London - December 1998
Note: Unless country is marked 'Done' the dates and miles relate to planned dates and miles
Dates: 18 Jan 1999 - 14 Feb 1999
Route: Mexico DF- Puebla- Tehuacan- Oaxaca & Monte Alban- Santo Domingo Tehuantepec- Tuxtla Gutierrez- Canon de Sumidero- San Cristobal de las Casas- Palenque- Merida- Dzibilchaltuin- Tixkokob- Tekanto- Citilcum- Izamal- Chichen Itza-Valladolid- Coba-Tulum- Chetumal
Cycling Distance: 590 miles/960 km
Pictures: see the Photo Album for larger pictures.
Places: first stage from Mexico City to Oaxaca (colonial town in the South of the country). Bussed Mexico City to Puebla, cycled 60 km to Tecamachalco, cycled 60km to Theuacan. Decided to bus to Oaxaca (3 hours) Anne was ill. Stayed 4 days in Oaxaca (Johnny got Anne's flu...).
Cycling: few photos as yet: too terrified to take any on the main road. Kept looking in mirror to spot crazy trucks so did not see much scenery. Anne nearly got knocked off her bike by one on the first day (nothing serious though, just part of the ruff and tumble of cycling in Mexico). Started at 6.45 am until 11am: it's too damn hot after that!
People: very impressed with the trip so far. Mexicans very friendly and helpful: extremely honest. Feels very safe. Don't believe all this crap you hear! Very impressed with the culture and music is great!
Eventually got around to some serious cycling. Have covered about 350 miles so far, mainly in the mountains in Chiapas, which was very tough but worth it for the views. Rewarded with one 30 mile downhill section from San Cristobal to the Canyon de Sumidero. Getting used to the rules of cycling in Mexico... dive to the side when a truck (especially a Coca Cola truck) honks its horn. Learnt our first big lesson about cycling in the rain here. It dumps down. We expected a mere shower, but got drenched all day. (needed to pay a trip to the washateria to get all our stuff dried out) Now we're in the Yucutan, the cycling should be easier, as it's very flat... yeah. Already sampled it with a 50 mile excursion to a small fishing village near Merida (Progreso) which we highly recommend (great seafood and nice beach), although the cycle out there was pretty boring.
San Cristobal (Chiapas)... nice place to rest for a couple of days and catch up on emails. Not huge amounts to see in term of museums etc., but scenery is fantastic. Lots of Indians in traditional dress. Street sellers are very pushy.
Canyon de Sumidero... nice 2hr boat trip and we managed to find a spot to camp by the river in Chiapa de Corzo.
Ocosingo... place where Zapatista guerrillas first attacked. We stayed there and only found this out later. Didn't see much activity thankfully. Few tourists, and probably worth a stopover, if you want to see a one-horse-town in the middle of the mountains. Agua Azul... fantastic waterfalls and nice clean (blue, surprisingly enough) water. Bit touristy though, so get up early in the morning to enjoy it.
Palenque... impressive ruins hidden in the jungle. Nice path up though jungle. Very touristy. Merida... great if you can make it for the Carnival (around mid February) as we did. Check out Café Express on Calle 60, just off the Zocalo/main square. Its a great place to hang around for a while, have breakfast, read the paper and people watch.
Met 2 other cycling couples: Jean-Paul and Alycea on their way to Alaska from Tierra del Fuego (see photos)... gave us some good tips (they're pretty much professional cycle tourists... check out their web site http://home1.gte.net/jschaef/bikehiketour.htm)... although we joked that they were overloaded at 30+kg equipment each... that was until we met our second couple (mad New Zealanders) Lyn and Gerrard, who are pretty much cycling everywhere carrying about 50 and 70 kg respectively. We now feel positively lightweight at 20kg (Jonny) and 15kg (Anne).
People in Chiapas we found to be quite pushy, but then it's a pretty poor state. In the Yucatan (Merida) so far we've found the people to be very nice, but then it is a more wealthy state, with plenty of industry (sisal, fishing, hammocks......)
Hard to believe we've been on the road for a month already. Settling into the routine of hand washing clothes (yes clothes can indeed be washed by hand!), buying bread in the "panaderia" for breakfast, stocking up on water regularly and avoiding street sellers. Impressed with the diversity of Mexico: it's like seeing four or five different countries in one, in terms of people, levels of development and scenery.
Since the last report we've cycled from Merida in Mexico to west Belize. After Mexico, Belize feels particularly clean and proper - well, very British really. The roadsides are very well kept (trees cut well back, so no shade!), children in crisp white uniforms etc. It also feels very safe (not that Mexico wasn't), apart from some weirdoes in Belize city (although most of them are just trying to be friendly). It is pretty expensive though! We're having trouble getting photos onto the computer at the moment, so those will have to wait until we can find a computer that works.
Cycling was pretty boring, flat and hot, with a fairly strong headwind. We'd recommend taking the coastal route to Izamal via Progresso. Managed a few big days though (80 miles) and managed to get our fitness to a good level. Saw some good ruins at Chitchen Itza (Anne still prefers Palenque though), stayed at a great ranch in Izamal (see below) where we arrived in time for a party and saw a demonstration bull fight (not too cruel) and were generally very well looked after. Tulum was a great spot to hang out by the sea, although a few too many hippies on the beach.
Recommendations are: Pyramid Inn in Chichen Itza (great meditation gardens where you can camp close to ruins); Rancho Santo Domingo in Izamal (great camping at a real Mexican Rancho, email: macanche@finred.pibil.com.mx, www.HORIZONARTS.com/macanche); Cabanas Diamante in Tulum (near the ruins, more expensive than most at USD 24 for a double, but nicely set out and great location)
More flat hot and boring. We didn't stop at the Laguna de Bacalar, although it looked like a great place to camp if you have time. Chetumal is quite a nice town and a good place to rest and do some shopping before Belize (good restaurants etc.) and visit the Mayan Museum.
Recommendations: Visit the Mayan Museum in Chetumal. It's the best museum we visited in Mexico; small and very well explained.
Dates: 14 Feb 1999 - 22 Feb 1999
Route: Chemutal- Belize City- Caulker Caye- Hattieville- The Place (Belize Zoo)- Roaring Creek- Belmopan- bus to Ciudad Melchor de Mencos (Cross border by bus, as crossing can be dangerous)
Cycling Distance: 80 miles/125 km
Comments: (second part of report 3)
Border crossing was very simple (although it only opens at 8am, so we had to cycle in the heat of the day). Belize felt instantly different - less rubbish, well kept and lots of things you see in Britain (Worcestershire sauce, Shell and Esso stations, Land Rovers, etc.). We were very kindly allowed to camp at the Ranco Luna/Carabeef Ranch (email: carabeef@btl.net, www.becausewecare.org - get it - "because we care"... and they certainly took care of us) past Orange Walk and were very well looked after by the owner (AP) and manager (Steve and his wife). They breed water buffalo and have a great place for people to come for retreats, organize outings etc. They had no groups when we were there, so we enjoyed all the comforts to ourselves (big fluffy towels - you get to appreciate these things when traveling, as most of the towels you get are like sandpaper - and great buffalo burgers!!!). We stopped at the Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary. It was a bit of a disappointment for us; perhaps you have to be a more seasoned bird watcher or something (we saw more birds in Belize City!). Not much to see in Belize City. Don't stop unless you want to go to the Cayes, as we did, for some diving. The city is quite sleazy, although it felt quite safe.
Do NOT (Repeat Nooooot) go to "BELIZE DIVING SERVICES" on CAYE CAULKER!!!! That is unless you have too much money and a death wish. Our supposed instructor left us at the bottom on a drift dive to go back and drive the boat! They are badly organized, equipment is old and boat is very slow, not to mention the safety aspect. After that experience (we got our money back by the way), Jonny went snorkeling and Anne did some more great diving with the "Blue Water" dive centre (well organized and new equipment). We saw green turtles, rays, groupers and nurse sharks as well as some beautiful reef. Still not sure it is as good as the Great Barrier in Australia though, although we found Caye Caulker to be very relaxing.
Recommendations: as above for diving; Tree Tops Hotel at Caye Caulker (treetops@btl.net, is a great B&B style guest house run by British/Austrian expats. Very friendly and happy to spend some time with guests to give advice etc. Worth every cent for a nice place with fridge, cable TV and environmentally friendly toilet!)
1 day cycle (70+miles) with a great tail wind. Saw loads of local cyclists on early morning training run (cycling is a big national sport - they've even been to the Olympics we're told). Stopped at the small Belize Zoo, which was worth it to be able to identify animals in the jungle (as you often only hear them) and also to support the good work they do with injured animals. Met 2 German cyclists going to Guatemala. Lost them going to Cayo, as we decided to press on a bit quicker than planned.
The local newspaper in Cayo (the Cayo Trader) is going to publish an article on us! Check it out on their web site (www.belizex.com)
Recommendations: Tropicool Hotel in S.Ignacio, beside Evas (cheap, clean, tips on how to get to Tikal and local excursions, and safe to store bikes).
