Last Day in the Big Apple

My last day in New York was a beautiful sunny spring morning, so I decided to spend it in Manhattan again, and explore the history of immigration here through Ellis Is. 

First I had to learn the language to tackle the train system here without a guide..........taking the MTA LIRR (Long Island Rail Road) to Penn Station, and then the AC or 1 Downtown....piece of cake!

I didn’t realize Penn Station was the conjunction of the NJT (New Jersey Transit) and AMTRAK as well as the LIRR. It is absolutely CAVERNOUS, taking up two entire blocks. I kid you not, there were even 2 lost, low flying and clearly terrified pigeons down there in the maze! I had to answer the call of nature, and it took several attempts for the Dunkin Donuts lady to understand I meant the baaithroom, and a few more for me to understand the directions. Heaven forbid if I didn’t speak English and was in dire need!! 

Found my way down to the World Trade Centre site, to check out the place after bin Laden’s demise. It’s kind of weird to see so many celebrating a death, but it’s interesting being so close to the raw emotion of those affected. New construction is well under way... New Yorkers won’t be kept down.

Hopped onto the ferry, past the old lady of liberty, still standing sentinel in all her splendour, to Ellis Island. The immigration building here, built in 1892, is really quite beautiful, tiled arched ceilings, light filtering through arched windows....The audio as you walk through, combined with the photographic display, is haunting, asking you to put yourself in the place of the thousands who passed through here, full of hope, of fear, of excitement.....and of desperation if they were rejected...

Up to 3,500 were processed a day, right up until the 1950’s, and 40% of the American population can trace their heritage through these gates to the American Dream.

Found time for a spot of shopping - it is a shopper’s dream, brand names everywhere, at ridiculous prices. Nice to have some new clothes after 4 months, to swan around London.  Cannot wait!

Vancouver Detour

The original plan was to meet Robbie Bowman in NYC and travel from Niagra Falls through the eastern states. Alas that plan couldn’t be... Robbie unable to travel after her kindy was devastated in the floods.

Impulsively, I hopped onto a plane to Vancouver and caught up with Wendy from the Antarctic trip. It was a good time to go therel - the town was buzzing with Ice Hockey finals playoff fever, the first time the Canuck’s have made it so far without folding....public buses, cars, shop assistants - all things and all sorts of people were decked out in Canuck’s colours..... it’s hard not to get caught up in it. and chant the ubiquitous ‘Go Canuck’s Go’, games every second night...

We hired a car for 4 days, zipped up to north Whistler and surrounds, Brandywine Falls and another (the name escapes me)....then a quick road trip down to Seattle, a spot of shopping in massive designer outlet, checking out the famous fish throwing at the Pike River markets (my tenant in New Farm did the motivational doc Fish inspired by this place) and hanging out in Wendy’s friend’s funky hostel, the rooms of which are all works of art from local artists.

We stopped too, at an historic little bayside trading town called La Conner.... just missed the tulip festival staged there, but hoed into clam chowder on the waterfront, and checked out an amazing exhibition in a quilt museum, housed appropriately in the towns historic old mansion..........

The whole place is picture book perfect, and the surrounding fields are full of wonderful crumbling old barns.... beautiful, a little ghostly under the stormy skies... reminders of a lifestyle long passed...

So... a week later and an overnight flight (getting too old for this no sleep caper, I’m back in New York with Geraldine for a couple of nights before another allnighter to London, and 2 weeks staying with Chris.

Life with Friends in NYC

I’ve been a little remiss in my blogging of late, chilling a lot, catching up with old friends....

Geraldine (a Dutch Aussie from melbourne) I’d not seen for about 20 yrs, so there was plenty of catching up and swapping stories. In that time she’d married an Irishman, surnamed OReilly, who washed dishes in an Irish pub in NYC as an immigrant and ended up owning a few himself....

It was great to share a little of her busy life in Port Washington.... 2 teenage kids, four dogs, 2 inside cats, 2 outside cats, a galah called Aussie and a cockateel add lots of life and colour...and there’s daughter Ashley’s beautiful (and huge) horse Orion, stabled 20 mins away, which has to be ridden and groomed and jumped most days. We shopped too for Ashley’s prom dress.... quintessential Long Island America...

On the Sunday caught up with Tuppy and Bob Nicholson, teachers from Brisbane who now consult in education in NYC. The city put on perfect sunshine for a stroll around Brooklyn Botanical Gardens for the gorgeous cherry blossom festival....lunch in Greenwich Village, a stroll through the shops, and a home cooked roast chicken in their Manhattan apartment overlooking the Circle Line ferries rounded out a perfect day...

Civilized plus in NYC

What a difference a week makes! 

After just shy of 4 months, minus a few kilos and three toenails, but with a treasure trove of memories, I finally left South America. The journey to New York was a marathon - a 3am wake up call for a 6.30 departure that was delayed till 7.30. The connection in Miami (had to collect my bag and go through customs ) was a tight one... made it with minutes to spare, only to sit on the ground for 1 1/ 2 hours because of a mechanical problem with the aircraft. We were finally deplaned and boarded a substitute aircraft  3 1/2 hours late, to find there was no food aboard. 

That was the end of my woes though.... driven in a plush black limo to downtown Soho and lived a life of luxury ever since! 

Day 1: beside myself with excitement seeing Cnris at brunch, followed by a full body massage and “creme de la creme” facial. A combination of “serum, stem cells and placenta” left my face plumped and soft as a baby’s bot!! Dinner at Nobu - a one Michelin star Japanese - Peruvian restaurant....

Day 2: A mega makeover in the hairdressers, a quick shop to find something elegant to wear (got carried away and teetered on some tres chic, vertigo inducing Italian heels!!), before we dined exquisitely at ‘Daniel’, a 3 Michelin stars Art Deco restaurant in Manhattan....

Day 3: Brunch, a visit to the Frick Museum, a walk in the spring sunshine through Central Park, surrounded by blossom trees and tulips..... a quick bite with Tuppy and Bob (Aussies in NY) at Joe Allen’s Theatre restaurant, before a wonderful night at Phantom of the Opera... a couple of wines in Soho Grand’s bar to come down from the clouds (for me at least!).......

Day4: Breakfast in the hotel, a subway ride Williamsburg, more wonderful food in an old restored 1920’s Diner a walk through trendy Brooklyn with all it’s antique stores, vintage shops and cafes, through the fascinating ultra orthodox Jewish quarter (lots of guys with log black coats and weird curls and coke bottle glasses seemed to come out of the woodwork - I learnt later that there was a crisis of leadership at their synagogue), onto arty DUMBO (down under manhattan bridge overpass - they just love their acronyms) and over the Brooklyn Bridge into the sunset....talk about Cinderella.........more food at famous Wolfgang’s Steakhouse, and Chrisso swore he could never eat again....

