch out underneath the roads.
Then went to the zoo and had a bit of light relief feeding the camels. The goats (yes the zoo has those strange exotic creatures) however, decided they didn’t much like the food that was being offered to them and instead sampled the culinary delights of Fi´s top!
After much badgering I finally gave in and in the evening we went to a Tango show. (It was the better option than dance lessons). Was actually not too bad. Went to this restaurant where the private back room had a small stage with a few tables around it (No Ian, it wasn’t one of those kind of places). We were placed at a table right next to the stage, very scary, so got front row view of the evening’s entertainment. Gorgeous steak and a healthy amount of red wine made for a fun evening. In fact, must have had more wine than we first thought as didn’t have the energy to make an escape when the dancers came round towards the end of the evening and ushered 4 unsuspecting ´volunteers´ onto the stage. Was over quite quickly though so thankfully not a massive opportunity to embarrass ourselves.
Did very little the next day as someone had a hangover. Although she was very good about it and left at least ten minute gaps between whinging that her head hurt.
So after 3 days in the big smoke I think we’d both had enough so we loaded ourselves onto another bus and headed south for Tandil, a town synonymous with cheese and salami production.
So, purely in the interests of culture you understand, we gorged ourselves on a massive cheese and meat platter at the oldest cheese house in the town. Didn’t think it was possible to eat an entire meal consisting solely of protein, but with the help of a few jugs of wine, we managed it.
The following day, after stocking up on cheese supplies for the journey, we continued south arriving at Carmen de Patagones (yet again in the middle of the night), to find another Fiesta in full swing and all the hotels full! Typical.
So boarded a small motor launch and crossed the river with all the party revelers to a town called Viedma where thankfully we managed to find a bed for the night.
Then today were forced to spend the day lounging in the spa steam room and swimming pool. We didn’t want to, honestly, but with no buses leaving on a Sunday what were we to do????
Right, after that mammoth epic I’m ready for my bed. |
After a slow bus journey involving bus turning up late, slowest ever baggage handling as they tried to cram everyone’s bags into the hold around the two bikes that were in there and then a puncture en-route we eventually arrived in Puerto Madryn. Spent the evening getting our bearings and not a lot else as Fiona felt rotten, so after finding the chemists and dosing her up on Lemsips we crashed out.
Then on Tuesday we sorted out car hire for our trip to the Valdes Peninsular on Wednesday and Thursday and then walked 5km along the massive beach (picture Southport without the raw sewage) to the edge of town where there is an Eco-centre. Us being the thorough researches that we are wanted to read up on all the fauna we would be viewing over the next couple of days. Unfortunately the centre isn’t open on Tuesdays is it (stoopid Lonely Planet never told us that!).
Anyway scrambled down to a nearby sheltered cove to get a closer look at what we thought might be seals in the sea. Turned out to be cormorants :(
It was nice and sheltered (as opposed to windward facing ruins of first Welsh settlers in South America, intrepid adventurers built their first homes on the windiest piece of headland available right next to the sea, genius), so basked in the sun for a while before returning to town and sorting out supplies for the following two days ("Mark, make sure you get meringues").
After picking up the car on Wednesday morning we braved the plethora of unmarked intersections before finally sussing out the Argentinean driving etiquette (every man for himself, and give way to anything bigger than you are). Then left the joys of tarmac for the much more fun gravel roads of the peninsular or terrifying deathtraps as Fiona liked to call them. Honestly, has the girl never played Sega Rally?
First port of call was the Visitors Centre hoping for some advice on the various animals and when/ were was best to see them. What we got was a lecture on why the Falklands should belong to Argentina, so we carried on our way, making it up as we went.
Arrived at Punto Delgada, a lighthouse on the South East corner and were met by one of the park rangers who then led us down to the beach to see the elephant seals. Very quiet at that time of day as all the tours go the other way round the peninsular so only a few other people were there. We got to spend a couple of hours just sat on the beach in the sunshine watching the seals put us to shame with their much more professional level of basking.
Only the youngsters were there as the parents live out at sea this time of year to feed. Meanwhile the ones who have stayed behind to molt just lounge and conserve their energy as they wont be eating again for 2 to 3 months till they go back out to sea. Christ, I’m starving if lunch is an hour late!!!
Next stop was Caleta Valdes where there was another colony of elephant seals, but you couldn’t get to the beach here so could only view them from afar. After discussions with other Brits who had seen Orca fins earlier in the day up at Punta Norte we pushed on a bit more excited as we’d constantly been told that you have to be very lucky to see them, so to hear of sightings was a boost.
Arrived early evening in Punta Norte to the sounds of hundreds of sheep on the beach, once onto the path we could see that sea lions do a very good sheep impression and make a hell of a racket. Speaking to the rangers we were told that there were 4 groups of seals on the beach at the moment nursing the pups which were born at the turn of the year and teaching them to swim. This is the reason that the Orcas come here, tasty fresh seal pups and is where the famous National Geographic picture of the Orca on the beach attacking the seals was taken. Best chance of sightings would be a couple of hours either side of high tide which is in the morning. So we decided to return the following day and went to find lodgings in the only town on the peninsular, Puerto Piramides another 70km drive along gravel. All good fun, even more fun when your hire car is a crappy Corsa with knackered steering, cracked windscreen and find em or grind em gearbox.
After an early start the following morning we discovered that dawn is not only the best time for spotting sea creatures. En-route nearly crashed the car into foxes, hares, sheep, ostriches, llamas and armadillos! Why with the hundreds of square miles of nothingness these animals congregate on the road I have no idea.
Anyway, we were first to arrive at Punta Norte so set ourselves up with good vantage point and our bag of biscuits and sit patiently. Only waiting for about an hour before spotting plumes from blow-holes and fins approaching and I have to say motorbikes have now been knocked down to second place in the list of ´coolest things ever on planet earth´
I can’t really put it into words. Five hours sat watching these immense graceful creatures flashed by in what felt like seconds. Just sat there in awe, if you ever get the chance it has to be seen to be believed. Highlight of the trip so far.
We have put some photos on ‘Bertsadventures’ website in a new section just for the Peninsular Valdes.
Enjoy!
"Bora da" from Trelew, Patagonia in Argentina.
Since seeing where the Welsh landed at Puerto Madryn we have moved on to investigate further the Welsh settlements. In our quest for all things Welsh we visited the museum which traces the history of the Welsh move to Patagonia in an attempt to continue their culture and language away from the English. A museum narrated entirely in Spanish I might add!
Apart from that, and the Association Dewy Sant and the Welsh Lady mannequin in the tourist office we could find no other signs of Welshness.
Not down heartened we headed for Gaiman the following day. Another supposed Welsh settlement further down the Chubut Valley.
We said "Bora da" to everyone we passed on the street but received only strange looks in reply. Still ever optimistic, things began to look up with signs for ´Ty Te Caerdydd´ which we followed for about an hour taking us out of town and down dusty gravel roads. Eventually reaching lush green lawns and rose gardens and the promising aroma of cake we were brought back down to earth when told the place didn’t open for another 2 hours! Unable to last that long with dry throats we ventured back to town and when we’d all but given up hope came across a "siop bara" and sought solace with tea and cake.
I resurrected my somewhat rusty Welsh in one final attempt to convince myself that the tales of the Welsh being alive and well in South America were not just a ploy to bring in the tourists, and success! Had the longest conversation I’ve had with a local since we got here. Was more Welish than Welsh as the Spanish has crept in but they do still teach it in the school.
Tea, cake, Welsh flags and conversation and we returned to Trelew with our thirst for all things Welsh satisfied.
Sunday and off to find some penguinos, or penguins as they are otherwise known. More traveling down gravel roads to reach Punta Tomba where there are lots and lots of jackass penguins, who bray loudly like donkeys, waddle precariously and frolic in the sea. They come here to breed at the start of the year so by now there were loads of tuffty looking juvenile penguins all shedding their baby feathers.
Very cute and curious creatures who waddle across in front of you and lounge by the side of the paths and under shady bushes, as well as falling over as they trip over rocks on their way down to the beaches. We will post pictures on the website later today.
Next stop on the trip is Rio Gallegos, a town another 1000kms further south of here. 16 hours on a bus (our longest journey yet), and did they have any executive reclining seats available, yeah right, this is us remember!
Right, here’s a second attempt at providing you with an update. Did write all this out yesterday before stupid computer went wrong on us and lost it all and didn’t have the strength to write it all out again then. Have since returned to full operation after finding sustenance with all you can eat beef grill and a good nights kip.
Well they don’t call it the end of the world for nothing!
Get on a bus 4pm Monday, arrive in Ushuaia 11pm Tuesday.
Original plan had not been to do the trip all in one stint but after consulting books for anything interesting between Trelew and Rio Gallegos, we came up empty handed.
Then after getting to Rio Gallegos we admired the desolate out of town bus station and the wet and windswept industrial park and decided to find out when the next bus south was.
After eventually finding the ticket office (how foolish of us to be looking IN the bus station for the ticket office when we quite clearly should have been checking out the derelict looking shack at the other side of the car park), we couldn’t believe our luck when we were told it was only two hours till the next bus. Or should I say, THE bus, as there is only the one a day. Unfortunately we then found out that the bus was fully booked. As was the next day’s, and the day after that.
Beginning to panic at the prospect of 3 days in the arse end of nowhere we managed to get our names put down on the standby list in case people with connecting buses didn’t make it in time. After a nervous 2 hour wait in the rain we amazingly managed to scrape the last two seats on the bus. A minor miracle considering our normal level of luck and I feel we are now possibly doomed for the rest of the trip, but what the hey!
Our initially excitement at getting on the bus was somewhat dampened when upon settling into our seats we found our knees were located somewhere around our chins! I swear veal calves have better traveling conditions than this! We were distracted from the seating conditions by the constant supply of hot coffee, cakes and empanadas (meat pasties), so it wasn’t all bad.
Plus the journey was broken up by the most farcical border crossing we have had to endure so far.
Wasn’t overly sure on South American relations before we got here but now think we’ve picked up on the fact that the Chileans and Argentineans don’t really like each other very much. This has resulted in each country setting up it’s own checkpoint rather than the combined ones everywhere else in the continent. Thus traveling from Argentina and ultimately arriving back in another part of Argentina you have to pass through 4 checkpoints involving everyone having to pile off the bus, hand over passports and all clamber back on again. Before driving a short distance and repeating the whole process for the opposite countries formalities, brought my queuing skills back up to scratch.
Anyway, arrived in Ushuaia late at night and promptly set about trying to find cheap accommodation. Hadn’t got to far when we were approached on the street and offered a room in a new hostel. Thought it was all a bit weird but it was cheap and we got him to throw breakfast into the deal before we were escorted along ever darkening streets and then handed over to this guy’s amigo, Alexis, who eventually led us to what turned out to be quite a nice place. Or at least it will be when it’s finished.
Our room was very nice but the building site reception and the absence of minor things like locks on the bathrooms which opened straight out into the kitchen prompted us into leaving the following morning. This was once we’d found Alexis and woke him up to pay.
Found out that you can’t really get cheap double rooms in Ushuaia so plumped for saving some cash and went for a hostel. Actually it worked out alright as we ended up in one of the quieter rooms and by doing our own cooking managed to save some money, even factoring in the scary Colombians stealing some of our food from the fridge. Although I have to admit I’m too attached to my various body parts to have confronted them about it.
Spent one of the days walking up to the glacier above the city in the hope of glorious views, unfortunately having used our luck up in the bus station it started raining about 7kms into the walk, before we’d even got within sight of any ice. So we summed up how rewarding it would be to push on through adverse conditions and achieve our goal and a couple of hours later we were back in town having hot chocolate and apple pie having achieved nothing but a growing belly, was the better option we both felt, no point overdoing it on the first day!
Plans for the second day kind of went out the window due to the unforeseen result that six bottles of 35p a bottle red wine would give you a banging hangover.
Boat trip on the Beagle Channel was well worth it the following day. Clear blue skies, mill pond still water (Fi was very happy about this as the decision between feeling sea sick OR taking advantage of the free cake and biscuits would have ended in tears) and close up viewings of sea lions lounging on the rocks and playing in the water.
Bert also took a staring role as a prop in the guide’s presentation about local wildlife. Apparently Canadian mousses were introduced to the area but were hunted to extinction on the mainland and further importation is now banned. However a herd of about 40 mousses still exists on one of the outlying islands.
Took a walk in the national park yesterday, along the coast of the Beagal Channel, it was quite weird with the water being so calm, wasn’t like the sea at all. In fact the whole area had an English Lake District feel to it. Was a nice pleasant walk, apart from a bit of excitement half way round when young Bertrand, found the prospect of meeting up with fellow mousses to much for him to resist, and made a break for freedom. Thankfully he was retrieved before being able to get too far, especially as he is a banned species and risked becoming a trophy on someone’s wall.
Then Sunday evening took the cowards way out and used a plane as transport for the first time since getting here. Was actually a tough call between another day on a bus or one hour on a plane for the same price but after much debate we plumped for the flight.
Now in El Calafate and are planning trips so should hopefully get to actually see a glacier this time.
Have safely returned from our bitterly cold mountain adventures where I was wrapped up warm in just my t-shirt at times, when is this continent going to get cold????
Have just been reminded that it IS cold at night and now she mentions it, that would explain why it is impossible to get Fi out of her toasty sleeping bag in the mornings. Apparently in the scale of things there is sliced bread, then a Rab Quantum 600 as the next best thing and since we haven’t seen any sliced bread for two months the sleeping bag is now on top!
Were warned that cos of the likelihood of cloud we might not actually get to see the mountain peaks of Cerro Torre and Fitz Roy, so emerged from the hostel on the first morning to witness the sunrise on the mountain turning it a bright pink colour. I am a little concerned at the luck we are getting at the moment and are bracing ourselves for some sort of disaster in the near future, but for now will just go with it.
So first day in El Chalten we trekked up to Laguna Torre under blue skies and gorgeous sunshine, a fairly gentle walk with good views of Glacier Grande at the end.
Next morning, got up in the dark and hiked with head torches up to the viewing point on the Fitz Roy walk, unfortunately by the time the sun woke up, so had all the clouds. So we decided as we had a couple of days we would bide our time and hiked the hour or so back down to the hostel again and went back to bed.
We spent the afternoon chatting with all the others from the hostel who had decided that walking in the rain was not gonna be fun.
Next morning was much better weather so took time to have breakfast as getting up in the dark is a very silly idea. We stood with coffee and toast watching the sun rise on the mountain again, and watching the chaos caused by Fi telling the others in the hostel that the sun was coming up, Germans and Dutch scrambling over one another and falling over with cameras flying everywhere, very funny.
We walked back up to view point and this time got the good views of the peak, then continued the hike up to Laguna de los tres (the highest point you can get to without serious climbing gear and a death wish).
3 and a half hours and 13kms later we arrived back at the hostel and slumped next to the fire to rest our weary feet.
The following day was then spent lazing round the hostel recovering from our excursions or at least I tried to relax and read my book whilst being pestered by madam who doesn’t really do ´relaxing’ very well and just wants to be entertained.
We caught the evening bus back to El Calafate and went back to the same hosteria we’d stayed in before our trip to El Chalten. Nice little family run place but with them not speaking a word of English (actually, I tell a lie, the woman could say the word `beautiful` when describing the mountains, but apart from that, nothing), our Spanish was forced to improve itself a bit. Mainly done by discussing England’s convincing turning over of Northern Ireland and how Argentina is top of their qualifying group. God bless football, is there anything it can’t do!
The next two days were spent visiting the glaciers in the area. Monday the 28th was a boat trip on Lago Argentina to see a variety of glaciers, the Spegazzini, Lago O`Nelli (Double `L` as well you’ll notice Paul.), which is fed by about 5 glaciers so is chock full of icebergs, and the Upsala (which is considered the largest glacier in South America). It was a fantastic trip zipping in and out of giant icebergs on this catamaran. In the middle of the day the boat moored up to allow us to walk over to Lago O`Nelli. Unfortunately had discovered on the boat journey that we had in our midst the most annoying group of loud, overbearing Argentineans, so were not looking forward to a noisy, non-peaceful picnic by the lake. Thank god that you can still depend on the annoying people in this world to also be the laziest. A 5 minute walk around the edge of the lake resulted in us being able to sit in the sunshine on the shore of this gorgeous lake in peace eating our steak sandwiches. Not that we’re travelling 5 star or anything, just the night before in the supermarket we were faced with the choice; one pound for a tin of corned beef or 60 pence for enough fillet steak to fill a baguette. You can understand the tough call we had to make.
Tuesday and another early start saw us heading for the Moreno Glacier. We are told it is the largest advancing glacier in the world. It was a freezing cold day as you’d expect what with being next to a glacier and everything.
I could sit here and tell you about the sense of awe at being faced with this towering wall of ice that hasn’t been liquid for thousands of years, or that as different parts of the face were revealed by the falling chunks we were seeing something that has never before been seen by human eyes. Yep, that would be the deep spiritual view to take on what we saw. A closer story to the truth would be that we sat for six hours eager for destruction and willing bigger and bigger slabs to crash their way into the lake. Was a bit like Bart and Homer sat watching `When Buildings Collapse`.
Was quite funny, because of the distance you were from the glacier, unless you happened to be looking in the right place at the right time you’d miss it. By the time you heard the thunderous crash of the collapse, the ice would already be in the water.
Was difficult to get a sense of scale of the whole thing and it wasn’t till you saw one of the small pieces that had broken off drift out into the lake and dwarf the various boat trips that you realised these ice cubes were bigger than our house!
We are going to upload a couple of snaps to the website later.
After another interesting` border crossing where we were accused of losing the correct papers even though we’d never been given any in the first place, and we nearly lost Bert due to being told by the customs guy searching Fi`s bag that it’s illegal to transport animals across the border without a permit, we eventually made it into Chile.
So, we’re now in Puerto Natales. We are just preparing for a few days camping in the national park at the moment, so shopping for a few bits and pieces like waterproof covers for the rucksacks, a camping stove and some pots and pans. Oh yeah, going to have a look for a tent as well, might come in handy.
We should be back in touch in a few days hopefully.
Right, we have returned from our adventures in the great outdoors of the Torres del Paine National Park.
Spent the last five days trekking around the mountains with our super dooper, top of the line, ultra professional, 25 quid tent. Which thankfully did not leak or blow away, so it did better than we were expecting it to at least, not so good on the `breath ability` though, with the condensation it feels like its raining inside in the morning. A problem soon remedied by leaving the door open through the night. It’s a learning curve this camping lark.
First day was a bus transfer with a couple who have been stalking us for the last couple of days, they claim they are just travelling in the same direction but we’re onto em!
Anyway, once dropped off by the bus in middle of nowhere, spent half an hour wandering round trying to find the start of the trail we wanted (boding well for 5 days in the mountain this), we eventually found out where we wanted to go. Got there to find the bus + plus driver sat there wondering what’s taken us so long. WHY DIDNT YOU JUST DROP US HERE IN THE FECKING FIRST PLACE!!!!!!
Anyway, after much walking round in circles and scrambling across horse corrals we eventually set off on the walk up to see the Torres. And again, it still hasn’t got cold; it was absolutely baking struggling up this hill with full pack on.
We reached the campsite near the summit and pitched our tents. Then had a quick scramble up to the viewpoint to get a clear view of the Torres as the weather is fairly unpredictable and were unsure whether we’d get a decent view at sunrise which we were hoping for.
After a filling tea of instant mash and hotdog sausages we collapsed into our sleeping bags at half seven! Not been to bed that early since I got caught fighting with my brother at about the age of 8.
Awoke at 6am the following morning and scrambled back up to the viewpoint again, feeling very glad we’d done the trip the night before so we had some idea of what kind of haphazard route across the boulder field lay ahead, and made it in time to see the Torres lit up by the sunrise.
Then back down again, packed up camp and headed off for the next stop on the journey. With our bus transfer into the park had been given a voucher which entitled us to camp at one of the `pay` campsites so had the luxury of hot showers and somewhere to sit inside, which was a blessed relief from the millions of midgies buzzing round the tent. Obviously, if we had sat inside and not drunk the Refugio’s red wine it would have appeared rude, we didn’t want to, honestly.
