Journal

Tierra del Fuego 'the Final Chapter', Porvenir to Ushuaia

thefuegoproject — Wed, 11 May 2011 15:47:00 GMT

3/3/11 to 13/3/11 642km (total for the whole journey 32,378km)

‘Crossing the Magallanic Straight and into the Land of Fire’

The Magallanic straight that divides the mainland of South America from Tierra del Fuego was discovered by and hence named after the Portugese explorer Ferdinand Magellan. Magellan named the island that was cut-off from the mainland ‘Tierra del Fuego‘ for the numerous fires of the indigenous Yaghani people he observed on the shoreline when they arrived. In fact it was originally known as the 'land of smoke' but 'land of fire' obviously had a better ring to it, so it stuck.

For us arriving to Tierra del Fuego there were no fires or smoke from the beach. The Yaghani population had long been pursecuted, hunted and forcibly removed from their lands. Now just golden treeless hills rise out of the choppy waters of the straight and seaweed lines the beaches. We were accompanied into the bay of Chilota by a small pod of white-sided dolphins riding the bow waves of the ferry. The 5kms riding into Porvenir was absolute madness on the road with a ferry load of traffic and local taxis zipping along, overtaking on blind corners and driving like their lives depended on arriving in town in less than a minute. When we had weathered the storm and arrived into the sleepy village we wondered what all the rush was about. The place was basically deserted apart from a small general store, the bakery and the hardware store. I half expected to see tumbleweeds roll across the streets and there was no sign of the mass of traffic that had nearly blown us off the road just 10 minutes earlier. Porvenir was a strange place indeed but at least we could load up on fresh bread for the coming four or so days to Rio Grande.

‘Dispelling the myth that Tierra del Fuego is flat!’ on the coastal road

Without wasting more time we headed out of town and westward onto a good ripio road that rolled over a few hills before rejoining the coastline of Bahia Inutil. We had heard from many cyclists that Tierra del Fuego is a boring place to cycle. Flat, monotonous, treeless, windy and flat. Did I mention flat? Well, I don’t know if they had ridden the same roads as we were riding on, because it was spectacular and definitely not flat as we climbed high above the cliffs with the blue sea below us before dropping down once again to seaweed strewn gravelly beaches before another pinching steep climb to another high vantage point over Bahia Inutil. And in this manner the coastal road continued.

Beautiful coastal riding out from Porvenir, far from flat and boring!

Prado enjoying one of the many pinch climbs along the Tierra del Fuego coastline

And windy? Well yes it was definitely windy. So windy in fact that there are only two spots where cyclists recommend camping for the stretch between Porvenir and San Sebastian. One is at 56km from Porvenir, a bunch of lone trees where we had planned to stop for the night. No trees in sight, nothing, until at 56km on the dot a small grove of trees surrounded a taller cypress tree appeared to the left up in a field.

It only required a quick lift over a fence (crossing fences is not something we usually do but when the moment demands it...) and a short wheel through the grass to our home out for the night out of the wind.

‘En busqueda de pinguinos’ / ‘In search of penguins’

We had heard from our biking friends Hugh and Pauline and also from our Lithuanian friend Henry that there was a king penguin colony of fifty or so penguins hanging out on the wind blasted shores of Bahia Inutil between the turnoff from the Porvenir-San Sebastian main road, and Cameron. Their details of where we might find them varied a little from “at 14.8km there will be a little dirt track to your right, jump the fence, wade across the river and they’ll be there” to “cross the bridge and just before the big hill there is a green gate to the right, walk 200 yards to the beach and they’ll be there”. Sounds simple enough. When we took the second piece of advice (as it had been much more recent) and arrived at the beach our hearts sank into the sand. Not a king penguin in sight, a few footprints of some bird, a few dead magallanic penguins washed up in the cemetery of seaweed, feathers and bones, but no majestic kings of the ocean standing tall in their back and white suits on the desolate beach. We had had such high hopes, and as a result we were totally deflated and shattered. We dragged our feet back over heavy sand dunes, over barbed wire and back to our bikes without saying a word to one another.

The wind was going to be stiffly in our faces and none of us favoured the prospect of pedalling into the wind the 35 or so kilometres to Cameron. So we climbed halfway up the hill near Estancia Tres Hermanos, and after assessing a small metal sheeted shelter surround by bones and sheep carcasses, we settled on a more suitable campspot closeby, out of the wind, and out of sight from the road in a depression on the eastern side of the road.

By 5:45pm we started to think about dinner preparations, and I thought to myself “This doesn’t make sense. They have to still be there. They were there a week ago”. So, I took off alone back to the beach but to check closer to the river. I parked my bike, jumped the fence and made my way over a grassy rise towards the river and then I saw them. Like something out of a surrealistic dream, some seventeen king penguins standing around by the river trying to avoid the wind. They were as surprised to see me as I was to see them, but they weren’t scared, in fact very interested in me looking me up and down as if to say “Who are you and what are doing on our patch of grass down by the river?...Oh, that’s alright you can join us if you like!”. Then I noticed another eleven penguins braving the cold and the wind on teh exposed beach across the river. With my heart in my mouth I couldn’t get back to the others soon enough to break the news.

Anna, prado and myself then spent a magical hour sitting close-by these beautiful creatures of the southern islands and oceans watching their antics of wing slapping, chest pushing, head raising, belly sliding, grunting and eye poking behaviour.

But the question has to be asked. Just why are twenty-seven or so king penguins hanging out in Bahia Inutil? Lost, visiting, resting or recolonising? They just shouldn’t have been there say the books and the experts, "they must have followed their food source deep into the bay" says one Marine Biologist from Estancia Harberton. So, are they lost having followed their food into a big dead-end bay with only one way out, west into the current? Are they just resting there or moulting? Or are they recolonising on Tierra del Fuego? I guess we may never know. They all seemed in good condition, and they obviously enter the sea every day to fish. But they were not breeding or bringing chicks up, and maybe if they did they would fall prey to foxes or dogs. A real mystery. But for us a fortunate encounter that normally you would have to travel to distant sub antarctic islands or Antarctica itself to see, but for us we could ride our bikes to within 50 metres of the colony.

When we went back to the next morning to show Guillaume they had disappeared again. Nowhere to be seen on the whole beach. Twenty-seven, one metre tall king penguins had just vanished into the beach sand...or more than likely they had just gone fishing!

The next 35 kilometres to the tiny outpost of Cameron hugged the rugged coastline, dropping down to meet the rivers draining into the sea before climbing back up to the higher cliffs. Grey, windy and the barren pampa, it was reminiscent of the barren moors of Scotland. No wonder so many british migrants settled in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego on the estancias as sheep farmers. This grey sky, dull light and the raging wind must have made them feel right at home.

Cameron itself could perhaps receive the title of ‘the end of the world’ maybe more so than Ushuaia or Bahia Lapataia. The little outpost of a town with a scottish name, a main street, a few houses, a football pitch, a run-down old square and a small shop with a few cans of beer but no bread, was once an important centre for the farming community and the estancias on Chilean Tierra del Fuego. Now it felt like the rest of the world had forgotten about it. Only a couple of playful puppies joined us in the streets with barely a soul about on the streets.

Leaving town we paused at the sea. Shimmering grey with beams of sunshine breaking through the dark sky, and an impressive westerly wind blowing cold salt laden air onto our faces. Anna looks at me and tells me to enjoy what this feels like, this impressive feeling of isolation. “This is the end of the world!” she exclaims. I could tell by the smile on her face that she was enjoying what Tierra del Fuego had given to us so far. And so, we climbed back out from the narrow valley past the wooden sculpture of three Yaghani Indians in a canoe and then turned due east with the wind behind our saddles pushing us towards Argentina.

Lone windswept beech tree just out from Cameron. Luckily for us we were heading east (left in the photo) with the wind in our backs!

Nearing the end of a long day in the saddle, we had just passed some ideal wild camping options when the trees thinned out, the fences began again and we arrived at Estancia Cameron Seccion Russfin. We enquired about the possibility of camping somewhere out of the wind on the estancia. At first they weren’t too forthcoming with ideas or options until we invited ourselves to camp behind the old shearers quarters buildings. Soon afterwards, Cristobal, the young dreamy blue-eyed guacho who was in charge of the place arrived and showed us into the newer shearers quarters, complete with pot-belly fire, wood, and a number of rooms where we could roll our sleeping mats out on the ground. It is only used twice a year for the small number of shearers who come there to work, so we could make ourselves at home. Just to be out of the wind in the evening was a luxury in itself. So we stoked up the pot-belly fire, cooked dinner on the floor, shared stories in the warmth and enjoyed another night of friendly (if a little extorted) chilean hospitality.

Cristobal had had an immediate impact on both Anna and Prado with his blue eyes, a rather uncommon trait of a Chilean man to go with his dark hair. Surprisingly the girls were a little breathless.

Anna leaving another comfortable place of rest out of the elements at Seccion Russfin courtesy of Cristobal, the dreamy blue-eyed guacho.

On 'Guanaco Safari'

After leaving Seccion Russfin the trees thinned out, and the golden pampa began with the dark mountains of the distant Cordillera Darwin as the backdrop. We were on some sort of ‘guanaco safari’ with herds of up to 30 or 40 individuals on both sides of the roads.

Sometimes an individual or a small herd would cross the road and clear the fence in quick, well timed leaps. Other times they retired a comfortable distance from the road before stopping to observe us, the strange creatures on bicycles. This was normally associated with the lone male guanaco 'el relincho' squealing and wheezing his disapproval at us while his harem and young got in behind him.

Anna and a field full of guanacos, crossing the valley of the Rio Grande

Cristobal had told us that there were something in the order of 25000 guanacos on Tierra del Fuego from the last population census. Compare that to that one estancia which has 40000 sheep. Obviously the guanacos compete a little for the pasture but the number of sheep must outnumber guanacos significantly. Still the guanaco is seen as a pest, similar to the kangaroos in certain parts of Australia and as a result they had plans to cull some 3500 gaunacos next year. An interesting debate as always if a wild animal threatens the production of domesticated livestock. Our theory is that yes there are lots of guanacos on TDF. More than pre-european colonisation, who knows? But the absence of the puma on TDF ironically due to it being hunted to local extinction by european colonists is the key to the larger numbers of guanacos and especially the numerous young ones that we saw that survive to adulthood. But sheep farming for wool and for meat rules the ‘law of the land’ in TDF.

'One more river to cross' - Crossing the Rio Radman into Argentina

Bags off and wet feet, but a surprisingly easy crossing with water barely coming up to our shins in the 'trickle' that was the Rio Radman in early March. And like that, with our bikes hoisted over our shoulders and without shoes on, we had arrived back into Argentina!

It was only early still once we had negotiated the ‘shin-high’ river crossing but with the view of the road ahead with no trees and bare Argentinian pampa as far as the eye could see we had no problems asking at the Migration office if we could camp there the night. “Sure, why not, not a problem! Take your pick, over there, or over there by the trees” was the response by the tracksuit wearing police official. So we were able to pitch under some large ‘lengas’ sheltered from the wind, as far away from the noisy generator as possible, wash in the river and enjoy a long relaxing afternoon in the sun. All at another free ‘border camp’. We forgot to notice the stripped guanaco carcass complete with head hanging over the top wire of the fence just ten metres from our tent until the next morning.

Ushuaia was finally on the map, only 65km of bad Argentine ripio to the 'Ruta 3', and only 266km to Ushuaia...Prado and Anna seem happy about that!

The final wind assisted km's heading east towards Rio Grande "look, no pedalling required!" says Prado, and the ripio to Argentina's credit had improved.

Norma (in the middle) who looked after us at the 'Club Nautico'(Sailing Club) in Rio Grande where most cyclists bunk down in the upstairs gymnasium for a few days to a few weeks. We detoured 18kms into the wind to get there at the far edge of town, but well worth it for a rest day in comfort.

From Rio Grande we were lucky that we had waited a day, because the morning that we left there was barely a breeze and with what breeze there was, it was from the north-west. Almost unheard of! So we left the industry of Rio Grande behind and with the wind at our backs we headed south towards Tolhuin and gradually back into the forested lands and with the mountains getting closer and closer in front of us we knew that we would not be riding in the pampa again!

10km out from Tolhuin we saw the figure of two bicycles coming towards us. 5 yr old Gabrielle (who sits on the front), his mum Veronique from France and ....... from Canada three days in to their four month biking journey to Lima from Ushuaia. We almost shed tears when we met these guys. Tears of joy but also of concern. It was already late in the season and they had so much ahead of them on their journey. The wind, the pampa, the Carretera Austral, the lakes and Araucania, the altiplano and the desert. Which meant headwinds, rain, gravel roads, freezing cold nights, and potentially snow but which also meant the adventure of their lives. I think we also felt emotional because we found out that they had followed our stories and that we had helped inspire them for their trip. I think this goes a long way in answering the question "just why do we do the things that we do? Why do you ride your bike from Alaska to Argentina?" The most important result of our journey is that perhaps we have helped inspire people to live their dreams too, to get out there and take on the world on two wheels. And here it was right in front of us, just two days from our journeys end! They said to us "You guys are our inspiration!". But after seeing them loaded up, with a 5 yr old boy in front, with four months of adventure and trials ahead of them, they were our heroes! All the best guys!

Here I am surveying the final pass of the trip, Paso Garibaldi. I still remember the first big climb in Alaska like it was yesterday wondering "just how many climbs like this lie between Alaska and Ushuaia?" Then it was down to just one...and it started to rain!

But on the otherside of Paso Garibaldi we were bathed in sunshine and the colours on the mountains were glowing in the light. The dark green of the evergreen forest, the beech starting to turn orange, the bright green alpine grasses and the grey rocky scree slopes. And we were heading down to the valley in search of our final campspot.

Which we found here some 35km short of Ushuaia complete with fireplace, sunshine, endless supply of wood and mountain views. Many 'lasts' over the final few days riding. The 'last' time we would be scanning the roadside in search of a suitable wildcamp. The 'last' campfire...

The 'last' time we slept in all of our thermals and beanies. The 'last' time I dragged myself out of the tent in the cold to prepare breakfast. The 'last' time Anna rolled up the sleeping mats and sleeping bags like the tireless campaigner she is...

The 'last' mug of sticky porridge and definitely the 'last' time we wear crocs, and shorts over thermal pants for the fun or it!