Had to bid Chris farewell next morning, then met Geraldine at their restaurant Nile’s in 7th Ave before some more spoiling in a real home again on Long Island....

life’s tough...

Gorgeous Galapagos

I spent a somewhat sleepless night waiting for the mysterious room mate to materialize, but she did not. Fortunate for me....I ended up with a room and a cabin to myself which was heavenly.

A flight to Galapagos via Guayaquil was surprisingly up market; we landed in pouring rain...onto G1or the Pelikano, Gap’s most basic boat, for lunch and then we weighed anchor. On board were a Canadian family of 4, 4 couples - 2 young German, a retired Danish, and an Aussie one, a young Pommie lawyer and myself.

We spent 3 days on board, well fed, but not well watered - the bar had run out of wine, and the beer supplies were minimal, but a good time was had by all.

The wildlife was as stunning as I had anticipated, and unbelievably approachable. 

Sea lions sauntered over the jetties and slept on the pylons. Frigate birds, the male with a vermillion pouch at his throat, hitched a ride on our boat or soared along with us in the slip stream. Peculiar pelicans with brown feathers and grey feet, perched for hours on our zodiacs.  Thousand of brilliant orange and blue crabs scuttled across rocks at the water's edge, stalked by patient herons. Flamingoes balanced precariously on one foot as they slept. Others preened and stretched nonchalantly, totally ignoring our presence.

And my favourite, the blue footed booby...it looks like a sort of caricature, with it’s blue eyes and webbed feet, and bluish beak. It’s called a booby because it dives from a height of up to 40m after large fish, and is only successful every10 - 15 attempts! (It’s a fishing process that has caused them to develop air bags in their cheeks, but they still suffer brain injury and blindness, and are destined for a short life!!!) Alas I was so excited to see them that I didn’t check the setting on my camera, so the photos are none too good.

We saw hundreds of marine iguanas, lying atop one another for warmth during the night. They freeze like statues as we approach, perfectly camouflaged against the basalt rocks - they stay totally immobilized as we stare at them, transfixed....

The outer islands, so recently formed, are stark and barren in the dry season; hardy cactus are all that survive... but the unseasonal rain now has left many flushed with green. The earth is so young, erodes so easily; many hillsides have slipped into the sea. Sands vary from island to island ...white, golden, black and red....

The islands are growing through frequent eruptions of it’s volcanoes.... lava flows from the 1906 eruption seem frozen in time as they flowed around other pinnacles and plugs on their way to the sea, then solidified. It’s like living in a geology lesson!

And the snorkeling is nothing short of dazzling! We’re blessed with clear water, a wonderland of life and colour...purple and orange, black and yellow...

Tropical fish of every colour and description dart past rocks covered with a bright orange algae; schools of tiny striped fish the size of white bait form huge glittering balls as they flit this way and that, acting as one....it was surreal to swim down amongst them...

We dived down and swam along with turtles, floated over the top of white tipped reef sharks; of iridescent parrot fish, all green and pink and orange...

Two penguins torpedoed past me, so lithe and graceful under the water, so clumsy on land. They’re only about 10 cms taller than the fairy penguins.

A marine iguana grazed my hand on one occasion in his haste to get out of the water....took ten years off my life!

And the tortoises - huge, lumbering, pinheaded, and none too intelligent. They’re really ugly, but I’m sure their mother loves them....

Lonesome George, the last of his race from Pinta Island, was asleep and hiding in his enclosure - the world is apparently still waiting with baited breath for him to reproduce with his new hybrid companions...

Alas it was over all too soon...Galapagos is a fascinating place, a weird wildlife wonderland. If ever I was to return, I would stay for a week, (not just 3 days), to see more of the islands, and I would take an underwater camera!

It's no huge disappointment to head back to Quito though.... though it's the end of my South American sojourn - I've been here for almost 4 months; I'm soooo excited about flying to New York and seeing Chris!

Conservative Quito

So, back in Lima, just another huge sprawling city. The big attraction is the beach at trendy Miraflores, but alas, in my two days there the city was shrouded in heavy fog, and I saw little. The city was in lockdown because of an election on the day I departed. There were riot police everywhere, and no venue could sell alcohol for 72 hrs in the lead up. I played safe and holed up in the Radisson to indulge in the pleasure of having my own room and a comfy bed, and to resume blogging; took a hotel car to the airport on election day for my flight to Quito.

16th April:

Apparently the Church is the big power here, still, and it shows; everywhere....

There’s a church or monastery on nearly every street corner in the old town, watched over protectively by a huge Virgen de Quito with wings. 

It’s copied from a statue in the huge Franciscan monastery, dating from 1535. It covers 3 hectares and was the birth of the Quito school of art - an art form developed by the monks , through indigenous artists, to communicate with and convert the masses. 

The overlays with indigenous traditional beliefs are everywhere. The original statue of the Virgen de Quito is housed here - she’s pregnant, and standing on a new moon (signs of fertility) and a demon... she’s winged, like an apocalyptic angel...

The chapel is gilded, ornate; the ceilings and floors are wooden geometric mosaics echoing the Moors; a window in the choir loft lets the sun shine directly through on the winter solstice onto a huge statue of Christ....a leaf taken straight out of the temples of the Incas.

There’s a preoccupation with suffering and the Passion of Christ... several bloodied statues are housed here - they are carried through the streets in Holy week, followers dressed in purple robes with hoods (aping the Franciscan monks supposedly but looking like Ku, Klux Klan) self flagellate en route as penance....it’s all a bit ghoulish...

The Jesuit church is unbelievable - every nook and cranny, the walls, the ceilings,the pillars are carved and covered in gold leaf. Maria isn’t such a big star here, but many a saint and martyr cover the walls....

And the cathedral, started in 1926, is huge, gothic...a climb up it’s spires, across a rickety wooden plank and through a series of vertigo inducing ladders offers the most amazing view of the town and surrounding hills, and directly on to the Virgen del Quito. No saints and martyr here ... the stain glass windows depict all the archbishops of Quito, resplendent in all their power and glory. Talk about power writing your own history...

It takes a little while to feel comfortable in Quito. There’s a huge police presence, armed security guards outside all the banks and many stores, riot police surrounding the plaza during a noisy political demonstration outside the presidential palace....politics South American style. I make sure I’m really discreet with my camera. But the people are friendly, diligent... they seem to look after their poor and disabled.