So after a tea of super noodles and an extremely late night of half past ten and a fairly disturbed sleep due to it lashing it down the entire night we had a bit of a rest the following day. We sat around the Refugio reading books (well one of us trying to read their book again whilst the other got impatient) and drying out the tent. We just had a short 2 and a half hour walk to the next campsite where it was sausage and mash for tea again.
Next morning we left most of our gear at the campsite and just took a day pack up the valley to another viewpoint of what was basically an amphitheatre of mountains surrounding us. Then headed back down to the campsite for more super noodles and a very, very early night hiding in the tent from the gale force winds threatening to knock us off our feet.
As expected, not great nights sleep but after our usual bowl of porridge to get us going again we set off on our longest day of trekking.
Views of the Glacier Grey on route were fantastic and although unfortunately not having anything alcoholic with us, as is traditional, we made do with iced lemonade, fresh from the glacier. I tell you, slush puppies have got nothing on this!
Cracking on after our refreshing drink we arrived exhausted at our campsite just before dark. a very deserted campsite at that and after another tea of super noodles (as we’re planning some more hikes later in Argentina anyone wishing to purchase shares in super noodles should do so now) we collapsed into our tent.
Unfortunately due to Hollywood and films such as the Blair witch project etc all, the deathly quiet of the surrounding forest was not as conducive to a good nights sleep as it perhaps should have been.
Waking to the sound of the alarm at 5am the following morning we quickly packed up camp (after checking all limbs and body parts were intact) and set off in the dark with head torches in order to make it to the dock in time for the midday boat back to the park entrance.
So that was that, our first major camping adventure on this trip. Found out we’re not quite as fit as we thought we were and now ache in places that didn’t exist before they started aching, but we do have plenty of cool photos (and a massive bag of laundry) to show for it.
Just got time now to stock up on essentials (more vino tinto and Fi`s seasickness pills) before catching the boat later tonight. It’s a 4 day voyage up the Chilean coast to Puerto Montt, so a chance to rest our weary bones for a bit.
Will update you when we next sight land!
Ahoy there me hearties!
Well, Fi survived her 4 days at sea without revisiting a single one of her meals. And that’s no mean feat considering the amount of food we were given. All the good from our hiking trip was swiftly undone with the massive portions and 3 square meals a day which we were not used to after surviving on noodles for so long.
She also survived her birthday without feeling unwell afterwards, something that’s not happened for many a year. Although she did nearly die of embarrassment as the whole ship sang her happy birthday!
Not quite your tropical Caribbean cruise so most of the time was spent in the lounge/dining room reading books, chatting and supping endless cups of free coffee whilst waiting for the next meal. Weather did subside a few times and we were able to get out on deck but most of the time was spent indoors. Unfortunately, being the paupers that we are, we opted for the cheaper option. Actually scratch that, after discussions with the others in the dorm room we decided we were frugal and thrifty, not cheap.
Anyway, because this room was located way down in the ship (we took it in turns to shovel coal) we had to venture down the outside staircases unlike the first class passengers with their fancy indoor corridors and stairwells. This meant every time you needed to fetch anything from your bag, or head off to bed you lifted yourself from your warm comfy sofa and opened what I imagine the door to hell might be like. You’d step into gale force winds and driving rain, and then try to navigate slippery flights of stairs. And every time you managed to forget what was awaiting you or think "maybe this time the weather might have improved" and every time you’d nearly end up on your arse!
Still, the trip did force us to relax for a few days and we got to stand on the bridge and chat to the captain. Was great, it was the same view as from the deck but you were in the warmth with chilled out music playing. We got to see seals playing in the sea, dolphins jumping in the waves and thousands of jellyfish. The ship also had to venture through some pretty narrow gaps as it made its way through the fijords, one of which was no more than 80 metres wide, you felt like you could practically touch the sides as the ship squeezed through.
Met some interesting (and also some not so interesting) people. Spent a lot of time with a couple form Arizona, was great, two Americans who actually got our sense of humor and understood sarcasm! Spent many an hour chatting over beers about this guys mates who go deer hunting, all decked out in their cameo gear and face paint, completely invisible to their prey except for the bright orange vest they’re all required to wear by law, or the time his brother got his head caught in the monorail door at Disneyland.
So we’re now in Puerto Montt trying to figure out our route to Argentina whilst avoiding most of the other people who piled off the boat the same time we did. Got hold of a trekking map and looks like you could do a few days walking in the direction we want to go. Guess it’s going to be instant mash and noodles for tea again!
Oh, one more important piece of news. Bert`s ever growing quest for world domination is gathering momentum. He is currently featured on a Dutch website belonging to Jochem (crazy man cycling round South America instead of taking the sensible lazy option of buses) who we met in El Chalten.
http://www.jochem-on-tour.nl
Just go to the Photos page and then the El Chalten & Fitz Roy Album and there the little fella is on Page 2! Worldwide stardom waits.
Right, it’s going to be a bit of an epic this one, loads to update you on. Grab a drink and find a comfy seat.
Well we made it back to civilization again. Seven days in the wilderness was quite an experience. Started off straight forward enough, we got hold of a map of the area from one of the tourist offices in Puerto Montt and it appeared feasible to do the route we wanted to do. Then after stocking up on all available instant or powdered varieties of food and loading everything we had into our rucksacks we hopped on a bus to a town called Cochamo where we were assured the tourist office there would be able to advise us on the best route to take and any other information we might require.
After speaking to the woman in her house at Cochamo and being shown a copy of the map we already had and finding out what time tomorrow the next bus was, we had exhausted the tourist information on the region and so came to the conclusion we were pretty much going to have to make it up as we went along.
Finding we had the campsite in town to ourselves we pitched our tent in a gorgeous setting overlooking the lake with views of the mountains on our journey ahead of us. Took some time to obtain some sausages and onions and had a good ol fashioned BBQ. Was quite a novelty to be cooking on a proper fire (something which seems to be outlawed throughout Argentina) and meant we didn’t have to use up our camping gas either.
In the morning we boarded the bus which took us a few more kilometers down the road, in fact, to the end of that particular road, where we boarded a small ferry to cross over the lake. Once we arrived at the other side that was it as far as public transport was concerned and it was time to start walking.
Unable to cross the river to pick up the trail we wanted (asked one of the lads operating the ferry how we could get across and was given the same answer we were given on subsequent occasions in the trip and what seems to be the Chilean equivalent of passing the buck; "ask in the tourist office, (Incidentally, there was no tourist office for about the next 120 kilometers!). We hiked along the new road, taking our lives in our hands dodging the many passing construction trucks as they went about their business of creating the road.
After many kilometers of dusty walking one of the trucks stops by us and the guys explain that they have got one more run back to the quarry to do then they're clocking off and would we like a lift. Excellent news we think and graciously accept their offer and look forward to seeing them in about an hours time. The second they disappear out of sight the heavens open and so with nothing better to do we continue walking just to keep warm more than anything.
As the last light of the day is fading and we're beginning to scout the surrounding forest for what would be a very wet location to camp presuming we must have completely misunderstood the guys, a set of headlights appears over the hill and after a moments confusion as Fi tries to get in the drivers side we climb the ladder up into the cab of the truck and escape from the weather.
Mustering our combined knowledge of Spanish we discover that they are constructing a road which will eventually run across the international border. After 10 kilometers of being dried out by the trucks heaters we arrive at the next village and are deposited back out in the rain. Thanking the guys we are told that there isn’t a campsite here but just up the hill from where they dropped us is a hostel where we can stay.
So following a muddy path up the hillside in the dark we head towards the only visible light on this side of the valley until the path runs out halfway across the field!
Undeterred, feeling confident these two nice gentlemen won't have given us duff information we continue to slip slide our way up the hill in the rain. Finally reaching what we suspect to be our goal we head towards the light shining from the kitchen window and Fi promptly walks into a low hanging branch, clouting herself on the head and sending her glasses spinning off into the night!
"Mark, I’ve lost my glasses!''
''Ok, just stand still and don’t try and bend down to look for them with your heavy pack on you'll just fall o...'' too late.
So with Fi lying on her back, arms and legs flailing like some kind of upturned, blind turtle and me unable to help for fear of standing on her glasses I begin scrambling in my pack for a torch.
It's at this point I spot the two puzzled faces staring out at us from the window, talk about first impressions.
Finally retrieving the glasses and composing ourselves we approach the old fella now standing by the back door and ask him if he has a room available or if we would be able to camp there for the night. Being given no definite answer we are ushered into the house where we meet his wife and are both given a seat by the fire and a glass each of fairly potent homebrew cider. A few moments of taking in our surroundings told us that this was definitely not any kind of B&B but as we've read in the guides the locals are known to sometimes rent rooms to hikers. Exhausting all our Spanish varieties of "do you have a room for rent?'' and ''can we stay here for the night?'' we were still none the wiser as they answered yes to all our questions but made no further steps to show us to a room or anything. After what felt like days of my life spent in awkward silence we were shown to the table and served what we can only presume should have been their tea. Unable to make them back down (but grateful for the hot food) we eat their delicious broth with beef ribs whilst he makes do with just broth, and she, after preparing the entire meal, rewards herself with some dry bread and a glass of warm milk. I know, we're horrible people but it felt like we'd have caused more offence by not eating.
Using up all our small talk asking about their family we are once more plunged into awkward silences before the old guy strikes upon a brainwave. Some good old TV will help ease the awkwardness. So connecting their telly to the massive battery they have in the corner of the room, the lights dim as the box drains the juice from the rest of the house and we are rewarded with the one fuzzy, black and white channel they can receive up here in the hills, and wouldn't you know, it's a South American soap opera! Brilliant, we're now stuck with the Chilean equivalent of Neighbours, a program they're not interested in and we can't understand!
A few more glasses of cider later we still haven’t ascertained whether we're staying the night. Giving it one final go, determined to get an answer one way or another I ask once more in Spanish, ''can we stay here tonight?''. After giving each other puzzled looks they reply no. Ok then, not great but at least we know where we stand. So we pick up our coats and head towards the door before the old woman ushers us into their spare bedroom confused as to why we wanted to sleep in their kitchen.
I didn’t have to vocabulary to explain that when I said ''here'' I didn’t literally mean ''here, next to your sink!''
Anyway, exhausted from our walking and the confusion of the evening we fall asleep, very grateful to have a bed for the night.
Making our excuses early in the morning and before things can settle back into the unease of the night before we pay, what we assume is a reasonable amount judging by the beaming smiles we received back, and head on our merry way.
After a few hours walking in gorgeous sunshine we arrive at the last Chilean town before the border around midday. Wanting to take advantage of the sunshine we decide to pitch camp early and lounge with our books.
Following the signs to the towns campsite we head across fields and walk across the runway. A slightly bizarre experience just ambling along this pristine tarmac, the only piece of asphalt for about 200 kilometers in any direction.
Anyway after arriving at the farm advertising camping, we are promptly shown to seats by the fire and introduced to the family. Sensing de ja vu, we stand firm and force our way back out of the kitchen, grateful for their hospitality but yes, we really, really do want to camp.
We are then shown to a picturesque piece of land located right next to a small babbling river, surrounded by mountains and a cascading waterfall in the distance.
After pitching the tent we set about the difficult task of lounging in the sun watching the farmers go about their work in the fields with ox and cart. We are then visited in turn what seems to be the requisite animals for a Chilean farm. All shapes and sizes of sheep, goats, pigs, cows, chickens, geese, ducks, horses, dogs and cats all come to have a look at their new neighbours.
As the sun sets we build another campfire and tuck into tea accompanied by Fi's new bodyguard, the farm dog, who doesn’t leave her side until we go to bed.
Come morning we load up again and soon reach the end of the road development. Gravel road becomes dirt track, before eventually becoming a single path accessible only on foot or horseback.
After a day of walking we were both shattered so called in at the next farm we saw. Again we were invited in to warm ourselves by the stove, where she was cooking up loads of different jams. After managing to drag Fiona back outside we were shown to where we could camp, this just happened to be in the middle of their orchard. I didn’t think too much of it to begin with but obviously Fi with her wayward upbringing must have a history of scrumping for apples and before you could say "get off my land" we were finishing our tea with a massive bowl of stewed apples, lovely!
Another gorgeous morning and we were on our way again after saying goodbye to the family. Sundays here, it would appear are similar to the UK were people go visiting their friends and family as the paths were quite busy. It’s just here everyone does it on horseback!
After a good couple of hours walking things were going well, the packs weren’t feeling too heavy and the sun was shining on us. As always, it’s when you start reflecting on how well things are going that they go tits up. There was a fork in the path so took the one in the direction we wanted to be heading (around the southern shore of the lake we were approaching), but after a few hundred yards it petered out. Retraced our steps and took the other fork which appeared to be the better used path but not quite in the direction we wanted to go (heading towards the northern shore of the lake). Not to worry, looking at the map both paths would reach the same point in the end anyway. So after another hour of walking we came to another farm, "fantastic" we think, we’ll be able to ask for directions.
You know, it struck me that humans aren’t really designed for spending their lives living alone in the woods as this gap toothed grinning local answered his door (I swear I could see a banjo hanging up in the next room).
After the conversation went round in circles (him telling us the name of the lake, us agreeing that yes we knew which lake it was but could he show us on our map where we were. Him refusing to look at the map and just pointing out over the hillside at the water saying look, there the lake is) for a while we eventually came to the conclusion that we were on a piece of headland protruding out into the middle of the lake. News we didn’t exactly want to hear but who were we to not believe the guy with the dead cat nailed to his porch!
Making a sharp exit before we became his new best friends or something, we were forced to retrace our steps for a couple of hours until we reached an earlier junction in the path and a bridge across the river leading to the path we wanted. A bridge we had completely missed early due to me missing the signpost altogether and Fi seeing the place name but missing the arrow pointing us in the right direction. These Chileans really should mark their routes better, big flashing neon signs or something would avoid these sorts of problems!
Anyway, after another hour of walking we were back to where we had been about 5 hours earlier, just 50 metres further south and thus on the right side of the torrenting river pouring from the end of the lake.
With time pushing on we decided that we should probably pitch camp so the farm at the head of the lake seemed the perfect location. And it was pretty much perfect, rustic little farm with views right along this blue, blue lake, mountains in the background, standard collection of farmyard animals running round. And after taking the time to liberate some more apples and some picking from the hedgerows we had apple and blackberry for our pud. Oh, and we had 4 guests for dinner as well. As seemed to becoming the trend for our campfires the farm dogs (and this time the cat as well) came and joined us. Unfortunately, as you sometimes get at dinner parties, one of the guests is a little over familiar and this was the case with the biggest of the dogs. A sharp belt on the nose from Fi put him off but unfortunately the cat didn’t have the same left hook as Fiona and was subjected to the dogs’ full attentions and spent the rest of the evening sat on top of a fence post traumatised by the whole ordeal! Was hysterical for us though!
After saying goodbye to our new friends we were on our way once more and trekked the length of Lago las Rockas and then along the banks of the Rio Puelo in bright sunshine before it again became time to camp. Unfortunately there were no farms at our side of the river and no apparent bridges across to the farms we could see on the other side. It was then we came across what is called a `balsco`. What is basically a rope stretched across the river with a wooden raft attached and you pull on the rope to move the raft back and forth. Was great fun, and our efforts seemed to provide much entertainment for the farmer waiting for us at the other side.
After another campfire tea and more blackberries all eaten from the comfort of a sofa created from logs we were ready for bed.
Crossing back over the river (with expert help this time) we were on what we thought would be the last leg of our journey. Just the simple border crossing to navigate and then we’d be on our way to town in Argentina.
So an hour after passing the uninteresting Chilean Ranger Station we were hiding our rucksacks in the undergrowth and running back to Chilean Ranger Station/Chilean Border Control Point in order to obtain our exit stamps to leave Chile. Apparently some goon had misread that this was where the Chilean formalities were carried out and despite questions along the lines of "are you sure we don’t have to get our passports stamped here?" from his partner, just marched on regardless thus causing us to waste two hours and add an extra few kilometers to our journey. Now let us never speak of it again!
Being the close friends that these two neighbours are, the two border control points are about 10 kilometers apart with the international line slap bang in the middle. After all our running around there was no way we were going to make it to the Argentinean Border Control and campsite before dark so were going to have to spend the night in `no mans land`. Crossing the International line into Argentina we were suddenly plunged back into the world of signposts, well marked and good condition paths. We were also presented with a hoard of "No Camping" and "No fires" signs. So stepping 10 yards back across the border line into wonderful Chile we pitched our tent and got a roaring fire going for tea.
The next morning we obtained our entry stamps to Argentina and became nice and legal once more. A few more hours of walking and we were nearing our goal of the town of Lago Puelo.
Faced with another fork in the path we were more confident this time as one way went in completely the wrong direction to where we wanted to go and was signposted for a town called Paserela apparently 8 kms away. Taking the other fork we pushed on and after pausing momentarily to munch more blackberries we soon heard the sounds of traffic on the main road into town. As the trees cleared we spotted signs of civilisation and were looking forward to getting our packs off when we were presented with the flowing waters of the Rio Azul running right across our path!
Apparently Passaria means bridge then, and as we learnt earlier, the nearest one is 8kms away!
Undeterred we changed into swim shorts, wrapped everything in plastic bags and stepped into the freezing waters. Wasn’t too bad, after a few seconds you lost the feeling in your legs so it didn’t seem to cold anymore. The pain afterwards as the feeling returned wasn’t so great though.
After lying on the bank in the sunshine we redressed in our trousers and boots and continued across the pebbles, only to find a second, smaller, branch of the river blocking our way. Ah nuts to it, and after a quick sprint (or as quick a sprint as you can do with a 15kg pack on) we both arrived, soggy footed on the other side.
Wondering how we were going to get from the small village of Lago Puelo to our ultimate destination of El Bolson (and not relishing walking the 16kms) we emerged from the undergrowth to find a bus parked not 20 yards away! (We are still worried about when this lucks going to run out, but for now we’ll take what help we can get).
That was about 5 days ago and since then we haven’t done much exciting. Well watching Everton beat Man U via internet updates was exciting for me, but aside from that, not a lot. Spent a couple of days in El Bolson, visited the local market and sat in the sunshine eating waffles with raspberries and cream and drinking pints of local homebrew. Then we caught the bus 120kms north to Bariloche. As portrayed in all the guide books it is THE starting point for some fantastic walks in the Argentinean Lake District. So we’ve spent the last 3 days, eating, sleeping in, eating, watching films, oh and a little bit of eating. You see the problem is they have chocolate shops here the size of Tesco! The biggest one being a place called Turista where most of the staff believed it impossible for one person to be able to eat their way through the entire shop, but Fi is doing her best to prove em wrong!
A couple more days here and we’ll be in danger of never being able to move again so we’re planning to head a bit further north and try and walk off some of this excess. No definite plans yet but we’ll keep you posted.
Well it was about time we wrote another update. Have been busy, well, doing not a lot recently, and it’s damn hard work I’ll tell ya!
That's not entirely true, we have packed in a few cool things but that was a few days back now and after doing so much it now feels like we´ve been doing nothing for ages.
After our indulgent time in Bariloche (Fi´s chocolate binges and a couple of nights out eating Mexican food and huge steaks with the Dutch guy Jochem who we met up with again) we headed north to San Martin de Los Andes and spent a couple of days there before catching a bus along the Route of Seven Lakes which according to most guide books is one of the most fantastic roads in South America. It did have some great views so true to form Fi fell asleep for most of it!
After another border crossing and a further few hours on a bus passing through Osorno and being subjected to the truly appalling in-drive movie of Cat woman (thank god we had to change buses halfway through the film and weren't forced to sit through all of it) we found ourselves in the town of Pucon in Chile.
After spending 1 night in what was pretty much a shack attached to the back of a hostel which had no other guests unless you count the numerous stinking cats which lived there, we moved on to what I think is probably the nicest place we´ve stayed so far on the trip.
Lovely warm living room with toasty fire, Double room with en-suite and a bath, and throughout our extended stay we got to meet a whole load of new people.
The main reason for being in Pucon was due to it being the closest town to Volcano Villarrica. A fact you were reminded of every day at noon by the testing of the town’s volcano siren. Exactly the same noise as an air raid siren, it’s a little disconcerting the first time you hear it.
On checking the internet we were slightly disturbed to find that:
The volcano Villarrica in Chile was successfully forecasted by SWVRC's programme ERUPTION Pro 10.5 to erupt in 2005 with >77.33% probability.