On the final downhill into Ushuaia, amazingly we rounded a bend to find Prado and Guillaume talking to two Japanese cyclist. "No, it can't be! But it is...It's Ken!"

The last time we had seen Ken was in Guadalajara, Mexico some 2 years earlier along with our other Good Japanese cycling friends Nobu and Hiro. And now he had flown into Ushuaia from Santa Cruz Bolivia and was heading back north to join the dots. What a small world the biking community continued to be, right to the end!

And then on the 11th of March 2011, after 32328 km and nearly three years on the road we arrived into Ushuaia with a whole range of emotions and a few tears of elation...

Anna still had plenty of energy climbing to the top, while I was more than happy to sit back and relax and enjoy the moment of arriving at the monument to 'Ushuaia - La Ciudad mas Austral del Mundo' ('Ushuaia - the southernmost city in the world').

The view from 'La Pista Andina' camping above the city of Ushuaia, an effort to get to after some celebratory beverages and empanadas with Prado and Guillaume, but well worth the effort with stunning views across the Beagle Channel. For the next two days the weather deteriorated with rain showers turning to snow showers so we sat in the warmth of the camping refuge watching the snow fall outside, looking across to the snow capped mountains, glad that we had arrived when we did and able to reflect upon the end of the journey.

The snow and bad weather was perfect for catching up with our Colombian biking friend Carlos (Pedaleando Alma) for empanadas, coffee and beer. Carlos had been recuperating in Ushuaia from a problem with his achilles tendon. Once he was recovered he would be returning back north to his homeland via the east of South America in over another year.

Then after the weather had improved a little we rode the final 28kms of road to the 'end of the road' at Bahia Lapataia, PN Tierra del Fuego for the mandatory photo opportunity. I had also managed to break the rail on one of my ortlieb panniers on the way there. Another subtle reminder that we had reached the end of our journey and it was time to stop.

And there on the shores of the Beagle Channel just as one journey was coming to an end, I dropped to one knee and asked Anna to join me on another journey. Maybe the biggest adventure of our lives to come, to be my wife! Luckily for me she said "yes", otherwise it would have been a bit awkward! And yes, that is a 16 tooth rohloff rear sprocket engagement ring with over 10000kms of love, sweat and tears.

The harbour of Ushuaia and clouds draped over the surrounding mountains.

Ali and the bikes all boxed up at Buenos Aires airport.

'this is the end, beautiful friend, the end...'

This is what it came down to in the end - two bikes in boxes, our panniers and a couple of backpacks on our way home after reaching the end of the world.

But it's not really the end. Only the end of the line on a map and the end of the Americas. But our journey continues...

Thankyou all for following the journey with us from the beginning to the end. Without the love and support from our family and friends we would never have had the courage to step out on such a journey. And without the generosity, hospitality, warmth, love, openness and humour of all the people who have welcomed us into their homes, shared meals with us, offered us cups of tea, ridden a mile or a month with us, and offered us help throughout the past two years and 10 months, this adventure just would not have been possible. So thankyou all!

Peace, love and tailwinds from the Fuego team Ali and Anna

ps stay tuned...maybe there will be more from us post trip!

Also lots of photo credit for all the photos of us, to Prado and Guillaume, our biking companions for all of Tierra del Fuego. Gracias amigos!

Photos: Tierra del Fuego 'the final chapter' Porvenir to Ushuaia

thefuegoproject — Tue, 3 May 2011 23:31:00 GMT

The Argentine Lakes district, Paso Huahum to Futaleufu

thefuegoproject — Sat, 1 Jan 2011 06:23:00 GMT

16/12/10 - 30/12/10 600 km

link to picasa photo album

After a nice boat ride over Lago Pirihueico we ride back into Argentina. The border crossing is a quiet one, and since we are riding eastbound, we have a strong wind with us. The change from Chile to Argentina is apparent. The dense wet green forest changes into drier Cordillera Cypress forest, and the road is lined by thousands of flowers, purple and pink lupines and yellow broom.

In San Martin we have a couple days rest in the 'Bike Hostel', where we catch up with cycling friends met in the past weeks, Hugh and Pauline from the UK, Sergio and Ricardo from Buenos Aires, and new ones, Carlos (Colombia), Dave and Morgan (US), and Emiliano and Federico (Buenos Aires).

Our first night is somewhat of a party, Morgan and Dave cooking delicious Mexican burritos for all of us and with Kelvin hosting us, it feels kind of like being at home.

In a local joint named 'Pizza Kala' we are reunited (three times in three days...) with our beloved Argentine empanadas, filled with cheese, mushrooms, spinach and tomato basil, a welcome vegetarian change to our usual camp cooked meals.

And yes the 'Lacar' beer is also vegetarian

Anna and Kelvin our english mate drinking, spanish speaking host at 'Bike Hostel'. Ali and him were talking about the Ashes cricket in spanish...very amusing!

The next days riding on the 'Ruta de los 7 lagos' are true bliss. They call this area ‘chocolate box scenery’, and for obvious reasons: blue skies, clear lakes, green forested slopes and snowy mountain peaks for the backdrop. To top that off for us a good road (initially paved and then 50km or so of dirt or 'ripio'), free beach camping three nights in a row, and the company of Carlos, Emiliano and Federico.

Anna on the 'ruta de los 7 lagos'...riding bliss

Towers above Lago Faulkner, 'Ruta de los 7 lagos'

Beach camp at Lago Villarino

Carlos enjoying the 'ripio', lupines, blue skies and clear lake views

I try to swim in as many lakes possible. The lakes are freezing cold being glacially fed, a welcome cooldown in the warm afternoons. Unfortunately Ali has had a little accident and scraped off a flap of skin from his heel on a wooden beam, and can’t join the water fun for a few days.

Carlos and Ali 'dry rowing' and then relaxing by Lago Hermoso

Lago Espejo in the early morning

Ali filling his bottle from a small waterfall on the roadside

Bariloche is a busy town and we are happy to just ride through, stopping only to buy some chocolate in one of the famous stores for Christmas.

The surroundings of Bariloche are awesome, although we are somewhat disturbed by yet another Argentine rubbish dump on the southern end of town.

We both choke in the horrendous fumes that blow over the road. It seems that Argentina has serious problems with their waste disposal, we have seen many towns with their outskirts littered in waste.

wild camp between Bariloche and El Bolson

Anna enjoying the colours of the roadside, lupine and broom on the road to El Bolson

For some time we’ve been in contact about catching up with Sarah and Andy, good friends from Australia currently also roaming South America. In El Bolson we finally get together in the nice quiet 'hostel Pehuenia'. Our time together coincides with Christmas, and it’s wonderful to share these days.

Sarah and Andy have done a great Christmas shop, and treat us with all sorts of goodies we don’t usually get on the road. From Indian curry to chocolate and icecream with raspberries, all very tasty. On Christmas day we ride and then hike to the rio Azul together and have a deli lunch picnic, topped off by some local brew.

Christmas picnic by the rio Azul

On the way back we had to climb a giant hill but luckily there was a local 'cerveceria' with cool home made beer which warranted another pit-stop.

I feel a kind of sadness I haven’t felt before on this trip when we say goodbye. It’s almost a contradiction in my head. These days make me miss being home and having good friends around.

We ride on south to enter PN los Alerces. We had quite high hopes for this park, named after the Alerce, one of the worlds oldest growing trees, up to 4000 years. But unfortunately for us holiday season has started and the curvy narrow gravel road through the park has an enormous amount of traffic on it. The lakes in the park are famed for their trout, so most cars are there just to get to their boat launch, pulling speedboats behind big SUVs. As the weather has been dry for some time, each car that passes leaves us in a cloud of dust, choking for air and rubbing our eyes to get the grit out. We both nearly get hit by a crazy guy trying to give us a scare by turning his wheels our way just before passing us. We both just escape the boat trailer swerving inches from our bikes. Ali lets him know in his best spanish what he really thinks of such stupid potentially life threatening behaviour.

The park fee has also increased by 100 percent since 2 years, only for foreigners of course, which always puts us off somewhat. But besides that, the boat fee to see a stand of Alerces is well above what we had read in our guide. Well, in the end we do a small hike and see one Alerce called 'the lone Alerce', a toddler at only 300 years old, and a few kilometres later we find a lovely free beach camp at Playa Frances where we can wash of the dirt and bad feelings.

'El abuelo' a 2600 year old alerce tree that lives in a remote part of the park only accessible by expensive tour boat. This is as close as we got to it!

From the park we ride on to Trevelin, a town settled by Welsh people in the early 20th century. There are still a few teahouses that offer a ‘te Gales’ (Welsh high tea), so we take a seat at ‘Nain Maggie’ and order tea for one. Nain Maggie has passed away a long time ago, but her granddaughters proudly continue with her recipes and traditions.

I’m not sure how much Welsh people are used to eating, but one ‘tea’ shared between us we had enough pies and scones for two hungry cyclist stomachs! Nain Maggie (on the wall) keeps a watchful eye on the smelly cyclists drinking tea from a proper tea pot for the first time in years.

There is a friendly English/ Argentine couple sitting next to us and the lady says: ‘I’ve been to Chile three times now, but it’s got absolutely nothing on Argentina. In Argentina, the views.....amazing, in Chile, there’s really nothing to see’. We chuckle over the ever present rivalry between these two countries. Whether it be views, friendliness of the people, empanadas, or wine.

Ali and a (not so) typical Argentine gaucho on his horse

On our last day of two weeks in Argentina we cross the border with Chile into Futaleufu with the Rio Grande, becoming the blue Rio Futaleufu by our side.

I’m not sure what the lady meant with ‘no views’ as we are riding next to the bluest river i’ve seen in my life, and among folded granite cypress covered mountains on both sides of the border. Once more into Chile...and the prospect of rainy days on the infamous Carretera Austral, or our Patagonian summer will continue.

We’ll be back in touch after the Carretera Austral.

Cheers, y hasta la proxima vez

Anna and Alister

Photos: The Argentine Lakes District

thefuegoproject — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 02:41:00 GMT

Clear skies and blue lakes

The Araucania Temuco to Puerto Fuy, Chile

thefuegoproject — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 02:42:00 GMT

2/12/10 to 16/12/10 440km

Arriving on the night bus from Santiago to Temuco we awoke to the unfamiliar sound of rain on the road and grey gloomy skies. We had arrived in the south we had wanted to be for so long, and it was a sudden shock to be donning the waterproof gear at 6:30am and riding into the drizzly cold rain of Temuco. Be very careful for what you wish for...after so long on the altiplano and in the desert of the north without any substantial rain and the brown, red and yellow hues of the landscapes, we had been dreaming of lush green forests, clear mountain streams, waterfalls and even the sensation of rain on our faces. Well now we had it and wondered just how it was going to go over the next months heading south!

Luckily we had been invited by a friendly woman Miriam on the bus to go and stay with her and her two granddaughters, to get some sleep and prepare for leaving the next day. “Of course, why would you go to a hospedaje? You should come to my house where it’s warm, i have a bed, stay as long as you need” she told us. So by 7:00am and a little wet and cold after a short ride from the bus we fell straight into Chilean hospitality of the south with home cooked meals, a warm bed and a friendly family.

PN Conguillo and the Araucaria wonderland

Leaving Temuco behind the weather cleared up as we rode through farmland, blooming flowers on the roadside, a distant view of Volcan Villarica and the looming Volcan Llaima ahead us still draped in cloud. Traffic decreased with every village we passed through and by the time the road entered the beech forest we were on a narrow dirt road devoid of traffic climbing steeper in the direction of the Volcano. We actually reached the border of the Parque Nacional Conguillo the first day and camped near the ‘Salto de Lan Lan’.

The next day we climbed higher into the first of the araucaria forest and skirted around the north western slopes of the volcano through mixed beech and araucaria forest.

The silhouettes of the drooping top heavy branches of the araucaria made an impressive site against the glowing white snowy cone of Volcan Llaima. At 3125m one of the most active volcanoes in southern Chile (along with Volcan Villarica) last erupting in 2008.

The road to renter the park from the north was built over lava flow from a 1957 eruption so was rocky and sandy and a challenge to re-climb some 500m of elevation that we had just lost. But after some hard riding soon we were among the araucarias again before a short steep climb that we had to 'two-man push' bikes up and over among more awesome forest this time giant coihue beech trees before descending to the camping area at Lago Conguillio.

The next day we left the bikes at camp and hiked up the Sierra Nevada trail some 7km up a ridgeline through huge Coihue (beech) forest with the sound of woodpeckers echoing through the trees to a series of lookouts over Lago Conguillo and Volcan Llaima. We emerged onto a snowy ridge lined with ancient araucarias and jaw dropping views of Volcan Villarica in the far distance, the twin peaks of Volcan Llaima and her black and red lava flows interspersed with green forest, Lago Conguillo shimmering like a jewel, and a pair of condors circling above in the blue sky.

A pair of condors in flight above the Sierra Nevada trail, PN Conguillio

Carpintero Negro (Campephilus magellanicus)

An araucaria wonderland!

Why a ‘monkey puzzle’ tree? When we thought about this question I had thought that the hexagonal shaped bark appeared like some sort of wooden puzzle that maybe only a monkey could figure out. But after doing some research it got its name in England after someone remarked over one of the first specimens to be grown there in a garden “It would puzzle a monkey to climb that”. It didn’t already have a common name and therefor the name stuck.

The Mapuche call it the Pehuen and it was a very important source of food with its edible nuts that taste like large pine nuts. Anyone for basil and pehuen pesto?

Heading south out of the park was another spectacular days riding over a black lava flow from a 1950’s eruption of Llaima. Have you ever ridden over a lava field before?

Pucon and the pouring rain!

Arriving into the campground in Pucon we met up with this hardcore bunch of riders from Flagstaff Arizona and Marin county California on a 6 week tour of the Araucania and lakes districts and shared some good old pizza pie, beers, stories of the road and laughs at a wood oven pizza joint in town.

That’s Joe Murray ‘1984/85 Norba mtb champion and frame builder’ with his own custom designed touring rig ‘Sendero, Roper ‘the redneck’, Anna (enjoying the attention of these gentlemen)and John the ‘I am more Italian than Italy’ from Marin County just before the rains really kicked in. (Thanks guys for the pizza, beer, laughs, bike tune-up and REI complimentary spare parts!!!)