I had 6 days to fill in here, trying to recuperate from my tummy bug. It’s responded neither to abstinence nor antibiotics prescribed (through a lot of mime) by a pharmacist, so trying another lot.

My first taxi ride here was hair raising - we narrowly avoided several collisions, and lost the passenger side window in one such encounter; and they try and con you into paying exorbitant prices without the metre for the privilege!

I risked another death defying ride out to the Equator - the Mittel del Mundo; very kitsch but kind of neat standing at 0’0”. The adrenalin inducing trip did nothing for my tender tummy but I survived. The hour trip through the city make me realize how huge it is, and quite modern outside the old city. We even passed an Apple store called Mundomac (- my new benchmark for progress in South American cities!)

So now I’m up to date with my blog, ensconced in my new hotel, and waiting to meet my new room mate for the trip to the Galapagos.

A bientot

The Last Leg on Gus

Another long day over wild Andean high altitude desert, brought us to colonial Arequipa, Peru’s second largest city, and unexpectedly beautiful, it’s setting dramatic. The grand old Spanish buildings, the whitish local volcanic rock, sparkle in the harsh sunlight... the town is surrounded by active and dormant volcanoes, puffing wisps of smoke on the horizon. They’re a constant reminder of how unstable this land is, and why the Inca felt the need to sacrifice their children to appease the Gods inside them.....

The museum, with the artifacts and mummies from these sacrifices is fascinating ... we hear the story of Juanita, the Inca princess, who was walked here from Cusco to face her fate; we see the beautiful fine cape and tunic she wore...the mummies were found at 6280m, perfectly preserved  at altitude.

Equally impressive is a massive convent, established by a wealthy Spanish widow in 1580. The daughters of wealthy Spanish were taken in, but had to build and furnish their own quarters; they had at least 2 servants, and lived a life of luxury, (and prayed all day apparently) This continued for 300yrs, until they were ordered form Rome to live communally in 1800’s. Nuns lived there in the same mediaeval conditions until 1970’s when it was opened to the public, a city within a city with hundreds of tourists wandering the maze of cobbled streets, and courtyards....the 22 nuns still here are cloistered; they make Communion bread, scented soaps and rosaries with rose petal beads...

We were warned of frequent recent robberies by taxi drivers but armed with my map and some basic Spanish words, I braved a couple, searching all over the town for a computer charger but to no avail. I hated being parted from my Mac, obviously....

After 2 nights of sleeping in comfort in a bed, we headed to the coast for a night in the old Puerto Inca, now nothing more than a hotel on the beach. Most camp in the sand - I opted to pay for a bed!  Ivan made a great cerviche for dinner,and we shared the last of our wine from Mendoza around a bonfire.

 I climbed early next morning over the ruins, up to the site of the old sacrificial altars, now guarded only by vultures and cormorants.

The winding drive up the coast was stunning in it’s own desolate way, the eroded hills literally tumbling into the sea. I had no idea so much of Peru was desert - it’s not all like Machu Pichu! The desert is punctuated by rivers and strips of cultivated land...they rely entirely on these rivers coming from the snow melt (it never rains here) and the snow up in the Andes  is less and less frequent. One riverbed has dried up, the fields are a wasteland...We have a last roadside lunch in Gus - a bit sad!

Further north to Nazca - what we saw of the lines were disappointing, but we’re warned against taking a flight to see them properly (they are apparently stunning) - the safety standards leave alot to be desired and they lose quite a few tourists ...

We  were "treated" to a tour of a Nazcan funerary site...lots of ghoulish mummies with extraordinarily long hair, preserved by the harsh dry conditions. The last forty years have seen a big trade by grave robbers, and the desert sands are literally strewn with bones of all descriptions. Not the most pleasant place I’ve been, but the sunset was beautiful...

Our last night on the road was a gem, one of the best. We passed through the town of Ica, to an oasis in the midst of huge sand dunes. We hung around for our dune buggy rides at sunset, and it was a real thrill, like the biggest roller coaster, straight down near vertical dunes, 180deg turns on the side of others. made the palms sweat a little, but they were very accomplished drivers...

We watched the most amazing sunset, then were treated to a around a campfire, fed lots of Piscola and danced to the guides Peruvian music,, complete with improvised bongo drums. In the wee hours, some later than others, we found a bit of space - easy enough to do, crawled into our sleeping bags and slept under a sky full of stars, not sound to be heard (except my nemesis, the truck's snorer)...but it was awesome.

The next day was a long one with a stop at Pisco where some opted for a boat tour of Islas Ballestas, called the poor man’s Galapegos, but I was going to hold at for the real thing. We arrived tired, hungry and desperate for a shower in Lima, at 9pm, but still managed to go out for a farewell dinner. I’ll miss the crew - 6 hardy souls are continuing on for another 3 weeks.

And so it was goodbye Gus!

Homestay in Racqui and the Colca Canyon

Our numbers were reduced to 12 after Cusco - it was sad parting with old friends KPeg, Terry, Melina, Gary, Anna... I had no great expectations for the rest of the trip, but it still threw up surprises....

Our next stop was an overnight homestay with the people from Racqui, the site an Inca temple on the main route north to Quito. The area was renowned for it’s pottery in the Inca empire, and the locals are given help to establish an income from tourism....

We stay 2 per house....our hostess is delightful, cooks us a 3 course meal, typically Peruvian, which we share with her children. Lots of giggling and sign language....

We’re treated to a pottery demonstration (lots for sale of course), a tour of the ruins (with Ivan translating), and then a chance to play dress up... we don their local costumes, and they invite us to join them in a traditional coca leaf offering to Pachamama and Apu, wishing us well. Afterwards they sing their songs and teach us their dances...they ask us to reciprocate, and all we can rustle up is a terrible rendition of Waltzing Mathilda!

Their life is very communal, their valley beautiful in the early morning light, patchworked by shared plots of hand cut fodder ... they give us all a gift of an Andean Cross as we leave, quite sobered by the simplicity, but joy of their lives...

Onwards and upwards, over another remote Andean pass, 4,820m this time. It’s a lunar landscape, punctuated with huge mines and the  odd (prosperous) town. 

Up further, past the treeline, and there are still herds of llamas, alpacas, and sheep, being tended by a lonely shepherd.....they are brought in and corralled at night.

Twice we have to detour because of huge washouts and holes in bridges. The last wet season took a heavy toll on the road....rough and potholed, many a landslip only half cleared. It’s dark and late when we arrive in our next destination of Chivay; a quick meal, in bed at midnight for 6am pickup to view the Colca Canyon.