Fearing this may have an impact on our planned attempt to climb the volcano we didn't know whether to be glad or concerned that no restrictions had been imposed. It would appear it takes more than an imminent eruption to phase the Chileans! So after being kitted out with all our climbing equipment including ice axes and crampons we got an early night in preparation for our early start in the morning.
Well if it’s not one thing, it’s another. No volcanic eruption but the British weather had finally caught up with us and we awoke to a cold drizzly morning; Expedition cancelled. So, up since 6am, unable to get back to sleep and bored by 10am there was nothing else to do but go white water rafting, we were gonna get wet anyway right.
So along with Henry and Izzy who had been rafting the day before we all piled in a minibus and headed for the river, pausing only to stop at the guide’s house and wake him up at 11 cos he’d been out on the piss the night before.
We had an absolutely fantastic time, just the 4 of us in the boat (plus the guide of course) and the river to ourselves. Weather improved as well into a glorious afternoon, which was just as well, we needed all the suns heat and drying ability we could get! Got absolutely soaked bouncing our way through rapids and down waterfalls, was brilliant fun.
After returning to the hostel and drying out, we once again prepared our packups in the hope that we’d get up the volcano the following day.
This time the weather didn’t let us down and we had a beautifully sunny day for our climb. The climb begins with simple walking over the volcanic rock towards the bottom of the mountain before donning crampons to ascend across the ice, quite an experience and all good fun. The final 15 minutes were ridiculously windy, nearly knocking you off your feet before you crested the top to find yourself looking down into the crater. At which point you wished you were back out in the wind again away from all the sulpher fumes.
Fantastic views of the other mountains all around us and the lake below but the crater itself was just a dark rocky mass. That was of course until it started shooting molten lava about fifty feet into the air!!! Was amazing to see but I think it somewhat panicked the guide as we were swiftly ushered back down again. I suppose having liquid at 1250 degrees C launched over the heads of your clients is gonna jeopardize their insurance policies somewhat!
Returning safely to the hostel and with aches from the days activities setting in, the prospect of a warm bath was all to tempting, so we headed for the hot springs! A collection of six deep, different temperature pools heated naturally by the lava underground. We were there till nearly midnight, soothing our aches and pains and staring up at the millions of stars in the night sky. The place was out in the country and with minimal lighting so the views of the sky were fantastic if not a little eerie with the steam from the pools drifting up into the night sky. Plus the fact there was only about 8 of us there so you could pretty much have a pool to yourself if you wanted.
I think the combined effects of plunging through freezing rapids and ice climbing had taken their toll on me and despite the effects of the springs I caught my first cold of the trip. This meant we stayed in the hostel for nearly a full week in the end recuperating. It wasn’t a bad place to stay and some competitive card games with Canadians Olivia and Steven and Scots Raymond and Tracy meant the time passed quickly.
Finally feeling it was time to move on (but still with a week before our flight from Santiago to Easter Island) we took a bus another 8 hours north to a town called Talca. We’ve been here for a couple of days and still haven’t done anything, besides watching Everton beat Newcastle and then Liverpool lose to Arsenal thus ensuring the best team in Liverpool secured a Champions League position for next season. COME ON YOU BLUES!
Sorry, bit carried away there, would appear that not only do I have to give up my season ticket but I have to flee the continent in order for my reverse Midas touch to no longer effect the team.
Anyway, there are a few walks and things to see round here but winter is defiantly on its way and the prospect of camping is not appealing to either of us. Think we might do a couple of day hikes before moving on to Santiago and catching our plane.
Oh, by the way, not sure if you’ve seen his photo on the Homepage but we’re proud parents now, well sort of. After 12 months of waiting there is now the clip clop of tiny hooves in the family. Have managed to just about stop Fi jumping on the next plane home to see him but it wasn’t easy!
Just a quickie before we scoot off to Easter Island for a week. Done a few things since the last update but worried they might get forgotten once we’ve got back from the isle of big heads.
After leaving Talca we caught a little bus to the town of Molina where we were deposited in the middle of what we presumed was their tiny bus station in the pouring rain. Feeling soggy and at a loss as to where or when our next bus would be we were rescued by a girl who worked in one of the little cafes. Apparently she has aspirations to work in tourist information and as there is no tourist information in Molina at the moment she is doing her best to help confused looking tourists as they get off the bus.
After being told what time the one bus to the national park we wanted to visit was going we left our bags with Carolina in the cafe and had a bit of a look round the town. Not a great deal to see but we got a few supplies as we were unsure what accommodation would be available and whether we’d be under canvas again.
Got back to the bus station and had a massive plate of steak, chips and fried eggs cooked by Carolina before boarding our bus to a tiny town called Radal. Well they call it a town; I’d call it 6 houses.
Anyway, we discovered why there is only one bus a day along this route, it’s the school bus. So 5 minutes into the journey the bus was packed full of hundreds of kids all very amused by the two gringos riding along with them. After helping them with their English homework Fi made a new friend of a little lad about 6 years old. He was very taken with her and even gave her one of his marbles as a token of their friendship. Racking our brains for something to give in return the best we could come up with was a 20p piece we had. Think we made the right choice as the coin was then passed round the whole bus for everyone to look at. Everything was going well till it got dropped on the floor and tears were only narrowly averted when his older brother scrambled round in the wet amongst peoples feet to find it.
Saying goodbye to our new friends we continued on the bus into the rains wept night until we were finally back out in the rain again in front of what were told was a place we could get accommodation. Not overly convinced and memories of our last attempt to find accommodation in the dark and the rain returning we set off towards the house (being careful to avoid any low branches this time). We were greeted at the door and ushered in to warm ourselves by the fire and then given fresh toast and hot coffee. Very welcome. Unfortunately the accommodation itself consisted of no more than a wooden shack with 2 beds in it. Even the three blankets were not enough to keep the cold out completely and the wind hammering on the roof was not conducive to a good nights sleep. Still, better than a tent I suppose.
In the morning the rain was still falling but with us having to be in Santiago in a couple of days to confirm our Easter Island flights we didn’t have time to wait for good weather. So togging our selves up in all our waterproofs we set off in the rain to find the Siete Tazas. Translates as the seven cups and is a river where there are seven pools with waterfalls flowing between them. After about 2km of hiking up the road we were soaked to the skin and in no mood to continue at which moment a pick up truck came past so we flagged it down and were given a lift to the start of the Siete Tazas walk. We found two Brazilian guys, Helio and Leonardo, sheltering from the rain having left the comfort of their own 4x4. Following their advice we decided we were here now so may as well walk down to the river. Waterfalls were impressive but we did all get completely soaked in the process (them for the first time, us just topping up what few places had dried out). Thankfully they offered us a lift back down to our accommodation saving us a further 2 hours of shower time. So big thanks again guys! We then spent the rest of the day sat in the woman’s house, huddled round the fire trying to warm up and dry everything out.
After another cold night we got up early to get the school bus back into town. I used to get bored on the half hour journey into university everyday; these kids have a four hour round trip!
From Molina we had a quick hop to Curico where we caught a bus to Santiago and following a recommendation booking into the Residential Londres, a huge old mansion in the town centre. Turned out we were just in time to catch the Everton-Arsenal game on the telly. No sniggering now.
Since then we’ve done a bit of exploring round the city and Fi is very happy that after 3 months we have finally replaced our South American phrase book which was stolen in Rio.
Hopefully have loads to tell you when we get back from Easter Island and that we have some better weather as its still raining now!
Well I think we’ve completely overdosed on big heads. Had a fantastic time on Easter Island and got some real cool photos, of which a few of are up on the website now.
So after our 5 hour flight during which they managed to bollox up the in flight movie and start it playing halfway through (Ocean´s 6, rather than Ocean`s 12) so I was able to catch up on my reading and Fi was able to catch up on her sleeping!
After landing in Hanga Roa (the main town on the island, in fact, the only town on the island) the first thing we did was remove our layers of jumpers and coats we’d been wearing from Santiago. It was nice to have hot weather again for the first time in about two months. Braving the hundreds of locals in the airport we were bombarded with offers of accommodation and also had a brief hello from Tracey, who along with her husband Raymond, we had met in Pucon. They were flying out on the plane we’d just come in on so it was a very brief hello, but nice all the same.
Anyway, after selecting Hospedaje Ana Rapu after careful consideration of all the facilities available and its location, oh yeah and it was the cheapest, we were loaded into a minibus and soon at our accommodation. The rest of the day was basically spent settling in and exploring the town (which didn’t take too long) and then after food we went out and had a few drinks in one of the local bars. An activity we will not be repeating very often after paying one pound fifty for a 330ml can of beer!
The next day we walked North through the town and had a look at our first Ahu and Moai (Ahu is the platform where the stone Moai or heads were placed). The Ahu Tahai site has an Ahu with five Moai on. Well it’s more like three and two halves due to the damage done when during the time when the rival clans on the island were at war it was seen as a small victory to go over and topple the opposing clans Moai! So after the hundreds of years spent carving, transporting and erecting these huge statues most of them have been destroyed. There are about a thousand statues on the island in various conditions but now only four or five sites where the Moai are in position on top of the Ahus.
Anyway there is also a Moai at Ahu Tahai that has what is called a `top knot` upon its head. As if putting up the statues wasn’t hard enough, they were also adorned with huge pieces of red volcanic rock upon their heads. Still today no one knows how the hell they got them up there!
Carrying on walking further North we were, as is now traditional, accompanied by a local dog. It isn’t really conducive to a nice quiet relaxing walk when every time the mutt following you spots a cow, or horse or chicken it goes running after whatever wildlife it’s seen, barking it’s head off. And it doesn’t help your case in trying to plead to the farmers that it isn’t your dog when it continues barking until you shout at it, at which it comes to heel and follows you on your way! And due to the nature of the island this dog had a lot to bark at, there are hundreds of horses there, most of em wild. They became a protected species about twenty years ago and since then have flourished and roam free across the island. And any time an islander needs a new horse they can just go out and take their pick! I think if Fi had found any signs of an estate agent we’d have been settling down. So after walking a fair distance we came to our planned destination. There was apparently the entrance to a small tunnel which led to an underground cavern with two "windows" opening in the Cliffside. Unfortunately having spoken to quite few people in our hostel the entrance was quite difficult to find and numerous people had made the walk in vain, unable to find the entrance so we were not getting our hopes up. And this was where having the dog tag along paid off; it went straight to the cave entrance (which was less than a metre square, a real tiny hole) and barked until we followed it. Fantastic! So if you ever visit Easter Island, make sure if you’re planning any walks to follow the brown dog with the white face (nickname "Chops" due to its white chops), much better than any tour guide!
After scrambling through the tunnel and enjoying the view from the cave windows we escaped back into the sunshine and tucked into our lunch. Then we moved onto another Ahu, the only one on the island that was built away from the coast. This was Ahu Akivi and has seven Moai on it. We then had a long trek back into town in the baking heat and were grateful to get back to civilisation so we could buy a great big bottle of coke and refresh ourselves. The dog was also happy to get back to civilisation as there were loads more cars for it to chase. I’ve always wondered what a dog would do if it was to ever catch a car and now I know the answer. Apparently its aim is to sink its teeth into the bumper and try and stop it. The dodge pickup truck proved a little out of this dog’s league and maybe she should have set her sights on something more like a Fiat Panda, but hey, you’ve got to have ambitions right!
Returning to the hostel we discovered that as a number of people were leaving in the morning we were having a BBQ. What was even better was that we found that everyone had already done all the shopping for meat and alcohol and all we had to do was chip in the money for our share. Was a really good night with loads to eat, I don’t think I’ll ever discover which part of the pig the funny shaped pork we were eating had come from, but to be honest I’m probably best off not knowing! But along with the sausages and chicken and piles of accompanying dishes we were stuffed. Even Bert joined in the party and made a load of new friends as well. Mainly lady friends may I add and he was even seen dancing at one point.
The next day we walked up to one of the craters (the island is basically a triangle with a crater at each corner) which gave us good views and was also where there are the remains of a small village. This village was built when the island was in it’s birdman stage (this came after the building of the Moai and consisted of a task where the competitors had to swim out to one of the pinnacles of rock off the coast of the main island and retrieve the first bird egg of the season and return it unbroken to their clans chief who was then crowned birdman of the island for the coming year. Quite an important position it would appear although the perks of the job seem somewhat limited. The birdman basically had to spend his year living in a hole in the ground banned from seeing or communicating with anyone apart from the priest. Not really the same as getting a company car or free email!.
Unfortunately our peaceful walk was once again interrupted (no dog this time) as we were descended upon by hoards of Swiss tourists. Two hundred of them had chartered a private plane from Switzerland and were touring round the whole of South America in a grand total of 20 days. Not bad if you’ve got more money than sense I suppose.
The following day we’d had enough of walking so decided motorised transport would be the way forward and hired a motorbike. Thought it might be quite tricky negotiating the gravel and dirt track roads but the bike had a built in system to mediate your speed. Basically if I was going to fast I would get punched in the ribs until I slowed down! Was still good fun though and meant we could go where we wanted without getting caught up with all the tour groups. Plus those that had hired cars had to pull up on the roadside and trek across to the sites of interest where as we could just zip through the gaps in the walls.
Visited a few sites of toppled Moai and then went to the Rano Raraku quarry where all the Moai were carved. They say there are approximately three to four hundred Moai still scattered in the area in various stages of completion. Was amazing just wandering around between all these different varieties of carving, some still attached to the rock face, the biggest of which is over twenty metres tall!!!!
After the quarry we set off to the next stop on our circuit Ahu Tongariki which is the largest of all the Ahus with fifteen Moai in position. At this point we had bumped into a small tour group of three people for the second time. Fearing we were going to be frowned upon for tagging onto their group we kept our distance until the tour guide started chatting to us. After that, as we were all traveling in the same direction around the island, we just met up with them at each site and he gave us the same info he was telling his group. Woo Hoo, free tour!
At Anakena beach we saw another collection of Moai in a fantastic setting amongst the palm trees and the white sand. We then went for a nice refreshing dip in the sea, or rather me and a couple from the tour group went for a swim. Fi had the intention of joining us and did get her feet wet before being driven back to shore by a pack of killer seaweed which apparently touched her feet a bit.
After that we returned to town on the bike and Fi went straight to bed as she wasn’t feeling too well. I took the bike back out again (chased down the hostel driveway by the two hostel dogs who I guess have the same vehicle hatred as Chops did. Unfortunately there aren’t any bumpers on motorbikes so instead my boots took the brunt of the attack) and headed over to the Moai near town to watch the sunset. Was pretty cool and I met up with Phillip, a French guy staying in our hostel. Both agreed that the sunset was fun but more interesting was the fella who came down after the sun had gone down with his two pigs on leads. Was a little puzzled as to what he was up to but then it became obvious when he picked them up and chucked em into the sea! Surely you’ve all seen a man take his pigs for a swim before. He hopped in after them and then waded around with the leads whilst they swam after him. One way of getting your bacon salted I suppose!
Next morning we were up at 6am and headed across to the other side of the island to see Tongariki at sunrise. In the pitch black we thought we’d found the perfect rock to rest our camera on for photos, until it got a little lighter and we discovered our proposed `tripod` was in fact another fallen Moai. The damn things get everywhere!
The next couple of days were spent pretty much lazing around in the sunshine which was great and chatting with a Dutch couple, Ellen and Harry, who are two years into their journey of sailing round the world. Sounds like they’re having a fantastic adventure and have some amazing photos on their website:
www.gogogalaxy.com/zwerver
Did some scuba diving which was cool, both of us very rusty having not done it in years, but it went well with loads of coral and hundreds of fish.
Then the time had come for us to head back to the mainland. So making sure we packed our fleeces in our hand luggage we headed back to Santiago.
After spending one night in Santiago we caught a bus across the border back into Argentina along a fairly amazing road over the Andes. At one point in the climb there are about thirty hairpin bends in the space of about two miles. Would be brilliant on the bike if it weren’t for a couple of things, firstly the four billion trucks which also use the route who don’t really seem to have grasped the `my side` and `your side` of the road concept and secondly the weather; the day after we got to Mendoza the pass was closed due to a massive amount of snowfall. Apart from that it would be better than the Cat and Fiddle road.
After two nights in Hostel International accommodation we vowed never to use them ever again. Nice enough place but after being woken up at 3am two nights in a row by the groups of pissed English lads coming into the dorm room we’d had enough. Hadn’t been all bad in Mendoza though, we found out that our Dutch mate Jochem was in town so went out to an all you can eat restaurant to catch up although am slightly worried that he’d been to this place too often. Third time he’d been there and the waiters were now waving to him as we went in. This place was however amazing, more so than any of the other all you can eat places we had been to so far on this trip. Had the standard collection of pretty much any kind of meat you can think of on the BBQ. A pasta bar where they cook up your selection of pastas and sauces for you to order. A Sushi bar where again they make your dish to order. Four long tables of hot dishes for you to choose from and two tables of salads and side dishes. Not to mention the two tables of deserts and Fiona’s favorite part, the pancake chef, you could pick whatever fillings your heart desired and the man would then cook them up with the pancakes in a pan full of caramelised sugar. Not sure our dentists are going to thank us but it would have been rude not to go back for seconds! And all this for three quid, no wonder it was the first restaurant I’ve come across that has armed guards wandering around whilst you eat your meal!
After swapping to Jochems hostel for a much better nights sleep we felt much more awake the following day if not a little fuzzy headed after taking a tour of the vineyards and wineries in the area. Now feel we have the knowledge to suss out the difference between a good and bad red wine and so stretched to the more expensive 60p bottles in the supermarket!
Having booked our bus north to Salta we then whiled away the rest of the day sitting in the park in the sunshine and then watching the Champions League Final (fecking Liverpool!).
8pm came and we boarded our bus and settled down for our 16 hour journey. Fortunately the bus was kitted out with TV`s, unfortunately we were treated to the standard level of Argentinean copied DVDs. I’m all for free enterprising but if you’re going to go to the trouble of sneaking your camcorder into the cinema to film the movie, don’t zoom in so much that you miss half of what’s going on!
After the usual amount of very little sleep on the bus we arrived in Salta about 1pm the following day. Checked into a hostel along with Jochem, sat around chatting in the welcome return of warm sunshine and then cooked up a load of steak on the BBQ. Disappointingly today hasn’t gone quite as well as we’d planned. The whole reason for coming to Salta was to ride the "Train of the Clouds" climbing the Andes to the border with Chile. Having checked from Mendoza the train times we had been happy to learn that there was one due to leave tomorrow. Now having checked at the station in Salta we’ve been told that the train is currently broken and won’t be running any time soon. Bollox! A pain in the arse for us as we now have to the journey by bus which won’t be any where near as picturesque. Slightly more inconvenient for Jochem who now has to cycle the complete 400 odd kilometers to San Pedro de Atacama climbing up to about 4000 metres of altitude along the way! Told him we’ll wave from the comfort of our recliner seats as we go past :)
Got to be quick, we’re illegal immigrants at the moment and the feds could be on to us anytime, but more about that later.
Made what we thought was our final entry into Chile heading over the Jama pass and onto San Pedro de Atacama. Our first taste of any real altitude but thankfully no ill effects, unlike the German guy sat opposite us. Not what you need when you’re trying to eat your lunch!
Checked into a hostel and got the shock of our lives when Dan and B who we had trekked round the Torres del Paine with a couple of months earlier came waltzing into the same place.
This continent is clearly not as big as you might think.
We spent the next couple of days sightseeing on various trips with them and a collection of other Brits, Aussies and an American girl.
Took an afternoon trip round the Atacama Desert and watched the sunset over the valley of the moon.
The next day was a 4am start to get to the El Tatio Geysers for sunrise. We arrived at the geyser field, to see steam drifting up from over a hundred different geysers. It was brilliant to see but nothing in comparison to what happens when the sun finally crests the mountains. The slight change in temperature has an amazing effect and for about the next hour the geysers all go mental.
Spent time playing in the steam and had our breakfast with geyser warmed hot chocolate (it’s the only way to have it). Then took a dip in a thermal pool they have there. Was lovely in the water but set a new record for getting dressed when we got back out into freezing temperatures.
Next day was a fairly early start as well. The twelve of us had booked onto a 3 day jeep trip into Bolivia. We got a minibus transfer to the Bolivian border then transferred into a couple of Toyota Land Cruisers before heading off into the desert.