In Pucon the heavens opened for nearly two full days of torrential rain where our tent was flooded from the ground on up. Luckily we had a refuge at the campground where we could sit, cook, eat, plan and wait for the rains to stop, as usual with the campground dogs. Any plans to visit the PN Huerquehue, or climb Volcan Villarica were quickly dampened or flooded by the rain, which meant all there was to do was rest!

In Between the Volcanoes on the ‘Camino Intransitable’

As soon as the weather showed signs of letting up we hit the dirt road towards Volcan Villarica. We met up with our biking friends from the UK Hugh and Pauline and with the grey skies and big climb ahead to 1200m we decided to stop early and camp nearby the ‘Salto de la China’, a spectacular 73m high waterwall flowing well after the recent rain and spraying the surrounding dense valley with fine mist.

Anna mesmerised by the awesome sound and spray from ‘Salto de la China’

Hugh and Pauline from Cumbria, UK on a 6 month South America trip. This one was taken near where we met in Cunco

At the National Park entrance a sign declared that the road from here on is ‘intransitable to cars and only hikers should continue’. I think they underestimated the power of the mountain bike and the determination of the four of us. Indeed the road soon turned into a two wheel jeep track deeply rutted and with large stones embedded in the surface and at times extremely steep and off-camber.

Mostly rideable but in places we were reduced to pushing our heavily loaded beasts of burden up steep pinch climbs, deep ruts and through water crossings.

By the time we reached the pass at 1230m it was snowing or sleeting and no time to dwell in the Araucaria wonderland we were in.

Anna with Pauline close behind near the pass and it started snowing!

This time in a very different mood than PN Conguillo, grey skies and snow falling, the silhouettes of the Araucaria created an eerily beautiful black and white scene.

The descent was bliss through moss covered grey trunks over firm damp volcanic soil. This would have been heavy mountain biking on ‘wildside’ starting off in snow, over huge lateral Arauracaria roots, through deep ruts, over rocks, through streams and with the extra weight we were carrying the bikes stuck to everything we rode.

From the snow...

To the dirt stuff meshed with tree roots... Pure adventure mountain bike touring, this is what we are doing it for! and well worth the pushing and straining on the climb to enjoy the downhill.

Hugh negotiating one of the many 'water hazards' of the route while Anna looks on "mmm at what point do I jump in to help Hugh?..."

Hugh and Pauline performed faultlessly on the rough dirt with drop bars on their Audax style bikes not showing any sign that they had never ridden mountain bike trails at all (well done guys!). They rode it all like seasoned professionals and later thanked us for giving them some confidence riding as four and not just the two.

Exiting the park and the ‘intransitable’ section of road a felled beech tree with a girth of maybe 150cm blocked the road for cars....definitely intransitable from this direction! So the road improved and the descent continued past a number of famous hotspring resorts including the luxury ‘Termas Geometricas’ but none of them would allow camping nearby so we declined their services and not so ‘biker friendly’ attitudes and rolled on downhill in search of a place to camp.

Near Coñaripe we ended up asking a friendly lady Pamela if we could camp on her property next to her restaurant if we bought some bread or food from her.

She didn’t have bread to sell but allowed us to pitch our tents next to her ‘Quincho’ (a five or six sided stone building with a fireplace in the centre - backgorund left in picture) and within minutes was organising a fire inside for us to keep warm and a place to cook our dinner.

The next moment she invited us to milk her cow with her and while she was able to extract 10 litres in a short time all of us could only manage a few awkward squeezes and a few small squirts of milk, not even enough for a cafe latte. She then showed us how to make fresh cheese from the milk, gave us fresh hot milk and freshly baked bread. As Anna would say, we had fallen with our noses into the butter! Some more amazing Chilean hospitality in the south!

Her two boys then led us on an evening tour to a hidden lagoon and an enchanted forest of Arrayanes. Gracias a Pamela, Nicolas y Matias por todo!

Biking companions, hotsprings and waterfalls

On the crossing between the volcanoes in PN Villarica with Hugh and Pauline we also met two cyclists from Buenos Aires, Sergio and Ricardo. Firstly at the Salto de la China and then we followed their two tyre tracks in the snow ahead of us until we left the park. For the next two days we would cross their path on the road hopping ahead and then falling behind, exchanging some conversation then moving on each at our own pace. At the Termas de Manquecura they joined us for some food, wine and mate not to mention some late night soaking in the hotsprings.

Sergio and Ricardo on their yearly two week tour, usually in the lakes district or Araucania of Chile. Gracias para acompañarnos por un par de dias en la Araucania.

Spectacular smoking Volcan Villarica from the road between Liquine and Neltume

The ‘Salto Huilo Huilo’ an impressive and powerful waterfall on the Rio Fuy where the azul waters squeeze through black volcanic basalt rock and plunge 30 metres into a white thundering mist with rainbows and rainforest vegetation clinging to the cliffs.

The sad thing here is that the waterfalls and the access to Volcan Choshuenco lie in a private reserve ‘Reserva Huilo Huilo’ (owned by the same person who owns the timber forests of the area) which charges some extortionate fees for viewing the waterfall, let alone going into the reserve to the mirador or to go trekking. They have developed some sort of monopoly on nature with a couple of bizarre high end hotels built in the forest like the ‘Boabab’ or ‘Magic mountain’, and a ‘cerveceria’ (microbrewery) and then charge high fees to access to the reserve itself.

Otherwise Neltume was a strange, quiet Mapuche village built on the timber industry in the surrounding hills but we found a beautiful little campground right on the Rio Fuy to rest for a day before continuing on into Argentina via the ferry crossing to Puerto Pirihueico.

Anna enjoying the scenery on lago Pirihueico letting the boat do the kilometres for once!

(info for other bikers: the ferry left at 1pm from Puerto Fuy and cost 3080 COP including the bike and took an hour and a half to Puerto Pirihueico)

In the north like Peru, Bolivia and Chile we would sometimes seek out the harder, higher passes in the Andes like Paso Sol de Mañana in Bolivia at 4900m (our highest to date) but for this crossing at Paso Huahum at only 645m we were aiming for one of the lowest passes across the Andes we have done so far. In fact, a fault in the geography of the mountains means that Lago Lacar in Argentina actually drains west into Chile and into the Pacific Ocean, the first time that it does so from Argentina coming down the Andes from the north so even after the border crossing we were climbing into Argentina.

The Araucania of Chile was a beautiful two weeks of riding, some off the beaten track back routes on quiet roads through National Parks and on the Chilean Interlagos route. We had both been looking forward to seeing the ‘pehuen’ or ‘monkey puzzle’ trees of which we had the pleasure of riding through huge forests of under blue skies and through blowing snow highlighting their distinctive moods. Hiking high above the snowline where these trees rule surrounded by smoking snow capped volcanoes with soaring condors was a highlight in PN Conguillo (a big 'gracias' a Juano in Santiago for recommending this as his favourite place in the Chile!!!). Meeting plenty of other biking companions along the way was another highlight. The feared rain and wet conditions didn’t really eventuate and after those wet days in Pucon it was back to blue skies, hot riding and amazing views. After the Araucania we really feel like we have arrived in ‘the south’...next stop Argentina and Patagonia!

Thanks for joining the journey with us

Hasta la proxima

Ali and Anna

Photos: The Araucania, Temuco to Puerto Fuy

thefuegoproject — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 02:29:00 GMT

San Pedro de Atacama to Salta (over Paso Jama)

thefuegoproject — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 14:02:00 GMT

8/10/10 to 15/10/10 609 km

In San Pedro another longer than planned stay mostly waiting for my irritated right eye to clear up. I had been experiencing irritation and sensitivity to light for the last few days of the lagunas route and with all the sand and wind we had assumed it was just a ‘foreign body’ like some windblown grit stuck in there. After a week of eyedrops, rest and avoiding overexposure to sunlight and the dusty sandblown streets of San Pedro and still no drastic improvement, we decided it was probably wise to see an opthamologist before embarking on the remote Paso Jama route to Salta. So after an hour and a half bus trip to Calama the Opthamologist found nothing seriously wrong, just suffering from ‘dry eyes’ with the dry altiplano climate and prescribed some tears and an antibiotic solution. But ironically for my first opthamologist visit since primary school days what she did find was that I need glasses. I failed the sight test! “Is that an ‘R’ or an ‘F’?”. Well I chose wrong and the truth was revealed. I didn’t know the world could look so clear with lenses!

Another day of prescribed rest before we finally headed out from San Pedro with the intention of ‘hitching’ a ride back up the 2100m long straight climb that we had descended the week before. After all we had already climbed to 4600m enough times in Bolivia and the climb hadn’t appeared all that interesting on the way down...straight, steep and unrelenting. By our calculations it would take us a day and a half to get back to the junction with Bolivia. A day and a half that we thought we could use more productively. What we hadn’t counted on was almost zero traffic heading in that direction other than tour groups and full trailers of cars bound for Paraguay...so the idea of an easy hitch faded very quickly.

Eventually Nils and Caro got a ride in an international bus bound for Salta so we agreed to meet them up the top once we had got a lift too.

But for us, nothing, nada not a single car for over an hour. By the time it reached 12:45pm we had had enough of waiting and decided we would just have to give it a crack and maybe before the hill started or somewhere up it we might be luck enough to still get a lift.

Anna waiting in vain for a ride that never came. That’s Volcan Licancabur in the background (far left) and our road 2100m higher (just to the right of the volcanoes)

So 11km into the wind and gradual climbing before the real climb started. By 3:30pm we had made it up 600m and 20 km from San Pedro when finally a friendly Chilean, Jonathan in a pick-up stopped for us (actually the only car that stopped for us...too bad if we were in real trouble and needed help!). He kindly let us throw the bikes and gear in the back and drove us to the junction to Hito Cajones and Bolivia only some 26km further but back up to 4600m.

We had also passed on a message with a passing car to let Nils and Caro know not to wait for us as we might not have got a lift up the climb. At 4:10pm and at 4600m it was freezing cold, and the sun was already getting lower in the west so a quick gear change, a big thanks to Jonathan and back on the bikes to quickly get over the 4780m pass and to find somewhere comfortable to camp for the night before the sun dropped away for good behind the mountains for another freezing night on the altiplano.

We had just started seriously looking for a camp spot when right on cue a recently constructed ‘rest area’ appeared on the left hand side with a low wall, a bench and some clear flat ground to pitch the tent hopefully out of the wind. A speedy ‘pitch the tent-cook-eat-get inside the tent’ routine before we froze.

Our ‘pretty damn high camp’but not quite our highest, very close at a mere 4650m. But maybe the coldest night ever as water was freezing in the drink bottles the moment the sun went down!

While cooking dinner this little guy appeared out of nowhere, ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’ our only camp visitor for the night not surprisingly. Amazing how he can survive up here in the altiplano desert and the cold without a single sign of vegetation, let alone anything he could eat.

We knew that Nils and Caro were still well ahead of us (one passing motorist even said “they were going like Lance Armstrong...they’ll almost be at the border by now!”) so we were up as early as possible in the cold, the sun warming the tent and our freezing hands. Amazingly beautiful altiplano riding through the red volcanic desert, multicoloured layers of volcanic slopes, a huge herd of vicuñas, some flamingoes, and frozen streams.

With some strong tailwinds we had already covered 35km in a just over an hour when the figures of two cyclists caught our attention ahead. It was Nils and Caro, just on the road after also experiencing a freezing cold night at 4500m, but unlike us, the mountains had blocked the morning sun for them meaning a late departure and giving us time to catch them up.

The decision was made then to push for the Argentinian border that same day, still some 75kms away but only one more ‘big’ pass at nearly 4800m and with some generous winds at our backs, maybe it would be possible. Unfortunately the extreme headwinds on the climb to 4800m was just too much for Caro to bare after the experiences on the lagunas route and getting blasted on and off the road for a few kms it just wasn’t fun for her any longer. so when offered a ride in a truck to the border she was more than happy to accept. For the three of us stubborn bikers it was then a spectacular ride through enchanted desert valleys with eroded standing stones and ancient eroded volcanic hills, past white salares and multi coloured lagoons with a raging tailwind pushing us on our way.

Twice more above 4400m and then a downhill to Paso Jama and into Argentinian territory for the first time, reuniting with Caro at the YPF petrol station by 4:30pm who had found an abandoned house nearby where we were allowed to camp for the night, and we could use the bathrooms and get water from the cafe at the YPF. A huge 103km day on the altiplano of amazing riding all above 4200m!

Bienvenidos a Argentina! After nearly 2 and a half years since leaving home we finally reached our final country on the trip and a place we had been looking forward to for a long time!

Another long 114km day this time our first 100+ day in Argentina driven on by the prospect of cold beer and empanadas to celebrate my 31st birthday in style after some remote and wild riding across Paso Jama.

Nothing like a bit of 'beer and empanada motivation' to put in a big day and get to Pastos Chicos restaurant/bar!

Nils riding through an enchanted valley under towering giant cactus between Susques and Salinas Grandes.

A rare snap of the four of us taken by Berndt (a friendly Austrian man who invited us for beer and wine in Purmamarca...if we made it there that was)

The final pass up to 4100m where some dark clouds moved in quickly and it began to snow. Perhaps it would be our last time above 4000m in the Andes...we both felt a little sentimental, and a hint of sadness with this thought after so many adventures, high camps, lonely roads and beautiful scenery above 4000m in the high Andes of Peru, Bolivia and now Chile and Argentina.

And then the drop, straight down the other side.....

Still going....

All the way down, 2000m in total of switchbacks and sweeping corners to Purmamarca at 2200m deep in the quebrada and backed by the ‘Cerro de los siete colores’. It was dark and overcast in the mountains, and the cold wind was blowing the poplars and willows strongly, so instead of feeling the long longed for warmth of the lower desert climate we were still rugged up and freezing when we pulled into the first real ‘campground’ style camping we have seen since the United States.

‘Cerro de los siete colores’ and ‘camping’ Argentinian style in Purmamarca

Then we rejoined the main highway coming from La Quiaca, so the traffic increased, as did the heat and the wind on our way down still to San Salvador de Jujuy at 1200m.

A lot of people have talked about the dramatic change coming down off the altiplano after several months above 3600m into the north of Argentina especially with the colours returning, the greens of the trees, the colours of flowers etc... But for us what was even more dramatic than the colours was the return of all things ‘olfactory’ and smelly...from the sweet nectar of the flowers, green leaves of the trees and the fresh smell of water in rivers to the stench of a dead animal on the roadside or cow manure in the fields. It’s funny, I never actually felt those things leave us when we were riding so high, but now all the senses returned in overdrive.