2000 yr old terraces line the valley...the oldest high near the peaks because they relied on snowmelt. The Inca with their knowledge of water and irrigation  cultivated the lower slopes. It’s stunning....

After the fall of the Spanish in 1820’s this valley was left isolated and remote from the rest of Peru....the canyon was “discovered” by pilots in 1926, flying for nat Geo. The women, copying the Spanish ladies,  had developed extraordinarily intricate embroidery on the clothes and hats. The style of hat reflected whether you came from the lower of highland villages, and echoed the old cultural practice of elongating or broadening the skull...

The canyon is famous for it’s condors, and they don’t disappoint, rising up on the early morning thermals, to fly out and hunt. They are huge, magnificent....Just wish I’d had my good camera!

The troops all headed off to some thermal pools for a soak....I crashed and actually had an afternoon nap...

Cusco and the Big Trek

Our first glimpse of Cusco is through the Southern Inca gate...K Peg cracks open the wine she has left from Mendoza, as we’ll part company with her in Cusco. We’ll all miss her dulcet tones and hearty laugh on Gus.

Cusco, once the centre of the ancient Inca empire, is beautiful, nestled in a valley, watched over by Inca ruins and a giant statue of Christ. The skill of the interlocking Inca stone work is incredible - it’s the foundation of the Spanish colonial buildings churches lining the Plaza del Armas . 

We have a day to wander the cobbled streets and markets, stocking up on last minute necessities for the big Inca trek. Half the group does the classic trek; the rest of us are doing the Lares Community Trek, camping at tiny remote villages up in the clouds. There are a few nerves; some of us wonder whether we’re up for it....

We explore the ruins of Saksaywaman and Pisac, stock up with supplies in a local market - the hygiene and smell left alot to be desired, met our porters (they carried the tents, food and cooking equipment on horses, mules and llamas) and were treated to lunch on the road, tablecloth chairs and all.

Ramundo,( sporting local dress and hat), is one of the village leaders and in charge of transport. He distributes this amongst the people so they can share the income. This trek is sponsored by Andina Travel and Dragoman.....part of the money we pay for the trek goes towards paying 2 teachers for the local schools, and installing basic facilites.

Then we start..... up a steep humid valley following a river, racing downhill, full of snowmelt, past the last few hardy trees, covered in moss and lichen..... up to 3,600m and our first camp. It rained for the last 20mins, and we were ruing not donning our waterproof pants. By the time we reached camp we were freezing, but our tents were set up thank God. We changed into every layer of thermals we had and crawled into our sleeping bags, waiting for dinner, and wondering why we had paid good money to torture ourselves....

It was the first of many 3 course meals, a warming soup, main and sweets ...delicious local food. The “flushing” loo was broken..the great outdoors was appealing, even in the freezing cold...

How the people here survive is extraordinary..... they have no facilities, no power, no wood for fires; they live in adobe huts with thatch rooves, wear no closed-in shoes, only sandals year round. They wear a thick llama wool blanket as a type of cape, and always the men and children wear beanies. The women wear a hat, unique to their village, and often decorated with fresh flowers.. They’re not dressing up for the tourists either.... it’s their life. 

They are very shy, very polite, and seem incredibly happy....And they are certainly very fit, literally running up the steep sides of the valleys to herd their stock or pick traditional herbs.  All e can do is plod, breathlessly....

Day 2 took us up and up...and up, one tiny footstep at a time, over a pass of 4,700m. The air was very thin, and progress slow; a few in the group were a little worse for wear.

 Down steeply, past lakes and waterfalls to another village for lunch, and more gently down to our campsite at a school (3850m). Some of the group line up for a soccer game with the porters; Kathleen and Ivan were stars, and the porters had never been beaten before, especially by women. I played with some of the local kids as their mothers sat and watched and were hopeful we’d buy some of their handicrafts...

We each presented a book and pencils to a child (part of the fundraising) their delight was amazing, and we joined the local teachers and our guides for a lesson in Quechuan. Great fun, great hilarity...

Day 3 took us up over another pass, 4,400m this time but steeper. Terry and Kath D decided to opt out for the shorter flat route; Mel ended up having to ride the horse for the last bit up - scarier than trying to walk she said - we were in gravelly scree, that seemed to fall away to nothing.

We were ecstatic at making the top - mandatory photo stop, and then the hairy descent, down in the scree... really proud of myself, having gotten over my fear of steep downhill - I romped it in.

Lunch at another school, then down to camp at the thermal pools outside the Lares for our first wash in 3 days and a good soak to soothe tired bodies.

It was sad not to be ending our trek at Machu Pichu, but by far preferable to have shared a bit of the village life high up in the Andes and not to see one other tourist! We were woken on Day 4 at 3.30am for a hair-raising ride down the mountain, past many landslides (lucky it was dark!!) to the town of Olleyantaytambo for breakfast, and a guided tour of more extraordinary ruins. Dinner at a restaurant overlooking the river to celebrate - we had walked 46ks, over 2 passes 4,700, and 4,400 in 3 1/2 days.

Day 5: Drove to Agua Calijentes, a touristy town straddling the raging river at the end of the Sacred Valley, for our trip to Machu Pichu, and it was everything I expected and more. The clouds parted for us (so many tourists only get to see rain and cloud), the light perfect; the view from the Sungate stunning... ticked another box!

We had one more full day back in Cusco,.... explored the Dominican monastery with the remains of Inca temples underneath, and the extraordinary cathedral - 3 churches together, with extraordinary artwork. There was a black Jesus on a cross - the body was made of llama skin and had blackened over the centuries with candle soot; a replica of the ornately carved choir stalls in the Seville cathedral - except that the chair arms were bolstered with figures of pregnant women, not lion heads!, and a painting of the Last Supper, the table replete with a feast of cuy (or guinea pig) the local delicacy. 

Bought my owl flute in the museum from a potter/musician who had made replicas of all the Inca flutes - his music was hauntingly beautiful

Said goodbye to K Peg with a few drinks in her room at the luxurious Hotel Monasterio (a converted monastery of course) and then tried cuy in a restaurant that night, served whole with the head staring at you....

Breathing easier in Bolivia

Bolivia is full of desperate poverty, of subsistence living in the countryside, amongst ruins and terraces full of echos of Aymara and Inca civilizations. They scratch out a living in the most remote of places, sitting all day on the hillsides herding their llama and sheep. A revolution in the 50‘s handed the land back to the campesinos from the landholders; families have their patch, and must contribute time and labour to the community... but they look healthy and happy.