It was a fantastic trip. We got to see some amazing scenery, ranging from snow capped mountains, bubbling mud pools, frozen lakes with hundreds of flamingos and on the final day the Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt flat in the world. We were woken up at 5am in the salt hotel where we had stayed the night. And salt hotel isn’t just its name; it literally is a slat hotel. The walls are made of salt, the floor is made of salt, even the tables and beds were made of salt! Got the jeeps loaded up in the dark and headed out onto the salt flat for sunrise. Was an amazing environment, which tricked your brain into thinking it was snow and helped by the fact that till the sun came up it was fricking freezing. The size of this thing is just phenomenal, you could stand there and look from your left to your right and see nothing on the horizon but salt stretching as far as the eye could see!
Halfway across the plain you come across a tiny island in the salt which is covered in hundreds and hundreds of giant cactus, the largest one over 12 metres tall!
Finally at the end of our 3 days travel we arrived in the Bolivian town of Uyuni on the edge of the salt flat. Unfortunately we had heard from other vehicles heading in the opposite direction that Bolivia was going through a somewhat difficult time at the moment. This was confirmed when we got to Uyuni and we discovered that most routes in Boliva were being blockaded. Who’d have thought that on our trip round South America it would be Bolivia that was having political problems and looking like having a major uprising!
The roads North, East and South were defiantly blocked and the railways were also not running. With people from our group having their different agendas (some wanting to head to Argentina, some needing to get to the capital of Bolivia, La Paz, within the week in order to catch their planes home), we split up into little groups and all tried different methods to get where we wanted. Still waiting to hear from the others to see how they got on but our choice (along with Becky and Suzanne who were heading in the same direction) was to hire another Toyota and head West, back across the salt flat and through the desert to a small border crossing back over to Chile. From what we had heard, there were no blockades in that region and we should be able to slip out of the country fairly easy.
So Saturday morning at 6am we set off back the way we had come the day before.
The journey was fairly uneventful for the first seven hours but then as we approached the border town of Pesiga the driver suddenly pulled over and told us we had to get out and started unloading our rucksacks. Upon questioning him he told us that the town was blockaded and it was dangerous for him to be here in a vehicle. Apparently it would be ok for us to walk across the border on foot but cars were not tolerated. As a group of people from the blockade approached he turned around and headed back off into the desert leaving us stood there. Thankfully the navigator had got out with us and said he would help us find the immigration office. We got some very mixed responses as we walked through the town. The truck drivers who were also stuck would sympathize with us but some of the locals were not so welcoming. Eventually we got to immigration only to find it all locked up and not looking like it would be opening again any time soon. The Bolivian guy with us said this was as far as he was prepared to go but we should be able to find help in the Chilean town of Cochane just across the border. So saying good bye the four of us set off walking, pausing only for Fi to stop and remove her long johns she had been wearing for the cold morning, much to the amusement of a small local girl. Guess they don’t get to see many westerners’ arses very often.
Anyway, entering no mans land we were approached by a Chilean Police truck. Uh oh, now we’re in trouble we thought, till they offered to give us a lift!
Went through the usual farcical bag search at Chilean customs, where they basically rummage around in a couple of your rucksacks pockets for a few seconds, and were then pointed in the direction of Chilean Immigration, where we were promptly told that as we didn’t have an exit stamp from Bolivia we wouldn’t be allowed to enter Chile!
Explained to them that the Bolivian immigration office was closed and we couldn’t get an exit stamp. They were unimpressed by this and they told us we couldn’t stay in Chile and that we would have to return to Bolivia.
We told them that we couldn’t return to Bolivia as our vehicle had already left.
They told us we couldn’t stay in Chile and that we would have to return to Bolivia.
We told them that we didn’t have any Bolivian money left and the border town didn’t have a bank.
They told us we couldn’t stay in Chile and that we would have to return to Bolivia.
We told them that we didn’t have any food or drink on us and still didn’t have any money to buy any.
They told us we couldn’t stay in Chile and that we would have to return to Bolivia.
Finally with Fi just about on breaking point she re-iterated all these points and added that we were not sufficiently prepared to spend a night outside at this altitude and night time temperatures we would most likely be dead in the morning.
They told us to wait where we were and they would phone up their superiors to see what they could do.
What followed next was an agonising half hour wait during which we pleaded with the only bus of the day to hang on until we had been given a decision.
At last and with the bus revving its engine impatiently we were told that we would be allowed to enter Chile but we would have to go and see the Commissioner of the International Police within 24 hours in order to clear things up. Never more have we been more relieved to get yet another Chilean stamp in our passports!
So we caught the bus and four hours later we arrived in the coastal town of Iquque.
Dumping our bags in a hostel we sought out the International Police Station and asked to see the Commissioner. We were shown through to the waiting area and told to wait and he would be with us in a few minutes. About 15 minutes later he turned up, with the whole family in tow. Obviously with it being Saturday he hadn’t been in work and at 8pm the four scruff bags sat in his office ingrained with 4 days worth of salt and sand had just interrupted his evening.
This is not going to go down well we thought but he turned out to be the nicest policeman we’d ever met.
He sat there patiently for about half an hour while we explained everything and he made a few phone calls and arranged for us to go to the Bolivian Embassy once it opened on Monday to obtain our exit stamps.
So there we have it, another one of our `interesting` border crossings. We now just have to wait round till Monday and in the meantime have been catching up on sleep and eating huge steaks, drinking beer and watching football on the telly where Chile beat Bolivia 3-1. Think that pretty much sums things up all round.
Peru next and hopefully not a roadblock in sight, but knowing our luck!!!
Well we made it to yet another country, Peru this time and so far so good, we’ve been here longer than our trip to Bolivia and no sign of any road blocks.
After our last update in Iquique we moved north to Arica, the most northern city in Chile. Stayed there a couple of days enjoying a taste of their week long festivities celebrating their victory of the time they stole the land from Peru, with lots of parades and music and a huge fairground.
From there we crossed the border into Peru to the town of Arequipa.
Think the town square has to be about the most picturesque we’ve seen throughout our trip. Three sides encompassed by huge archways and the cathedral running the entire length of the fourth side. Only thing that let it down was the shoe-shine boy who followed me about the square every time we went there. He insisted his leather polish would do my Gortex boots the world of good but somehow I wasn’t convinced.
From here we booked our trip into the Colca Canyon. Long bumpy roads surrounded by snow capped volcanoes. Despite her pleas that she hates shopping Fiona had to be physically restrained at the local stalls selling bags, hats, gloves etc.
Because of the altitude we were gaining we were advised to try the local method of chewing coco leaves to remedy any altitude sickness. Think we’ll just stick to aspirin from now on. Imagine chewing raw tea for a few minutes and then adding fish food, now that’s good eatin!
Eventually arrived at the small village of Yanque where we would be spending the night and were taken on a small hike by the hostel guide. We crossed suspension bridges spanning the canyon passing trains of donkeys, cows, alpaca (a small version of a llama) and various other animals along the way before arriving at some thermal springs. It was nice to relax in the hot water and ease our weary bodies.
Returned to the hostel and after an evening meal of alpaca steak and traditional local dancing (which was a test of Fiona’s fitness and stamina at this altitude, in fact we were both put to shame by a 6 year old local girl) we were grateful for our beds. Unfortunately despite the three thick blankets on the bed we were still freezing but it was too cold to get out of bed to rummage around for our sleeping bags. In the end we resorted to grabbing whatever was in reach of the beds including socks, jumpers and wooly hats! Not a good night’s sleep.
In the morning we had an early start at 6am and after a breakfast of cold bread and warm papaya juice?!?!? We set off further down the canyon to see the Andean Condors leaving their nests to go off hunting for the day. After a long wait we presumed they weren’t going to show today but just as we were giving up hope we were rewarded with the sight of the first condor circling way below us in the canyon. He was eventually joined by about twenty of his friends and we just sat in awe for about half an hour while these fantastic birds circled around us. The size of these things was just amazing. Think they are the second largest flying bird on the planet with wingspans up to three metres, and they weren’t afraid to get close to you either, swooping down over your head so you could feel the draught from their wings. Fantastic!
After returning to Arequipa we caught our night bus about nine hours north to the town of Nazca. This is a small unremarkable town with its only draw being the strange lines and huge drawings of animals out on the desert plain. After waiting for the morning fog to lift we boarded our little four seater Cesna plane and took off for a journey which puts Alton Towers to shame. Gave you a bird’s eye view of these strange drawings as the plane twisted and turned threatening to treat us to a second viewing of Fiona’s breakfast!
Thankfully she remained just about in control and we returned to earth safely.
Jumping straight onto the next bus we could find we took the recommendation of the Aussies we’d been on the Uyuni trip with and headed for the small resort of Huacachina.
Quite a contrast as you leave the rocky desolate plains and are suddenly surrounded by huge sand dunes as far as the eye can see. And I’m not talking Southport beach sized dunes; these things are hundreds of metres high!!! Huacachina itself is a tiny little palm fringed oasis, a really nice place to just chill out. After a few hours chilling we decided to up the tempo a bit and set off out into the desert on the back of a dune buggy. Basically some tubular frame, some bucket seats and the biggest engine the owner could find. It was fantastic fun bombing up and down the sand dunes at unsafe speeds, stopping occasionally for the much safer pastime of hurtling down the dunes on a lump of wood. Welcome to the world of sand boarding. It’ll be just like snow boarding me thinks no problemmo. Just like snowboarding in the same way the peddle cart you had as a kid is just like Formula 1. Snowboards are carefully constructed with the best composites and use bindings which have been designed to give the rider enhanced control. Sand boards are planks of wood with some Velcro bolted to the top. You basically have two choices when stood up, impossibly slow that you fall forwards all the time or so fast you cant control the thing! After some partially successful runs we adopted the much more rudimentary technique of lying on the board on your belly and pointing it straight down the dune! Bloody great fun, once you’ve finished spitting the sand out of your mouth!
Returning once more to the V8 fun of the buggy we raced round a bit more before stopping at the top of yet another huge dune and sat down to watch the sunset with a bottle of wine one of the guides had brought along. Sat there in the last light of the day, surrounded by nothing but sand and with the orange glow of the sun on the horizon we were so swept up in the moment that the earth moved, literally. Sat atop the dune was akin to sitting on a great big wobbling jelly as the whole desert shook from the force of an earthquake. We discovered today that what we’d felt was the tremor of the massive 7.9 force earthquake that had hit Peru, Bolivia and Chile.
It was quite a shock to discover that the epicentre had been in Iquique where we had wrote the last update from less than a week ago and that buildings there had been destroyed and lives lost. A little to close for comfort that one and we hope that people we have met along the way were not caught up in the devastation.
We are now in the town of Pisco, home of the South American drink Pisco which comes in all varieties, Fiona’s favorite being Pisco Sour.
We booked on to a boat tour tomorrow to hopefully see some more sea lions and then we should be heading on up to the capital Lima where with any luck we should be able to get some laundry done as things are beginning to get a little smelly!
Well its time to catch up again and yet another country.
Did our boat tour to the Ballestas Islands, with hundreds of thousands of sea birds clambering for space on the rocks or circling in the air above, with that many birds above us it wasn’t long before Fi was deemed `lucky.`
A few Humboldt penguins hiding in the rocks as well but the most entertaining were the seals. Loads of them just lounging on the rocks in the sunshine or posing for the cameras or playing in the sea and swimming up to the boat, to see what was going on.
After returning to shore and spending time watching the comedy pelicans on the beach we made our way back to our hostel, collected our things and hopped on a bus to Lima. When we arrived the first thing we had to do was go to the police station and report that some thieving
tw@t had stolen my jacket while we were on the bus. It’s a lovely place Peru, it really is!
Anyway having filled out the forms, got an invite to dinner by the receptionist and paid the dodgy looking copper the ten Soles ´processing fee` we were then able to go and see what Lima had to offer. Just another big city really and as we’re not really big city people we spent a couple of days getting jobs sorted; the all important laundry, watching films in the cinema and shopping for replacement boots as mine had finally given up.
The debate then was whether to head straight up to Ecuador or whether to explore the north of Peru. Reading information we weren’t inspired by anything the north had to offer so booked ourselves onto an 18 hour bus to the Peru/Ecuador border.
So two rubbish meals, a bad night sleep and numerous dubbed Spanish films later we arrived at our destination.
It was at this point my belly decided it had had enough being a silent partner and started making noises about a takeover bid.
Being in a complete one horse town early in the morning we still had to press on for Ecuador, so no time for resting we took our ropiest border crossing to date. Well maybe on par with the Bolivia crossing.
Haggling with the taxi driver in the bus station we got a good price for a transfer for the 40 odd Kms to the border and across into the Ecuadorian town the other side, from where we could catch another bus. Things looked a little ropey to start with when the taxi driver’s mate got in the car with us. But from then on the journey seemed to be going well. We made good time and got our exit stamp from Peru but it was on reaching the border town that things started going down hill. Firstly we were told we had to pay a 20 dollar fee each to cross the border, a practice we had not come across at any other crossing and made all the more suspicious by the fact we were supposed to pay this money to a random woman stood next to a very unofficial looking barrier across the road. Our refusal to pay was resulting in a massive traffic jam and we were beginning to get abuse from the locals. Fully aware it was a complete scam but wanting to avoid a full scale riot we gave em 20 dollars for both of us and told em it was all they were getting. Situation resolved we proceeded on before taking a bit of a detour down some back roads and driving pretty much straight through the Sunday market. Our alarm bells started ringing again when the guys told us to lock our doors and roll up our windows `for safety`. Our levels of concern were rapidly growing and when they turned off the busy street and we suddenly found ourselves in a deserted building site alarm bells were ringing loudly and we both opened our doors and got out. Much to the surprise of the taxi men who seemed to think this was a perfectly normal kind of border crossing. Summoning a nearby policemen for a bit of back up we carefully explained to these two cowboys that we had not signed up for a magical mystery tour of Ecuador’s best markets and all we wanted to do was catch our bus and get our entry stamps. It transpired that these two were indeed trying to pull a fast one, not being a licensed cab or border crossing collectivo as they are called out here; their Peruvian car was not allowed to cross the border into Ecuador. This is why they had taken a back road in and were stashing it out of sight while they walked us the rest of the way to the bus station. Safe to say they never got their full 10 dollars we’d agreed on, never mind the 10 dollars EACH they were suddenly demanding.
So safely on an Ecuadorian bus with entry formalities completed (and a grumbly belly still ever present) we had a 5 hour journey to the city of Guayaquil, the largest town in Ecuador.
Finding a hotel (and the following day finding a reasonable hotel with luxuries such as hot water) I tucked myself up in bed for a few days sampling the huge tablets the farmacia had given me.
Our plan, after I’d recovered, was to head for Puerto Lopez on the coast where we had been recommended a dive school as somewhere for me to do my PADI qualification. Obviously with the prospect of being in deep water, under pressure in a tight fitting rubber suit I wanted to make sure I was completely recovered!
So with things looking like they were back to normal we confirmed our flights to the Galapagos Islands and then made our way to the bus station. Finding the one bus that ran to Puerto Lopez we stood in the baking sunshine waiting to board wondering why a bus clearly overheating judging by the amount of water pissing from the radiator, was sat there with its engine running for half an hour before departure. Five minutes down the road when it stalled at a set of lights it all became apparent; a bus is a big thing to bump start, especially when only one other passenger gets off a full bus to help you and the conductor push the thing!!!
With no other hiccups along the way we made it to Puerto Lopez in the evening and checked into a hostel right on the sea front. The place itself wasn’t much to write home about but was run by a really friendly family and they did have a newborn baby for Fiona to stand and look at for hours on end.
Awaking in the morning to the return of my grumbly belly things weren’t looking good for me surviving some scuba diving. But we needn’t have worried too much though, it turned out that the dive shop didn’t have any instructors available for teaching so there was no way we’d be doing our diving course in Puerto Lopez. Upon further research, we found out that this shop was in fact the only one on mainland Ecuador able to issue PADI certificates. Arse!
After some frantic emailing, web searching and phoning we did a complete about face on our plans and current situation is that we hopefully fly to the Galapagos on Tuesday the 28th and prior to our cruise around the islands we plan to do a few days of diving. Well, if you’re gonna learn to dive you may as well do it somewhere you’re going to see something I guess!!!
Anyway, back to Puerto Lopez. With our diving plans knocked on the head we didn’t really have a reason to be here. Oh, except for the migrating humpback whales who had arrived in the area to breed! So booking ourselves on a cruise I abandoned conventional medicine and went with a local recommendation of a traditional tea to hopefully settle my stomach and make the whole cruise much less unpleasant for the other passengers. Thankfully it seemed to work and after a couple of whale sightings in the morning we made our way to Isla de la Plata which is basically a mini Galapagos. We did a short trek on the island where we saw male frigate birds with their huge red chests all puffed out trying to attract the ladies and we also saw two different types of boobies. And no, no matter how many times you make the joke, it never gets tired. So yes, we saw both masked and blue footed boobies both of which were very comical and you could get in touching distance of them.
Returning to the boat we then had some time to go snorkeling where Fi demonstrated her love and dedication to me by sending her engagement ring to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean! Thankfully just the temporary ring we had got in Rio but I’m not sure whether I can trust her with the real one now if that’s her attitude!
Apart from the ring incident the snorkeling was really cool and we got to see loads of fish. And we saw even more when we got back on the boat and started feeding em our tuna sandwiches (surely that’s cannibalism?).
With the snorkeling over it was time to go find some more whales as the guide had promised us most of the whale watching would be done at the end of the day. The captain obviously had other ideas and wanted to get home for his tea so an hour later a boat load of very pissed off tourists was back in port.
Returning to our hotel we were asked how the tour went, to which we told them it was all going well until speedy gonzales brought us straight back without looking for any more whales. Five minutes later it was arranged that the following morning a mate of one of the guys running the hotel would be taking us out in his fishing boat for a full day of whale watching. You can’t say fairer than that I suppose.
So the next morning eight of us turned up on the beach to see what kind of vessel we would be in. We knew full well that it wouldn’t be anything of the size of the official tour boats, but when this tiny little tub turned up it was defiantly a case of ´I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat!´ And as we chugged out to sea at no more than swimming pace things were not looking good. But looks can be deceiving and despite its size, speed and appearance the boat was captained by a guy who seemed to have some sort of psychic link with the whales. And despite the attempts of another boat to scare off the whales, buzzing round with it’s twin outboards at full throttle following us where ever we went our guy just seemed to have a knack for getting us the best views. And the boat being little actually turned out to be a bonus as well as we felt much closer to the whales, not that you needed to be close to the water when they were swimming under the boat and surfacing less than ten metres away!
Was a fantastic experience following a particular pod of four whales as they gave us their full repertoire of flipper splashes, tails in the air, some very strange noises and best of all the breaching where they swim straight upwards and launch themselves out of the water before splashing back down again. Absolutely brilliant!
Returning to shore we were treated to fresh watermelon and pineapple to refresh us after a day in the sun. After that we found we had similar plans to Elliot and Una who had been on the boat with us so along with a German couple, Dede and Jan who were also going in the same direction, we took an evening bus back to Guayaquil. Not that I’m trying to criticise Ecuadorian bus drivers, but when it’s night time, dark and foggy, personally I would put my lights on, they however don’t deem it necessary so after a very scary journey we finally made it back safely.
After a night in Guayaquil we hopped straight back onto another bus and this time headed a few hours north to a town called Riobamba. The reason for this was to ride the Devils Nose Train. It used to be a main trade route but is now basically a tourist attraction as the train winds its way down valleys and around mountains. The little thing that sets it apart from other train rides is that no one is sat inside the train, but instead the roof is jam packed. You all hire your cushions as you get to the station and then clamber up the ladders on to the roofs of the carriages and pick your spot. You then lounge in the sunshine for a few hours in beautiful scenery as all the children from the local villages come running out to wave to the train and vendors wobble up and down the top of the train with their food and drink for sale. I’ve never sat on the roof of a train drinking a beer in the sun before but there’s a first time for everything.
Only a slight delay in proceedings as the train derailed itself on one of the bends, but the staff seem pretty used to this and with the use of some big lumps of metal and some twigs we were once more back on track (sorry).
Another pretty unique experience and another long day in the sun, just gonna finish writing this up then we’re going to go find some steak for sustenance.
We have an early morning bus to Quito tomorrow and then hopefully our flight to the Galapagos. Keep your fingers crossed it all works out.