From San Salvador de Jujuy we took the Ruta 9 to Salta via La Cornisa, eventually a beautifully quiet narrow laned road with only a handful of tourist cars, no truck traffic and some gradual but long climbing past the reservoirs and up through dry forest with bromelids hanging from the large trees up to 1500m before following the next valley all the way down to the large city of Salta.

In Salta we had long been looking forward to staying at the Casa de Ciclista of Ramon but unfortunately while Ramon and his mum Tina were extremely friendly to us (and the three friendly dogs of the house), his brother was not so and we had to make way after 3 nights for some incoming random family from Spain. A bit of a disappointing first Casa de Ciclista experience for Nils and Caro after we had hyped it up so much over the past 8 days.

Still we managed to undertake some chores of bike maintenance, clothes washing as well as eat some of Tina’s famous empanadas, drink some ‘Fernet’ (a strong liquor made from various herbs) and experience first hand “el dia de la madre’ (mothers day) celebrations Argentinian suburban style ie. the neighbourhood party starting at midnight, more beef empanadas than you could poke a ‘fat argentinian’ at, kids running around hyped up on coke until 4am...I think you can get the idea. Thanks Ramon for the hospitality, your mums empanadas, sharing a short time with us and putting us in the right direction for bike workshops to get some jobs done!

Paso Jama was a truly spectacular ride. Not quite as dramatic scenery as the ‘lagunas route’ but very close to it especially on the Chilean side. And with the smooth paved highway taking us across the deep red sandy altiplano desert 100km a day, instead of grinding and pushing through that sand like in Bolivia, we were able to enjoy the surrounds a whole lot more. “Did I mention the tailwinds?”...Yes they also helped to enjoy the ride and would have slowed things down coming the other way from the east for sure.

Next stop... a long one to Mendoza via the Quebrada de las conchas, wine growing Cafayate, the prickly Argentinian desert and the infamous ‘Ruta 40’. Happy to finally be in Argentina!

Enjoy!

As per usual the complete gallery of pics can be seen here in Picasa

Hasta la proxima vez

Ali y Anna

Photos: San Pedro de Atacama to Salta, Argentina (over Paso Jama)

thefuegoproject — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 06:10:00 GMT

Uyuni to San Pedro de Atacama (via the Lagunas Route)

thefuegoproject — Fri, 1 Oct 2010 14:17:00 GMT

14/9/10 to 30/9/10 526 of the roughest, sandiest and washboarded kms of our trip

After the ‘Bolivia weaving detour’ we returned to Uyuni eager to tackle the infamous ‘Lagunas route’, a challenging route through the south west of Bolivia on sand and washboard roads in one of the most spectacular parts of Bolivia among volcanoes, flamingo filled lagoons and steaming hotsprings. 10 to 14 days is the norm for most bikers, depending greatly on weather, wind and the condition of the road (later to be known as ‘deep sandy washboard jeep track’) so a lot of food to be taken, and carrying water for 2 to 3 days. How hard could it be after all?...

At this point Nils and Carolin, a German couple on bikes similar age to us and, also coming from Alaska rolled into the same hostel where we were staying in Uyuni and soon we had convinced them that they should join us for this trip (they had already been thinking about it but were a little cautious about doing it).

Our first step was to retrace our steps back across the Salar de Uyuni to Isla Incahuasi where we had already passed on our first west-east crossing of the salar before taking a bearing due south to hit land again and make our way to San Juan. Not a bad thing really to have to cycle over the largest salt lake in the world...a second time...this is what most bike tourers dream of for years!

This time we managed to find the ‘secret terraplen’ 10km south of Colchani, then spent a night camped alongside the salt hotel ‘Playa Blanca’ where a cute Japanese couple volunteering in Bolivia, Nori and Keiko entertained us with a sunset salar concert on the guitar and melodica with some Japanese Spanish folk rock.

‘en vivo’ on the Salar

Nori and Keiko in the salt hotel ‘Playa Blanca’

Heading west across the salar this time into the wind and new friends Nils and Carolin towards Isla Incahuasi

A night indoors at the Isla Incahuasi refugio (a refugio for bikers and walkers), watching the sunset over the crisp white salar from behind the glass and out of the wind after a late afternoon scramble over the rocky coral cactus filled island.

Heading south on the ‘sea of salt’ with the four of us, and anticipating what will come on the ‘Lagunas route’...note the black trail from the hundreds of jeeps that drive the over the Salar each day.

Not long after leaving the salar the road turned to sand and washboard, although it was mostly rideable, it was a sign of worse things to come. And then the road veered right at a small village and headed up this hill....

The ‘giant cactus hill’ before San Juan - ‘my girlfriend is hardcore part I’

“What had we got ourselves in for” we thought after this 200m pinch on rough limestone rubble on unrideable gradients. This was when we adapted to not just ‘hike a bike’ (where one has to push their bike for a considerable distance due to rocky terrain for example) but ‘hiking and biking’, donning the trusty Macpacs on our backs (well we are not carrying them for nothing!) to make it easier to push a lighter bike. And when it got too steep we hiked a section dropped the pack and then went back for the bike.

A rest day in San Juan and a quick restock of food and supplies as there would be nothing substantial until maybe the refugios at Laguna Colorada and Laguna Blanca.

Some nice riding along the Salar de Chiguana to the military post to get water for the next days and then the ‘Lagunas route’ officially began in earnest although not without its early problems. Carolin suffered an intense pain in her belly and was unable to continue riding the big rough climb up from the Salar de Chiguana. Luckily a large overland truck driven by a friendly Italian man John appeared out of nowhere and he was able to give her a lift to the international road where if she needed serious medical attention we could hitch a ride to Ollague in Chile to see a doctor. As it turned out, her pain passed but it was already late in the day so we camped under the watchful eye of the smoking Volcan Ollague in a dried out basin away from the road.

The next day Carolin had made a full recovery so we pushed on as planned, but running a little short on water we had to try and make it to Laguna Hedionda in the day. Some more steep climbing, some friendly jeep tour groups who gave us some extra water, getting some practice on the sand and washboard and the scenery began cranking up a notch or two on the ‘spectacular dial’ especially when we rose over a small pass and the shimmering Laguna Cañapa spread out before us filled with hundreds of tiny pink dots - flamingos!

Descending to the flamingo-filled Laguna Cañapa after a long day where we decided to make camp for the night.

It's not every night you get to fall asleep to the sound of Flamingos gently calling 20 metres from your tent, on the frozen Laguna Cañapa.

When the riding was good, it was truly a spectacular route. Big skies, vast red desert-scapes now smeared with white salares and turquoise blue salt lakes filled with the pink dots of flamingos. Anna descending to Laguna Hedionda and the multitude of jeep tracks to choose from.

Flamingos on Laguna Hedionda

Almost directly after the last in the string of lagunas, laguna Honda, things got a little tough...3 days of mostly pushing through deep red volcanic sand crossing the Desierto de Siloli. We covered less than 30km each day with around 5km of that daily figure pushing through sand. Our shoes were filled with sand and our backs ached but we just had to ‘push on’ quite literally km by km until close to the days end when we would have to seek shelter from the freezing cold wind and set up camp, cook, eat and be inside before the sun disappeared for another cold altiplano.

The only rock, and maybe the only shelter in miles...and at 4:39pm exhausted after pushing for hours, not a perfect camp spot but it would have to do.

Nothing, nada not a single plant, grass, or speck of green! Nothing that is except fine red volcanic sand and deep washboard...There was plenty of that crossing the Desierto de Siloli

Anna taking a break from the incessant wind for morning tea at Arbol de Piedra before arriving at a funny little refugio run by a green-mouthed coca-chewing senora at Laguna Colorada where we met up with Nils and Caro again and spent a rest day in the relative comfort indoors with the sun shining and wind howling outside.

The girls weaved and baked bread for the days ahead, the boys cleaned stoves, kicked bike tyres and did manly things like that. Unexpectedly on our way to one of the ‘tiendas’ (if you can call them that) we saw a llama with its throat cut and draining blood into a bucket...well that would be dinner for the jeep tourists tonight!

After Laguna Colorada things seemed to be looking up, the road was harder packed and good riding high above the shore of the lake but after Huallajara where we picked up water for the next two days, we crossed a frozen stream and then the road turned to a sandy mess of jeep tracks. Only the strong tailwind kept us in a forward momentum downhill until eventually once again we were relegated to pushing the final 3 km to the main road. “That’s fine” I said as I sensed the moral dropping, “from here on the road is going to be in great condition...it’s the main road from Alota to the border and is used by a lot of mining and geothermal plant traffic. It’s only going to get better from here on”. Once again, how wrong I was going to be proved....

The road pinched upwards and into a roaring headwind. “Only 7km of steep climbing...that’s fine we can do that!”. Well after only 1km we were both pushing. I quickly caught up with Anna who could only push the weight of her bike behind me protected by the wind. We had to dig the deepest we have ever on the whole trip to keep the wheels rolling uphill. Hunched over, one hand on the handlebar grip, the other on the lowest point of the seatpost, head down, pushing, pushing, pushing then stopping for a breath. And so like this, we made our way slowly into the wind. Stopping exhausted we collapsed behind the protection of our loaded bikes trying to escape the unrelenting wind. We managed to shove some bread down our throats (no toppings though as the wind blew dust and grit over everything in a few seconds) before our body temperatures dropped rapidly and we needed to keep moving just to stay warm.

Soon enough we were actually able to ride our bikes again, quite a novelty these days on the ‘Lagunas route’ and we got another 15km or so further and close to the top of the pass where we found a small flat slightly protected gravel pit just off the road to pitch for the night. Not perfect, but in that rocky barren landscape probably the best we could have hoped for.

At 4800m it would be our highest camp for the whole trip, and will probably remain our record for ‘high altitude Hilleberg sleeping’. Spectacular views, freezing night, and early wake up call as the hordes of jeeps passed by as early as 6am on their way to the Geysers and Termas de Polque.

Anna riding the highest road of our trip at 4900m Paso Sol de Mañana and missing the unspectacular Sol de Mañana geysers (they were somewhere down there on the left but after 2km walking into the wind and seeing them from a distance and not getting too excited by what we saw we turned back to the bikes)

As we were approaching the Termas de Polque I heard an unfamiliar knocking sound from the front of the bike. I looked down and saw my right pannier hanging in an unconventional manner rubbing against the tyre. Closer inspection revealed by front tubus ‘swing’ rack had snapped clean in two and was now dragging on my tyre. The rough roads and maybe a screaming descent to the Salar de Chalviri had finally taken their toll.

In over 26000km of biking we have had very few mechanical issues aside from flat tyres, the bob trailer wheel bearings and a minor problem with my Rohloff. I always say “rims and racks are what bring most bike tours to a standstill”, and now it was my turn. I managed to rig it up in such a way that I could limp the final 2 km to the Termas de Polque where we could hopefully do some makeshift repairs.

Broken rack in Termas de Polque (postscript: I emailed Tubus and they agreed to send a new rack to Mendoza under their 10 year “we’ll send a new rack to wherever you are in the world” warranty policy, so to the credit of Tubus they stand by their word and their product)

At the Termas de Polque there was no refugio but a nice restaurant where the owners who had received Nils and Caroline the night before, allowed us to roll our mats out on the floor and sleep inside out of the wind. Once Eusavio saw what problem I had with the rack he disappeared and then reappeared with 3 long strips of car tyre tube. And in true ‘bush mechanic’ style he proceeded to wrap the tubing in such a way that it was pulled together almost as good as new. Well at least i hoped it would last until San Pedro de Atacama.

Soaking in the 38 degree waters. I know i’ve said this before, but what a way to end several days of tough cycling...a 2 hour hot bath at 4500m with the chilly altiplano wind keeping you in for as long as you can survive.

“To beat the wind you should leave at 7am!” Eusavio had told us the night before. Well someone should have told the wind that, because when we left at 7:20am we were soon fighting the brutal headwinds along a wide sandy jeep track with many speeding jeeps.

Another killer climb (yes, that road is actually climbing, its deep washboarded sand and the wind was howling all the way from Chile in our faces).

On the other side of the pass Anna taking a ‘power nap’ roadside. Actually we were both completely spent by this point pushing our bikes into the wind up a steep climb all morning before a beautiful descent towards Laguna Blanca. Initially I had wanted to try and summit Volcan Licancabur (in the background) but once we were riding along the shore of Laguna Blanca, the thought couldn’t have been further from my mind.

Finally once all the jeeps had rushed back towards Uyuni it was a beautiful peaceful road alongside Laguna Blanca with her flamingos and nervous vicunas roaming the barren red desert landscape.

The windswept shores of Laguna Blanca from ‘Refugio Colque’

The final hurrah of the ‘Lagunas route’ Anna climbing away from Laguna Blanca towards the border with Chile at Hito Cajones.

By now we had developed a severe hatred for the jeeps and their speeding disregard for other road users. Funny that all the Reserve signage said ‘40km per hour’...yet most jeeps here were doing at least 100km per hour on gravel and sandy roads! The catch 22 here is- that without the jeeps it would be a beautiful tranquil altiplano wonderland, but without the jeeps and tourists there would also be no services to get water, food, to sleep inside etc...and therefore almost impossible to ride by bicycle...(that’s if you’d ever want to do that!). That said we were extremely happy to enter Chile, no more jeeps, no more Bolivian jeep drivers and the rough paved road began, although it still climbed up to 4600m again.

Another dilemma. Once into Chile we had to descend to San Pedro de Atacama some 2100m lower to pass immigration and customs and to take some much needed rest and recovery time after a tough but memorable 16 days since Uyuni. The problem was, that we would then have to reascend all that elevation to the junction before continuing on to Paso Jama and Argentina. Oh well, we would deal with that when the time came. But for now it was nice to be back in the warmth of the lower desert, reunited with Nils and Caro at Hostal ‘Nuevo Amenecer’, and with some relative comforts like a hot shower and good food.

“Would we do the Lagunas route again?”...mmm for the moment “no” but I imagine like the pain of childbirth, once everything of the struggle has been forgotten maybe “yes” when all that remains is the beautiful memories...like the flamingos on the Lagunas Cañapa, Hedionda and Honda, the solitude of the Siloli desert, skies full of the brightest stars you can imagine and herds of Vicuñas running beneath melting rusty coloured volcanoes. But the wind and the deep sand and pushing your bike for hours on end only to cover 2 km? No, I cant remember the wind nor the sand, nor pushing my bike! Well maybe just a little bit...so "never again" we can confidently say but looking back an amazingly remote and beautiful adventure!