 The colonial Spanish period was clearly brutal, and it’s curious the way the indigenous peoples adopted the toffiest of European dress as their own. The Inca shifts were replaced by the multilayered gathered skirts of the Spanish ladies, but are short, for practical reasons and worn with leggins. And they only ever wear sandals, usually made of tyres. The Inca style braiding of their thick black hair continues, but topped with a bowler hat. The style and height of the hat reflects an ancient custom of deforming and elongating the skull, a sign of beauty and high class in pre-columbian times. The hat and the skirts vary from town to town....

And even more curious is the overlay of Catholicism on their traditional religion and beliefs. Their Gods were Apu, the the spirit of the mountains, and Pachamama, mother earth. Apu was to be appeased, to ward off earthquakes and volcanic eruptions; Pachamama embodied rain and fertility. The religious art and statues in the unbelievably ornate churches and cathedrals are a combination of both....the Virgen Maria is often depicted as a life giving mountain; her dress in it’s many forms is always conical or mountain shaped and she seems to rate much more highly than her son;.... the statues of innumerable saints are lavishly dressed and revered, paraded through the streets on elaborate litters on their feast days..... and outside the churches, the abject poverty....

Le Paz is surrounded by snowcapped peaks and seems to spill over the sides of the canyon to the gorge at it’s base....easy to understand why landslides occur here. At 3680m, it’s an effort to walk up and down it’s steep streets. It’s big, bustling, but not unattractive. The markets are full of portly bowlered hatted women selling their wares...they make no effort to solicit custom, and are averse to any photographs...they are not here for the tourists. I sneak a few with my little camera (my big camera has gone on the blink anyway) and take in the hustle and bustle, the colour, the rhythm of life here...the witches market is full of llama fetuses, hung traditionally in indigenous homes. 6’7” Gusite Gary is almost pickpocketed, distracted by having something spilt on his back...

Some in the group elect to do the ‘death ride” on mountain bikes, 64k down a dirt road from a nearby peak, but we only have 1 day here. The museum has a fascinating collection of Inca feathered headdresses and textiles, of ceremonial masks which show remarkable similarity to Chinese dragons, and a curious contemporary display of Chinese workers happiness and solidarity with their Bolivian brothers.The Plaza del Armas is full of pigeons and people, ignoring the odd protest parade and the riot police on most street corners.

We had dinner in an Afrobolivian restaurant, and taste food and culture born of the slave trade; we dance to the wonderful rhythm of African drums....A new Gus girl Juliet, a native of Ghana, teaches us the moves...we say goodbye to many from the group, and pick up a few more for the next leg to Lima.

19th March:

Gus is fixed and ready for the trip to Lake Titicaca, but she still struggles with the hills at altitude (3800m). The air is crisp and clean, the clouds stunning as we catch the most primitive of ferries over the southern part of the lake, (past the parade of what maybe land locked Bolivia’s only 4 sailors!) to the quaint old colonial town of Copacabana, sleeping on the lakes edge ...it’s like a time capsule, steeped in religious ritual, now surviving on tourism, just...

Climbed the hill overlooking the bay (Stations of the Cross on the way), ate the freshest trout from waterside stalls...the morning took us on a boat trip in the rain and freezing cold, to the Isla del Sol in the middle of the lake, and the birthplace of the Incan gods. A 13k walk over the island (up over 4020mand in blazing sun) took us past ancient Inca temple and the puma rock.....the oracles would give guidance to the people after ceremonies involving coca and hallucinogenics....a “face” with a beard in the white rock was thought to be a God, and the reason why the Incan chief thought Pizarro was God when he confronted them....

The views, the skies are spectacular...could be in the Aegean or the Mediterranean

Back to spend the night celebrating Ivan (the driver)’s birthday on the beach watching the sunset... 

The following day, we spend more hours in a remote border crossing into Peru, chug onto Pucon, and a visit to the fascinating floating reed islands. The Quechuan people here are wonderfully hospitable and relaxed in their island homes, trying to preserve their way of life through tourism. The bows of their reed boats for the tourists are filled with plastic bottles for floatation now and they themselves use modern  boats, but the school and community hall are the only modern buildings.....

I bought an embroidery from one of the needle women.

One more huge day in Gus, rattling over dirt roads, will bring us to Cusco.

Online again in Lima

Lima, 8th April

At long last I’m reunited with my computer after 5 weeks without a recharger. Lord knows what happened, but it’s amazing how bereft I felt without the comfort of wifi and the ease of uploading photos and blogging. 

The internet in the back blocks has been painfully slow and often outdated...hard to open a pdf let alone find a new Mac charger. How on earth did people backpack in the old days????

I’m holed up in a nice hotel in Lima at the moment, laid up with a lurgy that makes me very loath to venture outdoors. The joys of travelling! After 9 weeks, I finally cut my umbilical cord with Gus - the cool kids mostly left after Cusco and I was ready to relinquish my role of honorary crew/truck cleaner.....

The last 5 weeks have been almost an overload of all the senses....a kaleidoscope of colour and cultures, of people and poverty, of extreme effort at altitude with the reward of unforgettable vistas; (and of the never ending and all pervading stench of non functioning loos!!). I awoke yesterday morning atop a sand dune after sleeping under the stars, and finished the day in a less than salubrious hotel in a seedier part of Lima....But I get ahead of myself; I need to start where I left off before the old cogs of my memory refuse to be kicked back into life...

14th March Yuyuni

Forgot to mention the Mummies in the Salta museum....3 perfectly preserved mummies of children sacrificed to appease Apu, the mountain God at the top of nearby LLullaillaco volcano, buried at 6,720m....the highest archaeological site in the world. The skulls were conical, deformed after birth to signify royal lineage.

Also a statue of a pregnant Madonna in the church of San Francesco.... quite extraordinary....

From Salta we started an incredible journey upwards, ever upwards, slowly up more switchbacks...a lunch stop on some salt flats where they were actively mining salt for export, a leg stretch at Pumamarca and a colourful market at the base of the “Hill of Seven Colours”, and then a long winding stretch still upwards across the never never between Argentina and Chile to San Pedro. Our last camp was a dusty one at 3,500 metres...set up finally at 9.30 and wandered down town to eat at a surprisingly flash restaurant...quite a shock in a frontier town of adobe houses and dusty streets, litter everywhere. We’re reminded that we/re really on the edge of the 3rd world here. And we’re feeling the first effects of altitude sickness... , no appetite, the air is thin...