As to be expected I suppose, things haven’t been running too smoothly just recently (there’s a surprise).
Got to Quito and flicking through the guidebook on the way began reading about how dangerous a place it is and how you should never go outside ever or you’ll get mugged. So fearing the worst we were pleasantly surprised to find it no different to any other of the large South American cities. Busy, noisy, and full of tourists!
Anyway in preparation for our Galapagos trip we needed to purchase new swimming costumes each so flying in the face of all the warnings we went out and used public transport (ooooh) to get to the shopping centre.
After standing there for hours while Fi perused the various Bikinis, debating over the hundreds of style choice; thong sized, G-string sized, invisible-to-the-naked-eye size, she eventually found something that wouldn’t leave all the Galapagos creatures in a state of fear. I then grabbed the cheapest pair of shorts in the store and our shopping trip was complete.
Returning safely to our hostel, yet again by bus, we checked our email and found that Oonagh and Eliott were now in Quito also and so we met up with them for tea and a couple of drinks. Inspired by our drooling over various Galapagos brochures they had made a quick alteration to their original plans and were now braving the billions of Quito travel agents to try and find themselves a last minute cruise deal. After hearing all about it we were glad that we had ours all booked in advance and weren’t having to go through what sounded like not much fun (you remember a while back when I said it’s when things appear to be running really well that they have a habit of going tits up, more on that later!).
So saying farewell again we set the alarm for another 5.30am start (the third one in a row!) and fell asleep with dreams of all things aquatic.
A bit of confusion at the airport after the taxi dropped us at International Departures and two different security people checked our tickets and it took us telling a third that we still couldn’t find our check in desk before we were eventually told we were in the wrong place. I’m amazed anyone gets on the right plane in this place! So after a swift jog round to the correct terminal we checked in and all appeared to be going well (have you noticed a pattern emerging yet) until we tried to get some cash out. My card has been ropey at best but for Fiona’s to suddenly stop working presents a bit of a problem. Counting our remaining funds we were grateful to find we at least had the $100 each in order to enter the Islands. A number of quick phone calls later the matter was left in my mums hands to deal with due to our financial advisor being unreachable (I don’t know what we’re paying you for Catherine, I really don’t. We expect a 24 hour service you know and not for trivial things like your work, studies or exams to get in the way of our holiday!).
After a brief stop over in Guayaquil to pick up more passengers we arrived in the island of San Cristobal in the Galapagos.
Emerging from the airport we were met by Juan Carlos, the guy who we had been recommended as a cruise organizer and who we had been in contact with through email.
Dropping our bags at a hotel he recommended we were then taken into town and introduced to the guy who was going to be our dive instructor. Victor from Chalo Tours spoke excellent English and was very accommodating in fitting in with our plans of having 5 or 6 days in which for me to do my Open water PADI before catching our boat on the 5th of July.
After deciding to start the course the following morning and being given ´the big book of diving' to read and digest we went for a wander round the town. Watching all the different shapes and sizes of boats bobbing up and down in the harbor we sat ourselves on the pier in the sunshine to relax in the peace and quiet. Or we would have relaxed if it wasn’t for the loud annoying noises we kept hearing. "What the hell is that" we both thought as we looked around. "ahhh, it’s just a couple of sea lions sat on the rocks just below us."......... "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!".
It wasn’t till we really started looking properly that we realised there were loads of em scattered all along the shoreline. All shapes and sizes, and every one of em having picked what looked like the most uncomfortable place possible for their sunbathing, but then again, I’m not a sea lion so what do I know!
After walking to the town beach and sitting there for ages just watching the sea lions lounging in the sun and playing in the water (this is slap bang in the middle of town remember, it would be like being on the beach at Whitby, they just aren’t phased by anything) we met up with Juan Carlos again, and this is when that ´things going well equals imminent disaster thing happened again. The story begins with a hint that the particular boat we booked on may not be quite ready for the day we have booked, but it more than likely will be and in the event that its not he has a back up boat available. Upon more questioning the original boat is due to have a safety inspection which it needs to pass but this other boat is still available but leaves on the Friday, not the following Tuesday as planned, but not to worry as everything will be fine. With our ´this story is a load of bollocks´ meter in the red zone we went back to the dive shop and made a quick change to my course so that it would finish on the Friday should the need arise. This meant an impromptu three hour theory lesson that evening which even with his hangover from the birthday party the night before Victor presented with true professionalism!
On the cruise front, over the next couple of days we were presented with a varying number of different stories until we were eventually told what we had expected, that the original boat now wasn’t going to be available but we could take this other boat, the Gaby, on the Friday and we would get the best cabin and the best service and everything would be great. Oh except that the boat was in a lower class and didn’t have any air con or hot water and would be more expensive than he originally said but it would be fine and could we please sign the contract now and pay him some money up front. Think Fi was grateful to finally tell him to get stuffed and after a quick phone call we confirmed the back up boat we had been arranging ourselves through a reputable company.
A couple of days later we were sat on the beach and got chatting to an English couple who had just finished their 8 day cruise on the Gaby. "Oh we enquired, what was it like?" Phrases like ´hell on earth´ ´wouldn’t go back if you paid us´ and ´it was an experience´ were used and after a full description of their time on board we were grateful we had followed our gut instinct and stayed well clear. Moral of the day, if it looks too good to be true it probably is, and you get what you pay for. Although they did say that no matter how little you’re paying for a tour you don’t expect things to be stolen from your room and to be wading round your cabin in the spillage from the toilet. I think the fact that people signed up for an 8 day cruise were sacrificing the money they had paid and were leaving after 3 days sums things up nicely.
Fingers crossed ours goes well now.
Anyway, on the diving front things were at the other end of the spectrum and going really well. The theory classes were fairly straight forward and then it was time for the start of the closed water dives. Unfortunately they didn’t have a swimming pool at their disposal so we were forced to do the dives in a secluded bay swimming amongst hundreds of fishes, manta rays and sea lions. It’s a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it.
So our first few dives were just me, Fi and Victor with me doing the lessons in order to get my qualification and Fi being allowed to tag along as a bit of a refresher what with her already having her license.
On the subsequent open water dives we were joined by a couple of other students and the obligatory sea lions who just seem to love the bubbles and flock to play with the divers. Is great fun spinning around underwater with your nose inches from a sea lion as he mimics your movements, just fantastic!
We also did a dive amongst the remains of a cargo ship which wrecked on a reef roughly a hundred years ago, saw star fish the size of your head, sea turtles and also sea iguanas, all in all a brilliant experience.
The rest of our time not spent in the water (and our time since finishing the course) seems to have a pretty consistent theme, usually revolving around us sat on a beach somewhere fascinated by the comical actions of sea lions. Be it them surfing into shore on the waves, rolling down the beach to get to the water, wrestling with one another, jumping out of the water onto the fishing boats, clambering over one another to get the best spot on the beach or just wandering up to you for a closer look. Sometimes a very close look!
I would recommend anyone with holidays left to hop on a plane and come here, you won’t regret it.
So tomorrow we hopefully catch our boat for a look around some of the other islands.
Will let you know in a week or so how (or if) it went.
Well, where do I begin after a few days back on main land Ecuador I had hoped I would be able to digest the past ten days and how to put the whole experience into words, alas I still feel overwhelmed but here goes.
After a fantastic few days in San Cristobal diving and watching sea lions which Mark has already recounted at length, Monday arrived and with trepidation we waited on the pier to see if we were actually expected on the Cruise for which we had paid. We were much relieved as we were greeted by staff surprised by our early arrival (all the other passengers were being collected at the airport but with us already being in town we just made our own way to the pier) but expecting us none the less.
Everyone started arriving on the boat and by one o'clock we were given an official welcome to the Eatrella Del Mar and her crew along with a rather potent cocktail. The boat was really very nice, immaculate, with 8 guest cabins with private bathroom and hot water, fresh towels daily, a dining room, lounge and sundeck area enough space to allow you to get away from it all if you wanted and not feel crowded.
By the time lunch was served we were starving but this would be the last time we felt remotely hungry for the next eight days as our chef ´Chino´ produced fantastic three course meals three times a day, interspersed with snacks of banana bread, chicken wings, sausages, crisps and biscuits just incase we should feel peckish at anytime.
Our first afternoon was out to Sea Lion Island, an afternoon of snorkeling without sea lions which was a bit of a disappointment and then our first land excursion with Ruly our naturalist guide. I wondered if I would survive the week without screaming as he explained "the difference between seals and sea lions......" painfully slowly, with much pausing, I started to wonder if he really knew what he was talking about. On the second day I am glad to say our Naturalist guide bounced around with a new found vigor and enthusiasm which was to continue for the next seven days, in fact you felt like a naughty school child who'd been caught napping when he focused on you with a particular fact and there was no doubting he really knew his stuff, all random questions answered openly and fully.
We sailed over night to Espanola Island, a little choppy but mostly asleep so no adverse affects. Espanola was to become my favorite of the Islands. The Morning was spent in Gardner Bay on a white sandy beach with turquoise waters and loads of Sea Lions, the way they are so unfazed by humans never fails to amaze me, sunbathing, playing in the shallows, getting very friendly with Mark as a big wave took one of the young pups by surprise and it ended up wrapped around his leg. You can not get tired of these creatures they are fantastic. We went snorkeling around the rocks and saw hundreds of fish, but too many little ones that swim way too close and frankly freaked me out a bit so I frantically wafted my arms throughout to keep my personal space well personal, much to Marks amusement.
In the afternoon we had a land excursion on Punta Suarez. We landed and almost immediately saw a Marine Iguana lounging on the rocks, five metres further on we saw about 100 Marine Iguanas warming themselves on a large rock and every few minutes another would walk straight through the middle of our group to join the others on the rock and warm up after its swim. Little living dinosaurs that can swim and dive for food, very cool. Onward inland and the Blue Footed Boobies had decided to block the path with their nesting, the fluffy cloud like chicks strewn around. They are funny creatures that have bright blue feet and waddle when they walk, they also do a little mating dance where they lift one foot up and down mimicking each other squawk and then bow, then he brings her a stick and if she likes the stick he strikes lucky. Then in the bushes we spotted a pair of Waved Albatross sword fighting with their bright yellow beaks a long and repetitive mating ritual of tap, tap, tapping with their beaks then sit down, stand up and squawk repeated. We wandered on to what is apparently the landing strip for these enormous birds who move somewhat ungainly on land and sure enough just after our guide had told us about their crash landing technique one gave us a demonstration and whilst not the cartwheels our guide had described he did face plant, before shaking himself off, a quick glance to check no one saw and then waddled off like someone wearing a pair of flippers.
We walked up to a cliff and watched hundreds of Boobies and Albatross soaring off the cliff top and into the air, the rugged coastline with waves crashing over black volcanic rocks sending spray high into the air was really quite stunning.
Returning to the boat Herman our waiter was stood waiting (naturally) with "pelican wings" to keep us going before dinner. After being told dinner was shark soup followed by whale steaks we decided that Herman was a compulsive liar and most subsequent meals remained a delicious mystery.
Next day we visited Isabella Island and went horse riding, a phrase that immediately struck fear into half the group. A pick up took us to the horse station (that’s HORSE station Mr Rogoff) about an hour inland, then a group of shall we say small horses awaited, am not really sure they fit into the category of ´horse´ as not one was over 14.2hh. Generally docile creatures until the guide whooshed the group at the back and all at once eight horses tried to run through a gap for one, much kicking and biting followed as the horses piled on top of each other, which did nothing to help the already nervous riders in the group. Marks horse decided it had two gears, slow and very slow much to his frustration and no amount of whooping and kicking was going to hurry it along.
The views over the Sierra Negra volcano were great and it was indeed a good way to see part of the Island. An hour and a half later and many relieved bodies dismounted only to face a long walk across lava fields with the midday sun beating down and the black lava rock radiating heat it was a very sticky experience, followed by a welcome leisurely lunch under a shady tree.
Then an inevitable remount was needed to get back to the horse station, where upon Steve’s horse decided to walk straight under a low branch, to which Steve attempted to limbo, only to discover his girth loose and the saddle promptly swung underneath, depositing rider on the floor and startling his oblivious mount.
Mark sought reinforcements on the return journey, by way of a branch, in an attempt to gee up his steed. Tap nothing, smack nothing, wallop and it bucks mentally before returning to walking pace. Result; stick abandoned in effort to save spine from irreparable damage.
The cloud closed in as we returned down the volcano and with less than 5 metres visibility Linda and I chatting away at the back started wondering if we were still on the right route. Finally voices and figures appeared in the mist and we had made it back.
The afternoon was spent easing weary bodies with a few beers and ice cream, before our ever tolerant crew returned to collect a now rather rowdy bunch to go and see penguins in the panga (small boat) before dinner. Pinguinos, sploosh, waddle, very cute, and all the more amusing after a skin full.
Day three we woke up anchored off the Coast of Floreana Island. After another massive breakfast we had another wet landing on the beach and had a short walk to an inland brackish lagoon and Pink Flamingos feeding, making etcha sketch designs across the lake. A little more timid than the other birds we’d come across but bright orangey pink and nesting on the lake. We then walked to other side of the island, not the expedition you may think a total of about 800 metres. The other side was a powder white sandy beach where we all stood knee deep in the sea waiting for baby Sting Rays to come swim over our feet as they fed in the shallow water. The crazy things you have to go through to get close to nature, and like I’d let a sting ray touch my foot anyway. One came within 2 inches of me and I leapt in to Marks arms clearing both feet well out the water.
Returning to the boat to welcome snacks well it was all of 10.30am and a girl has got to eat. Then we went snorkeling off Devils Crown, an underwater volcano crater just of the coast. With a cloudy sky the water looked dark, cold and uninviting but being all very British we dove in anyway. A really strong current pulled you along whilst watching all the fishes below you appearing to stay in one place as they swam effortlessly against the current. And there were many, many fishes, big, small, and stripy and spots, bright yellow puffer fish, red star fish and white tip reef sharks, or vegetarian sharks as they became known to convince the less keen members of the group into the water. We swam frantically on the surface to stay in one spot to just watch these graceful creatures cruising not more than two metres beneath us until exhausted and cold we returned to the boat for lunch.
Spag bol it was, one of my favorites except for the fact we had to sail to Santa Cruz at the same time, i.e. open sea, muchas up and down, side to side with the soup starter slopping all over the place. Took my cue and retired to the sundeck feeling somewhat green, where I was joined throughout the course of the meal by seven of the others who’d thought better of it before things got messy.
The Puerto Ayora dock couldn’t have come too soon thank god, sea and me are just not meant to be. Next stop was the Charles Darwin giant tortoise breeding centre, and as I tried to listen to our guides’ explanation a party of loud obnoxious American school kids broke my frayed seasick tether and were on the receiving end of damn good English shushing. Saw many baby tortoises which are kept till they are five years old before being released back into the wild in an attempt to boost their numbers after nearly reaching extinction because of hunting and the introduction of predators such as rats and dogs.
We then met the star attraction Lonesome George a roughly 80 year old Pinta Tortoise who is the last of his kind in the world. There have been numerous attempts to save his kind from extinction such as encouraging him to breed with similar species of tortoise but he has continuously declined all advances and appears disinterested. This resulted in Baz from our group giving him the nickname "Big Gay George."
They have even brought in a female Swiss scientist and three times a day for a whole year she tried to, shall we say, encourage George, but without success. Our guide was not so discrete about the whole matter. Poor old George, he must be knackered, think he’s had enough.
Think that will do for Part 1, Internet Cafe owner is looking to give me a job I’ve been here that long.
Will hopefully get part 2 typed up soon.
Part 2
Right then, continuing from where Fiona left off, I’ll try and get the Galapagos written up before we forget it all.
After our meeting with George we returned to the boat and after another massive meal we all crashed out in bed about 9pm again. Awoke about 6.30am to the sound of ´the bell´, don’t think Fi has mentioned that for all meetings, meals, shore trips or to wake us up we were summoned by the ringing of a bell. By the third day we were all as well trained as Pavlov´s dog. Anyway, staggered upstairs to the sun deck to discover we had arrived at Kicker Rock, a huge pinnacle of rock rising from the ocean a few miles of the Coast of San Cristobel Island. During an earthquake the rock was split and separated just about far enough to squeeze a boat through the channel. So in true Ecuadorian driving style we drove straight through it. Now suitably woken up we all descended back down for our breakfast whilst we returned back to Puerto Baquerizo Moreno on San Cristobel where we then said goodbye to the family who were only on a half week cruise.
Following their departure we all piled into a bus and were taken to La Loberia, a stretch of beach which is normally covered with sea lions. Unfortunately due to the airport getting busier the sea lions have all left and no sooner had we stepped off the bus than the heavens opened. Things were not looking good as our guide hopped back on the bus and drove off promising to pick us up in a couple of hours.
The rain did subside and there were plenty of rock pools to explore and still a few sea lion stragglers to keep us entertained. The few who ventured into the cold looking water for some snorkeling were rewarded with plenty of fishes and a sea turtle as well. Unfortunately me and Fi weren’t two of the few so didn’t see anything. We also didn’t go arse over tit trying to get out of the water either though Rob.
After that we returned to the boat to find the ´new people´ already on board. It was a bit weird having strangers suddenly dropped into an established group but the Swede, Swiss and two Italians all fitted in quite well.
Their first excursion (along with the rest of us) was to the other side of the island to another tortoise sanctuary. This was not quite as controlled as the Darwin Centre; more of a safari park than a zoo and much time was spent trying to spot the tortoises hiding in the undergrowth. Once spotted though plenty of photos could be taken as they didn’t exactly sprint off into the distance. There was also time for another one of Ruly´s informative discussions on tortoise mating habits. Glad I’m not a tortoise; it didn’t sound like a fun experience and usually resulted in the fella left upside down on his shell trying to right himself before he gets eaten by a predator.
Once back on board the boat we stuffed ourselves with yet another massive tea (dolphin and sea iguana this time if I remember rightly) before settling down to watch a copy of Pulp Fiction on DVD.
During the night the boat headed for North Seymour Island and Steve, Fi and myself all had an even earlier start than normal due to us getting a scuba dive in before breakfast. Was well worth the effort of getting up and as soon as we’d arrived at our dive site of tiny Mosquera Island we were greeted by a group of young sea lions all eager for someone to play with. As soon as we entered the water they were shooting past us, spinning round and blowing bubbles. Descending further down we reached a huge drop off which disappeared down into the darkness. Swimming along we were surrounded by thousands of fishes and even treated to a meeting with a couple of hammerheads. Strangely Fi continued her wafting away of the little fishes but upon being confronted with a three metre long eating machine she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
Back at the boat we found everyone already tucking into their breakfasts and after a quick hot shower we just had time to munch ours before we were ferried onto North Seymour Island where once again we got to see Blue Footed Boobies and of course the obligatory sea lions. But we also got to see land iguanas and some close up views of the male frigate birds with their red chests all puffed out as they try and attract a mate. Apparently size is important but if that’s not enough he has a couple of other tricks up his sleeve. Any time a female flies by he makes a strange hollow noise (like tapping on a balloon, which I suppose is exactly what it is) and spreads his wings as wide as possible. How could any woman resist? Failing that we were suggesting rubbing them on our jumpers and sticking em to the nearest ceiling but Ruly wasn’t too keen on the idea.
Chatting away we were discussing what other animals we were likely to see and ones that we probably wouldn’t see, such as the Galapagos snake as it’s pretty reclusive, at which point one slithered across the path in front of us! Later we began discussing diamond shoes and Playboy models but to no avail.
Upon the boat once more we traveled to Bartolome Island and had the chance to go snorkeling round pinnacle rock. For some reason the water was freezing and it was a fairly short lived snorkeling excursion save for Baz and Rebecca who seem to have their own central heating and swam for ages after the rest of us had begun sunning ourselves on the beach. Unfortunately I managed to pick my spot in the same place as some nasty bugs were sunbathing and within ten minutes managed to look like I’d got a dose of chicken pox! Was told the best thing would be to rinse myself with seawater although I still reckon that was just a trick to get me back in the freezing water after I’d just warmed up.
The cold didn’t seem to be bothering our next visitor though, a solitary Galapagos Penguin who was cruising up and down the beach looking for a spot of lunch. He was bombing along no more than a metre out so was quite funny to see all the little fishes scattering as he ´flew´ towards em.