Hasta la proxima vez

Thanks for joining the adventure with us

Ali and Anna

I’ll leave the final word on the prospect of the ‘Lagunas route’ to a good friend of ours who respectfully chose not to ride the this route based on the philosophy of...

“After all this is a bike trip and bikes were made to be ridden!”

Max Peer - philosopher, bike traveller, sound engineer and good friend, 2009

Some extra info on the ‘Lagunas route’ for cyclists

We asked ourselves the question, “would we recommend the ‘Lagunas Route’ to other cyclists?” Well it very much depends on who, what you are looking for in the route, and how lucky you are with the wind and road conditions.

For us, it was extremely beautiful, extremely remote but also one of the hardest things we have ever done on, or away from the bike. As the days passed after the route, the pain and memory of the sand and wind lessened, and the memories of flamingo-filled lagunas and endless red volcanic mars-scapes remain

Important things to consider:

You are riding on mostly sandy jeep tracks, not roads

There are not that many places to find water enroute

It got extremely cold at night maybe -15 degrees celsius on some nights (and it can get colder)

150 bolivianos is now the park entrance at Laguna Colorada or Laguna Blanca entrances , they don’t accept US dollars and will not let you pass without paying the fee. They even told us that we could return the way we came if we liked!!! Very corrupt practice, but what can you do?

we carried enough food for 10 - 12 days (but you can maybe ride it faster and therefore with less food, i think 10 days a minimum in case you run into bad weather out there)

at least 1L of petrol per person but if you run short you can buy a litre or so from a jeep driver or refugio

Water:

We got water from the following places en-route (maybe there are other options):

Isla Incahuasi refugio, Salar de Uyuni

San Juan

Chiguana military base

Laguna Hedionda hotel (we had to pay for this ie 1 x 19L garrafon was 50 bol.)

Hotel del Desierto (2km from the route in Desierto de Siloli)

Laguna Colorada and at the Huallajara refugios

Termas Polque restaurant/refugio for cyclists

Laguna Blanca refugios

Photos: Uyuni to San Pedro de Atacama (the Lagunas Route)

thefuegoproject — Fri, 1 Oct 2010 14:09:00 GMT

Lago Chungara to Uyuni (the northern Chilean hotsprings route and crossing the salares)

thefuegoproject — Mon, 6 Sep 2010 12:11:00 GMT

Lago Chungara to Uyuni (northern Chilean hotsprings route and crossing the salares)

13/8/10 to 24/8/10 483km

Well, what a difference it made to be in Chile! The strong westerly winds had still been there when we set off from Tambo Quemado making the climb up to the border a hard slog, but at least we could ride our bikes for the most part, unlike during the galeforce winds of the day before when we walked for 10km and exhausted sought shelter in a new hospital building for the night.

At 4600m, ‘Bienvenidos a Chile!’ said the sign at the pass. ‘Chile’ by name, and very ‘chilly’ by nature! With the wind still blowing strong we pedalled hard downhill to Lago Chungara and the Chilean customs (actually all border formalities for Bolivia and Chile were done here) where the efficient but also very friendly quarantine staff with x-ray machines promptly relieved us of our figs and sultanas “but it’s not fresh fruit” we protested, “no, but it falls under the ‘etc’ category” they replied. Well Anna not to be outdone, (or to lose our valuable goods) managed to sneak a bag of sultanas through... “porridge just isn’t the same without them”. (Chile has very strict quarantine laws about fresh fruit, vegetables, dairy and meat products, but we weren’t going to be going past any shops or towns to stock up for the next 6 days or so). Otherwise a very smooth and quiet entry into Chile.

And probably the most spectacular border crossing we have seen!...On the shores of beautiful Lago Chungara at 4500m one of the highest bodies of water in the world, chilean flamingos were feeding in the semi frozen water alongside giant coots beneath a backdrop of pastel coloured red, orange to cream volcanic peaks. In the other direction the near perfect snow capped cone of Volcan Parinacota reflected in the lake.

We had planned on finding a wild camp on the lake shore somewhere but after we dropped into the Lauca National Park office and had a nice chat with Patricio the ‘guardaparque’, we opted for a night indoors the refugio with a bed and warm fire...

It ended up being a great night of intelligent conversation with Patricio’s friends, over chilean wine and a warm fire we talked about Chile, the environment, and politics. It was like being home, surrounded by ‘green’ friends who work in the environmental field, talking passionately about their land and their country. We had been plucked out of Bolivia and latin america as we know it with its disregard for environmental protection, and into the first world of Chile, among educated people who actually care about the future state of their environment whether it be related to the damming of rivers in Patagonia or the mining of borax in a national park. Our spirits rose with this interaction.

The CONAF crew at Chungara Refugio Rosi, Jimena, Pablo, Mara, Patricio, Ali and Anna

Northern Chilean hotsprings route

It was a spectacular 5 days riding through two national parks (Lauca and Isluga), the Reserva de Las Vicunas and the Salar de Surire National Monument, 3 hotsprings, and through some of the most spectacular volcanic altiplano we have ever seen especially around Lago Chungara and the Salar de Surire.

(*we followed the description of this route and online mudmap from the dutch cyclists Iris and Tore www.irisentoreopreis.nl which has water points, guardaparques etc. I have also written this part of the story with other cyclists in mind. **No fees are charged for entering any of the National Parks or reserves or hotsprings but the refugios charge between 4500 - 5000 Chilean pesos per person)

Day 1 Refugio Chungara to Termas Churigualla 17km

A short day after a midday getaway from the refugio. We rode back to Chilean customs then the sandy track to the right climbing 150m or so to a small pass before a steep descent to the ‘Termas Churigaulla’, where we camped on the other side of the river from the concrete bath complex among the spinifex. Plenty of Vicunas around here and a spectacular backdrop of the smoking Volcan Guallatire. Nice hot baths at 40 degrees.

Day 2 Termas Churigualla to Puente Rio Lauca 44km

Some nervous vicuñas watching us pass by under the smoking Volcan Gaullatire

We had heard that when we joined the main road the conditions would improve because the road is maintained by Quiborax, the company that extracts borax from the Salar de Surire and more than 100 trucks ply the road every day between Surire and the highway for Arica. Well the road was wide but it’s condition was atrocious with deep washboard, loose gravel and the trucks passing at regular intervals coating us in a cloud of fine dust. Riding through spectacular scenery, but the trucks took away some of the enjoyment.

Anna getting a coating of dust

In Guallatire the gaurdaparque was closed as we had suspected but we could get water from a tap in front of the church and a friendly lady from the hostal sold us some fresh vegetables which for us was an amazing luxury, fresh tomatoes, avocado and potato...we would eat like kings for the next two days!

Found a nice wild camp near the puente Rio Lauca away from the road among the spinifex, cream sandstone hills and vicuna paths with views back to Volcan Parinacota and Volcan Guallatire. Our coldest night in Chile...-10 deg c in the vestibule of the tent at 6am (outside the tent...?).

(*Gaullatire had an albergue with a restaurant, water, a Guardaparque (when they are open!) and the hostal owner sold us some fresh veggies)

Day 3 Puente Rio Lauca to Termas de Polloquere 59km

A long day in the sand and washboard but being Sunday, the ‘day of rest’ no Borax trucks so a much nicer day on the road to Surire. The guardaparque in Surire was also closed but there was also no tap to get water outside. Luckily for us a nice clean stream ran in the ‘bofedale’ (spring fed meadow) alongside the guardaparque so we were still able to fill up for the next days on fresh clean water and ride on around the southern shore of the Salar de Surire towards another hotspring.

We had misread the map thinking that it was only 10.5 clicks from the guardaparque to Termas de Polloquere, so at the end of an already long day we came to another road junction...still 10 more to go! Just after that point I realised that the full 1L fuel bottle that i had strapped to the side of my rear pannier to accomodate the 10L water bag was missing... “oh no!...this could be a disaster. that’s our cooking fuel for the next 3 to 4 days!”. We had just crossed a steep creek crossing only 1km back, so a quick backtrack into the strengthening wind and luckily there it was, still sitting in the sand waiting for us!

We arrived at the Termas de Polloquere with a strong wind blowing...a spectacular natural thermal pool on the edge of the salar with a thick cloud of sulfurous steam rising from it. 43 degree water, a rock corral to camp behind sheltered from the wind complete with picnic benches, flamingos feeding and all surrounded by red orange volcanic peaks. Some sort of sulfur paradise!

Day 4 ‘Paradise lost, and then paradise regained’ (rest day at Termas de Polloquere)

We had decided to take a rest day at the hotsprings, we had hauled plenty of water from Surire and it was an absolute paradise to soak, rest, explore and enjoy the amazing setting.

However that paradise was lost when the first of six jeeploads of tourists arrived, parking around our campspot/picnic area for lunch, to snap some photos, and dip their toes in the water.

It is a hard thing to deal with when you have ridden 3 days of extreme roads with wind, washboard, trucks, and dust to arrive at such a beautiful remote and isolated hotspring paradise, only for it to be shattered by a number of tour groups ‘doing it easy’. But to be fair the French group, especially Francois were a friendly bunch and they offered us fresh food and their leftovers including tuna, tomatoes, salad, coca cola and bread.

Paradise was soon regained when the jeeps and vans left and we could enjoy the late afternoon and evening next to the steaming hot thermal baths by ourselves once again. Importantly with some fresh ingredients and bellies full of fresh food.

Enjoying a sunset bath in the Termas Polloquere...a sulfur paradise!

Day 5 Termas de Polloquere to Chinchillani llama dip 33km

A steep and sandy climb away from the Salar over ‘Cerro Capitan’ and into Bolivian territory past an uncleared but fenced off minefield from a time when these countries didn’t get along so well! Then 3km downhill and back into Chile, no customs, nothing, in fact strange that this road even goes into Bolivia for 3km...maybe for smuggling goods, who knows?

A short day, I was feeling a bit short of energy (we have been a bit low on food for this stretch and my expensive food hungry engine was suffering!) so we called it quits at a warm water river with a llama dip corral 3km from the mainroad on the way to Chinchillani. The stone llamacorral provided a bit of protection from the afternoon wind and while the water was not so warm as to warrant a swim, it was great for doing our laundry.

Day 6 Chinchillani llama dip to Pisiga via Enquelga, Isluga and Coclchane 49km

After riding through some spectacular red rock canyon country, and some narrow canyons we arrived in the windswept sandy village of Enquelga with its paved stone streets, a small tienda selling crackers, cookies and sardines and women weaving behind wind shelters. Apparently the Guardaparque for Parque Nacional Isluga was here, but we didn’t see any sign of it...not that it would be open anyway!

The final hotsprings of the route are 1km beyond the village of Enquelga but despite having some rundown shelters and picnic table (and its associated rubbish) the water was only luke warm and after Termas Polloquere it was a bit disappointing, so we didn’t venture in...oh well, 3 from 4 on the hotsprings route wasn’t so bad!

Back onto the paved (but in bad conditon) road for the last few clicks east to Colchane and the border with Bolivia. At least it felt different to the 200km or so of washboard we had just ridden!

(*Not too much going on in Colchane either, but a new hotel ‘Hotel Isluga’ had reasonable meals, a tienda with drinks and chocolate bars, and good internet at 1000CP an hour. Pisiga on the Bolivian side had many very basic alojamientos (seems that showering here is very optional!) but Hostal Bolivar was cheap, nice, friendly and even hot showers! There are a number of small shops here and a windswept outdoor ‘market’ with fruit and veggies even)

Crossing the Salares Coipasa and Uyuni

We had been fearing the section a little bit between Pisiga and Llica and crossing the Salar de Coipasa for the sole fact that there are no good maps of the area and we don’t carry a gps. So piecing together three different online sources of information (Jeff Kruys, vagamundo and Iris en Tore) and the good old fashioned ‘ask the locals’ approach, especially the llama herder on a motorbike who knew the route we were talking about and confirmed some of the things we had read about. We negotiated the 20km of sandy tracks heading east from Pisiga to access the Salar de Coipasa with a minimum of fuss...so far so good.

And there we were riding on our first salar aiming just east of an obvious island in the south and keeping the large island of coipasa and the salt works to our left...shimmering diamonds on the surface, floating islands, hexagonal ridges, salt works, smuggling trucks levitating in the distance over the white expanse and pools of water and wet salt which kicked up and stuck to the undercarriage of our steeds... “ouch, that’s going to take some cleaning!”

It was only a short time riding on the expanse of salt, 23km until we felt that we should head landwards to the red petrified coral rock and giant cactus to pick up the obvious, but also very sandy ‘main’ road Llica.

Camping out on the saltbush plain 6 km before Hizo in between the salares on the road to Llica. A scene reminiscent of of the Nullabor Plain - big skies, big cloud formations, low grey saltbush, so flat you could see the curve of the earths surface, only difference being the volcanic peaks in all directions.

The next day was a sandy day to Llica. Only 39 clicks in total, but maybe 2 or 3km in total pushing our bikes and walking through unrideable deep grey sands.

It was mostly flat.... past deserted villages, back onto a salt plain to avoid even more sand and finally exhausted into the relative altiplano metropolis of Llica. It had been pretty straight forward really negotiating the Salar de Coipasa, we were pretty stoked that we had done it drama free and gps free and were now on the western shore of the Salar de Uyuni!
(*if anyone wants more info on this Pisiga to Llica route feel free to email us - we don’t have gps waypoints or a good map but some good distance markers, directions, villages etc)

In Llica we found a nice unsigned hospedaje (on the plaza next to the police station with a big green door - if you’re looking for it) run by a 90 something Aymara couple, nothing special but ground floor rooms, a dusty courtyard, and water to wash clothes, wash ourselves from a bucket and some peace and quiet (as we were the only guests) all for only 15 bolivianos per person ($2). Llica was a sweet little town, not much going on, but they had an internet cafe at (8 bol. an hour) and plenty of little tiendas with some fruit, veggies and the regular things to stock up on for the crossing of the Salar de Uyuni. We liked it so much that we decided to stop for a rest day...

Crossing the Salar de Uyuni

After 50km on the salt we arrived at the north western tip of Isla de Pescado, a desert island oasis in the ‘sea of salt’ of giant furry cactus, petrified pink and red coral rock formations and nervous vizcachas (a small rabbit like mammal of the altiplano). The salt buckled up into large folded plates closer to the shore much like big breaking waves, before we landed on a sandy beach to camp.