If you can spare the time, don't go on an organised trip. We were easily able to do it for less than half the cost by ourselves - it was very straightforward (ask Wally at Tropicool Hotel), bus to border, bus to El Remate (at the turn off for Tikal), stay over at Don Davids (great place on the lake) and take bus at 5.30 am from Don David's to Tikal to return by 2.30, in time to catch bus around 3.30 or 4.30 back to border - all for less than $35 versus the $85 the tour companies charge! Tikal is great to see for the site (great wildlife etc., such as toucans, parrots, and little furry animals as yet unidentified by us!). You can really imagine what it is like to discover ruins, as everything is hidden in the jungle. There was less to see than we had expected though and overall we felt the ruins in Mexico were better.
Dates: 22 Feb 1999 - 20 Mar 1999
Route: Cuidad Melchor de Menos to Flores by bus- excursion to Tikal- Flores- Dolores- Poptun- San Luis- Modesto Mendez- Fronterras/ Castillo de San Felipe- Franceses- Morales- Quirigua- Dona Maria- Zacupa- Teculutan- El Progreso- Jct. To Cuidad de Guatemala (Hwy CA-9)- Morazan- San Jeronimo- Salama- Biotopo del Quetzal- Purulha- Tactic- San Cristobal Verapaz- Uspantan- Cunen- Return to Jct to Cunen- Return to Nebaj- Chajul- San Juan Cotozal- Nebaj- Sacapulas- Aguacatan- Chiantla- Huehuetenango- Malacatancito- San Cristobal Totonicapan- Totonicapan- Santa Cruz del Quiche- Chichicastenango- Los Encuentros- Solola- Panajachel- Ferry to San Pedro la Laguna- Santiago Atitlan- San Lucas Toliman- Semetabaj- Panajachel- Patzun- Patzicia- Chimaltenengo- Parramos- Antigua Guatemala- San Lucas Sacatepequez- Cuidad de Guatemala
Cycling Distance: 740 miles/1,200 km
Pictures:
Comments:
Decided to cycle to the south of Belize, instead of south from Tikal on the Guatemalan side, as we'd heard there was lots to see (and not too touristy) in S.Belize. We were not disappointed. In fact the Hummingbird Highway from Belmopan (Belize's Capital City) to Dangriga is beautiful. We cycled through fields full of orange and grapefruit trees, and there is beautiful mountains and jungle all around. The cycling is very tough though, with paved road for only about half the way. The rest is unpaved and quite dusty, and the hills are very tough. We stopped the first night at the Blue Hole National Park, where we found a nice camp site and visited the caves and the Blue Hole, where we had a cool refreshing afternoon dip. In the evening, as we cooked up supper, we were visited by many tiny hummingbirds, which are amazing to watch. The following day we reached Dangriga around 12 noon, after a hard climb in the morning (the last 15 km or so was easy down hill with a following wind) and managed to catch a bus directly to Punta Gorda (on the SW tip near Guatemala). We needed to make up some time, and anyway this road is extremely dusty and unpaved, and there is little to see.
Got boat from PG to Puerto Barrios in Guatemala, after going through rather haphazard and casual immigration. On arrival in Puerto Barrios we were left on the little harbour looking around for immigration. After an hour sitting watching Discovery channel in an outside café, the skipper passed by and casually commented "Guys! Don't forget to check in at immigration... when you get a chance"!! Later that afternoon, we caught another small launch down to Rio Dulce. On the way we saw many locals on their canoes fishing and stopped to visit a hospital project for Mayans living in villages along the river, which had a floating dentist. We learnt that newborn children are not named for 2 months after birth, due to the high incidence of child deaths. One of the back wheels got completely bent during the boat journey (as the sea was rough), so Jonny had his very first attempt (actually it ended up being 3 attempts!) at wheel building. It was so bad he had to start from scratch, and then again, and then again, until it was straight... well almost. Rio Dulce was very impressive and more developed than we'd expected, with a real Riviera atmosphere and many very nice houses and yachts hidden along the banks - very pleasant.
From Rio Dulce we cycled along the lake to El Estor (gets it's name from the original "store" built there years ago). The scenery was beautiful, but cycling hard going. The first half of the road is paved and easy, the rest unpaved, dusty and we had to lift our bikes across a few unfinished bridges (fun!!!) and ride through a few shallow rivers.
We caught the bus from El Estor to Coban to make up some more time, and were glad. The road is very mountainous, unpaved and would make some interesting cycling! We had a delay whilst about 20 of us helped a truck out of the river (we needed to cross in the bus). This involved lots of talk with little action, followed by more discussion, and finally unloading the truck of many crated of beer, lemonade etc. and then finally pushing it out. We then escaped in the bus before someone suggested we help load the truck again!
Coban is a very nice place to rest up for the day, a nice coffee growing region, with nice coffee shops etc. and some nice colonial buildings.
Cycled from Coban to Huehuetenango in 3 days over some dreadful roads (rocky, lots and lots and lots of dust, and some damn fine climbs!).
The scenery though is out of this world and this part is missed by almost all other tourists... do it, but take plenty cereal bars for energy! Our average speed was around 6-7 km/hr up hills and 10km down hills (which were almost as hard going as up hills), as brakes and rims got very hot. Stopped off in Huehue for a day to clean ourselves up and headed on to Quetzaltenango (Xela) the next day (95km), on a good paved road (the interamericana). Easier going although there is a long tough climb to about 2,650m for about the first 55km. After that it is easy downhill/flat.
Stayed in very pleasant Xela for 2 days. Visited hot springs at Fuentes Georginas about 18km from town (great cycle up there if you have the energy, on new road with great views of volcano), and got some repairs done to bikes at a great bike shop (The Bike Center... www.freeyellow.com/members/jcastillo/default.htm ..... where owner Jose chepe_9@hotmail.com sorted us out). We had them redo Jonny's effort on the bent back wheel and had to drill out a broken screw on Jonny's front low riders which inevitably broke on the bad roads (involved completely removing the front forks and taking them to a special place for drilling). Both jobs very well done... and for the handsome sum of about $10, which also included a bottle of Pedro's waterproof chain lube (which we'll keep for a rainy day... ha...ha). We later met up with Jose (who is in the National Mountain Bike/Downhill team) to do some off road around Lake Atitlan, which was fab!
Xela to Panajatel was 100km on a good road with a tough climb to 2,900m and a great approx. 10km descent at the end, with great views over the lake. On the way we saw for the first time lots of men in traditional dress (many wearing a type of skirt/blanket wrapped around the waist).
Pana is a nice location, although touristy. We were lucky enough to be kindly invited by Jose to have a good Friday meal with his family and friends and went biking with him around the lake though some villages off the beaten track, saw preparations for the semana santa etc. Jonny finally managed to get badly burnt on the neck (not fatal) due to the different lines on his new swanky shirt and Anne managed to find some real (tinned) Camembert cheese... so all is well. Had a shock this morning when we discovered it cost $100 to send a couple of blankets we bought for about $30 to Ireland!
If fitting low riders to the front, use nut and bolt. Screw bolt though thread on fork from inside of fork and put nut on outside. That way, when the bolt breaks (which it will do on rough roads... everyone we've met has had that problem) you can still screw the rest out without drilling.
Pictures:
Dates: 20 Mar 1999 - 22 Mar 1999
Route: Bus from Guatemala to San Salvador
Cycling Distance: Bus on way to Costa Rica
Pictures: None Yet
Comments: Planned
Dates: 22 Mar 1999 - 24 Mar 1999
Route: Bus from San Salvador to Managua
Cycling Distance: Bus on way to Costa Rica
Pictures: None Yet
Comments: Planned
Dates: 24 Mar 1999 - 20 Apr 1999
Route: San Jose- Cartago- San Isidro el General- Dominical- Savegre- Quepos- Excursion to Parque National Manuel Antonio- Parrita- Jaco- Coyolar- Puntarenas- Ferry to Playa Naranjo- Lepanto- San Pablo- Santa Rita- Mansion- Nicoya- Santa Cruz- Belen- Filadelfia- Liberia- Bagaces- Canas- Rancho Grande- Excursion to Reserva Biologica Monteverde- Esparza- San Ramon- Naranjo- Sarchi- Alajuela- Heredia- San Jose- 1 week at Turtle Reserve(Pacuare Reserve)
Cycling Distance: 445 miles/715 km
Pictures: None Yet
Comments:
Started on a high going up the highest paved road in Central America (we think) @ 3,400 m. Had to camp in the backyard of a soda (Costa Rican restaurant) which we reached shivering after a day of nonstop climbing through the cloud forest (brrr.). We raided the place for pancakes before engaging on a one day pure descent down lush steep hills all the way to the Dominical beach, bliss!
The coast was hot and sticky with some seriously unpaved roads. We liked Quepos and the Manuel Antonio national park by the sea where we saw a sloth (actually it was surprisingly quick at getting away when Anne decided to stamp through the undergrowth to get a closer look!)
Canañas Doña Alicia in Quepos (8 US dollars)
Cycled our longest day so far from Quepos to Puntarenas (150 km/90+ miles) and got soaked after nearly fainting with the midday heat (40C/100+F).