Leaving him to eat in peace we returned to the boat for snacks and then headed to another part of Bartolome where we ascended to the highest point on the island for views over the beach we had been on and the boat anchored in the bay as the sun set. Descending back down on carefully constructed wooden walkways and steps to save you having to walk across unstable rocks and lava fields like we had to on the previous islands Fi somehow managed to lose her footing (trying to do that walking and talking at the same time thing again) and turned her ankle. Back on the boat she nursed it with ice from the ice machine we had on board (so that’s where the extra money was going) but by the next morning was still suffering so couldn’t go on our scuba dive at Gordon´s Rocks.
Fortunately she didn’t miss out on too much and it was a fairly uneventful dive. Pssst, we actually got to see more hammerheads and a shed load of Galapagos Sharks but I’ve not told Fi so keep it to yourselves will ya. The site was inside an underwater volcano crater and there were pretty strong currents churning us around. Once we’d got some depth though things calmed down a bit but was quite surreal at times as you couldn’t see the bottom or anything for reference and then a couple of hammerheads would cruise out of the darkness. Was a very cool experience and think I got a little carried away as I swam towards a group of three to get a better look. Wasn’t till they decided to get a better look at me and came within a few metres that I remembered that they were all bigger than me, could swim faster and had sharper teeth. Thankfully they didn’t really like what they saw and with a quick flick of their tails they shot off back into the depths.
After another swift shower and breakfast we landed on South Plaza Island, a beautiful landscape covered by pink and yellow flowers (Fi made me put that in, I just wanted to write about sharks and stuff). Creature of the day was the land Iguanas who spend their time hanging about under cacti waiting for prickly pears to drop so they can have a good feed. That’s when they’re not orchestrating raids on other iguanas’ territories for tasty looking snacks. Very funny to see one of these normally docile creatures scamper across the landscape, munch down a flower or two and then leg it with the disgruntled owner giving chase.
Fi, with her bad ankle, battled round what was probably the longest walk we did in the whole trip but wasn’t going to miss out on the chance to see more sea lions! She need not have worried, as we had to shift a few lazy characters lounging on the dock before we could return to the boat.
We then headed for Santa Fe Island where we anchored in a sheltered cove and had some lunch, by this point the crew had learnt that it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to feed Fi on the move.
The next excursion we saw more land iguanas and giant cacti and also a load of teenagers all sat separately on one of the beaches. We found out that they were American school kids who now at the end of their trip had been told to sit by themselves and reflect for a while. Not sure how ´reflecting´ would have gone down at my school but then the furthest we ever got was a youth hostel on the moors.
It was then time for the last lot of snorkeling of our trip. As always the sea lions didn’t disappoint and it was a great way to round things off spinning and somersaulting with them underwater.
Back on board we headed back to San Cristobel where we were presented with a massive buffet (sea lion and roast booby I think it was this time) before we settled down with a few beers and reflected on our trip.
Next morning we had a quick trip round the Interpretation Centre where we were told the history of the Galapagos and Fi spent the time in perpetual fear that Ruly was going to quiz her on the information he was telling us.
Then it was time to say our goodbyes as everyone else was taken to the airport where as we decided we hadn’t quite had enough of sea lions yet and spent the afternoon sunbathing on the beach amongst em all.
Next day we had quite a lie in. Well, an 8am alarm but that was a couple of hours longer than the previous few days! Then not having had enough of the water we took a boat with Victor (who I had done my PADI Open water with) and a German girl, Katya, out to Kicker Rock which we had visited on the cruise. This time we were hoping for a more sub-aquatic view of it though, original plan had been to do the diving with Oonagh and Eliott who we had met in Puerto Lopez, but as with all best laid plans they were on a completely different island by the time we had finished our cruise.
Anyway after an hour or so trip out on a mill pond like ocean we were looking forward to our dives.
First site was slap bang in the middle of the channel between the two split rocks and no sooner had we splashed into the water than we saw two Galapagos sharks cruising below us. Descending to about 20 metres we followed the rock wall round and got to see a few more Galapagos sharks. Well I say a few more, I got up to a count of 30 in one go before giving up, the sea was just full of them as far as you could see in all directions. Very cool!
Not quite as big as previous ones we had seen, this were apparently where all the juveniles go before they are big enough to survive on their own out in the open ocean. And as with all youngsters they were pretty inquisitive, some coming over for a very close look at the strange bubble blowing humans.
Victor had his underwater camera with him so have put a couple of his shots up the website. Also took a fantastic video showing a shark coming over to us for a look, just to prove we were there and not making it all up!!!
Swimming on a bit further we found a couple of turtles lounging in the sand before returning to the surface through masses of jellyfish. Thankfully tiny and harmless, but pretty cool to look at, like multi-colored, transparent ping pong balls!
Back on our little boat we were treated to a hefty lunch of cheese sarnies and nacho crisps whilst relaxing in the sun for a while.
Second dive of the day was at the other end of Kicker Rock where we descended a bit deeper but not all the way down the wall which just disappeared below us into the darkness.
Leveling off we again began swimming round the wall and were immediately greeted by a Moray Eel, poking his head out of a hole. It’s an ugly, scary looking creature. Swimming on we were joined by a couple of Hammerhead Sharks. Still can’t get over how cool they look swimming overhead so they are silhouetted by the sun and they continued to accompany us for most of the dive.
Further on we found a couple of octopuses..... Octopi...... there was one octopus and then another octopus right by it. Think we had actually interrupted a crucial romantic moment and the fella was none to happy with us, as his girl to be made a sharp exit.
Back up into the sunshine and there was time to relax before arriving back at Sea Lion Island, which we had also visited on the cruise. As you may remember, Fi said that the first time the snorkeling was sea lion free but I’m glad to say that this time it lived up to its name. That is for those of us who actually went into the water, too cold my arse, you were wearing 7mm of wet suit my girl!!!
Anyway, had great fun again with a couple of the playful pups before mum eventually turned up to spoil our fun.
Back in port we collapsed knackered on the beach again. We were provided with more entertainment than normal as well. As we’ve said before the pups are all pretty playful and even the grown up females are pretty tolerant. The one fella you don’t mess with is the three metres and several tonnes of bull male who owns the beach and surrounding waters. One thing you don’t do if you’re a pissed, short sighted New Zealand tourist, is confidently wade into the water for a swim oblivious to the angry mass of blubber floating in the water just in front of you. Fastest screaming Kiwi I’ve seen since Jonah Lomu!
Our final full day in the Galapagos was spent mainly hiding from the rain. Bit of a dampener for the end of the holiday but didn’t get us down to much.
The next day we were booked on a midday flight back to the mainland and in the morning we just had time to meet up with Oonagh and Elliot who were back in town to start their cruise and then Fiona had a tearful farewell with the sea lions before heading back to Quito.
Well it’s been a while hasn’t it. Sorry we’ve not been in touch for a while; stupid backwards continent doesn’t have any internet cafes on its desert islands or in the middle of the jungle, but more on those later.
Now where were we up to, ahh yes I remember, we got back to Quito after Galapagos and had a couple of days sight seeing in the area. On Saturday we headed for Otavalo Market where we perused the massive amount of stalls they had but resisted the urge to spend, spend, spend as anything we bought we would have to carry on our backs for god knows how long! Eventually came away with only one purchase, got myself a new hat after my one from Chile was looking a little worse for wear after taking a dip in the sea on the Galapagos.
Called in at the livestock market as well but again resisted the urge to buy so didn’t come home with any puppies, ducks, chickens, guinea pigs, snakes or spiders!
Next day we took a trip to the equator line along what was one of the worst planned routes in history. Firstly ended up on the metro line to the footy stadium just before a big derby match took place, then once we’d cleared that mess the bus we were on drove through a massive fiesta with representatives from all over South America parading in the streets!
Eventually we arrived at our destination and walked to the original site of the equator where they have built a massive monument, museums, bars and restaurants. Unfortunately for them, with the advances in technology and GPS it has since been discovered that the actual equator is a couple of hundred metres north of where they first thought. Fortunate for the enterprising local who owned the land though, he has since set up his own museum. Not quite as polished as the original but a lot more fun with you being able to do all kinds of experiments to prove you are on the equator. Quite silly really but stood there transfixed as we watched a sink drain in two different directions and then Fi impressed everyone by being the first in our group to be able to balance an egg on the head of a nail.
Returning back to Quito and after a number of deliberations we finally decided to take the safer option and fly to Colombia rather than taking the bus. Need not have worried too much as the centre of Bogotá is about one of the safest places in South America. To be honest you’d be hard pushed to get yourself into any kind of bother as you are constantly in sight of at least one armed soldier. That is unless you stop walking to admire any of the sights. Don’t think they’re quite up to speed with tourism yet as we were moved on by the military twice as we tried to watch the changing of the palace guards. Not sure how well it would go down at Buckingham Palace if all the tourists were shifted as they tried to take photos!
Next day we took a bus to see the cathedral carved in one of the salt mines. Unfortunately found out when we got there that there had recently been an explosion in one of the adjoining mines so the cathedral was closed. Returning to Bogotá we ventured to the gold museum where they have approximately 40,000 items made out of gold. Most of em worn by the village Shamans as they went on their `Shaman Flight` to become a bird and get more in touch with the spirits. Or to put it plainly, get stoned off their faces. Suppose if you wear enough gold it’ll detract from how much of a goon you’re acting.
Next morning was a ridiculously early start at 4am so we could make it to the airport in time for our flight to Cartegena. Which we only just managed in the end due to the entire city centre being closed off to traffic in preparation for some military parade or something. After much scary taxi driving, speeding the wrong way up one way streets and driving round roadblocks we found our way round the problems and made it to the airport.
Cartegena was a complete contrast to... well pretty much everywhere we had been in the continent so far, a definite change from South American to a Caribbean style. And it was hot!
Had a couple of days soaking up the sights and taking as many cold showers as possible to cool down.
Cartegena is a very pretty city with a very European influence in its buildings and little criss crossing streets. Guess it’s down to all the Europeans who came here on their way to steal all the South Americans gold. Visited some of the museums and walked round the city walls, was just like a tropical version of York!
After a very pleasant few days but not wanting to push our luck in a country that everyone gasps at when you mention you are going, we moved on to our tenth country of the trip, Venezuela.
Arriving by bus in the city centre of the capital Caracas we began looking for accommodation. Within a minute we had been warned by two different locals that this was not a nice part of town and so took the metro a couple of stops down to what we were told was a nicer area. Tried to find a double room in a couple of places but to no avail so when we finally came to a place that had space but was over our budget we were too hot and tired to look any further.
Continuing our lucky streak we realised it was Saturday afternoon and so all travel agents were now closed until Monday and thus we were stuck in Caracas for another two days before we could organise any of the trips we wanted to do. Anyone who has been here will know that Caracas is not really the best city to be stuck in if you have a couple of days to kill. Making the best of a bad thing we took full advantage of the Venezuelan love of shopping centres and visited as many of the air conditioned ones we could find!
Feeling fully refreshed the next morning we decided that as we were staying another night we should do something about our expensive accommodation and set about trying to find somewhere cheaper. There were a load of hotels on the street we were staying on so expected to have no trouble finding an alternative. After the 6th place had unconvincingly told us they had no rooms we were beginning to feel a little put out but in the next place everything became clear as they had their price list up on display. Deciding that the hourly rate they were charging would work out very expensive for an entire night we returned back to our own hotel where upon the excessive amount of mirrors in the room and the 24 hour `entertainment` channel all became clear!
On Monday we hit the travel agents in order to try and find a cheap flight to Islas Los Roques, a group of islands off the north coast of Venezuela which had been recommended to us as a place to visit.
Found out that there was a flight leaving fairly soon where upon our luck which has been with us for the duration of the trip so far, finally deserted us. Turning up for the metro fully loaded with our back packs we bought our tickets just as they announced that the trains wouldn't be running for the next half hour. We legged it back to our hotel in the midday sun to get a taxi as all the ones driving up and down the streets looked dodgy as hell. Taxi took ages to turn up and then we hit the entire city centre which we would have avoided on the underground! Thankfully made it to airport in time but to round things off I left my new hat on the back seat of the cab. Think hats are becoming the new equivalent of keys for me; I’m either wrecking them, losing them or having some other kind of disaster with em!
Anyway, after a short flight we arrived in pretty much paradise. Spent the next few days getting up in the morning to a huge breakfast of cereal, fruit, pancakes, scrambled eggs, fruit juice etc, etc, then walking down to the harbor and taking a boat to whatever island we had decided on for the day. Was fantastic, as with so many islands and beaches to choose from you pretty much had a desert island to yourself for the day.
We spent our days lazing on the various beaches and snorkeling in the crystal clear water around the coral reefs, of Francisky, Noronsky and Espenky Islands. Took a lot to get back on the plane to the mainland at the end of the week!
Back in Caracas we once again hit rush hour and so had a few hours sat in traffic. Eventually made it to the bus station and barely had time to grab some supplies for the journey before we were ushered onto our 10 hour night bus to the middle of the Venezuelan jungle.
Awoke at 6am to find ourselves in Ciudad Bolivar, and before we’d even woken up were accosted in the bus station to buy our tour through a particular company. To tired to argue we sat through their spiel and it actually looked fairly reasonable. We made a break for freedom and finding a place that sold coffee (not hard over here). Setting out after coffee we checked a few other companies and eventually returned to the first guy where we were plonked on the next available flight to their jungle camp.
Afternoon was spent walking under massive waterfalls and getting thoroughly soaked, fantastic fun.
Next morning we set off on our canoe trip up river to Angel Falls. Well, we eventually set off to Angel Falls after a complete ball up with organising guides and transport. Meant we had a couple of hours to kill in the morning which was done by drinking cheap Venezuelan rum. Thankfully didn’t have to endure too many glasses at that time of the morning as Matt and Jim who were with us got quite a taste for the stuff and fairly quickly polished off both of the bottles they had bought. Made for quite an entertaining trip once we got going, hadn’t realised it was possible for the same Aussie to fall out of the same canoe so often.
After a few hours traveling we rounded the final bend on our journey and saw the falls looming over us. After an hours hike we arrived at the very base of the falls and didn’t need much encouragement to dive in for a refreshing dip!
After that we quickly polished off a chicken BBQ and then settled down in our hammocks for a surprisingly good night’s kip.
We awoke in the morning to see the sun rising on the falls, all from the comfort of our hammocks. Then after a truly terrible breakfast (more scrambled shells than scrambled eggs) we set off back down river to the main camp before flying back over the jungle to Ciudad Bolivar again.
Now we are just sorting out jobs like the laundry which desperately needs doing after two weeks of sand and jungle and then tonight we are on bus heading south into Brazil. Plan is to then head into Guyana but as most South Americans we have asked for advice don’t seem to know of the countries existence so we’ll see how we get on!
Oxford English Dictionary Page 97:
HELL (PLACE) noun
Definition
1, an extremely unpleasant or difficult place, situation or experience:
Work is sheer hell at the moment.
The last few months have been absolute hell.
2, getting up at 3.30am to wait for your transport which eventually turns up at 7am. Then traveling 400 miles in 14 hours along flooded dirt roads in the baking sun and 80% humidity with 19 people crammed into a 15 seater pimped up minibus with red and blue leather seats and a zebra fur lined roof driven by a lad called Kevin who's favorite country and western music cassette is playing loudly on repeat.
Welcome to Guyana!
Was actually pretty good fun, and meant we got to see a lot more of the country than most people do I guess. But anyway, I best start this story from the beginning and I think we were in Venezuela last time I wrote.
So after our jungle adventure we boarded a night bus and headed south 16 hours and crossed back into Brazil. Then after a short wait in Boa Vista bus station we headed north east to the border with Guyana where we were greeted by a couple of chilled out boat operators who ferried us across the river/border and then another fairly relaxed taxi driver who took us to see about the only guy in the country who didn’t fit the Caribbean stereotype but who was unfortunately in charge of immigration. Fi spent about half an hour stood there getting eaten alive by mosquitoes saying yes sir and no sir till he eventually gave her an entry stamp, then I walked up to the desk and he asked what I wanted, "erm.... is that a trick question."
Note to self, do not crack jokes with Guyana officials, they have no sense of humor.
I end up stood there for half an hour as well going through the exact same questions he asked Fi. He was nothing but thorough I'll give him that!
Anyway having survived that trial we were taken to one of the few hotels in what turned out to be the very, very small town of Letham in the south west corner of Guyana.
After a brief scout around the town we discovered that there was no cash machine, no bank and in fact no way of obtaining money what so ever. Further more, due to the flooding of the one road running across the country no buses were running and there were no flights expected to their tiny airstrip for the next few days.
After racking our brains for ideas the only solution we could come up with was to scrape together all our remaining money which would be enough to get us back to Boa Vista then try and fly to Georgetown from there. A very long winded, back tracking way of doing things but our only viable option, the major downside being another hour trying to explain to happy why after requesting a 10 day entry stamp to his country we were now fleeing back to Brazil the day after.
Feeling fairly deflated we collapsed into bed but Fi thought it best to see if she could find out how early an alarm we would need in order to make the bus back to Boa Vista. Failing to find any hotel receptionist she approached the nearest stranger to see if they knew.
Having got the bad luck out of the way in Venezuela it would appear things are changing for the better (well to the extent of once we get ourselves into a hole at least a solution presents itself). Alex and Vidya from Georgetown had been to Brazil and had returned to Lethem only to find their flight had left without them that morning so were as stuck as we were. To resolve this they had contacted a guy with a minibus to ferry them overland back home and they kindly offered to pay for us to go with them and for us to pay them back once we got to civilisation. So this is how our 3.30am start materialised which then became an 8am start once Kevin had got his act together and finished messing about at the petrol station (pumped 25 gallons into 5 gallon buckets and then siphoned it into the tank cos he didn’t trust the petrol pumps gauge!).
We were then on our way slipping and sliding along mud tracks and then walking through rivers of mud as the top heavy bus wobbled precariously, wheel spinning its way through the tricky bits. And some of these rivers which had pretty much destroyed the road looked pretty deep but not to worry, Kevin had a foolproof method for ensuring the bus would make it through safely; get his mate to strip to his boxers and wade through first and if he didn’t get more than about waist deep he'd follow in the bus, Genius.
Was very slow going but great fun seeing the countryside and the giant storks and other birds flying over the savanna alongside the bus.
And thankfully being the resourceful man he was before we set off Alex had snaffled a big bag full of mangos from the tree at the back of the hotel, so there was no danger of us going hungry.
Was a good crowd of people in the bus so the banter kept us entertained (mainly people having a pop at Kevin’s driving!).
After a few hours the open savanna ended and we were winding our way through deep jungle. Pausing momentarily to use the compressor on a bed ford truck going the other way we pumped up our tyre with a not so slow puncture and we were once again on our way and making good time. The only stop after that being when we spotted a couple of wild turkeys on the road ahead of us. It turned out that the case on the dash did not in fact hold Kevin’s snooker cue as he pulled out a pump action shot gun. Fortunately for the turkeys his shooting was on par with his driving and after his first shot the turkeys disappeared into the jungle. Not one to miss a free meal and spurred on by the heckling from the back he gunned the minibus forward whilst firing randomly into the jungle from the bus window. Moments later he returned triumphantly from the undergrowth with one of the pair meaning that his decision as to what to have for tea was made and that for the rest of the journey there were now 20 bodies in the back of the bus!
From there the road got slightly better but unfortunately Kevin’s driving didn’t, think he was actually using the potholes in the road as some kind of brail to navigate and this resulted in our second puncture of the trip.
But eventually we reached tarmac and by 10pm we arrived in our destination Georgetown. To tired to care we took the first hotel we could find. This unfortunately was the ninety four dollars a night Tower Hotel but it had a bed and that was all we were worried about.
The next morning we didn't even get a lie in as we had many jobs to do. So dragging ourselves up out of the big comfy bed we headed for the bank to get some money and then to the Suriname Embassy to obtain a visa. This again turned into a mission as firstly I wasn't allowed into the Embassy because I was wearing shorts so had to stand outside in the street and sign the forms through the fence. Then we had to head into town to get passport photos, back to the embassy to hand in the forms, then back into town to kill a couple of hours till the visa was processed. Fortunately this gave us time to scout out a less extortionately priced hotel. Returning to the embassy, again with me out in the street, we waited nearly two hours for the girl to finish typing up the huge pile of visas she had on her desk before she would give us ours, even though ours were finished in the first 5 minutes. They do love their bureaucracy here.