Well the wind was blowing a strong ‘onshore’, so the ‘surf’ was rubbish, but we braved the conditions to have the sun setting in the west and climbed 150m to the northern peak of the island for great views of the vast expanse of salt dotted with small black islands, and we were surrounded by a forest of giant cacti...

“What is the ultimate music to listen to while riding across this white lunar landscape?”

We pondered this question as we rode the endless salt highway of hexagonal formations, floating islands and mirages, only constrained by our thoughts and the bumpiness of the salt, occasionally veering off into unchartered territory on the soft ‘powder-like’ salt before returning to the main ‘highway’ for a smoother ride. Tracks would veer off without warning towards another island, the endless white horizon or to the shore of the salar, we called these ‘highways to another galaxy’ as we flew passed them, a straight line to another dimension.

I chose Salmonella Dub ‘Heal Me’ for some New Zealand dub “...I walked for miles and miles to find myself, to find myself”, followed by a James Mercer double of the Shins ‘Oh Inverted World’ and the Broken Bells ‘High Road’ for some surrealist lyrics and upbeat tunes, while Anna opted for Toon Hermans' 'Ik heb je lief'.

Music to get lost by, to escape and to wander...

Camping in the middle of the ‘sea of salt’ was a surreal and beautiful experience. Compared to the night before there was no wind at all so the silence and feeling of solitude was amazing. The salar is extremely hard and rough in places which could make camping a bit of a problem. We headed a few hundred metres off the main vehicle track and found a formation which was flat, roughly the same size as the ‘Hilleberg’ and made of fresh smooth salt brought up to the surface, the early formation of a new hexagon.

A full moon rose over the Salar.

From the closed ‘Playa Blanca’ salt hotel we had heard of another ‘terraplen’ to exit the salar maybe 10km south of Colchani and much closer to Uyuni thus saving us going to Colchani and less time on the notoriously bad road to Uyuni. We ended up overshooting (we think?) the ‘terraplen’ by a couple of kilometres and made landfall the original and difficult way, wheeling our bikes for over 2km through crumbling salt, then sand, and then over razor sharp coral rock to reach the road. It had cut off maybe 11km of bad road and Colchani so was still well worth the effort.

Uyuni

‘Terra firma’, after 3 days on the salt we rolled into the altiplano town of Uyuni which provided all the luxuries of the biggest town we had seen since La Paz including the famous ’minuteman pizza’ (thanks to Jeff Kruys who told us about this 'must eat' way back in Cartagena, Colombia!) for some well needed refueling and traveller comforts. Then it was straight to work cleaning the salt encrusted bikes. Although the Salar de Coipasa was much harder on the bikes with wet sticky salt, there was still enough salt spray to warrant the ‘full washdown’ again in Uyuni.

We are now on the ‘Bolivia detour’ by other means of transport heading to Potosi, Sucre and Santa Cruz. Anna is very interested in weaving and got in touch with Laverne Waddington , a very good weaver who lives in Santa Cruz. They are spending a few days together to work on her weaving and to learn more andean weaving techniques... More about that next post. Then we will return to Uyuni around the 10th of September, to tackle on the infamous ‘Lagunas route’ in the south-west of Bolivia.

Enjoy and thanks for following the journey

Hasta la proxima vez

Ali y Anna

Ali demonstrating the new ‘mini’ four season Hilleberg Jannu, at only a few grams, fits in your pocket and withstands strong winds!

Photos: Lago Chungara to Uyuni

thefuegoproject — Mon, 6 Sep 2010 11:42:00 GMT

Ayacucho to Cusco and the Sacred Valley, Peru

thefuegoproject — Thu, 8 Jul 2010 02:42:00 GMT

Ayacucho to Cusco and the Sacred Valley of the Incas 12/6/10 to 29/6/10 606 km (total 24200 km)

Link to Picasa gallery

When we rode out of Ayacucho we knew we had a huge task ahead of us to reach Cusco on this notoriously difficult stretch of the ‘mountain route’, four times over 4000m passes and three times dropping to rivers below 2000m in between those passes. All on dirt roads until Abancay, competing with blood sucking zancudos in the low hot valleys and then the other extreme of freezing cold nights high on the puna above 4000m.

It didn’t help that I was still suffering from a virus and a scratchy throat when we headed out through the polluted suburbs of Ayacucho and the dusty first climb past roadworks. After 45km of grinding away on the long slow climb we finally reached Abra Tocta at 4200m, however as we headed left towards Andahuaylas the road only pointed downhill for a short moment before it continued its climb higher up onto the golden puna.

Just as the sun was disappearing behind the mountains we settled on a stone corral used for stock as our backyard for the night. The only problem was we hadn’t encountered a water source in the past hour, so in the last minutes of light I walked deep into the valley to the spongy green cushion plants where there was water tied up in the plants soaking my already cold feet but still no running water. Eventually in my desperate state I found a small running stream and filled our water bag litre by litre from a nalgene under the small dripping stream. Not perfect water, but it would do for the night with some serious treatment. Water was already freezing under our bottle lids and water bags while I fumbled around preparing dinner in the freezing cold...it would be an extremely cold night up there with our pots full of water freezing solid under the clear night sky.

Anna wheeling back up to the road from our freezing high puna 'corral campsite' near Abra Tocto

The next days would be down to the wide hot valley of the Rio Pampa at 1950m with its opuntia cactus and desert vegetation

..then back up to the alpacas and prickly puna cactus at Abra Soracocha at 4250m, before plunging down on a smooth dirt road, (ready to be paved) to the town of Andahuaylas at 2900m.

After another long climb out from Andahuaylas, Anna assessing the view of the Cordillera Vilcabamba from Abra Huayllacoya 4100m. It's a tough life I know!

Well and truly potato growing country up here above 4000m with plowed ‘chakras’ patchworks over the golden puna hills.

A long 'white knuckle' dirt descent down to Puente Arhacacha at 1900m before the hot afternoon climb to the city of Abancay (2500m) where we rested up for a day feasting on good ‘chifa’ (chinese food) and watching some world cup action with Australia and the Netherlands both playing on the same day...how convenient!

With the last of the dirt roads behind us from Abancay the climbing became easier, one more time over the magical 4000m mark before a smooth rolling 2000m descent to the Rio Apurimac, stopping overnight on the way down in Curahuasi at 2700m where we met Anna and Peter from Germany heading the other way to Nazca...the first cyclists we have met on the road in Peru (outside of the Casa de Ciclista)!!!

Climbing back out of the Rio Apurimac canyon, this would be our last time at 1900m until somewhere in northern Argentina. Note the stone foundations for an Incan bridge that once spanned the Apurimac here, one of only a few remaining in all of Peru.

After climbing for the best part of the day from 1900m up to 3550m over 44 km we were getting desperate for a camp spot and the small villages and houses seemed to continue the higher we went until eventually at near nightfall we found a small track heading off the road to a relatively flat grassy campsite among some low shrubs and eucalypts, high and hidden from the road below and with a spectacular view of Nevado Salkantay as a backdrop.

Our only visitor was an indigenous campesina who yelled something at us from the top of the hill before disappearing in flight before Anna could catch up with her to talk. Kind of strange, but otherwise a hidden camp with no other visitors, glowing Salkantay, a full sky of stars, and all only a small pass and short day away from Cusco.

Morning view of Nevado Salkantay from our hidden campsite at 3600m on the last pass to Cusco

The past eight days on the bike had been some of the toughest and longest of our whole trip averaging between 6.5 to 8 hours on the bike (or maybe we had just become soft in the past months?) just to make it our destination each day between 45 and 80km. on a couple of occasions riding until almost nightfall. We had pushed ourselves to the limit, but were pretty proud of ourselves.

Cresting the final modest pass of 3700m and looking down into the valley of Cusco with its terracotta red tiled rooves, stone colonial churches, surrounded by ancient ruins and golden hills and the glowing icy peak of Nevado Ausangate in the distance, we felt like we had really made it to the centre of South America.

Cusco was the centre of the Incan empire and the centre of the Americas, it’s name derived from the Quechua ‘Q’osqo’ meaning the umbilical, or the navel, the centre of their civilisation.

Today it’s the centre of Peruvian tourism and we had been warned to expect something completely different to the rest of Peru, an ugly place overrun with tourists and harassing salespeople. Yes, it’s full of tourists, tour operators, offers of massages, street vendors competing for your soles and probably irreversibly damaged by unplanned tourism but you can’t deny that Cusco is an amazing city. A melting pot of its Inca and colonial past with Inca stone foundations and immaculate stone walling underlying many of the colonial buildings, churches and monasteries in the old centre of town. The most striking being the Santa Domingo church built directly on top of Qorikancha, the most sacred of Incan temples in their ‘sacred city’ of Q’osqo.

For us Cusco marks roughly the halfway mark for South America (we hope...!), 7 months from Cartagena and another 7 months to Ushuaia and therefor the centre of the Americas for us too. After the long haul from Ayacucho and surviving the infamous mountain route we were in need of some much needed rest and recovery.

We arrive into the hectic traffic, car fumes and narrow cobblestone streets and were happy to roll into ‘La Estrellita’ an extremely friendly family run hostal (Francisco and family, Avenida Tullomayo No 445) which is famous among travelling cyclists, kind of a makeshift Casa de Ciclista here in Cusco with big groundfloor rooms, a huge sunny courtyard (for the mandatory bike maintenance after the hard haul from Trujillo), tv for the world cup, hot showers and breakfast included....a great deal for Cusco at 15 soles (US$5.50) per person.

La Estrellita (Travelling cyclists take note - we would thoroughly recommend this place! They also have storage for bikes and gear for off bike jungle trips, Machu Picchu trips etc...)

We had also timed our arrival into Cusco for Inti Raymi, an Incan festival celebrating the winter solstice and to give thanks to the sun god ‘Inti’ for providing crops, and to make offerings to the gods to provide favourable conditions for the year ahead. The Incans were in touch with the seasons (only two here though - the rainy season for growing crops and the dry season for building and construction and harvesting and storing their crops), and their natural environment so didn’t take these things for granted but made offerings to the sun to provide for them the following year. Inti Raymi took place on the 24th of June, (i think traditionally on the winter solstice of the 21st of June) with dramatic reenactments at Qorikancha, and the Plaza de Armas to tribal drum beats and andean flutes, with a lot of colourful costume, dancing and parading of the Incan King (The Inca) and Queen, mummies, and golden statues of the puma and condor.

Bring out 'el Inca' - the Plaza de Armas, Cusco and Inti Raymi

The festival culminated in the final ceremony at the ruins of Saqsawayman (pronounced ‘Sexy woman’) with the letting of blood from a sheep or llama and the reading of the smoke, although we didn’t make it up there due to the crowds and overpriced tickets... and for the letting of blood!

Anna hanging out with the local ‘footstrap weavers group’ in Loreto, Cusco

After the festivities of Inti Raymi had subsided it was pretty clear that we were still exhausted and abandoned any idea of riding into the Sacred Valley, instead opting for the public transport to get us down the Urubamba/Vilcanota river valley to Pisaq, Ollantaytambo and eventually Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu.

The Sacred Valley and the ruins of Pisaq and Ollantaytambo

Religious centre and temples, Pisaq

Famous for its agricultural terracing, the extensive ruins of Pisaq including a hand dug tunnel through the sheer rock, left of picture

Dramatic fortress of Ollantaytambo at the head of the Vilcanota/Urubamba valley which leads downstream to Machu Picchu

Ceremonial double stone doorway and trapezoidal design, Ollantaytambo

The terracing and fortress of Ollantaytambo

The Machu Picchu experience...

The hordes of tourists lined up to take the bus up the 8km dirt road carved into the hill below Machu Picchu, but we opted for the more genuine ‘as the Incas would have done it’ or ‘mini Inca trail’ experience of setting off in the dark at 4:15am under misty mountain peaks and hiking up the 3.5km stone stairway through dripping wet cloud forest to the ancient Inca mountain top citadel along with a hundred or so other backpackers keen to be in line for the 400 places to climb Wayna Picchu. We were there in time, but after the sun came up the morning mist never burnt off as we had hoped for and instead turned to heavy rain. My wish to see Machu Picchu in the mist had backfired! We still made it up Wayna Picchu in the cloud and rain through beautiful cloud forest, hummingbirds buzzed around the bromelids and dripping green of the forest, occasionally the clouds would part to reveal Machu Picchu below us, or the steep drop into the river canyon, or the impossibly steep rock walls of Wayna Picchu rising out of the mist.

Anna on the way up a wet Wayna Picchu, lucky the clouds kind of obscured the sheer cliff drop to the right!!!

It was incredibly dramatic in the rain, clambering through rock tunnels and down steep stone staircases among the ruins of a fort that sit atop this rock pinnacle.

While we were cold and wet, this was the Machu Picchu we had hoped to see, in the dramatic mist and it wouldn’t be cloud forest without the clouds!

Not the classic postcard shot but pretty dramatic in the clouds and rain taken from the 'Hut of the Caretaker of Funerary Rock'.

Unfortunately given the commercial nature of the site the only place to get out of the rain and warm up was the ‘Sanctuary Lodge Buffet Restaurant’ where you could only enter if you coughed up the US$36 (that’s right $36 for lunch...in Peru!!!). So after coughing up the extortionate entrance fee for foreigners, you get no visitor facilities, no where to escape the rain and cold, and they even charge you to use the toilet! So even though the rain had eventually stopped we were frozen to the bone and after exploring some of the religious centre, the ‘hut of the caretaker of funerary rock’, and the main gate to the city we had to leave a little prematurely and descended the quiet stone stairs back to Aguas Calientes.

Machu Picchu is an amazing archeological site, maybe more so due to its location perched on top of an impossible mountain surrounded by impenetrable lush cloud forest and its (supposed) inaccessiblity. We were glad to have visited it once in our lives, (warning rant about to begin...) but the circus associated with getting there, entrance fees, train, and ugly Aguas Calientes left us with a slightly bitter taste in our mouths. It is exploitation of a natural and cultural site in the first degree, that we have never seen first hand ourselves.