An early start the next morning takes us up to the Bolivian border crossing, a shack of an outpost in the middle of nowhere, and then onto an extraordinary tortuous (and quite full of torture) drive across the infamous Altiplano...

the Laguna Blanco with its beautiful reflections, laguna Verde, iridescent green in the morning light, full of arsenic and magnesium; the thermal springs at 4850m where we dunked our toes and tried to eat a little.... by this stage any exertion is tiring; many have headaches.....past geysers belching steam and lord knows what, then over the highest pass at 5020m.... suddenly there’s a soccer field, basketball “court”...it’s a sulphuric acid processing plant where they bring the borax mined 800m down the other side of the pass. What desperation or enticement would bring one to work here?

Several in the group are really sick now, vomiting, headaches... and Gus jolts onwards over the most ordinary of roads. I had to ask for a reprieve from the back seat!

We descend slowly past the borax mine and the road deteriorates rapidly...past the Laguna Colorado, awash with pink from the betacarotene, and flush with flamingoes ...truly mind blowing vistas.....

we almost crawl to our refugio for the night, a bleak spot high on the Altiplano where there are the first signs of semi arable land next to a spring. The locals are shy, colourfully dressed ... the women with bowler hats topping braided hair, their skirts stiff with multiple layers of gathers, their skin lined and deeply tanned from the harsh sun...

a tail plane on top of a wall tells another woeful story .....hardly anyone can eat, and sleep eludes most at this altitude of 4200m...., but the bed is good, and the heavy llama wool blankets keep us warm

Everyone is keen to descend the next morning, if not keen to rattle around again in Gus. We past a collection of amazing rock formations, interspersed with same ancient mosses of Tierra del Fuego, and inhabited by chinchillas...

down past more and more signs of habitation, basic adobe huts and llama corrals dotting the landscape.....

the llama are beautiful, festooned with ribbons by their owners as a sort of brand; crops of quinoa struggle here and there, breaking up the constant expanse of stony hills.

We pass San Cristobal. the largest silver mine in the world, built by the Americans, (they moved a whole village and brought water and electricity to the area, but now the Japanese Sumimoto (?) own it - they are the ones who are in negotiation with the Bolivian gov. to develop the Lithium mines .... and onto Uyuni at last, on the edge of the salt flats, las Salinas.

It’s a wild west, frontier sort of town, treeless, unbelievably dusty...the edges of town are strewn with litter and plastic bags as far a the eye can see. The locals are desperately poor; they don’t make any eye contact and won’t have their photo taken...it’ our first glimpse of the traditional dress, the women in their black bowler hats, voluminous gathered skirts and leggins...

It’s the end of carnival here though....a strange mix of Christian and pagan festivals; (a sort of cross between Meiringen in Switzerland with the caricatures of evil spirits, and Palm Sunday, with the locals dancing behind a band, swaying corn sheathes in the air.) We headed down to watch the parade in the street, and ended up caught in the revelry, sprayed and being sprayed by cans of foam, the local kids taking great delight in our playing with them....

Off to the salt mines the next morning in 4WD’s....what incredibly hard work, reaping this harvest from the endless flats, covered in water now because of the wet season; the process of gathering, roasting and packaging the salt is labour intense and pays a pittance...

Lots of fun taking perspective bending photos on the flats; a wonderful lunch in a surreal landscape...tablecloths and fresh tea, picante grilled chicken and pasta salad, cooked by the mother-in-law of hotel owner, an American pizza maker who who married a Bolivian, and now makes the highest (and arguably the best) pizza in the world.

There’s also a train graveyard here... it’s the end of the rail line built with the British to ship out minerals, and the place where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid plied their trade before their final siege.

Another day’s slow drive with an ailing Gus through more treeless “lunar” landscapes finally brings us to Potosi, the once great city (bigger than London) which kept the Spanish Empire rich for 300 yrs. Built at the foot of the bare mountain where the silver was extracted, it’s almost haunting ......lavish Spanish architecture, even more lavish cathedral, numerous churches and monasteries embellished in mind blowingly ornate silver, a huge mint which supplied most of the world’s coins.... the tangible reminders overlaying a sad and brutal history...... 8 million indigenous and African slaves died here over the course of 300 yrs in the still appalling mine conditions; the miners were fed coca leaves to increase their output; the life expectancy of miner was 30; a mule’s was 3 mths as they drove the giant cogs that pressed the ingots of silver...

The local Chequa people felt abandoned after filling the coffers of Europe for so long, but still have an unbelievably deep conservative Catholic faith. We eat heart and tripe and huge white local corn in the street stalls; watch them celebrate yet another saint’s feast day, dancing beneath arches of beaten silver and plastic flowers... 

The markets are very basic, more so than China of 20 years ago... cows heads and intestines displayed next to toiletries and overripe fruit; corn and llama meat are staples ..

17th March

On the road again, on the way to Le Paz, celebrating St Patrick’s day on the bus... we deck her out in green balloons and shamrocks; a few stalwarts stow some liquid sustenance on board to celebrate..

Gus is really sick now, struggling to a standstill climbing up the ranges. The boys change the filter and expoxy up a fuel link, and she agrees to carry on. A few glasses in Club Gus for Paddy make the 13 hr day pass more quickly...finally after Bangkok style traffic jams, we’re treated to a glittering view of Le Paz, stitched onto the sides of a gorge, and only 3,600m. It’s easier to breathe, but not easy...

Insanity in Salta

10th March

We’ve had two very civilized days in a hostel in Salta and the luxury of a private bathroom and shower. What little things in life bring us joy!!!! I’m starting to take on a bit of a Marj Simpson look...hair’s a bit wild and woolly, days in flipflops are doing nothing for the toenails etc, but who cares.........

Salta is a wonderful colonial city, very Spanish in its architecture and its mood, very conservative. The Cathedral and churches are huge, OTT and even a bit kitch, but very well patronized. St Ignacio and St Francis are big stars here.

Colonial buildings with wrought iron balconies line the plazas. Sat alfresco and had a coffee, people watching. they're the same the world over.... little kids chasing pigeons, jumping in puddles; old men sitting and chatting on park benches.....

For some insane reason, I allowed myself to be talked into mountain biking yesterday. We were supposed to be driven up the road where the "Train to the Clouds" should go, and bike down - the inclement weather the day before put paid to that (landslides), and we were taken into the countryside for a hideous couple of hours uphill, and then the "fun" part down - through stinking mud a foot deep, redolent with cow and horse manure; rocky, bumpy slippery downhill “goat tracks”... the only fun part was the fact that I managed to stay upright, but not necessarily on the bike!!

The last few k’s down on the road were huge fun though, with hardly a single push of the pedals required.

The evening brought more fun.....managed to get my exhausted self to a tango class with the group. We were all left footed and clumsy to start with...all pretty hilarious. After 2 hours I was getting the hang of it and did a shimmy around the room with the instructor; awesome fun... will definitely take tango lessons when I get home.