Took ferry from Puntarenas (amazing location: the town is built on a long peninsula overlooking the bay) to the Nicoya Peninsula. There more unpaved roads triggered a higher daily intake of Coca Cola - the only thing we reckon that safely quenches our thirst when the heat is on (we never drink the stuff at home!).
Reached Cañas on the mainland after a scary day's cycling on the Interamericana with strong side winds: we nearly took off when the trucks passed us and Jonny embarked on a crusade against careless drivers but we reckon the Tico (people from Costa Rica) are pretty much beyond help!
Playa de Coco, a nice sheltered beach on the Northern side of the Nicoya Peninsula.
Cycled up to Lake Arenal with strong headwind (we recommend doing it the other way around after this experience!). Beat our record for the slowest descent: the wind was so strong we had to keep pedaling to clock a mere 20 km/h (12mph) on a v. steep descent where we would normally expect 50-60 km/h (30-40 mph)!
Our tour around the lake was amazing: beautiful scenery (tropical rain forest meets little Switzerland) and lots of wildlife to be observed from the road. Jonny instantly turned into a great bird spotter (sad but true) of bright yellow Flycatchers (the only birds he managed to identify when he got his hands on a book).
Headed to volcan Poas next, under pouring rain. Nevertheless persisted and went up to see the active crater (hosting an eerie turquoise lake) the next morning. Glad we climbed there at 8 am which allowed us unspoiled views before the clouds and the tourists made their way up.
Got dumped on again on the way down to Gerci thanks to la Niña which is extending the rainy season in the region. Went to visit the Cafe Britt coffee plantation (www.cafebritt.com) in Barva on our way down to San Jose. (Anne scored one-nil against Ireland when we learnt that it was the French who introduced coffee to the Americas (mais bien suuuurrr!).
Had a surprising, unsolicited donation of 1.50 US dollar which was handed to us on the side of the road by a passer by. (We don't want to believe we looked so poor and hungry and can only assumed he must have guessed we were fundraising for cancer research!)
Pictures:
Dates: 20 Apr 1999 - 25 Apr 1999
Route: Bus San Jose to Panama City. Couple of days in Panama City
Cycling Distance: By bus from Costa Rica
Pictures:
Comments:
Our attempt to cycle along the Canal from end to end turned into a sweltering bike-pushing exercise on the old railway tracks (after the road ran out) trying to escape aggressive mosquitos. Luckily, we decided to give up after working out that it was going to take us a staggering 10 hours to reach the other end. No sooner had we got off the tracks and settled into a historic ship-spotting campsite right beside the canal, than we saw a train roar by - apparently there is talk of reopening the railway and maintenance is going on (oops!).
Well, we thought the emotion was worth a nice cup of tea and some Hobnob biscuits (which we had discovered with bemusement in Panama City). Only the Canal Police did not see it this way as they interrupted our feast. We duly waved our receipts for the nearby national park in an attempt to get away with watching the ships at night but they were having none of it!
Still, 'there is justice in this world for persistent cyclists' we thought, after bumping into Bill Pohl as we grudgingly pedaled back towards Panama City. A keen cyclist, Bill not only turned out to be the manager of the Canal launch service and arranged a free ride to the Gatun Locks for us, but he and his wife Dana also put us up in style in their home for 2 days, got our bikes checked and packed before dropping us at the airport. So, we left for Quito in great spirits, even if it was painful to fly over, rather than cycle in, beautiful Colombia.
Dates: 25 Apr 1999 - 19 May 1999
Route: Fly from Panama to Bogota- Bogota- Tigre- Nieva- La Pata- Pital- Agrado- Garzon- Altamira- Timana- Pitalito- San Agustin- San Jose de Isnos- Abra des Vilvaes- Popayan- Piedra de Sentada- Mojaras- Pasto- Ipiales
Cycling Distance: 600 miles/990 km
Pictures: None Yet
Comments: Planned
Dates: 19 May 1999 -15 Jun 1999
Route: Ipiales- Bolivar -Ibarra- Otavalo- Cayambre- Quito- Sto Domingo- Quevedo- Latacuna- Ambato- Banos- Rio Bamba- Guamote- Alausi- Zhud- Biblian- Cuenca- Nabon- Saragucos- Loja- Catacocha- Empalme- Macara (to Sullana)
Cycling Distance: 860 miles/1,390 km
Pictures:
Comments:
We spent our first day on the road with Garry, an Irish-Australian cyclist on his way to Colombia from Tierra del Fuego - we'd met at the Casa de Ciclistas of Luis Medrano in Quito. As it happens when two Irish meet, the jokes were plentiful and not much progress was made. Still, we managed a 1,000 m (3,000 ft) climb that came as good as they get (that is at about 4pm and under threatening black clouds). The luck of the Irish struck again as we stumbled into a lovely hotel in Lasso after a serious downpour and temperature drop (from about 20 C to 7 C in about 5 minutes, brrr) on the way down. So, we celebrated Garry's birthday in style before parting (sniiiif) the next day.
We headed South, passing by Mount Chimborazo, the highest active volcano in the world and apparently also the highest summit as measured from the centre of the Earth (though I'm sure Sir Hilary frankly didn't give a damn when he set of for Everest). Anne desperately tried to get used to the altitude for the first few days, though after a while it didn't seem like a good excuse anymore and she had no choice but to cycle up and down and up again and down again etc... Though we had been warned that the Ecuadorian highlands never went straight up or straight down, we of course had not quite realised the extent of it.
Needless to say we were ready for a quick break in Alausí after 6 days of that stuff. There, Johnny found it hard to get his hands off the camera both watching the locals go by with their funny little felt hats and their Wellington boots. We took an amazing and nerve-wrecking train ride through the nearby canyon, sitting on the roof of the engine. We couldn't quite work out why they needed indicators on the engine, until we realised it was the result of the reconversion of a local bus!
Next, the climbing got more fun (not!) as we had more of the previous stuff but on unpaved roads. We consoled ourselves with unbeatable campsite locations though, overlooking deep emerald valleys and even, once, in a gothic church (in Biblían, where we were also treated to a local breakfast of corn on the cob). Amazing how a few days in beautiful colonial Cuenca helped boost our amnesia about cycling hardships: we can't wait for the next stretch to the Peruvian border!
Staying with Luis Medrano and his family who put up cyclists is not only a wonderful break but a great insight into Ecuadorian life (crostybici@hotmail.com and/or lein1975@hotmail.com) get directions from South American Explorers Club in Quito
Hotel San Matteo in Lasso (US 30 dollars for a double): perfect for a birthday splash out by their cosy fireplaces
Train ride from Alausí down the „ Nariz del Diablo „
Gothic church in Biblían: definitely worth the (steep) end of day climb! Friendly caretaker. Good corn on the cob.
Hostal Macondo in Cuenca (US 12 dollars for a double): quiet, hammock in the garden and use of v clean kitchen after 3pm. A must.
La Casa del Sombrero de Alberto Pulla in Cuenca: traditional and export quality Panama hats . Friendly owner and seems reasonably priced, not the owner... the hats!
Dates: 15 Jun 1999 -16 Jul 1999
Route: Sullana- Piura- Chiclayo- Pacasmayo- Trujillo- Vini- Chimbote- Huayanca- Huaraz- Cajacay- Barranca- Huall- Lima- Bus to Nazca then Bus/Fly to Cuzco (road routes to Cuzco can be dangerous, unless you go farther south)- Cuzco- Urcos- Checacupe- Sicuani- Sta Rosa- Ayaviri- Caracara- Juliaga- Puno- Juli
Cycling Distance: 1,150 miles/1,850 km
Pictures:
Comments:
(Yet) another long climb got us from Loja to a blissful descent into the next valley of Catamayo and a once more into searing heat and fields of sugar cane. We decided to take a detour from the main road to the Peruvian border and visit the nearby sanctuary of El Cisne. Unfortunately, the sanctity of the place failed to inspire some people and that afternoon, we were relieved of our two bikes and all of our equipment.
After the lengthy dealings of filing our report and lots of confusion at the local police station, the police put us on a local bus back to Loja. Needless to say, we got ourselves more than our usual share of stares by the locals: after all it's not everyday that two 'gringos' get a free ride instead of being 'fleeced' for the highest chargeable price. Anyway, we had devised our fall back strategy by the time we reached the haven of our friends' house: the closest place where we could replace our equipment reasonably quickly and cheaply was the USA. Despite the apparent Latin inefficiency we had complained about since we'd started the trip, a couple of mad days' rushing rewarded us with a heavily stamped police report (we found it hard to believe!), a confirmation of the settlement of our insurance policy and a new passport and visa for Anne.
We spent the next 10 days with Johnny's family in New York. After 4 months spent in Latin America, the Big Apple and the incredible choice available there was a bit of a shock to the system. Thankfully, a few days spent by Jerry's pool devouring Mary's delicious trifle and other goodies and we were all set to resume our trip! We even managed to crash a friend's wedding party for a quick boogie (haven't lost the old moves yet!!)