Maybe one day the site can be left to peace for those that hike the Inca trail, or brave the elements getting there by foot as the Incas would have done. Get rid of the road, the buses, the ‘Sanctuary Lodge’, the extortion and have a more sensitive and natural approach to visiting the ruins. We don’t like to say it, but maybe one day a natural disaster and landslide like what happened in January will cut off Machu Picchu from the rest of the world, will stop the unplanned ugly development of Aguas Calientes and it will return to the hard to access mountain citadel that the Incans had built it for (end of rant).

Saqsaywaman

Just a short ride from Cusco lies Saqsaywaman, an Incan religious and military fort perched on a hilltop overlooking the city. The Quechua name given by the spanish conquistadors to the site was ‘the Satisfied Falcon’. After the final battle where the spanish ended an Incan rebellion, and retook the fort, Manco Inca retreated to Ollantaytambo but thousands of dead Incan forces littered the site attracting huge numbers of Andean condors...hence the name. But maybe then it should have been 'satisfied condor'?

The impressive huge stone walls and zig zag ramparts of Saqsaywaman

And Anna found the 'Inca carrying the stone'...in among the stonework at Saqsaywaman!

We are still resting up and enjoying Cusco one of favourite cities we have spent time in on our whole trip. A great vegetarian restaurant ‘El Encuentro’ for lunch, Anna is feeding her interest in weaving and textiles by shopping, spending time talking with the women and supporting a local farmers weaving cooperative called ‘Nustaqunaq Awanan Wasi’ in Avenida Tullomayo No 280, a friendly cooperative away from the main tourist shops with quality weavings. And a cyclist gathering of sorts (we have met more cyclists here in and around Cusco than nearly all of our time in South America) meeting up with those heading north like Christian (Swiss), Monika (Swiss) and Parys (Polish) exchanging route info, and maps.

...and most importantly refuelling the tanks eating giant sandwiches! (Monika, Christian and Anna)

Not to mention the Netherlands just beating Brazil 2-1 this morning...!!! I guess we'll be staying put until at least the semis against Uruguay!

Next stop for the slow train that is ‘the Fuego Project’ is the altiplano, Lake Titicaca and the hard dirt routes of Bolivia...that is if we can drag ourselves away from ‘La Estrellita’, the world cup on tv and Cusco. Stay tuned..

Thanks for sharing the journey

Hasta pronto y hasta Bolivia

Ali y Anna

Photos: Ayacucho to Cusco and the Sacred Valley of the Inca, Peru

thefuegoproject — Thu, 8 Jul 2010 02:07:00 GMT

Recuay to Ayacucho, Peru

thefuegoproject — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 20:38:00 GMT

Recuay to Ayacucho

14th of may - 9th of june 2010

866 km

link to photo gallery on picasa

Our bikes are looking flash: new tyres, grips, and blinking clean. Ready for another beating in the Peruvian Andes.....

We leave Recuay and our friendly hosts Werner and Maria on a sunny morning, to ride into Huascaran National Park nearby. The air is thin at 4100 meters and we are a little unaccustomed to riding loaded bikes (extra loaded with Dutch and Australian goodies...), so we keep the day short and camp at the Carpa ranger station.

Close to this station is a stand of Puya Raymondii, the biggest plant of the bromeliad family, and we use the next day to visit them and get more acclimatized to the altitude which we are feeling in our breathing. Puya Raymondii only flower once every 40 to 100 years and die soon afterwards. Last November a large number of them have flowered, and the big flower stalks are still on top of the dying plants. There are hundreds of birds living in this forest, one of them is the ‘pito’, or ‘carpintero’, a species of woodpecker. They hammer nests into the stalks and we watch one going in and out its hole to feed its young.

There is hardly any traffic in the park on the Pasto Rori road, and for two days we ride on quiet gravel roads between 4100m and 4800m amongst rocky peaks and glaciers almost descending onto the road.

A condor drifts on the afternoon thermals, its fingers spread.

A fisherman sells us two small trout which we carry for the day and prepare that night at our highest camp so far at 4650 meters. We now carry two stoves because the old one had been spluttering a bit and we were worried not being able to cook at high altitudes. It sure makes for quick cooking with two which is needed as the ensuing darkness brings the freezing cold. Soon after dark the clouds rush in and bring light rain. By early morning the sound of rain has been replaced with the damp thud of wet snow.

The next morning we wake up to a white world, as a bit of snow has fallen overnight.

Our campsite has changed from green to white.

We ride over 4800 meters 3 times that day past snow covered hills, mountain glaciers, awesome folded rock formations, a couple of nervous vicuñas and views of the Cordillera Huayhuash!

From the park exit we join the paved highway just below the high pass of Abra Yanashalla and descend a freezing cold downhill in hail and rain, down through a spectacular valley and gradually warming up as we get at lower elevation to the town of Huallanca.

We park the bikes for a day in a town called La Union and walk to Huánuco Viejo, Incan ruins on the pampas (grass plains) above La Union. Huánuco Viejo consists of a central religious building or Ushnu, built of big trapezoidal blocks of stone without using cement. Besides the Ushnu there are many stone buildings and walls and part of an Incan road from Cuzco to Cajamarca that has been cleared of its overgrowing grass. When I look at an Incan building like this Ushnu I feel overwhelmed by the thought ‘how on earth did they get those stones carved like that?’, and ‘how did they lift them on top of one another?’. I guess the same goes for Machu Picchu and Ingapirca and many other Incan ruins.

From La Union the road continues to Chavinillo. A friendly farmers family waves us down and offers to have their photos taken. We exchange some printed photos and they give us dried corncobs as lucky charms.

The presidential elections will be held at the end of the year, and most of the houses are painted promoting different parties and their members.

Some police officers stop to great us and advice us to eat Tokosh, a local specialty that would be good for energy and stomach and prostrate problems. All food here seems to have some medicinal benefit. In the next village we ask for Tokosh and are sat down in a small dark kitchen. The lady fills up two deep plates of something that looks like soup. We try a spoonful. Yuk, that’s absolutely horrible. What is it? We ask the lady what the source is of the Tokosh and she shows us a bucket full of rotting fermenting potatoes. Proudly she says ‘they are one year old!’. We try a few more spoons full but it’s really too much to bear. Luckily our neighbour is happy with an extra plate and scoops the tokosh away like a delicacy, laughing at the fact the gringos don’t like it. They can have it!

We continue on to Huánuco, and the infamous descent to this city. The past months we have puzzled together our route by reading blogs of other cyclists, and 4 of them have had a crash on the downhill to Huánuco. Extra careful thus we ride down. But the road has been graded in the past two years, and except for some very loose corners the road is pretty good. We even get lucky for the last bit, where they are paving the road and there is a roadblock. All the cars that have passed us since 8 am are waiting in a long row. We lucky cyclists can pass through, and have the next 20 km to ourselves. Bliss!! Bikes - Cars: 1-0. Amazingly the newly paved road already has potholes and is so narrow and curvy that we can´t but think of the crosses that will be on the roadside in the years to come.

From Huánuco the road deteriorates to a potholed highway climbing up to the Peruvian altiplano. Cars trying to dodge the holes approach from ´our side´ at high speed and scream ‘gringos’ or other taunts at us from their windows. A welcome relief are our mp3 players, the music shuts out the constant yelling and the climbing gets easier pedaling in the rhythm.

We search for a campsite next to a small lake before a pass at 4150m as described in another cyclists Pete´s notes (http://andesbybike.blogspot.com), he and Jude passed through here a year ago. We are tired after a long day of climbing and it’s very cold and raining. At last we see a lake. It more like a swamp scattered with Peruvian litter, but there are herds of nervous alpacas returning home to the corrals above us, and there is some flat space up a dirt track away from the highway so we pitch. The rain stops after everything is soaked but before we have been able to catch fresh water with the tarp, and I dream of fresh mountain springs and wake up thirsty the next morning. We have to use the swamp water. It tastes pretty bad and our spirits are somewhat dampened.

Lucky it’s a sunny day and we ride over the pass (and see Pete’s lake, unlike the swamp a very scenic place, a couple kms further along the road....yes complete with andean geese and herds of alpacas!) and onto the vast altiplano with lake Junin in the distance.

This area is well known for Maca. Maca is a root vegetable, that is dried and then ground to a powder. The powder has high energetic properties and is rich in vitamins. We mix it with oats to make a special porridge mix for breakfasts. It is sold all over Peru but the altiplano around Junin is where most of it is produced so the villages are lined by stands selling ‘especial de maca’. In one town there is even a ‘Giant Maca’ in the good old Australian fashion, this one is a giant purple maca root on the Plaza de Armas of Huayre.

After the Junin plains we gradually descend on paved roads from the altiplano following the railway line to Huancayo and dropping from 4200m to 3200m over two days riding, for the first time doing near 100 km days in Peru. We pass La Oroya, a mining town. Our notes warned us of the terrible pollution and traffic around this town, but the mine has been shut since november (due to environmental conditions that the US owned mine ‘Doe Peru’ has not been able to achieve over recent years), and as a result the town is very quiet. The rocks and rock formations around town are spectacular.

In Huancayo we take a couple of rest days. I do weaving classes with two indigenous women, Margareta and her daughter Mercedes. They are from Ayacucho and teach me ‘backstrap band weaving’, a bit similar to what I did in Guatemala, but now the pattern is on both sides. The backstrap is very small, and will still take weeks/ months to finish, but is easy to take along on the bike. I hope to do more weaving classes on the way down.

From Huancayo there are a few options to ride to Ayacucho. We opt for a backroad through Huancavelica and Lircay, described by Pete.

The road is gorgeous and quiet. It climbs from Huancayo to a pass, back down to Izcuchaca, up and down to Huancavelica and then over two 4200+ passes to Lircay, another 4500 meter pass and then down and up and down to Ayacucho.

Huancavelica is a pretty town with some colonial churches and lots of coca. It’s sold 1 sol per ounce. The women selling it also sell black balls of calcium paste, which is chewed in combination with the coca, to make the effects stronger. Their mouths are black-greenish, teeth missing, bits of black and green discolouring their chins. We don’t like the taste of the leaves but have been using them to brew tea. They say the coca helps with breathing and exercise at altitude. It feels a bit like the effect of coffee, and makes you forget about time.

From Huancavelica after a big day of climbing up to 4200m over 20km and then up and down around the 4200m mark for the next 17km or so things turn a bit nasty. It’s already late when we find a spot to camp. That ‘lovely green spot of grass’ on the puna turns out to be a field of cactus-like grass, but it’s too late to find another place, and it seems that this grass is all around anyway. In order not to get our tent and mattresses punctured we make-do with a pile of flagstones found nearby and form them into a rectangle. The stones are icy cold and bumpy. Alister wakes me up early in the night. He feels sick and has to go out twice in the freezing night to get things out from both ends. It’s a long and uncomfortable night for him.

The next morning luckily the sun warms our site. Ali is weak but ok to get up. We have not much food left and the thought of having to spend another night on those stones is not tempting. We pack up slowly and spend an hour taking spines out of our tyres.

Alister gets a small ride up the first pass on the back of a water truck. After that a few more hills around 4200m and then the big down to Lircay. He makes it, and sleeps away the afternoon in a hotel bed.

We do some decision making the next day. Inti Raymi, or the festival of the sun, is on the 24th of june in Cuzco. We would only just make that if we cycle on straight away. But we need some rest and Lircay is not the most exciting of places to do so. We decide to get transport to Ayacucho, still two to three hard days riding away. There are no buses nor combis (a collectivo van), a taxi to the next village would cost us 100 soles (US$40) and the taxis ask us 500 soles ($US$200) all the way to Ayacucho! We are kind of trapped in the valley of Lircay with no easy way out. Lucky enough after 3 hours on the side of the road a pickup passes that will take us all the way for free. It feels a bit weird being in a car and seeing all the beautiful scenery flash by. Big passes, a steep and rocky amazing isolated mountain road. This is our first transport with the bikes in South America so far, but we were in no state to ride it and sometimes we have to give in a little.

So last night we arrived here in Ayacucho. The bikes and bags are covered in grime and dust, almost unrecognizable from what they looked like in Recuay one month ago, and the bikes also took a few knocks and scratches from the rough road (and driving) to get here.

We have a couple of days here to rest and clean them up for the next stretch, the roller coaster between here and Cuzco and Ali is almost back to feeling normal.

Peru is in many ways different to countries we have passed before. First of all the scenery seems in some ways more spectacular every day. The mountains are huge, with sharp craggy peaks or rounded tops, twisted rock, green, red, yellow, black. Desert, jungle and alpine scenery are only a few riding days apart. Since the United States we haven´t felt so in awe of landscapes as here.

The roads go up and down, up and down, and like the roads our feelings about this country go up and down.

We feel about Peruvian people in a similar way, up and down. Peruvians are very upfront and seem keen to talk. Campesinos (farmers) wave to us from their wheat fields, old women herding sheep with a cheek full of coca come for a chat on the roadside, upon entering towns often children run out to greet us and ask ‘where have you come from, where are you going to?’ literally mobbing us on the street. We have been invited inside for dinner and one night after being allowed to camp by the river in a village, the whole village sat next to our tent to watch how we live on the road, how we cook, what we eat and share stories about our different ways of life.

On many occasions the contact on the other hand is not so friendly, in fact at times aggressive and disrespectful. At least, that’s how it comes across to us. Taxi drivers, mototaxis, men on the back of trucks and in general, car drivers open their windows and yell at us ‘gringos’ in a not so pleasant tone. They speed past us inches away on narrow dirt roads, dodging potholes and horn when they are right next to us. Drunk men in towns touch our bikes, ask for money. On quite a few occasions women have offered us their babies or young children. We have had to get used to the ‘gringo price’ for things, quite often paying more for things than locals pay. We already know the answer when we ask them, ‘how much will it be for 2 dinners?’, and they hesitate, think for a while and then say under their breath ‘10 soles’, even though the advertised price is 3 soles per dinner! Opportunists at every corner.

I find it hard often feeling like a bag of money, paying double, triple, sometimes 10 times the price of something, just because our skin colour is white. Or being yelled at on the streets by men, grandmas or from passing cars, pointed at by kids. It is one of the first times in our lives we have felt discrimination based on our appearance. A lot of people tell us that the term ‘gringo’ is not meant to be offensive, but for us it is, and it is the aggressive manner in which it is said or more often yelled at us. Imagine walking down Rundle Mall in Adelaide and pointing and yelling at a Sudanese refugee because he appears different! We wonder where that behaviour is learnt, it is so widespread here in Peru.