Walked up 1021 steps (past the Stations of the Cross) to a hill overlooking the city today....by the 6th station I was cursing rather than praying, ruing not taking the cable car,....all good practice for Machu Pichu I hope.

Off to San Pedro and the Atacama desert tomorrow.... weather is looking good!

(My apologies to all and sundry who got a spam email about viagra - not sure how it happened, but hope it doesn’t continue to plague you!)

Estancia life and lots of Torrontes

Tuesday 8th March

We’ve been a week on the road again, heading north through Argentina, the Andes never too far away, the vistas constantly varied....everyone was hanging out for a bit of wifi...

A 5.30 start, a stop to view a magnificent sunrise from a sand dune, then a long 14 hr day took us over a seemingly endless flat plain, first fertile with acres of corn fields, then arid cattle country.....towards Cordoba, a university town established by the Jesuits in the 16th century. They raised stock and grew grapes to support there establishments.....rock wall fences built by indigenous slaves are everywhere...

A winding rough road takes us up to the Estancia Los Potreros, a 6000 acre Angus and horse property, owned by Kevin, our Anglo Argentine polo playing host and his English wife. The main homestead costs USD 400 a night, and includes polo lessons and riding on the range. We are in another part of the of the estancia, very old colonial Spanish; tourism is necessary to supplement their income.... it’s poor rocky country, but the views are wonderful.

Our guides/hosts are Heidi an American flight attendant,and Mel, an English lass who left the world of finance for a bit of adventure....

We are greeted by Kevin with a very generous wine “tasting” in is dining room, supping on Torrontes and Malbec bottled especially for the Estancia....

The next morning we ll saddle up for a ride to “Top of the World”, the horses well trained and surefooted over the rocky terrain, rock walls and pampas grass abound. We wend our way down to some picturesque cattle yards full of weaners....we have a go at lassoing and then are shown how it’s really done by the gauchos, Daniel and Augustine are our guides...

An aperatif on the grounds, watching the sunset, then a wonderful assado of beef, and more estancia wine...a few sore heads the next morning when we headed off for another ride to a waterfall and a picnic lunch...

The evening was filled with wonderful folk songs from a local. Loyola and Gerry, the Canadians brought out the cigars and the 15yr old scotch .... more sore heads as we set off in Gus for another long day on the road, headed for Cafayate....

...................................

Long hours across more of agricultural Argentina, paralleling Ruta 40 and bouncing around in the back of Gus... a left turn takes us straight up the mountains again, with an incredible change of vistas.....1500m of incredibly steep switchbacks though a lush subtropical rainforest, in the rain unfortunately so we were denied apparently spectacular views (and photos).... cleared pasture on top for a k or 2.... clouds nestling in valleys...then another rain shadow, cactus again, gleaming after a rain shower in the late afternoon light.... a wet and dirty campsite, an early start and on to Cafayate, the Torrontes wine capital. 

A quick stop at Quilmes ruins, a people who managed to keep the Inca and the Spanish at bay in this settlement on the side of the hill, but eventually succumbed; the 2000 people remaining were walked to Buenos Aires, only 400 survived the March...

Cafayate is a town with a great ambience, at the foothills of the Andes; a dry hot climate by day, cold at night....it’s heart is a beautiful little plaza; it’s ringed by organic wineries....more Torrontes, our new favourite drop...

We piled onto Gus again after camping in unseasonal rain and drove through the most amazing landscape, sculptured by a raging muddy red river....hues of reds and pinks.... carved shapes standing like sentinels in the ancient landscape...

The same unseasonal rain has lead to a few washouts on the road - Gus lapped it all up, plodding slowly but surely here to Salta....lets hope the rain stops

Over the Andes to vino paradise

March 3rd; Happy birthday Paulo! And Annie tomorrow xxx

Having a chill day in Mendoza, the wine capital of Argentina...indulging ourselves just a little.....

Some really sad news yesterday - my tenant Svein in unit 9, collapsed and died suddenly after a run, only early 30’s...a really nice guy with  Master’s in IT...remembered fondly flying his model spy plane around the garden controlled by his laptop....

I wasn’t sad to leave Santiago behind (just another big city), but for future visits it would be a great base for beaches, boats and boards of all sorts. When are you getting that job Chooey?

We pushed Gus across an intersection to jolt her back to life, then headed west, past our first glimpses of cactii, towards the mountains,.....climbing slowly to 3200m over a pass that kept curling back on itself like a ribbon. The landscape took on a lunar quality.....barren, rocky, desolate.

TJ stopped Gus near number 24 of 29 curves for a roadside lunchbreak.... on a slope for a slightly hairy reverse clutch start. We jumped out for a scamper up a little and a view of Aconcagua, SA’s highest peak at 7000m... all were short of breath and weak in the legs after only a couple of minutes...the altitude is going to take some getting used to.

10kms in no man’s land across the Chile/ Argentina border before we were held up for 4 hrs in border crossing while the guys searched for some obscure document re Gus they’ed not been asked for before. We caused quite a stir pushing Gus through the customs area....

Finally arrived in Mendoza, a really pretty town in a huge dry valley at the foot of the Andes, patchworks of vineyards everywhere, laden with grapes.... they are flood irrigated by Andean snow melt collected in a dam an hour out of town....malbec is the most renowned grape here, but we are introduced to new varieties, and the Chardonnay is superb.... 

4 of us indulged ourselves with a winery tour and enormous gourmet picnic lunch at the vineyard where Sarah Tomlinson worked for a few months. All the grapes are hand picked...it’s  sensual feast with the smells of ripe grapes, fermenting  juice, lush vineyards... It would be awesome to see this place in the Autumn and in winter... the seasons are so extreme... (hence the great wine)

We headed out last night for a degustation dinner at another old vineyard on the edge of town....clay oven baked lamb with pea risotto a standout..

The guys finally found help for Gus...it’s the alternator, not the starter motor, and we’re given an extra day here in Mendoza while she undergoes some running repairs; the guys also managed to find a compressor for the fridge on board, so our diet may improve somewhat......

The downside is now a 16 hour day straight to an estancia where we’ll camp for 3 nights ....we were to have 2 days en route with a bush camp in between....

Santiago

Santiago 27th Feb;

The first of my 3 overland legs is complete.....Bunny’s birthday is over - managed to text from Gus on way here.

 Gus is really playing up now ..... we have to push start her at every stop; the crew are always on the lookout for a slope. (One was a hairy clutch start in reverse about15 m from the cliff to the waterfall gorge...)