Despite our best efforts, it had taken 3 weeks to get back on the road. So we figured we had to make up time if we were going to be able to meet our friend's Paul and Clare in Cuzco, as previously arranged. As we watched the desolated landscape of the Northern Coast of Peru from the bus window, we congratulated ourselves on the bright decision of resuming our cycling from Trujillo. Trujillo proved indeed a lucky town as we met with 4 new friends there. First, Lucho who has one of the most famous 'Casas de ciclistas' in Latin America. Together, we went for our first 'archeological' mountain bike ride around the ruins of the largest adobe (or dirt!) city in the world. In Lucho's house we also met with the Transandina Expedition: 3 lads from Mallorca (Oli, Jaime and Jose) who are cycling between and climbing the Latin American Peaks. We decided to accompany them to Huaraz, their next stop and one of the World's hottest climbing spot.
Lucho escorted us for most of the first day and teamed up with Anne to beat the boys up every hill. Sadly we had to say good-bye to 'Turbo Lucho' when we turned off the paved road towards the Rio Santa and the Cordiliera Blanca. The next 4 days took us through the wildest sierra and the 49 tunnels and 17 bridges Jean-Paul and Alycea had told us about. Although the Mallorcan team would have got quite a lead, the frequent punctures the sheer load of their climbing equipment caused, kept us together. On the last day, we met a group of mountain bikers from Lima who escorted us triumphally into Huaraz. Surrounded by the 23 peaks of the Cordiliera Blanca, it was hard to resist the attraction of trying to try and conquer them in the company of our Mallorcan friends. In fact we had to escape from Oli a couple of days later in order to keep to our schedule... or we'd still be in Huaraz!
Our first Andean pass after 3 weeks spent at sea level as we left the main road for a dirt road to La Union, was a bit of a challenge. The climb started gently and we quickly passed our first herd of llamas, hardly stopping to gaze at the strange 'puya' trees that pointed straight up like skinny cypress trees through the desertic landscape. A couple of hours later Anne rejoiced at the opportunity of a stop to chat with two Swiss cyclists coming down from the pass. However, we had to carry on and it was panting and vaguely nauseated that we reached the big pass at around 4,800 meters (In fact, Johnny found it impossible to keep his dinner down when we camped a few km after the pass at around 4,600m). We woke up to a frozen tent, frozen sleeping bags, water, shoes, cycling shorts and quickly gobbled our porridge at -5C praying for the sun to quickly shine our way.
Conscious of our tighter schedule, we had asked local cyclists how to shorten our route through the Cordiliera and had decided to bus from La Union to Cerro de Pasco. After a full day spent in various buses with music blasting away and locals staring at us and almost sitting on our laps, we weren't sure anymore what was best: this or facing 83 km of pure climbing to Cerro de Pasco.
On paper, Cerro de Pasco (the highest mine in the World) and the subsequent altiplano sounded quite appealing. In reality however, it turned out to be a collection of dull and miserable mining communities which we rushed by to try and escape the pouring rain. As we were preparing to leave our wettest camp spot to date, two men came out of the morning mist, their faces covered with balaclava's. As we looked at each other, the recent robbery and all the stories we had heard about terrorist activity in the area went through our mind.
That day looked set to dump down with rain again and the countryside promised to remain miserable (having been destroyed by mining activity), so we decided to treat ourselves to a quick arrival to the next town (Huancayo) to dry off and got on the first available bus. The next day we cycled up to Cochas Chicos less in an attempt to clock up some of the mileage we had chickened out of, than to enjoy the local countryside and admire beautifully carved calabassas (dried out pumpkins), a local craft. This short break into tourist mode spurred a sudden craving for riding the next bit by train. So, we sat on one of Peru's few trains, enjoyed a fabulous breakfast of local trout and watched the beautiful scenery rather than staring at the bumpy road.
It was Friday afternoon when we arrived in Huancavelica. Nothing in this tranquil little town nestled deep down a most scenic valley had quite prepared us to the amazing number of discos we discovered there. They start luring in customers by playing the latest Top of the Pops from 2 pm. Wow! Sadly we missed out on the invitation to check them out that night with Johnny (sic) , Norma and Luisa , 3 of the 300 charity workers from Medecins Sans Frontieres recently arrived in town: we succumbed to our habit of falling asleep at night fall brought by too many nights spent in our tent (and poor BBC reception!). Or maybe have we just become very sad and boring after all.
A week of the coldest and most amazing countryside awaited us on our way to Ayacucho. We had eventually reached what we had imagined the altiplano to look like: endless prairies filled with bemused llamas and topped by an immaculate and transparent sky. It looked like some artist had covered the surrounding hills with all possible shades of ocre and gold and then suddenly poured icing over the highest mountain tips. One morning, we set to tackle Paso Chonta (at about 4,800 m), hiding behind a windy dirt track. Rather than wasting the breakfast we had valiantly cooked at -4 C, we suspiciously chewed our first coca leaves (the little old woman who had sold them to us in her dark shop in Huancavelica had assured us that only a few would do, as long as we also took a pinch of some sort of mixture made with ashes she sold us for 10 cents!) And actually it did the trick! We still panted and huffed but whether coca leaves or natural acclimatization, the breakfast stayed down and we could enjoy spotting pink flamingoes over deep blue lakes for the rest of the day.
After Santa Ines we found one of the smoothest paved roads we have enjoyed on this trip so far. It suddenly started after Rumichaca bridge and stayed with us until we reached Ayacucho. It made our last climb over the Abra Apacheta pass (at 4,746 m) such an enjoyable one that we decided to do it twice ! Actually, this was brought by a frantic search for the highest drivable pass in the world which had been wrongly located in the South American Handbook (worth suing isn't it?). After re-climbing the pass (13 km later and 700m higher) in the hope that we had missed the turn off the first time, and stopping various trucks to ask for directions, we had to accept the painful truth. We had actually happily cycled by the actual turn off 3 days before... Arg! A couple of days spent ruminating the event sipping cappuccinos and devouring surprisingly delicious lemon meringue pies surrounded by the colonial splendor of Ayacucho, hardly helped. Neither of us could quite accept defeat: we had to cycle up that pass! However, no time was available to cycle if we were to make it to Cuzco in time. After several unfruitful attempts to charter a pick up (or picop as they say here) to take us back to the bottom of the pass. So, we had to resort to using public transport. But we were prepared to cope with the smelly, noisy buses! And all the hassle was forgotten when we reached the tiny and weathered sign that read 5,049 m. We enjoyed a cup of coffee almost levitating with the serenity of the place until a brutal change of meteorological conditions. The tranquil altiplano we had crossed a few days before had become hostile and dark. The blizzard whipped hail on our faces and black clouds covered the peaks we had admired. We literally flew back to Huancavelica to celebrate the event with a delicious 'ponche de maca' (a drink made from a local tubercule - the Maca - that grows only above 4,000 m. Besides making a very tasty drink, the plant is supposed to fix everything from impotency to iron deficiency! - not that we needed it for anything else than to warm us up I hear Johnny say!).
Dates: 16 Jul 1999 -14 Aug 1999
Route: Copacabana- Tiquina- La Paz- Patacamaya- Oruro- Cochabamba- Aiquile- Sucre- Potosi- Uyuni- Ollaque
Cycling Distance: 822 miles/1,325 km
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Trip Report 9: Rocks, sand and salt in Bolivia
We just about made it for our email-arranged meeting with our friends Paul and Claire in Cuzco tohike the Inca Trail together. We sat in a café on the Plaza de Armas wondering whether technology would let us down on this one, watching the 'would-be Indiana Jones gringo crowd' around us. Tourists here frantically hopped from one colonial wonder to the next, from one camp shop to the other in preparation for some jungle expedition. After a while, our friends emerged from the crowd, duly "North-Faced-up" and wondering whether we would have turned into some rugged hippies after spending 6 months on the road. The next day, the train took us through scenic switchbacks to Km 88 where a hoard of hikers in all shapes and forms rushed to the start of the Inca Trail. To our dismay, this included a large group of teenage boys on a school trip who spent most of the next 4 days looking for 'Victor' or giggling in the tent next to us at 11pm! Still, after the first few miles, it was relatively easy to shake off most of the crowds. Every so often, a group of rubber sandalled porters would zoom past us complete with (yes!) gas bottles and tables and chairs, to set up camp for one of the tour groups. They would arrive a few hours after us huffing and panting, complaining about the weight of their tiny daypacks! As we walked up and down the various passes on the way we went through an incredible diversity of flora and fauna ranging from dry dusty Eucalyptus undergrowth to lush cloud forests, and serene ruins of various look out posts. This wasn't without pain: we had not quite anticipated that cycling would not have conditioned us for walking those Inca steps. We admired the sunrise on Machu Pichu rubbing our stiff legs before trudging down to the nearest thermal baths for a blissful soak!