Anyway, visas finally obtained we went back into town and phoned Alex to arrange meeting up and settling our bill, whereupon he invited us to their house for dinner. So at 6pm we were heading a short distance up the coast to their home and spent the evening sat on their balcony chatting and drinking rum and coke. And we stuffed ourselves on the first home cooked meal we'd had in a long time. Can't say the fish egg pasty was completely to my taste but the beef curry was delicious, a really nice night.
Yet another early morning beckoned though so saying goodnight we headed back to our hotel and by 5.30am we were in yet another minibus. Not quite as many people in this one so that was a welcome relief. Was quite a hairy journey though as Fatman (I'm not being abusive here, that’s what everyone called him and is what it says on his business card) sped through the countryside. His need for speed was explained when we arrived at a river crossing to find a fair old queue for the ferry. Not wanting to have his schedule disrupted Fatman got quite aggressive in his argument with another minibus driver over who had rights to the last spot on the ferry but the discussions were essentially over when the other fella pulled a gun on our guy. It didn't stop him grumbling for the following hour though until we got onto the next ferry.
Reaching the other side I thought we'd been going quickly before, but that was nothing now we were behind schedule for the ferry at the Guyana - Suriname border.
Relieved to arrive safely at our destination having avoided other vehicles and the various cows, goats and horses wandering across the main road we bought our ferry tickets and then had a three hour wait till they could be arsed setting off. Glad now Fatman had put his foot down otherwise we wouldn’t have had much time to hang around in the baking heat getting bitten by mosquitoes with no Guyana money left for a cold drink.
So Suriname then, would it be worth the 30 dollar entry fee. In short no, in fact if anyone tells you that Caracas is the worst capital city in South America then they haven’t visited Paramaribo! After another 4 or 5 hours in a cramped minibus (only one puncture this time though) we arrived in the highlight of Suriname at roughly 8pm on a Saturday night. After paying 20 US dollars (nice friendly woman wouldn’t accept her own currency as it devalues so damn quickly) for a very basic room in the YWCA, the only accommodation we could find in a half hour search, things weren’t looking good. Undeterred we set out to find somewhere to eat and maybe have a few drinks what with it being Saturday night and all. An hour later the only place we had come across which was open was Kip Fried Chicken or something like that, a Colonel wanna be anyway. So after some very ropey poultry and no sign of a bar anywhere we called it a night.
In the morning, Sunday morning and after the state of the Saturday night you can guess how quiet the place was, we made a determined effort to find some life and eventually after much searching and a break for siesta to escape the midday heat we came across a little pocket of civilisation on the outskirts of town. Filling ourselves on the local food of noodles and chicken we then decided to make contact with the outside world as we discovered an internet cafe. All being well you were due to be reading this update on Sunday night but as the clouds darkened outside and the rain got heavier and heavier one loud clap of thunder and burst of lightening later we were plunged into darkness as the whole city went black. Unable to move out from under shelter due to the torrential rain we were forced to sit in the candlelit bar next door watching the storm and getting slowly toasted on litre bottles of beer and potent cocktails. As the dizziness increased we decided it would probably be best if we got some food inside us to soak up the alcohol, and luckily it was at this point the power was restored. Plumping for local food again I went with a huge pile of fried rice and Fiona picked randomly and went with a dish called Pom. When it turned up neither of us could figure out what it was besides the fact that it tasted delicious. Curious to know we asked the waiter to explain to us what Pom is, "Pom is Pom. It grows in the ground, you dig it up, and you grate it, its Pom." Well that’s that little mystery all cleared up then!
A lie in the next morning to sleep off our hangovers was the intended plan but this was scuppered by the nice friendly lady banging on our door at 7am to get another 20 dollars off us.
Dragging ourselves up we stumbled to the travel agents to make our travel arrangements which resulted in a complete palaver of having to go back and forth between travel agents, internet and the one place in the city you could phone or fax from. So after about four hours we were finally sorted and not overly sad to be leaving Suriname we caught our minibus for the French Guyana border.
Quite a quick journey this one, once again due to the fact that the driver was going as fast as he could, despite the torrential downpour and the inability to see further than about ten metres. Arriving amidst the chaos of all the boatmen touting for your custom we finally picked one and he took us across the water to receive our 12th different country of the trip and thus completing our collection of all the countries in the continent. Turns out that cos it’s basically France here we didn’t actually need to get a stamp, but we would have been gutted coming all this way if they then hadn’t given us one!
That was a couple of days ago now but I think I've written enough for this installment. We will start the tales of French Guyana next time.
You might be wondering what a couple of chancers like us are doing at just after six in the morning, as the first rays of sunlight are cresting the hills, in the worlds busiest spaceship launch facility having a fried breakfast with heads of state, corporate directors and high ranking military officials.
To be honest I was wondering the same thing myself.
Our French Guyana visit has definitely been one of contrast, that’s for sure.
It began, as has become accustomed in recent times, with a long bumpy minibus journey. That was once we'd sat around at the border for a couple of hours till the bus was full.
So by the time we got to our destination of Kourou it was about 9pm and dark again. What we weren't prepared for was the distinct lack of accommodation in the town and in a short while we had exhausted our short list and all the places the driver could think of with them either being full, closed or non-existent!
Preparing ourselves for either a night in a bar or digging the tent out the last guy to get off the bus said that if we wanted we could stay with him, in return for paying his bus fare. Fairs fair I suppose, so we turned up to find his bewildered girlfriend wondering who these strangers were her boyfriend had brought home with him. They were very accommodating though giving up their bed for us to use and even digging out their one English language DVD for us to watch. Can’t say Fi was overly happy at seeing Dawn of the Dead just before bed but they meant well.
Next morning we set out to go looking for more hotels and hadn't gone far when we were offered a lift. After a while of driving round it became apparent that we weren’t going to find anyone with vacancies so for the second time that day we found ourselves in a complete stranger’s house. Very kindly given our own room and shown where everything was we then set about exploring the town.
Kourou is a town which has been purpose built to house the workers from the Ariane Space Centre. If you think Milton Keynes, but with palm trees you wouldn’t be far off.
Had a bit of a wander around and escaped the midday heat by joining the local library and sitting in air-conditioning using free internet and reading all the English magazines we could find in their collection and French copies of Tintin books.
Our main aim for heading here was to see the space station and we had heard that there may actually be a launch during our time there. A bit of searching on the web, some emailing and a couple of phone calls in which Fi resurrected her rusty French we eventually got through to a helpful lady who we asked how we go about watching the launch.
She said that it was a bit late notice as all tickets are generally applied for a long time in advance but leave it with her and she would see what she could do. Arse, tickets, never thought of that one, just thought we'd be able to stand in a field and watch the goings on although subsequent research showed that the facility was 30kms long so probably not a viable option.
Later that day we checked back in with her and were instructed to head to one of the hotels in town to collect our tickets which she had arranged to be dropped off. Fantastic news, although we had no idea what these tickets would actually enable us to do and how much of the launch we would see. Collected the tickets and very surprised to see that they said VIP on the front of them, must be some kind of acronym for the satellite being launched we thought, Vertical Installation Procedure or something.
The following morning we thought it best to gen up a bit so headed to the space museum which was practically deserted so we could peruse all the displays and interactive displays at our leisure. Putting our combined knowledge together we managed to design and launch a satellite into orbit and a tactical strike missile. Well, it's not rocket science is it!
The museum was really well done and after a few hours we felt we were up to speed on what we were hopefully going to see that night. Therefore we decided it was probably best we took a well earned rest and went back to bed. We're not lazy it's just the best way to escape the heat you know!
So the evening of the launch arrived, or should I say morning as we dragged ourselves out of bed at 1am. The taxi turned up spot on time at half one (despite all Fiona’s doubts that she'd made a mess of her French on the phone when booking it) and ten minutes later we were driving past police road blocks and into the launch facility.
Dropped amongst a fair old crowd of people we found our way to the sign in desk and were given our VIP passes (so it did mean VIP then) and information pack. Shortly afterwards most of the people began boarding coaches and were taken out to the various viewing areas around the edge of the site. Unable to see one with the name on our passes, the Jupiter Room, and getting a bit panicky that we were going to get left behind we asked for help and were directed to a security guard who searched us and once we'd passed through a metal detector we were told to head upstairs.
At the top of the stairs we emerged into a room with a couple of televisions showing the launch pad and big glass windows along two of the walls. Having a quick look out of the windows we couldn't actually see the rocket but something more important had caught Fi's attention, the bar in the middle of the room serving hot coffee and pastries. All very welcome at this time of a morning.
Well this is very nice we thought, but were still a little puzzled as to where we should be looking for the big event. It was then we noticed that the room had another door leading out of it and what appeared to be another flight of stairs. Curiosity getting the better of us we headed up the stairs had our passes checked again and then we both stopped in our tracks and had to do a double take. Ok then, so we're in the control tower.
Still to this day I have no idea how it happened, maybe sent us the wrong tickets by mistake, maybe some confusion on the phone when they asked if we were from the press and Fiona said I was an aerospace engineer, I just don't know, but one way or another we'd ended up in mission control!!!!
We just stood there in amazement watching all the technicians busy at their terminals with the room dominated by huge screens showing different angles of the rocket and the obligatory huge countdown timer.
We took our seats as various military officials came in, followed by the director of the company whose satellite was being launched, then the French Minister of Education and Research and various other dignitaries.
Not really sure who half the people were, all I knew was they were a hell of a lot more important than we were and we couldn't have looked more out of place if we'd tried. Still, one of the fellas didn’t seem to mind when we asked him to take our picture in front of the big screen.
Had arrived with about two hours to go till the scheduled launch time of 3.39am so I just sat enthralled, watching as the clock ticked down and various screens and panels turned green to show there were no problems. Fi showed her excitement by promptly falling asleep for an hour or so. Guess spaceships are a boy thing, although the stinking cold stopping her sleeping for the last couple of nights might have something to do with her tiredness.
With about half an hour to go the three huge TV screens above the technical display came to life (as did Fi) and donning our headphones so we could hear in English we were shown videos of the assembly of the rocket and satellite.
With seven minutes to go the launch director transfers the final countdown control to the computer which then begins running through all its final preparations and checks.
Things getting very exciting now and with one minute to go the doors at the side of the room are opened and we are allowed out onto a balcony to see the launch. With the headphones not working outside we lose our translation so can only hear the voice of the launch director coming from the outdoor speakers. My grasp of the French language is pretty appalling and my knowledge of space launches is limited but I'm fairly certain that countdowns don’t go 19, 18, 17, 16, 15 and then stop.
Going back inside we find that the plug has been pulled at 15 seconds due to a problem with the incendry device which is used to ignite the solid fuel in the boosters. I don't know they should have let me have a crack at it. After new years at Alex's, running back and forth from the kitchen with burning bits of cardboard, I'm an expert at getting dodgy rockets to launch. Mind you, I hadn't had quite as much Stella and champagne this time though, so probably best let the professionals handle things.
We sat back down to watch the ensuing activity with many phone calls going back and forth with the technicians at the launch pad.
The launch window available was an exceptionally large one apparently and they had two hours within which they could still go ahead as planned. An hour later people were beginning to look a little more nervous and with only half an hour left you could see the Thai company director counting how much money it was gonna cost him every day his satellite wasn’t in space till the next launch date could be set.
With 19 minutes left on the clock the launch director finally got the call he was waiting for and all lights went green again. Handing control over to the computer again the countdown was restarted from seven minutes.
Feeling the growing tension in the room it was a relief to get back out into the fresh air on the balcony and everyone went quiet as the launch director finished the countdown; cinq, quatre, trois, deux, un....... then nothing.
Ahhh nuts lets go back inside, then suddenly with a blinding flash of light as the boosters ignited the rocked lifted into the night sky. We watched it rising quicker and quicker as my brain told me that something wasn't quite right. It took a couple of seconds till I realised that the rocket wasn’t making any noise. Two seconds after that I had my hands over my ears as the shockwaves finally hit us.
Was just an assault on the senses, the light was fantastically bright and the noise was just deafening. Just stood there staring as it climbed above our heads and then watched as at two minutes into the mission the boosters were jettisoned and the main thruster took over.
A few minutes later the rocket appeared as just another star in the sky.
Back inside to the control room we watched all the data scrolling by on the screens and various pieces of information being called out in French. Thankfully we had our translator back so we knew when various objectives had been achieved. We didn’t need the translation for the final separation though as the clapping and cheering told us that their satellite had been successfully placed in its orbit.
So Arianespace did its job again putting the worlds largest ever satellite into orbit, Thailand now has even faster broadband internet and Mark and Fiona had a very, very cool evening, everyone goes home happy. Well I would have been happy if my belly hadn’t suddenly realised it had been up for over five hours and was absolutely starving. Heading back down stairs and out into the new dawn we were greeted by table after table of eggs, sausages, bread, fruit, coffee, juices, and pastries galore, I could definitely get used to this VIP lifestyle!
Getting a lift back to the house we only had an hour of snoozing to try and refresh ourselves before we were heading off to the capital Cayenne to queue for hours in a crowded Suriname embassy to get yet another visa. Like I said earlier, French Guyana has been a country of contrast and this was a long, long way from an air conditioned VIP lounge. Anyway, job done and skanked for another 30 Euros each due to the embassy in Georgetown not giving us a multiple entry visa and Cayenne 'apparently' not able to supply us with a transit visa we had to pay the full whack again. Safe to say, Suriname is not on our Christmas card list.
Anyway, aborting our original plan do some sightseeing in the capital, due to Fiona’s cold getting worse and the fact there was stuff all to see (Warrington has more to offer) we headed back to Kourou and collapsed into bed for a well deserved rest.
Feeling more refreshed after our nap we were treated to a home cooked meal by the family we were staying with, complete with fish that the dad had caught himself that morning. We whiled the evening telling the family all about our travels and hearing about theirs, what with em having lived in France, England, Madagascar and various other Pacific islands before ending up in French Guyana.
Next morning was another early start to catch a boat out to the Iles du Salut, the penal colonies about 30 miles off the mainland. One of the islands is undergoing restoration so some of the buildings have been put back to their original appearance, but this island is therefore pretty busy with the bulk of the tourists going here and all the workmen as well. For us, Iles St Joseph was a much more interesting place. So far no renovation has taken place so the prison has been untouched for 50 years. Fascinating so see the hundreds of cramped cells and the way the jungle has reclaimed the territory in such a short space of time. Huge vines and palm trees growing up through what used to be the prisoners quarters and giant lizards patrolling where the guards used to walk.
Hard to imagine what the conditions must have been like there in its heyday, pretty harrowing I would imagine. The story Papillion tells of the time that Henri 'Papillion' Charrierei was incarcerated here and made his alleged escape, although he apparently stole his ideas and information from other prisoners and actually escaped from Cayenne, not the islands. It didn’t stop him making a shed load of money from his novel though.
Returning to the mainland with our catamaran in full sail, we sat in the evening sun sipping a local concoction of rum, cane sugar and lemon, rounded off the trip nicely.
A lazy day followed for Fi to finally get over her cold and then today we hitchhiked back to Suriname and the airport at Paramaribo.
And so that’s that, all countries in South America visited, loads and loads of cool things seen and experienced, so I guess its time we headed back home to face reality.
Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut, we don’t really want to. Instead we thought we might go and see Bolivia as we didn’t really get a chance last time what with all the problems.
So via a bit of a roundabout route through Trinidad, Venezuela, Colombia and Peru we eventually hope to get to Bolivia. Bit of a long winded route but doing it this way kept the airfare pretty low.
So fingers crossed in about 3 days time if we make all our connections and nobody loses our luggage we should be in Bolivia.
Will let you know how it goes.
Airline customer services, a critique:
BWIA, Paramaribo. Told by Suriname Airways staff at 1am that the 4am BWIA flight was delayed as BWIA staff couldn’t be arsed turning up till about 7.
One good point was that the BWIA guy was so elusive that no one else seemed to find out about the room they had put sandwiches and drinks out in so by the time the plane took off at about 11 we were both well fed and watered!
Plus, as an added bonus and claim to fame, we were sharing our plane with the mighty UB40 who had just played to a packed out crowd in Suriname. Yeah, I can tell you’re jealous.
BWIA staff Trinidad, initially helpful attempting to find us an alternative to the Aeropostal flight we had already missed. Slightly patronising when she found out that Aeropostal had shafted us and ignored our booking and confirmation because there is apparently no way to confirm your tickets if you’re not in Trinidad or Venezuela even though you ring the number you are given and are told, yes you have successfully confirmed your tickets.
Played along with it, yes mam, no mam, we are complete idiots, oh whatever are we to do stuck here now in Trinidad for the night, until she took pity on us smuggled us a company voucher for the Hotel Bel Air. Very, very grateful to have a roof over our heads for the night and even more grateful it was free when we found out the cost of things. Food was included so went for the three course lunch which when I signed for came to 88 dollars so god knows how much the room itself was!
After lunch relaxed by the pool and had a bit of a dip to cool off then returned to our room for a bit of a siesta. Came to in the darkness and after checking the time found out it was nearly midnight! Dagnammit, slept right through dinner, not like me to miss food, never mind when it’s free I hear you say.
We were woken up at 4.30am by our alarm, in complete darkness which stayed complete darkness even when Fi flicked the light on. After digging out our torches we made it downstairs (getting used to these power cuts now) and took the courtesy bus to the airport to begin the whole process of waiting for standby tickets to get us back to Caracas in Venezuela.
Aeropostal, Trinidad, after being fairly unhelpful yesterday due to our non-existent booking Anita was in a much better mood this morning but told us we’d have an agonising three hour wait to see if all 135 passengers would turn up before we’d find out if we could get seats.
We got chatting to a Danish guy who had been on our flight from Suriname and was also waiting for a standby ticket. Time went on and more and more names were checked off the passenger list.
Eventually with half an hour till take off they closed check in with 133 passengers accounted for.
This skin of our teeth thing really takes it out of you and we both collapsed exhausted into our plane seats. Unfortunately the Danish guy didn’t make it on the plane but after hearing the recent footy result I don’t feel too sympathetic anymore!
We arrived in Caracas an hour later, so had already missed our Avianca flight to Bogota, Colombia. Arse.
Avianca staff Caracas. Unable to leave the secure area of the airport (if we passed through immigration into the public area we would then have to pay the airport tax of 100 dollars) we got the information desk to contact Avianca and send one of their staff through to speak to us. What we failed to realise was that they were sending their most unhelpful member of staff through to deal with us. There was an hour till their next flight which would have got us to Bogota in time to connect with our remaining flights. After another agonising wait where we assumed we were on standby we were told that the flight had gone, it appears we weren’t on standby after all so god knows what we were doing sitting twiddling our thumbs for an hour!?!?
Much discussions later we arrived at the conclusion that he couldn’t really be arsed dealing with us and just gave us a load of phone numbers to ring and re book all our flights. After a bit of insistence we got him to ring the number seeing as he spoke much better Spanish than us and after 5 minutes he told us that someone had cancelled our original booking and that he could no longer help us and legged it! Cheers mate.
Struggling for ideas we sat down dejected in the arrivals hall until hunger got the better of us. Unfortunately there is no way of obtaining food at this side of security so whilst attempting to talk my way into the food hall the nice security guy who I had explained our problem to pointed out another Avianca official. Not holding out much hope we re-explained our problem and taking our tickets he said he would see what he could find out.
Still hungry I sent of in search of sustenance returning armed with burgers and chips only to find Fi struggling into the queue for security with all the rucksacs dragging behind her. Apparently the guy had come up trumps. He had a mate who works for another airline that flies direct from Caracas to Lima which is where we would have ended up after two Avianca flights. So after a contribution to his beer fund for the night and waiting till his boss had left the office he swapped our two tickets for a direct Aeropostal one. Jobs a good un.
Well, it was till the plane took off about two hours late, but as we’d already had about 8 hours in the airport by then it didn’t make much difference to us.