It is amazing how different our upbringing and education has made us, how our ideas differ, how hard it is to respect and tolerate one another.

Peru, we love it and then hate it everyday, every hour, every minute. Beautiful, friendly, generous one moment, then dirty, confronting, and opportunistic the next. We have to live with that traveling through by bicycle as well as the ups and downs of the Andes to come. Hopefully we will be the stronger for it! Cesar, you are still our favourite Peruano and we have more good moments than bad of course, we hope you understand?

Until next time, hopefully from the center of the Americas, Cuzco.

Anna and Alister

Photos: Recuay to Ayacucho, Peru

thefuegoproject — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 17:00:00 GMT

Galapagos Islands, Otovalo market and Volcan Cotopaxi, a family holiday

thefuegoproject — Tue, 1 Jun 2010 03:46:00 GMT

On one hand a journey like this seems an endless holiday. On the other hand, the cycling makes for hard work and a long time without seeing family or friends. So, in a way, we have just had a holiday inside a holiday, visiting Ecuador a second time, but now accompanied by my mother and brother Reyndert.

We welcomed them whilst being welcomed for a third time by our ‘family’ in Quito, Santiago and his family.

They brought along a huge suitcase full of new gear, tyres, grips, clothes, books, liquorice of 5 varieties, Old Amsterdam cheese and the SLR camera we left behind last august.

We visited the Galapagos islands by means of a sailing boat, the Sagitta. It was an amazing week seeing animals in great numbers and variety, and from very close up. Highlights were snorkeling with my mum right above a big green sea turtle, sealions wizzing by in the blue, and thousands of birds in the sky or on the ground.

In the evenings we’d nibble on the cheese accompanied by some red wine smuggled in from the mainland, watching my mum’s edited version of 28 super 8 films from our childhood.

Some highlights in photos...

The full gallery of our Galapagos and Ecuador mainland family holiday can be found on our Picasa albums site here.Enjoy

Back in mainland Ecuador we went to the saturday market in Otovalo, where Reyndert haggled over Panama hats and hammock chairs, my mum got seduced by Tagua nut jewelry, I bought a small native flute and Alister managed to escape purchase free. How does he do it? He says willpower....

Our final three days together were spent near volcan Cotopaxi. From there we did some hikes, the most memorable one the small but oxygen sapping hike up to the refuge on Cotopaxi at 4800 meters.

Time flies by when you’re having a good time, and it seemed to have gone all to quick when we had to say our goodbyes at the airport.

Another sad goodbye the next day, when we really had our final visit to Santiago and Ana Lucia. At night Malola the dog came to sleep on our bed, as if she sensed our departure coming.

From the plane we had the most amazing views, first into the snowy and puffing crater of Cotopaxi, and many snowy volcanoes poking through the cloud. Then we saw the road we cycled last month sidling through the mountains from the border all the way to the Cordillera Blanca, Recuay and further on.

In Lima we quickly got the bus to Huaraz. After leaving the big city we were amazed by the beauty and eeryness of endless desert, but also thankful we will never have to ride through it.

We’re now back in Recuay with friendly warmshowers hosts Werner and Maria, and enjoying a few days of their care before heading off into them mountains.

Hasta la proxima vez

Anna y Alister

Photos: Galapagos Islands, Otovalo market and Volcan Cotopaxi, a family holiday

thefuegoproject — Mon, 31 May 2010 01:45:00 GMT

Cajamarca to Recuay, Peru

thefuegoproject — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 09:49:00 GMT

26/3/10 to 22/4/10 726km

Retracing our steps from Cajamarca back towards Los Baños del Inca for 5km we then took the 'Carretera longitudinal de la Sierra' towards Cajabamba and Huamachuco on our back route journey across the sierra and down to the coast at Trujillo.

The market sprawls down the side streets in Cajabamba, beautiful large sombreros characteristic of the region

A typical northern andean scene - an indigenous family looking over their small herd of sheep, brightly coloured skirts, large sombreros, a dog, eucalytpus trees growing on the hillsides for firewood, and rocky granite mountains in the background.

We had been looking forward to the indigenous town of Huamachuco for a couple of days but after a tough dirt road climb with lots of inconsiderate traffic to reach the town, we entered via the dodgy market/bus station side of town and were bombarded with 'gringo' taunts and drunken abuse. It was market day, and more importantly the end of market day which here in Peru means that every man is drunk off his feet and as travellers we are easy targets. Just what we didn't feel like after a very tough day in the saddle with rain, dirt roads and plenty of climbing. We shut off, put our heads down and rode into town past the largest Plaza de Armas in Peru to find a comfortable and cheap bed for the night which we found at 'Hotel Los Conquistadores' with an in house restaurant, hot showers, courtyard, ground floor room for 15 soles (US$5.50).

The next morning in town was a completely different story with the drunks still sleeping off their market day but we were keen to continue on. From Huamachuco it was then up and over 4200m, over the cordillera, weathering a big storm and then a big down from 3200m to sea level in one days riding, into a strong coastal headwind and the coastal desert and vast fields of ‘caña’, sugar cane. It was actually surprisingly easy to enter Trujillo being the second largest city in Peru, it actually felt much smaller, and we barely even noticed the annoying honking of the famous yellow taxis before we had arrived at the world renowned and the original ‘Casa de Ciclistas’ of Lucho Ramirez, a haven for traveling cyclists since 1985.

Thumbing through the guestbook or ‘libro de oro’ we set about finding the entries of other cyclists whom we have met on our travels, others whom we have followed some of their routes and stories, and others like Dick and Els from the Netherlands who stayed in here back in 2002, and who have been a huge inspiration on how our journey has taken shape. We entered our names at cyclists number 1296 and 1297 respectively who have stayed and visited the Casa de Ciclista in Trujillo.

Once I had cleaned off the mud from the past six days of mostly muddy and dirt roads, I discovered that my bottom bracket was loose (no metaphor intended) and due for a replacement. So our time at Lucho’s which was originally meant for rest soon became a bit of a project with new parts ordered, new bottom brackets for the two bicis, a special Lucho ‘tune up’ for the wheels and hubs, and an oil change for the Rohloffs. And in a place like the Casa de Ciclista it feels quite normal to spend a couple of days getting our hands dirty, talking bikes, tweeking bikes, fixing bikes....which to the normal person might seem a bit strange! But here it would be strange not to!

A special late night Lucho tune-up and wheel truing!

Not just confined to travelling cyclists, Carla and Daniel from Cordoba Argentina, both arquitects who are travelling north to Mexico, and then back home via Brazil with their Renault 4 'Recoleta' whom also stayed at the Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo during our time there.

Our intended 4 day stay quickly swelled into 10 days after Anna had some tests done which revealed some interesting parasites That she (and realistically me too) had been carrying for over a month and was probably responsible for the waves of sickness she had experienced since Quito!(lactose intolerance caused by parasites?) So with some heavy artillery antihelminthics for the both of us, and some extra days of rest in the relaxed Casa, the Casa joined us for the ride out to the Huaca del Sol and Huaca de la Luna, from where Lucho then decided to accompany us another 50 km along the desert highway until just short of Viru. Gracias Lucho por todo. During the extra days at the Casa killing stomach bugs, we actually had the time to develop our friendship with Lucho, so with a hint of sadness we watched him ride back into the desert towards Trujillo.

After only 85km or so on the Panam highway and the coastal desert sands we had had enough of the winds, and the bus and truck traffic (including a collectivo van from which some idiot threw orange peel at us at 110kph) and we took the private road turn-off, 15km after Chao into the bone dry red rock desert where no plants dared to grow and where the heat intensified. After a hot mornings ride through this blistering moonlike desert landscape, the private road soon joined the Rio Santa, a source of life and vegetation, and which we would be following all the way high to its source in the Cordillera Blanca. But first into the Cañon del Pato.

After a long day in the heat and dust but only 5 km short of the end of the private road, I hit the wall energy wise (my excuse was carrying the extra water for the desert!) so we found ourselves a perfect wild desert campsite in among granite boulders, giant cacti and towering red rock mountains above us. We didn’t even set up the tent, sleeping directly under the stars, only to be woken at 2 am with a few drops of rain on our faces and a mad rush to put the tent up. The rain never eventuated, just a few remnant drops of the storm higher up in the mountain.

Our desert campsite at ´Quebrada El Silencio´ at breakfast when the heat was already intensifying.

A short morning ride to Chuquicara on a brief glimpse of nice paved road, before the road to Huaraz really deteriorated to rock rubble. We were being pushed along nicely by a strong tailwind but the roughness of the rocky road meant we couldn’t maintain any momentum bouncing around between huge boulders, and trying to guide our bikes as smoothly through the minefield of rubble. Just as we would look up at the towering mountains above us, or the folded rock on the other side of the canyon the bike would surge sideways after suffering a blow from a boulder, and we would be snapped back into full concentration mode.

First of many tunnels we would pass through even before the famous ´Cañon del Pato´. This one blasted out of sheer rock

Anna dwarfed by the canyon landscape in this hot, dry and inhospitable land on one of the worst gravel-rock roads we have ever ridden.

Awesome folded rock formations as the Rio Santa carves its way through the canyon.

Ali washing off two days of desert dust and grime under the ´pressure wash´ waterfall that appeared out of nowhere.

¨buen provecho!¨ a pretty typical vegetarian option around these parts...fried egg, rice, beans (menestra) and some boiled yuca...whack on some 'aji' or chili sauce...lekker/tasty!

In the small, dusty and hot canyon town of Huallanca we rode into town during their anniversary celebrations meaning the two small hospedajes were already full. Luckily one of the hospedajes allowed us to set up camp on their rooftop for free, included: shower, toilet, rooftop views of the party in the streets below, and two 3 month old boxer puppies!

Someone was in their element! Just not at 2am when the party below was still carrying on with two competing bandas, and the pups still wanted to play in the cooler evening air!

The next morning we rode past the hydro-electric village and into the official Cañon del Pato...

Ali about to enter one of the 35 or so tunnels of the Cañon del Pato, this one a huge slab of granite with a tunnel carved out beneath.

At the top end of the canyon lay the dam for the Hydro electric project. After several days of rough rock roads we were glad to hit the pavement again on the other side of the tunnels. The valley widened, the road improved (although that didn't save two collectivos that had as recently as January this year had crashed into the river below leaving behind freshly constructed roadside memorials for this that were killed on this straight stretch of road?), we pumped our tyres up again for the smooth surface and we caught our first glimpses of the icy peaks of the Cordillera Blanca in the distance.

"Gringitos! Que bonitos gringitos!" Just short of Caraz this sweet woman waved us down to take some of her fruit and to rest a little. Normally we find being called 'gringos' an insult, but it so much depends on the tone and manner in which is is done. This woman used it in a very sweet way, and was very happy to see us enjoying her country. Unfortunately the fruits were practically inedible, fermenting and soft.

In the small town of Caraz we found 'Pony Expeditions' just off the plaza and the super friendly Alberto who provided us with all the local information, maps, trail descriptions and a pack to rent for Anna for us to be able to do the Santa Cruz trek independently from the quiet and clean pueblo of Caraz. If anyone needs advice, equipment rental, maps etc. this is the place to to go for friendly service and there is no need to go to Huaraz to base yourself for trekking in the region! We also met up with Yannick there, a young belgian who we had met in Trujillo a week earlier and who was keen to join us for the four day trek.

The Santa Cruz trek is one of the most popular trekking routes in the Cordillera Blanca, but still being outside the 'peak' trekking and dry season of May to October, the trail and campsites were relatively quiet with only a few small organised groups with their trains of 'burros' (donkeys). Still, being on the cusp of the dry season meant cloud build up in the afternoons, rain every night and a wet and cloudy climb up over the Punta Union pass at 4750m. Still we had some spectacular mountain views on a couple of days, a condor soaring high above us, an andean fox visiting our camp, the mountain lupines in flower, glaciers avalanching in the night, turquoise blue glacial lakes, waterfalls and andean mountain solitude.

Llama coral camp day 1 on the Santa Cruz trek, camped among giant boulders

Nevado Artesonraju

Anna and Yannick hiking alongside Laguna Jatuncocha

On the stony steps to Punta Union above Laguna Taullicocha in the rain and clouds, poor beasts of burden carrying trekkers equipment over the 4750m pass

Effects of high altitude trekking!

One thing we didn't expect was the huge number of cows fouling the campsites and trail, and the large number of burros also fouling the trail. At one campsite we had to compete with the cows and awoke to a cow spraying diarrea on the side of our tent before scaring it off! Not what you expect when you are trekking in a world famous national park 'Parque Nacional Huascaran' and have paid 65 soles (US$24) each as a foreigner (quite a lot by Peruvian standards) for the privilege! Not to mention the lack of facilities - every toilet block at every campsite was damaged or vandalised beyond working order. Begs the question: Where does all that money go?

But still a world class trek in the second highest mountain range in the world behind the Himalayas. I hope the Peruvians can get their act together in managing it better for the future and not just as a 'money grab' from foreign trekkers, but as a valuable natural resource that should be protected. The mountain glaciers in the Cordillera Blanca are in obvious retreat over recent times with raw black rock exposed where glaciers once spread and we really wonder just how it will look in 10, 20 and 50 years. Sadly by then, maybe it will no longer be the Cordillera Blanca, and all the villages in the valley below that rely on the glaciers for water will be in real trouble...

After the trek we had a short days ride up to Huaraz, the largest city in the region, a travellers town with prices to match and the base for most trekking agencies. We found it to be a really ugly town, lacking any character so we were extremely happy that we had stayed in the quieter and more genuine town of Caraz as a base for our trek. The next morning another short ride up the 'Callejon de Huaylas' to the small village of Recuay where we were welcomed into the home of Werner and Maria.

Werner and Maria, our warm showers hosts in Recuay enjoying a 'Cusqueña' at La Gruta.

So for now we will leave our bikes and gear here for three weeks while we head back to Ecuador to meet up with Anna's mum and brother Reyndert for an exciting Galapagos trip onboard the 'Sagitta'. A big thanks to Werner and Maria for hosting us and storing our gear safely while we're away. We'll return by mid May to continue in Peru up and over a 4800m pass in the Cordillera Blanca, but for now a much anticipated break from the long up and down roads of Peru.

To view the album 'Cajamarca to Recuay, Peru' in Picasa click here

Hasta la proxima vez

Alister y Anna

Photos: Cajamarca to Recuay, Peru

thefuegoproject — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 07:52:00 GMT