We left Paul and Claire and got back on the bikes to head for another great mystical Inca site: Lake Titicaca. A few days back in the saddle and we could not resist a stop at more 'Aguas Calientes' on the way to Puno. We rode up one of these typical Peruvian passes that goes up very gradually but for a long time and started to think we'd missed the place. Noticing a group of local 'Mamitas' hanging around in a field, Johnny decided to stop and ask for directions to the thermal baths.' - Allicito, n'mas (over there, no more)', we were toldWe discovered a rough pool built over the steaming river that came down the surrounding volcanoes full of giggling kids and hefty hipped women. This was quite an insight: up until then, we had debated that their sheer size was brought by the local tradition of applying several layers of skirts. No sooner had we managed to make some room for ourselves than we noticed 3 other gringos getting ready to dive in. They turned out to be English cyclists and we camped together by the hot stream that night. Unfortunately, they were going to Cuzco so we carried on to Puno on our own the next day. There we went for an excursion to three islands on Lake Titicaca. It was only once on the boat that we appreciated the sheer size of the Lake: an immense pool of deep blue water surrounded by startling brown and red hills. We really enjoyed the opportunity to stay with an Aymara family on Amantani Island, the less developed of the 3 islands - from the balcony of the tiny house, we watched the most amazing sunset on the lake.
We were looking forward to cycling along the southern shore of the lake for the next few days, which we thought was going to be flat and scenic. Instead, it was somewhat hilly then through a windy altiplano well away from the lake. We stopped at Pomata, just before the border to visit one of the many amazing colonial churches in the area. The local red stone carved with an incredible delicacy into a profusion of tropical flowers and animals contrasted with the interior. The walls were whitewashed but the whole place was only illuminated by a silver-plated alter piece. What a marvel in the middle of nowhere!
Crossing the border at Copacabana gave us a taster of what Bolivia was offering to the cyclist: an infamous dirtroad and a dirty town. Still, it was only a few Km from the border to the town. While looking out for the least worst patch of road to ride on (the sand or the rocks, or maybe the washboard?), we thought of meeting up with Trevor and Noah (www.globeride.com), two South African motor bikers we had met at the border. It turned out they were also professionals on a sabbatical leave and were on a World tour for the charity Save the Children. We sat watching an amazing sunset over the lake, discussing the merits (or lack thereof) of their sponsored Irridium satellite phone and their few near death experiences brought by skillful Peruvian driving. The next day we headed for the Isla del Sol with Johan, a Dutch cyclist touring Bolivia. A relatively relaxed hike along the ridge of the Island brought us to one of our most scenic campsite to date : in full view of the startling Cordillera Real, overlooking the lights of Copacabana on the other side of the lake and with no one else to bother us. We had Muna tea (a stomach-settling herb growing only on the Altiplano) listening to Johan's account of cycling through Tibet and the comparative advantages of recliner bikes (the only bike that allows you to make your own sandwiches while riding!).
The next day, conscious of the time, we left for La Paz which we wanted to reach for Anne's birthday. We soon left the shores of the Lake for a fairly boring ride through the flat and barren Altiplano. For a while, our speedometers turned into the only distraction from our sore bottoms. Then, we started a long, steady though gentle climb to the ridge of the Altiplano, through El Alto, the Indian outskirts of the city. Suddenly, the road stopped and a bustling metropolis spiked with high-rise buildings appeared a few hundred meters below us. We joyfully headed down for a long-awaited descent until we reached Obrajes, the South of the city. Unfortunately, our friend's house was on top of one of the hills in the area, so we had to face one of our steepest climbs to date, before finally arriving to the 'Promised Land'. There we had an incredible time, enjoying real hot showers and fully flushing toilets, along with the great hospitality of our friends. We celebrated Anne's 30th in style with a German cake, great coffee, a French crepe and an evening in the best jazz bar of La Paz.
From La Paz, we were lured into riding the most dangerous road in the world (at least it was until the Bolivian authorities imposed single way traffic - down in the morning up in the afternoon) to Corroico, a town in the Bolivian jungle of the Nor Yungas. The ride was a little more than the day relaxing descent we'd envisaged: true, the road goes down from about 3,800m to 2,500m but first you have to climb out of La Paz and over a 4,600m pass (oops!). So, 100Km and 2,000 meters cumulative climb later, we arrived covered with dust after following many trucks down a very dusty mountain side. Still, we thought it was all worth it the next morning, when we had breakfast at the sound of classical music, watched the incredible scenery around us and found a minibus to take us back up that road in the afternoon.
It was with some regrets but with fully charged batteries that we left La Paz. The taster of the Altiplano we had had on the way in made us opt for a detour via the paved road to Cochabamba rather than riding straight to Potosi. We loved the ride and the city where we celebrated our 4th anniversary in style with a champagne breakfast! We even found a shop that sold Leonidas Belgian chocolates there! We then headed for Sucre, to make yet an other e-mail arranged gathering but this time with Rick and Lise, two friends from England and France back-packing in Bolivia for 3 weeks. The day had started in quite a civilised way with a visit to the colourful market of Sucre and a hike up one of the surrounding hills. We're not quite sure how we ended up at the local karaokee bar. Lise was particularly motivated, though we couldn't work out whether it was the exhaustive list of English songs available from the DJ or the delicious Concepcion wine (made in Bolivia)! The next day, feeling a bit delicate, we put the bikes on a bus and moved on together to Potosi. We arrived just in time to watch the local festival of the Chutillas, when groups from around the country parade through the town, dressed in amazing costumes while everyone generally has a good time and a lot of beer! No wonder we did not see too many minors when we visited Cerro Rico mines the next day! Despite this, the mine was one of the highlights of our trip - from witnessing the local Indiana Jones riding the back of a speeding wagon to meeting the gruesome 'El Tio' (the uncle) who legend has it protects the miners in exchange for regular gifts of cigarettes and coca leaves!
Off we were on the bikes again towards Uyuni to ride through some of the most beautiful canyons and rugged scenery we had ever seen. Unfortunately, the roads where a match, so the 3 days originally planned for that leg turned into 3 and 2 hours as Anne's legs refused to get up the last 2 mountains at 4 pm on the 3rd day. Anne couldn't quite resist the canyon of amazingly shaped red rocks and its little river we found the first day, so 60km it was. On the second day, we met the 3 Mexican cyclists (http://netcentral.lared.net.pe/~ciclonautas/ n.b. this address is probably mis-typed - try clicking to see if you get there) we had heard about since Ecuador having a late lunch in one of the towns we passed. So, 60 Km it was that day too, and we camped together at the local school. The next day, we left them yawning away at 7 am and did not see them again before Uyuni. Apparently they had arrived at 9pm at the church hall where we were staying 2 hours away from Uyuni but we did not even hear them knock on the door!
'- This is like the end of the world here! said Johnny, as he rode through the deserted sandy streets of Uyuni.
Who would have guessed that we would have one of our best pizzas there since starting this trip in this town! It was not enough to warrant a 3rd day in Uyuni and we soon headed out on yet another nasty washboard road. 2 punctures and a trip back to the ferreteria in Uyuni later (our two spare tyres turned out to be duffs), we finally started riding on the largest salt flats in the world. What an experience! After so many days on dusty tracks up and down some of the highest passes in the world, everything around us was immaculately white and flat. After so many days spent listening to the jolly tooting of the cars, bus and trucks that passed us on the road, or the local tune blasting out of tired speakers in the tiniest village we passed, we could not hear a sound apart from the salt crystals crackling under our tires. We finally understood how people could get lost on this immense white desert, though we found it easy enough to keep to the jeep tracks on the way to the Isla de los Pescadores. We stopped at the hotel built in salt blocks that we had watched on Michael Palin's BBC programme and could not resist its vicuña furred salt block beds. So we reached the island, and met our Mexican friends once again. Their rather erratic and slightly longer than planned journey on the Salar (yep! They got lost!) enabled us to camp together again for another night. The next day we headed different directions again: they towards Argentina, us towards Chile via Ollague, which we reached after a 3 day ride through very rough, windy landscape. We managed to get taken into an army camp by a friendly colonel: interesting set up for a batallion supposed to be guarding the frontier against the Chilean army - the best funded army in South America. 11 young lads, 17 to 19 years old with probably 3 riffles and little food and water. They were pressed on to get to San Pedro de Atacama in the desert of Northen Chile. We both looked forward to more civilised surroundings and above all, to be able to call Johnny's sister on her wedding night and to meeting up with Garry, our friend we had met in Quito for another cycling adventure together.