This was once we’d negotiated all the security. Obviously with the amount of time we’d spent in arrivals I’d become concerned about our bags going round and round the carousel all on their lonesome so had snuck through immigration (again) to retrieve them. Armed with new tickets and bags we were told to head for the gate where someone would collect our bags and put them on the plane. Problem was we were in an area designed for just hand luggage. So once we’d managed to actually squeeze our huge bags through the tiny x-ray machine we then had to hand over our penknife, sewing kit, scissors, and camping gas canister (the 4 foot long spiked poles strapped to the outside of Fi´s bag were apparently fine but the inch long sewing needle could have brought down the plane!). Not wanting to part with our things we then caused much chaos trying to find someone to take our bags back through security and out to the official check in desk. Eventually a nice Aeropostal man succumbed to our pleas and agreed to help us. Pushing our luck we also handed him our Venezuelan postcards and all our spare change so if none of you receive any postcards from Venezuela we’ll know that we contributed to someone else’s beer fund that day as well!
Finally making it onto the plane we snoozed and ate for a few hours till arriving in Lima.
LAN Peru, Lima and shock of shocks, we arrived in Lima in time for our flight to Cuzco, walked up to the check in desk and in seconds were given our boarding passes with no hint of a cancelled booking or anything, unbelievable.
It being stupid o clock in the morning we did have a few hours to kill till our 6am flight or whenever it was, afraid both our brains were a bit pickled by this point so we’re a bit hazy on the facts.
Anyway the flight passed without a hitch (apart from having to shell out for Peruvian airport tax which loses LAN Peru a couple of points) and we emerged into the freezing cold of Cuzco early on Wednesday morning, only a couple of days after we’d set foot in our first airport of this particular journey.
From there we took a cab to the bus station and headed for a town called Puno on the coast of Lake Titicaca. Our final destination was in fact Copacabana, a Bolivian town also on the coast of the lake. Changing buses in Puno we arrived in the Peruvian border town with not long till immigration was due to close. Unfortunately the only form of transport available to us was a young lad with his rickshaw. Despite our concerns that it was gonna be pretty tough going peddling both of us and our rucksacks to the border he was still game and all was going well as we trundled downhill to the lake side. It was there that things took a turn for the worse as about a kilometer long hill loomed in front of us with immigration located at the very top. Fair play to the lad, he did give it his best but halfway up the hill with him on the verge of a coronary I had to hop off to lessen the weight. This went well for another few hundred metres till the gradient increased again at which point our tactic reverted to me and the lad pushing the bike with Fi sat up front like lady muck!
Eventually making it to the border (now in the dark) we gave the lad a well deserved drink and paid him for his services before heading off on foot to find the Bolivian immigration. Thankfully this wasn’t too far and was one of our smoothest border crossings despite the fact we didn’t have an exit stamp from the last time we visited Bolivia. Must have been getting near home time as the official gave us both our stamps no questions asked.
And so began our second stint in Bolivia. But as that was about 4 days ago now and since then we’ve had a pretty hectic schedule I’m too tired to type up our activities just now.
Will catch some sleep on the night bus we are waiting for and hopefully continue the story shortly.
Right then where was I? Oh yeah, Bolivia, been a bit lazy of late I’m afraid so now in Peru with the last country still to write up. Roped Fi to help with the catching up so should be getting a Peru report soon enough as well.
Anyway, crossing into Bolivia we headed for Copacabana on the shore of Lake Titicaca. Booked ourselves into a 3 quid a night double room, en-suite with breakfast included and then went for a 3-course meal with drinks which cost about a quid. Have I mentioned how much I love Bolivia!
Next morning we took a walk down to the lake front and boarded a boat for a trip to the Island of the Sun, the mythical birthplace of the Inka`s or something. As per usual in South America the alleged place that the moon and the sun were created was just a big random rock that if you tipped your head to the side and squinted a bit looked vaguely representative.
After leaving the rock we set off on what we were told was a nice walk across the island to the south end but to arrive there no later than 3pm as the boat would not wait!
After a three hour slog uphill along the 12km path and practically sprinting at the end we made it with 5 minutes to spare, so much for a nice gentle stroll!
The next morning we hopped on a bus to the capital of Bolivia, La Paz. After arriving and finding a hostel we checked out the city centre, which is like most other cities in the world, but over 4000 metres above sea level. This is an important point to remember when you forget something on your way out and you say "I’ll just nip back upstairs and get it" before collapsing on about the 4th step.
One of the main attractions we’d heard about in the La Paz area was "the world’s most dangerous road". The route from La Paz to Coroico is about 62kms with two thirds of it being a gravel road no wider than your driveway with a steep cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other. Apparently in its worst year over 40 vehicles disappeared into the abyss. So we thought it would be a really good idea to go mountain biking down it!
After a fry up in the morning (including crispy bacon!) we set off out of La Paz in the van with the bikes on the roof. Arriving at our start point of La Cumbre, a mere 4,700 metres above sea level and with over a three and a half kilometer VERTICAL drop ahead of us we listened carefully to our briefing by our guide Kory (he’s American), took a swig of alcohol and shared it with Pachamama (mother earth) to ensure us a safe journey and then we were on our way.
The first 20kms are on nice tarmac road so there was plenty of opportunity to get used to the bikes and enjoy the scenery.
Once the tarmac is finished, the real fun starts. And that includes watching all the other vehicles traveling the road as it appears to be one of the major cargo routes into La Paz. There are one or two passing places but the "vehicle going down has to give way to the vehicle coming up" rule seems to go out the window when the vehicle coming up is a minibus and the vehicle going down is a 16 wheeler!
Had great fun bombing down the road under waterfalls and through rivers although the ever increasing numbers of crosses at the roadside were a constant reminder not to go too fast near the edge.
After a number of hours of bouncing around, feeling glad we stumped up the extra cash for the full suspension bikes we arrived tired, dusty and hungry at the bottom where we were welcomed with an ice cold beer. After that we were whisked off to a local hotel where we had hot showers before being treated to a huge buffet dinner.
After that it was time to pile back in the van and head back to La Paz. Unfortunately, you’ve guessed it, the route we took was back up the way we’d come. It felt a lot safer when I was at the controls!
After a deep, deep sleep we got up on Sunday to a fun filled day of souvenir shopping. Well after setting ourselves up with a fried breakfast and breaking halfway through for a Sunday roast. Not quite the same when it’s done with alpaca meat but you’ve got to take what you can get.
After being dragged around the shops for a second time (not sure what’s up with Fi, she normally hates shopping, must be the altitude) we finally finished and after a bit of a breather hopped onto a night bus for 11 hours to the town of Potosi.
Arriving at 6am we just had time to fortify ourselves with breakfast before heading off on a tour of the silver mines in the area.
It was a very eye opening experience to see people working in conditions akin to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom for the equivalent of about 4 quid a day. Before descending into the mines we stopped off at the market to buy presents for the miners. Bottles of water, Coca Cola, sticks of dynamite, just like your average trip to Tesco.
The conditions in the mines were truly incredible and after only three hours beneath the surface I was so glad to feel fresh air on my face again. God knows how these guys do it day after day for 30 odd years (life expectancy is not too high and anyone over 50 is considered some kind of walking miracle!).
Before heading back to town we were given one last treat. Our guide had kept back a couple of sticks of explosive and after a little too long, in my opinion, of posing for photos and having to rescue Bert from becoming the first moose in orbit we saw a couple of huge craters blasted into the earth.
Back to Potosi and after another ridiculously cheap three course meal we were back on the same night bus to La Paz.
Pausing in La Paz for some more shopping (definitely the altitude) we then got onto another bus to find ourselves back in Copacabana for the evening. With its lakeside location it’s a much more chilled out place to hang out than the capital.
Next morning after trawling the shops again (this is now getting worrying) we headed back across the border into Peru and on to the town of Puno.
The attraction here is the 40 odd floating islands a little way into Lake Titicaca. The inhabitants harvest the reeds and pack them tightly till they have about a metre thick base on which to build their homes. Quite impressive really, their houses are made from reeds, their boats, their furniture etc, etc and the floor moves underneath you as you walk along! We were warned that it was a mega touristy kind of place but found we got less hassle to buy things than we had on the mainland so quite enjoyed ourselves.
Back to Puno for an afternoon of exciting jobs like laundry and booking bus tickets we then picked a restaurant with the biggest fire we could find as the place to eat our tea as it was freezing outside (our new alpaca hats and gloves well worth the money). Have seen meat cooked in front of you before in fancy restaurants (I have been to fancy restaurants you know, well if you stand on tip toes at McDonalds you can see them frying the burgers!) but never seen the same trick with pizzas. It was quite impressive to see em cook it in front of you in the huge wood oven.
Next morning was (as per) an early start to catch our bus back to Cuzco. Was not the best journey we’ve had on this trip and after sitting in a remote town for a couple of hours, driving ridiculously slowly and deciding not to look after this lads DVD player for him while we got searched in a police check point (just call me suspicious but the prospect of spending 20 years in a Peruvian prison does not appeal), we finally made it back to Cuzco.
Four days of trekking along the path of an ancient civilisation, seeing amazing ruins and scenery, quite literally breath taking at 4200M, all culminating in Machu Pichu one of the wonders of Latin America, sounds fantastic. But you will be with 180 other people and have 320 porters no choice National Park regulations and suddenly the trip has the potential to become hell on Earth.
But when you’ve read about somewhere years ago and built a mental picture, you can’t come this close and not see it for real. So we bit the bullet for the most expensive walk of our lives and signed up three and a half months ago because its stupidly booked up and now it was about to begin.
We arrived back in Cusco on Friday afternoon, settled the remaining bill with Q´uente and got our briefing. Our group of 16 was made up of 11 Brits, 1 Scot, 2 Americans and 2 Canadians, not forgetting 2 guides and 22 porter yes 22, crazy, especially as you still carry your own stuff, but then this is camping with a difference.
An early start, up at 5.30 am with packed breakfast from our hotel and we were off, nearly two hours on a bus, then pee break and mobbed by stick sellers, Mark decides that maybe this is a sign of things to come and gets a bamboo stick just in case. Another 45 minutes and we are at km 82 the start of the trek, as are 180 other people and we queue for about an hour and a half in the sun to register I am exhausted already and we haven’t even started. The path winds it way along for a couple of hours before we stop for lunch and we are greeted with bowls of water, soap, towels and then a three course lunch in the dining tent. Refreshed we set off again, our porters running past with tents and provisions to set up ahead of us, a few more hours of undulating path and we reach Wallybamba our camp for the night, a well earned beer, tea popcorn and crackers before a little siesta and then dinner, another three course cordon bleu affair in the dining tent, like I said camping with a difference.
Woken at 5.30am with hot coffee and a bowl of water to our tent, we are then fortified with fruit, yogurt and pancakes, for what we are warned will be the hardest day of the trek. Three hours of up hill and flagging we are greeted with a sandwich, tea and popcorn, before the final grueling ascent to 4200m, well after 4 hours of steps up, and every reducing oxygen, your lungs don’t feel your own and its a blessed relief to reach the first pass, or it would have been if we then didn’t have to descend for another hour and a half, if my lungs weren’t my own on the way up, my knees left me on the descent and we arrived at our camp Pagaymaya truly shattered. Still hardest day over we had three course lunch, snooze, tea, cards, dinner and bed. Our sleeping bags have definitely been one of the best purchases we have ever made cos we were toasty, which was a relief as we had been warned it would be cold at 3600m.
Another early start at 5.30am, breakfast and off for the longest day of the trek, a cruel start uphill to the second pass, then down still not sure which is worse, then a beautiful stretch of Peruvian flat which is not flat but nor is it horribly steep. Lunch on the third pass and then all down hill a total of 1100m down, oh my poor knees, felt like I was 80years old, very glad to reach our camp Wiñay Wayna. A brief rest and then we set off to see our fourth and most impressive ruin of the day Wiñay Wayna itself. Tea, beer, dinner, beer and an impressive recovery at poker from eighth to second by Mark and it was time for bed.
Yep you’ve guessed it, the most over used phrase of this trip, "yet another very early start" 4.00am this time for the final walk to Machu Picchu. We walk to the check point in the dark, all of 500m, wait until it opens at 5.30am then we’re off, the pace notably quicker as everyone wants to avoid the crowds. Still it’s a nice gentle undulation for an hour or so, before climbing 50 vertigo inducing steps, keep going I tell myself the Sun gate to Machu Picchu is just at the top, or at least that’s what I have selectively recalled from our guides instructions. We reach the top, Mark asking if I am ok as I keel over gasping my last, I try to gesticulate as words fail me, where is the Sun gate, Mark replies, just another few minutes of uphill barely breaking sweat, this is sooooo unfair.
Finally we crest the Sun gate and our first view of Machu Picchu awesome, and then it was gone, as thick cloud rolled up the valley, we began our descent relieved we had at least glimpsed it, still willing the cloud to clear. Thankfully as we grew closer the sun began to burn through the clouds and we got a truly fantastic view of Machu Picchu. Then to the check point to register and put bags in storage, the entrance bearing a distinct resemblance to Alton Towers, too many people, extortionate food and drinks and tacky souvenirs. Finally a tour around the sight with our guide giving us several theories on the ruins and why they were suddenly deserted, I say theories cos there seems to be so little concrete evidence that its anyone’s guess as to what each sight was used for, what life was like and why it came to such an abrupt end.
By this point Mark has lost all interest and is just frustrated by the number of tourists and I am hot and tired, so we decide to leave with Mat and Jemma for some lunch in Agua Calientes. Walking back to the entrance Mark discovers that some fat American has pinched his stick. Everyone in our group was told to leave their stick in a pile by the luggage store because no sticks were allowed in the ruins, unless you are American and fat it would seem. Revived he stormed back into the ruin to try and find his stick but to no avail.
Cheese burger and chips to calm our growling bellies and one final uphill walk to the thermal springs, to ease our weary limbs, a relaxing afternoon chatting in a giant bath with ice cold beers, bliss!!
Well I suppose as Fi is out working hard and I’m the lazy unemployed one I should get my act together and complete our diary entries.
We finished our Inca trek and returned to Cusco where we had 4 or 5 days before we began our journey home.
First things first and after showering and changing we headed out to the nearest pub to meet up with the others from the trek for a few well earned drinks. Staggering home at the end of the night we had the wonderful feeling of not setting the alarm clock for the first time in what felt like ages.
After a long lie in and missing breakfast we packed our bags and headed off to find a cheaper hostel (and one with a decent shower).
Having not walked far we found somewhere not particularly great but it was cheap and would do for one night so we could look further without 40 kilos of stuff on our backs!
Dumping our gear and avoiding the owners attempts to sell us a place on every single tour he had available we set off for a wander round town. After a reasonable amount of sightseeing it was down to business and we located a pub with the England game.
Meeting up with Matt and Jemma who had been on the trek with us, we whiled the afternoon away filling up on tasty treats like steak sandwiches, nachos, pizzas and the occasional beer before heading to another bar which operated as a cinema during the early evening. It was pretty cool to sit there on a comfy sofa, with a couple of drinks each watching Madagascar on the big screen.
The next couple of days were spent chilling out and seeing the sights in and around Cusco. We had a visit to the market at Pisac where Fi took the new world record for the longest time ever to buy a set of matching bowls. To the give the girl her due she did get a good deal and even sent the guy home to his house to fetch a couple of different sets so she could pick and choose exactly what she wanted.
Another day we met up with Matt and Jemma again and caught a bus out to another Inca site in the sacred valley. We then spent the day walking back from there to Cusco stopping at other sites on the way and pausing in the sunshine to eat our picnic.
Evenings were great fun and much time was spent playing the different restaurants off against one another in order to get free garlic bread, nachos, beer, jugs of wine, all of the above.
Finally the time had come for us to think about heading home and so going out with a bang (or is that banging headache Fi?) we hit the town and managed to visit about six different bars, end the night completely plastered and not put our hands in our pockets once due to number of free drink tokens we had accrued from the touts in the main square.
Next morning after a number of cups of coffee we packed up our bags for one last time and after putting them into storage we ventured out for one final treat before heading home. The previous day we had booked ourselves in for an hour of full body massage to chill us out before two days on airplanes. Worked a treat and feeling fully relaxed we headed for the square and sat in the sunshine for our lunch.
Then it was time to go and after a taxi to the airport (when one finally turned up big enough for all our stuff) we said goodbye to Cusco, although not Peru. Arriving in Lima at 6pm and with our flight leaving at 7am we were in discussions as to whether we should stick it out at the airport for the budget option or stuff it and head to a hotel. Feeling in a "stuff it, it’s our last night" kind of mood we headed for the Caribe Hotel and after a bit of haggling (as always) managed to get breakfast thrown in (even though the fella wasn’t to happy that we needed it at 4am) and even upgraded to a decent double room that not only had a decent sized telly but also a giant Jacuzzi in the middle of the room from which to watch it in.
After another treat of our final parillada (south American mixed grill) which I think we must be getting used to now as pretty much everything was gobbled up including the cow and chicken hearts, we returned to the room to soak our weary bones in the tub.
4am came all too quickly and after dosing ourselves up with coffee we were back at Lima airport again.
After paying their extortionate airport tax and sitting around for a couple of hours we were on our way to Bogota, Colombia.
After a quick change of planes and a short hop north by midday we were in Cartagena. Quickly changing into our shorts and sandals in order to cope with the increase in temperature we searched out an air conditioned café and settled down to wait for our 9pm flight to Madrid. Sampling the local beers and the variety of food on offer the hours passed surprisingly quickly. Then it was time for the chaos of check in. Now I’m not saying they’re paranoid in Colombia but before boarding the plane we had our bags searched three times! Then after being skanked for airport tax once again we made our way to the gate only to be stopped at immigration because we didn’t have an entry stamp for Colombia. Despite the fact that we had only been in Colombia a few hours, hadn’t actually left the airport and had been told by immigration on the way in that we didn’t need an entry stamp we still had a nerve wracking half hour wait while numerous officials were called over and many phone calls made before they finally agreed to let us leave their country.
Or we would have left if the plane turned up. Two hours late it finally arrived and after another hour of sitting on the plane on the tarmac we were told we would be leaving shortly, as soon as the mechanics had had their repairs signed off, confidence inspiring.
Upon take off we were also told that the flight itself would be a couple of hours longer due to us having to divert around hurricanes in the Atlantic. Well you didn’t think we’d get away with all our flights going smoothly did you!
Arriving in Madrid a grand total of about four and a half hours late our Easy Jet flight was taking off as we landed, excellent.
Sending Fi through to search out the Easy Jet office I braved the chaos of baggage collection and by some miracle our bags actually turned up and not only that but still in one piece.
Going looking for Fi I was slowed down a tad due to the fact there are 500 check in desks at Madrid airport and after searching most of em I finally found the Easy Jet one.
As I believe everything I see on telly I was fully expecting to find that the extremely helpful Easy Jet staff had solved all our problems and we would soon be on our way home. Imagine my disappointment when it became apparent that when they’re not being filmed for a telly program they’re a bunch of miserable, unhelpful barstids and would offer us no assistance what so ever!
Feeling well hacked off that neither the company who had got us to Madrid late causing us to miss our flight or the company who’s flight we missed were going to do anything about our situation the two days worth of traveling caught up with us and we felt our energy levels waning.
Almost resigned to spending a night in the airport we decided that we had to at least try something so checking the boards we searched out all the companies flying to the UK that evening. As I said, Madrid airport has 500 check-in desks so this did nothing to help our flagging spirits. Especially when most companies had no space on their flights and when we found one that did, British Airways, they wanted 500 quid for the seats!
About to give up hope we found the Monarch desk tucked away under the stairs with their sign saying they had a flight to Manchester leaving in half an hour. With all fingers crossed we found out that they had loads of space available and it wasn’t too expensive either. Throwing Euros at em and launching our bags onto the conveyor belt we set of at full sprint to the gate, pausing momentarily to phone my parents and tell em that even though they’d driven all the way to Liverpool to pick us up, we would now actually be landing at Manchester!
Getting to the plane just as they were about to lock the doors we scrambled up the steps nearly losing the contents of my rucksack in the process and collapsed into our seats for the last leg of our journey home.
Two hours later we were back on British soil for the first time in seven months and after meeting my mum and dad we were on our way back over the Pennines to York. Having fish (with batter on), chips and mushy peas for tea we knew we were finally home and after recounting our eventful journey to my parents we collapsed exhausted into bed for the best nights sleep we’d had in ages.
So that’s that. We’ve been home a few days now. Fi is hard at work and I’m deciding whether to spend my days down the bookies or in the pub. It’s a hard life ain’t it? No doubt she’ll make me get a job or something soon but for now I’m making the most of it!
Till next time……. Mark and Fi