Dates: 14 Aug 1999 -5 Oct 1999
Route: Ollaque- Ascotan- San Pedro- Chiu Chiu- Calama- Chuquicamata- San Pedro de Atacama- Sierra Gorda- Salinas- Antofagasta- Yungay- Of. Chile- Breas- Chanaral- Caldera- Copiapo- Algarrobal- Vallenar- Domeyko- El Tofo- La Serena Coquimbo- Parque Nac. Fray George- Mantos de Hermillos- Huente laquiero- Los Vilos- La Ligua- La Callera- Valparaiso- Santiago
Rancagua- Curico- Talca- Parral- Chillan- Los Angeles- Angol- Victoria- Curacautin- Temuco- Villarica- Panguioulli- Los Lagos- Rio Bueno- Osorno- Puerto Montt- Paragua (ferry to Chacao)- Ancud- Castro- Chonchi (ferry to Chaiten)- Puerto Carderas- La Junta- Puerto Payugaupi- Puerto Cisnes- Maniguales- Puerto Aisen
Coihaique- Puerto Ing. Ibanez- Perito Moreno- Bajo Caracoles- Las Harquetas- Ea La Federica- Tres Lagos- Charles Futur/ La Julia- Cancha Carrera- Puerto Natales- Punta Arena (Ferry to Tierra del Fuego)- Por Venir
Cycling Distance: 3,220 miles/5,360 km
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Calama was lit up like a Cristmas tree after the dark, quiet haunting streets of Bolivian towns. Except we thought we had missed a change to Summer Timeor a bank holiday when we tried to buy breakfast before 9.30am there.
'No, it's always like this here' a local reasured us.
Another radical change from the frantic morning activity starting from 5.30am we had got used to in the Andean countries! After a beautiful trip through a dusty but paved road, San Pedro suddenly appeared at the bottom of a rocky canyon: it was in this emerald oasis hidden in a pool of golden sand that we were to meet our friend Garry. A pile of camp gear artfully scattered around a half dismantled bike at the Cusy campsite announced yet another successfully email-arranged get together. Soon, Garry walked in, a huge smile half hidden behind his bushy blond beard and greeted us with a sarcastic 'G'day, mate' and a large helping of bearhugs.
The last news exchanged, we happily devised our itinirary over the next few weeks. Riding through the driest desert in the world )the Atacama in Chile) had sounded an exciting enough challenge to us but Garry who had cycled the route before had no trouble convincing us to trade a 'boring stretch of busy Panamericana' for a scenic (and steep) detour via Salta in Northern Argentina.
'-And actually it is just as dry', Garry had said, 'it'll be at least 500km until we reach our first village!'
This agreed, we also traded our initial plan of spending a couple of days enjoying the quiet shady San Pedro townsquare and a few sunsets on the nearby rock formations for a rush to the border at 10pm, hardly making up the pitchdark road the poor light of our torches hardly piercing the moonless night. Garry had had a few problems with the local authorities trying to renew his lost tourist card. Thankfully though, the actual border is over 100km away (and a few thousands meters climb up) from San Pedro, we were able to exit the country in time at the checkpoint just outside of town. In protest to the obstuctive immigration officer Garry had delt with, we had contemplated pitching our tents just outside his office but we wisely opted for the politically safer option (and guaranteed wake up call!) of a few Urugayan trucks that had stopped for the night a few kilometers away.As light set off, with 37 liters of water up that 'damn first climb' (up 2,500m to 4,700m in just 20km), I was still vaguely worried about the water situation. After 3 days, we had to stop the very few trucks that passed us for water. We were amazed at the kindness and helpfulness of the drivers: not only did they always stop but they also often insisted in giving us much more than the liter we had asked for, boasting us about the purity of the spring it had been drawn from! On our second day, a strong tailwind followed us down my (Anne) fastest downhill to date (74km/h) and right into our tents where we rushed in shivering, hardly noticing the amazing salt flats and its colony of flamingos next to us. The temperature guage marked -15C the next morning and was a good excuse for a lie in until the sun touched our ice-covered sleeping bags. Once on the road, the beautiful smooth pavement that we had enjoyed all the way on the Chilean side stopped right at the sign marking the Argentinian border and turned into a mix of washboard and sand reminescent of Bolivian roads. The custom officers to our anxious queries with the habitual national pride of every Argentinian when they talk about their country:
'- You'll find better pavement than anywhere in Chile only 70km from here all the way up the next pass!'
Alas, as we often found in Argentina, national pride often breeds the most inaccurate road conditions. Rather than the prospect of Garry's 27 inch super slick tyres getting stuck in the sand for another day we solidarly (and with some relief) waved a car transporter down. '-That's what I call hitch-hiking in style', said Garry as we sat in one of the Toyota Carinas on the trailer having duely strapped our bikes to the side of the truck. Like in a dream, volcanic activity had shaped the cliffs in the most fantastic forms and declined incredible shades of blue along mysterious salt flats, from carribbean turquoise and oceanic deep blue to mustard-coloured shores. It was like travelling on Mars and Venus at the same time.
In Purmamarca, where we finally woke up (it seemed!) from our moonwalk, we approached the local church care-taker for somewhere we could stay for the night. Instead of the grim church hall we had expected, we were shown straight to the immaculate colonial church. As we enquired where to lay our sleeping bags, admiring the traditional beam structure made from cactus wood but vaguely worried about camping in a holy place, the care taker told us:
'-We are still in litigation with the company who restored the church, so we don't use it for services. You can sleep anywhere you want in here'.
That's what we called camping in style! A short ride through yet more amazing rock formations (but this time multicoloured cliffs ranging on either side of a deep river bed) took us to San Salvador de Jujuy. As well as the opportunity for a good scrub in a real shower, this was also that of getting used to Argentinian timing. Nothing moved from about 12 noon until 5pm. We thought somebody important had died but no, it was just ordinary siesta time. After 5pm, the streets gradually filled up: trendy kids devoured ice cream walking along the pavement whileelegant older-looking couples sipped great coffee sitting at terrasses of one of the many cafes. Johnny could not resist testing the local coffee which is served with a plate of tiny pastries and a glass of sparkling water. It rated a 'good 7 out of 10' by his demanding standards and undoubtedly the best in Latin America. I could indulge in an orgy of freshly picked strawberries sold by the kilo on every street corner in town. Wow! What a feast after the rugged desert!Our next stop was Salta, after riding through verdoyant valleys and shady lake shores where the forgotten smell of fresh grass hit us like a slap after so many months on desert and altiplano. We were definitely back in more civilised surroundings!
Despite bright green fields around us, the dry riverbeds we found leaving Salta reminded us we were still close from the Tropic of Capricorn. Soon, the colonial styled haciendas surrounded by grazing cattle and herds of beautiful horses turned into poor mudhuts amidst cactus-ridden valleys. Flocks of bright green parrots noisily perched in the trees flew away as we passed by. The plain narrowed to an astounding looking canyon as we headed through the Quebrada de Cafayate. After Paso Jama, we had not believed that we would still be amazed by any rock formations. But this definetly matched if not surpassed it: the cliffs turned into the most fantastic structures, amphitheaters, scary monsters and extra-terrestrial spacecrafts (no, we had not smoked any funny herb nor drunk any cactus juice!) before turning into another quiet sandy valley. Once in Cafayate, we had no trouble agreeing to stay an extra day. Was it because of the delicious goats cheese and full bodied wine produced there or the sleepy atmosphere of the many bodegas surrounded by their typicall vines grown in umbrella shape to man hight? Or maybe was it the evening spent chatting to Damien, an Argentine cyclist from Mar de Plata on his way to Bolivia who initiated to the ritual of drinking 'mate'. With Damien, we learnt to mix a special herbal tea (yerba mate) with hot water in a special mug (the mate, sometimes made out of the shell of the shell of a dried out sqash). The mixture is then sipped through a metallic straw (the bombilla) before more water is added and the mate is passed to the next person. This can go on for hours, as we found out that evening.On the way to Tucuman, after more dry lansdcape yet another high pass took us to an amazing descent through rain forrest. We camped by the riverbed and had dinner spotting colourful tropical birds 40km from Tucuman, which we reached the next morning. The forest disapeared and the sweet smell of sugar refinery hit our nostrils as we crossed unending fields of sugar cane in the sweltering heat.
Tucuman was the opportunity of one of our best people-watching sessions. It seemed that all the women were going for the one size fits all jeans competition. Except that the size was X-small which enabled us to elect the tightest pair of jeans we had ever seen. Meanwhile, we also elected the most naff sports shorts-flip flop combinations (Argentinian men take the word shorts too literally). Sadly we had to say goodbye to Garry the next day -hewas heading North to Bolivia and us South to Santiago, where our friend Nic was to fly in shortlyt for a week's cycling. We only had a few days to make it, so we decided to hitch a ride to Mendoza and then to cross into Chile, to Los Andes North of Santiago. After a few unsuccessful atemps to get a lift at the fruit market, Anne managed to get us our first ride of a series of four. We made our way South aboard another car transporter, then slept on a load of sugar locked in a refrigerated lorry and ended the trip with a round of mate listening to a rather scarry trucky who swore that mate, coca leaves and cigarettes were the solution to a non-stop 48 hour journey. It was somewhat relieved that we finally arrived at the home of Eric Savard in Los Andes, Chile. Thanks to Anne's perfected lift-begging technique, our truck adventure had taken less time than anticipated. So we could enjoy Eric's hospitality and recover in the peaceful haven that he had built in the countryside surrounded by snowcapped mountains and views over the highest summit in the Americas (Aconcagua, nearly 7000 meters). We met again with bikemad Cristian (Crosty) Medrano with whom we had stayed in Quito and shared information and a fresh consignment of smelly French cheeses with two French cyclists heading to Ushuaia (www.chez.com/ukika2000).
Instead of bussing down South to the Chilean Lake District, Eric recommended a trip through the Central Valley. The spingtime wheather can be very wet in the South can be very wet, and Eric had promised us some scenic and challenging riding under a less threatening sky. And he was right. After telling Nic he would need only a light sleeping bag and clothes, we headed from 600m straight up the Andes to the Paso de Los Libertadores at 3,700m on our first day with him, and camped surrounded by snow and ice! Chellenging enough for anyone who has never cycle toured before! But Nic cheerfully made it up on his ancient 5 gear mountain bike. From then on he was King of the Mountain and wore the appropriate polka-dot jersey. Despite the cold, we took our time before turning back to Los Andes, and visited the Puente del Inca just on the other side of the Argentine border. There, the deposits of a ferrous mineral water spring has formed a natural bridge across a canyon. On the way back the Chilean authorities would at first not allow us to cycle through the border tunnel at Caracoles, arguing it was too dangerous. After some heated argumentation (led by Jonny) they saw the error of their ways and let venture into the pitch dark tunnel. It took us some time to adjust to the lack of light (our torch batteries were a bit run down...ooops!) and we began to trust our senses. Surprisingly, the Chilean end was wonderfully paved and they had even switched on the lights....that´s the Chileans! It took us only a few hours to go back down what had taken a full day to climb up. What a descent. 28 hair-pin bends at the top provided lots of excitement. We almost go as many waves and cheers from motorists for our speed records as we did for the climb. We continued past Los Andes to San Felipe and then onto a good dirt road to Cabildo. The few hills we had to climb on the way earned us a beautifull 70km descent through a beatiful scenic canyon. We pitched our tents by a beautiful river and spent a relaxed evening around the camp fire. Just as we were settling in for a well deserved rest, 4 massive explosions shook the ground and got us out of our tents, wondering if the Chilean army had suddenly decided to rid Chile of all British citizens in response to the capture of Pinochet (Nic is English). We listened and scrutinised the dark sky for air fighters but thankfully nothing more happened. It was only the next day when 2 trucks laden with rocks passed us that we realised that we had camped not far from one of Chile´s many copper mines.
We reached the coast via La Ligua, famous for its local pastries which Jonny couldn´t resist. Stopped by one of the typical street sellers, dressed immaculately in white overalls, he eyed up the huge baskets full of pastries and loaded up for a carbohydrate refill.
The Mayor of Papudo (our first stop on the coast) was kind enough to lift the local ban on camping, and even showed us to municipal grounds with a magnificant view on the ocean. From Papudo to Horcon the scenery reminded us of the coast of Normandy in France. We followed a hilly road right along the cliffs with superb views over the rugged granite and deep blue waves crested with immaculate surf. Every so often the road would take us down to a little bay shaded by fragrant eucalyptus trees, where we would discover huge mansions of the rich and famous from Santiago, surrounded be neat gardens. Further south, the idyllic turned into a dull collection of high rise buildings, frantically erected by the kind of property developers that ruined the French and Spanish coasts. We finally left very busy coastal road to climb up a very steep to the municipal camp site in Vina del Mar. "Worth the effort", we thought whilst watching the sun set over the bay of Valparaiso. That´s where we headed the next day, and granted ourselves a day´s rest to explore this very picturesque city. We couldn´t resist staying on one of the steep hills that dominate the bay, which we reached in one of the city´s century old cable cars. It was quite a squeeze, but we managed to get in, bikes and all! The city view we discovered from our hotel room was a patchwork of 2 story houses clinging to the hillsides. Each was covered in wood and corrugated iron, some still showing the original trademark of their manufacturer in Wolverhampton (England), as one proud owner showed us. Each was painted in a different colour and mixed the most amazing features, from dainty towers to art nouveau stained glass windows and sculpted wooden beams. In one area of the city local artists were comissioned to paint an open air museum onto the street walls. In the now derelict Museo de Bellas Artes one of the builders performing restoration work was kind enough to show us round this once charming building. We fell for the charm of this once vibrant port, which has fallen into oblivian since the opening of the Panama Canal. But soon it was time to move on again, Nic back to London, and us to head south and get a little closer to Ushuaia. But not before another stop off with Eric in Los Andes, where Jonny took part in a challenging mountain bike race. Unfortunately he had to retire early due to injury (not too serious) when he collided with another competitor on a steep descent. But fun was had by all and Jonny enjoyed lots of sympathy and is making a quick recovery with the help of some medecines from Eric´s vetinary clinic!
See also Nic's trip report for the week he joined us in Chile.
Dates: 5 Oct 1999 -20 Nov 1999
Route: Kaiken- Rio Grande- San Sebastian- Primavera- Monte Aymond- Rio Gallegos- Ea. Monte Leon- El Salado- Bosques Petrificados- Fitzroy- Gran Bajo Oriental- Pico Salamanca- Baiha Bustamente- Camarones- Dos Pozos- Trelew- Punto Pyramides- Pta Delgada- Pta Norte- Pto Pyramides- Bajo del Gualicho- Siera Grande- San Antonio Oeste
Alternative Route 1 via Lihuel Calel : Ea. O'Connor- Carmen de Patagones- Sauce Blanco- Pomote- Chelforo- Cerro Prieto- Lihuel Calel- El Carancho- Padre Buodo- Rivera- Tres Lomas- Pehuajo- Chivilcoy- Buenos Aires
Alternative Route 2 via Mar de Plata: Ea. O'Connor- Carmen de Patagones- Stroeder- Major Buratovitch- Bahia Blanca- Col. Dorego- Tres Aroyos- Necochea- Miramar- Mar de Plata- Cnl Vidal- Buenos Aires
Cycling Distance: 2,548 miles/4,110 km
Pictures: None Yet
Comments:
Trip Report 11 - Southern Chile and Patagonia
Cycling -We left the quiet haven of Eric´s house and headed south to Cillarica, capital of the Chilean Lake District. Eager to discover this beautiful area we heard so much about, we decided to treat ourselves to a ride along Lago Villarice to Pucon. Our taste of the delicious local Raspberry Cake (küchen de frambuesas) at the Pasteleria Suiza in Pucon and Jonny was on the Cake Trail again - the one and indeed only gastronomic feature of this region of Chile colonised by German settlers in the 1800´s - Great cake shops! We soon left the comfort of paved roads to cross the Parque National Villarica to Conaripe. It had looked pretty straightforward on the map but we soon discovered that Chilean dirt roads can be just as treacherous as Bolivian ones. As we cycled past the ranger´s hut at the entrance to the park, he burst out waving frantically....
"No es possible! No es possible!" (It´s not possible), he said.
"And why not?", we asked intrigued.
It turned out that the road (or better said, track) had been snowed under 2 metres of snow a few days ago. We looked at each other, weighting up the options. Should we attempt the 40km + track, hoping that the snow had melted at the top, or should we make a very long detour back to Villarica? You guessed it - up into the snow we went. Sure enough, after a few more fierce ups and downs on a very bumpy track, we hit the snow - about 1 metre high. We had no other choice but to push, pull, drag and lift our bikes through the mess. After about 3 hours of this, we got through the worst of it and were then able to follow the tracks of 2 "german cyclists" the ranger had told us about who had done the same thing.
After this pretty harsh introduction to the lakes, we tried to stick to paved roads as much as possible. Even so, we found it hard enough, as it was constantly up and down. After seeing 3 of the 7 lakes we decided to take a break and head to Valdivia near the Pacific coast.
On paper, it sounded like a place with some history and a nice ride along the Rio Calle Calle (no I didn´t accidentally write it twice). It was indeed a scenic ride, but a hard one on a dusty road that our new Continental Town and Country tyres were not up to. We were all over the place, losing our grip... why oh why did Continental mess with a good thing?
In Valdivia, we camped at the Phoenix Rowing Club and could watch the morning outing whilst having breakfast. Unfortunately, they were training for the upcoming national championships, so Jonny wasn´t able to join them. Still it was pleasant enough, but Valdivia itself wasn´t as twee as we´d hoped. The reason? It was destroyed in an earthquake in the 60´s. The town centre resembled a small town in the US more than that of a colony of German settlers. We much preferred the small towns of Puerto Octay and Frutillar on Lago Llanquihue, as we headed down to Puerto Montt. IN fact we were treated to a perfect view of Volcan Osorno (one of those perfectly shaped volcanoes) in Frutillar. Indeed it was quite hard to leave the little coffee shop, where Jonny had checked in for a round of "onces" (typical german elevenses, with sandwiches and huge cakes).
In the streets of Puerto Montt, we couldn´t but notice a couple of other cyclists with their dazzlingly red (of course Ortleib) panniers. They turned out to be the authors of the tracks we´d followed in the National Park - Not German but Dutch. Evert and Bea entertained as late into the evening with many amazing fact about bikes and bits, and all the groovy gear we could hope to buy in Holland. In fact they have convinced us to go biking there on a future holiday.
In Puerto Montt we also met a very friendly French couple who had left everything in the south of France to come to run the Hotel Patagonia. We discussed their impressions of Chile sipping a good old Pastis and eating French saucisson. "L'apero" in true French style. Little did we know, but we were also toasting the French losing in the final of the rugby world cup, which we weren´t able to watch on our hotel cable TV (although we stayed an extra day especially to do so - L. American sports coverage is not the best it has to be said. They did have a good rodeo on the TV instead though and a Country & Western music channel!)
We opted out of the sea crossing to Puerto Natales, as we wanted to cycle on the Carretera Austral. We also opted out of going to Bariloche and to seeing the beautiful Lago Todo Los Santos, instead heading for the mysterious island of Chiloe. Jonny, being from an island himself, was looking forward to discovering what had been described as "Little Ireland". In retrospect, we wished we´d seen Lago Todo Los Santos and Bariloche instead. Chiloe turned out to be not so mysterious (although it maybe was in the past) and a little too developed for our taste. However, on our first night we were invited in to stay with a lovely family and spent a few hours by their stove answering questions on our trip, our respective countries, the British royal family and learning more about the ex-dictator Pinochet. After a couple of days of pretty boring riding along the only paved road we reached Castro. The sea front in Castro, with its typical Palafito houses on stilts was very colourful, and went someway to make up for the rest. Unfortunately, we had to skip a visit to the national park of Chiloe (which Darwin apparently loved), as the only boat of the week to Chaiten was due to leave the next day. It was maybe fate, as we made some more new Dutch cycling friends on the boat. This time, at least, we were going the same way for a bit, so decided to cycle together for a day. One day cycle turned into 3, as a windstorm kept us in our tents for most of the first day and pretty much constant rain was a great excuse for an early stop the next day, to enjoy one of the many litres of wine Jikke and Wilfred carried in surprisingly light panniers. They made us realise how lax we´d become about the weight we carried. We mentally added up all of the comforts we now had : cups and plates, 2 pots of peanut butter bought in Santiago, piles of cereal bars, packets of honey, a small collection of scarce "Economists" and the additional "New Scientists" donated by Nic, books and therefore extra spare batteries for all that reading.... and of course Jonny´s Crazy Creek camping chair!! To wit, we could lose a few Kgs, but then we´re on our holidays, we´re fitter and so who cares.
We were struggling to fight off the boredom setting in with every rainy day with little views of beautiful mountains on what was supposed to be a very scenic ride. Then along came Victoriana´s kitchen in Santa Luchia. We took it over as we sheltered from the rain, dried our clothes off and waited for the feast of fresh bread. rhubarb jam and gallons of coffee she was preparing. Sadly we had to say goodbye to Jikke and Wilfred, as they were headed across to Argentina and us south through Chile. Instead of cycling on through the rain, we opted to spend the rest of the day by the stove however. We needed a rest day anyway and we hoped tomorrow the weather would be better. It turned out to be an interesting afternoon. Victoriana showed us how to make "Aji Chileno" ( a chilean chilli sauce that´s a must on every chilean table) and then proceeded to gulp down a few cans of beer. The expected dual effect of the alcohol was not long in setting in : she first told us the sad story of her late husband who had built son many of the bridges on "The Road" (that´s how they call the mystical Carretera Austral) and she then proceeded to beat up her "useless" son, before going off to sleep. Well! That was certainly and unexpected display and insight into the exciting life of the settlers of New Chile. But it was all forgotten the next day when Victoriana woke up to bright sunshine from her loud snoring and offered us a reconciliatory mate tea.
The sunshine stayed with us until Cohaique. Ande we had some pretty amazing places to see on the way. In particular the tiny village of Puyuhuapi by the beautiful Fjord Ventisquero. Still for us the beauty of the Carretera Austral resides not so much in this spectacular scenery. After all, we had seen beautiful scenery before. No, the true beauty of The Road lies in how remote it is from everything. This is a land of wild open spaces, where some of the villages are only 20 years old. There are few people here and if food can be a bit scarce in the shops someone will always sell you some of their home-made stuff, if you knock on a few doors. This is where we realised what Chileans mean by "New Chile", a territory beyond the old border of Chile which used to be somewhere around Chiloe. A place populated by what must be some of the last true pioneers in the world. This country is still being build and conquered. Looking at the pictures of the construction of the last piece of the Carretera Austral (soon to be opened) at the tiny museum in Cohaique, we wondered of this dream may be shattered by the increasing emigration back to the Valle Central, at a time when economic recession is hitting Chile maybe worse than some other Latin American countries.
Time to move again. This time to Argentina via Chile Chico, to where we cross the 2nd biggest lake in Latin America - Logo General Carerras - on a tiny, tightly packed ferry. We have to skip a planned visit to the well-advertised and apparently spectacular Perito Moreno Glacier in Argentina, as we are now running out of time. Instead we hop on an overnight bus to Rio Gallegos, gateway to Patagonia. There we succumb to the temptation of a decent cup of coffee while waiting for our connection. Tasty but check out the price - 6 dollars for two coffees!! Welcome back to Argentina. The next stretch of the bus journey takes us to Rio Turbio. The journey is truly beautiful, crossing flat, windswept pampas interrupted by sudden bursts of green pasture and slivery lakes. Huge estancias hidden well out of the wind are the only sign of life for miles. Every hour or so the bus would stop to let someone off. Only then we´d realise there must be an estancia hidden somewhere close. We kick ourselves for not having time to ride this section, though we wonder if we might not get bored after a week of this wind and bareness.
In Rio Turbio, we find warm and welcoming shelter in the local sports centre, before moving on to Puerto Natales.
In our first few kms cycling in Patagonia we are greeted with howling winds. Now we know what they meant, when they warned us!! Only the occasional hill could provide a wind break - and then what silence. And what peace we finally discover in the quiet haven of Puerto Natales.
Once again we trade our bikes for hiking boots and head to the renowned Parque National Torres del Paine. After an initial cock up with the bus company (who let us off at the wrong place... ahhhhhh!) we lose the best part of our first days hiking. Ahhhhhh! We´re busy people. Don´t these people realise that? I mean, we have glaciers and torres to see! All is quickly forgotten in the wild beauty of the park and especially when we reach the amazing Grey Glacier. Not content just to see it, we decide (a little cheekily) that we simply must camp in front of it! That we do, despite a threatening blizzard and very strong icy winds. Only a small stretch of water separates our tent from it´s impressive blue towers of ice. Having collected some ice from one of the many icebergs in the lake, we proceed to crown the moment with a damn fine dinner - Delicious local salmon in a creamy sauce washed down with some fine Chilean wine.... beat that in your fancy restaurant if you will! Soon after the icy wind meant we had to retreat to our tent to watch the glacier through our little window. We soon complete the hike and get back on the bikes to Punta Arenas. The wind is mostly on our side, but sometimes is so strong it blows us off the bikes. We spent a couple of days resting in Punta Arenas, which turns out to be prettier than expected and very friendly. After a side trip to see the cute penguins at Otoway Sound it was off again to get a bit closer to Ushuaia - the most southerly town in the world.
On the crossing to Porvenir a group of dolphins accompanied us into the harbour, jumping and diving round the boat, leading us to the Tierra del Fuego. It was hard to believe we were now less than 500km from the end of the world. We were by now eager to reach Ushuaia and pressed on, doing over 100km per day to make it before Jonny´s birthday. Indeed, despite the wind, we actually managed to arrive 2 days ahead fo schedule - a fitting ´first´ for the entire trip! But not before one last interesting encounter - this time with Vladimir. Our host for our last night on our way south was a Croatian, who had moved to Argentina 38 years ago as a political exile from the communist regime. We had an interesting evening learning about the Balkans and estancias, sheep shearing and argentinean women. Next morning we leave Vladimir and head up our last pass on this trip. Not that high (less than 500m) but nevertheless emotional enough. Then it's a more or less downhill - it is never straight down around these parts and we had to climb a few more hundred meters before being able to get a glimpse at the legendary Beagle Channel and the most southerly town on the globe: Ushuaia. It takes a few minutes to sink in.
So here we are, fed, watered, having celebrated Johnny's 30th birthday in style complete with cake and candles. How does it feel to be at the end of the world? Well pretty good, though it is so close to the last few miles on the bikes (on this trip anyway). We both interrupt our gazing at the mysterious waters of the Beagle to watch the picture of a lonesome cyclist on some barren road in Mongolia that Johnny found recently. We have to admit that this sounds definitely more appealing than the 8.20 am South West Train to Waterloo.
Dates: 26 Dec 1999 - 15 Jan 2000
Route: Fly from Buenos Aires to Rio for Millenium Celebrations
Cycling Distance: None
Pictures: None Yet
Comments:
We knew when leaving Ushuaia that we were starting our gradual reintroduction to civilization. In fact, after looking at our planned route in all possible ways to try and fit in more cycling we just had to accept it: there was too little time left for decent cycling. There was even too little time left to hang around too long for lifts: most trucks leaving Ushuaia are sealed to fast track through the Chilean border, so there was little opportunity to load our bikes onto one of them. So, to reach the coastal town of Trelew about half way up on the way to Buenos Aires we had to take a series of ferry and buses across the deserted and uniform pa