 Our last camp was by a waterfall 5 hrs out of Santiago, a dusty, basic place, but hot showers.

The drive could have been through Italy, but poplars instead of pines as wind breaks through the valley, full of vineyards and fruit trees....had a tour of a local vineyard Boduzzi, a tasting, and lunch on their lawns overlooking the vineyards and a chapel devastated by the recent earthquake, before heading off to beat the peak hour traffic of Santiago...

It’s a tired city in many ways, evidence of past Spanish glory in older bulildings...the Cathedral is huge and Gothic... and some new modern edifices......but everywhere is littered and dirty... the bustling local markets with all their colour and lack of hygiene are fringed by homeless souls sleeping on filthy rags amongst mangy dogs trying to find something to eat in the scraps... a block away is a mall lined with modern shopping centres......

The crew are ever hopeful of getting a compressor for Gus’ fridge and a new starter motor.....we have 8 new group members, 10 friends have departed Team Gus.

My Everest

Thursday 24th:

I survived the volcano climb!  

It’s 2,800m active volcano which constantly puffs out steam and gas (sulphurous I believe) We spent last night on a little boat viewing the mountain in shades of pink at sunset.

 I had a healthy dose of Clarinase to clear the head before a 4.30 pickup this morning. A 20k drive took us to 1400m before we started our slow trudge ever upward over pumice, dust and scree....we were all appropriately kitted out in windproofs, gaiters, and carried gloves helmets and crampons and an ice pick in issued backpacks for when the going got colder and icier....the first 1 1/2hr were by the light of our head torches...the volcano looked so non threatening, puffing out wisps of pink smoke in the first light of day. The second rest stop took us to the ice and we had lessons in using the crampons and picks, and how not to break a leg!!! The wind whipped up, making it hard to balance and turn ....zigzagged up, and up...

2 1/2 hrs later the clouds started to shroud the crater, and we were suddenly in fog....400m from the summit the guides said enough and we headed down. 1 1/2 hours was all it took, retracing our steps on the ice, then sliding down in the gravel... the knees will tell their own story tomorrow... we all nodded off in the bus ride home...

I’m so proud of myself... I so nearly didn’t attempt it!

Off for drinks on the lake and dinner before Gus heads for Santiago, camping 1 night en route night.

El Chalten and the Chilean fjords and lakes

El Chalten is a tiny little frontier town at the foot of the Andes in Argentina. It’s a higgledy piggledy town born from the tourism of mountain climbers and hikers, and little thought given to planning. 

The highest peak, Mt Fitzroy, was named after the captain of the Beagle who sighted it on his voyage with Darwin. It’s a very imposing granite “obelisk”, the highest of many jagged peaks in the chain. Our first night here was bitterley cold and wet, though we had a break enough in the rain to get our tents up. We huddled around the cook tent and in the truck making empanadas for tea and fortifying ourselves against the cold with the odd drop of vino!

The morning was dry but the wind relentless.....we thawed out hiking up to a glacial lake and a view of a peak called El Torre and Laguna Torre lake....ate a 420gm steak for dinner in a taverna... carnivore’s dream come true. (Bits of meat are few and far between, as Gus the truck still has no working fridge.)

Now the second day in El Chalten, freezing cold but sunny ...all reluctant to get out of our sleeping bags this morning.....even Gus was contrary and wouldn’t start. Hiked up to mirador of Mt Fitzroy before lunch, and then a 3hr horse ride in the afternoon. The valleys are beautiful, the beech just starting to turn yellow.....

My horse was a very kind mare ...she’d just foaled, and handled like a dream. The gauchos here ride with long stirrups and the reins in one hand (bit like a joy stick really). She walked easily across a bridge and the glacial streams, fast flowing but shallow; we cantered across fields full of dandelions,clover and daisies, with views to the snow capped alps and Mt Fitzroy. Felt like I’d stepped right into a Heidi movie......

Thursday 17th:

THE longest day ever....after a really early start we spent 12 hrs on a bumpy dusty Routa Quarente  (I was in the back seat!!) covering 550 kms north through more empty landscapes; could be the Oz outback except for the colour....and not a tree in sight for miles except poplars planted as windbreaks around the very occasional estancia; the sheep obviously do well here.....we visited the Cave of Hands (Cueva Manos)in a huge canyon, 10,000 yr old rock art with eerie similarity to Australian Aboriginal art...drawings are of guanacos and hunters, the hand prints are multi coloured and all left handed..

We eventually find a place to camp by the roadside, in what was an old road camp, dusty stony and not a bush in sight, and it’s our cook group’s turn for dinner....thick mintestrone soup around a huge camp fire... and only a few hours sleep...

Friday18th:

On the road early again through pretty little  Puerito Moreno and across the border again into Chile - we’re headed through a national park on the way to a ferry ride past the Chilean fjords to Puerto Montt. TJ decides to try a short cut through another border crossing...the Argentinian border is easy; the Chilean is for Ag purposes only and the guards are not pleased with processing us; but don’t send us back through no man’s land, but make us unpack the truck and search every bag and confiscate some food....we have to push start Gus for the second time....

We drive along a vivid blue glacial lake, surrounded by parched treeless hills, then start our ascent into the Alps.....the vista changes completely.....

the panorama could easily be Swiss as we descend.....a very rough road through the national park, pine covered hills, glaciated mountains, and lush growth of wild fushias and nameless plants with massive leaves. We back in a lush humid world of mosses and lichens, racing streams... the odd wooden cabin or farm house. 

We shopped for 4 days in Cohaique (oh how I hate the shopping days; our group dynamics are not good, and shopping on limited budgets with no fridge when everyone is tired and hungry is trying to say the least.....)

camp high on a hill beside a lake overlooking town; the sunset is glorious, the showers are freezing cold and we stay up to toast in English Sam’s birthday... 

Saturday 19th:

Sarah Tomlinson (- a bright bubbly 23yr old from Brighton; we’re going to check out the family trees) organized a hand made card and festooned the truck with balloons for the birthday....

another long day of lush mountain scenery and forests, a rough road, an idyllic lunch stop where the boys all line up to throw stones in the river while the girls look on .....we find a camp site along side a fjord....we brave a swim, set up a huge campfire on the beach and celebrate Sam’s birthday. Even found some fresh mussels to saute. There are many bottles around the next morning when I put the kettle on

Sunday 20th:

More of the same as we drive north up and over another mountain spur, headed for El Chaiten. Twice we have to push start Gus, and several times on way to camp site the boys had to get out and check the rickety wooden bridges... (TJ clipped the guard rails of one and they sneaked back in the dark to fix it.) A 13 point turn helped them negotiate the curve onto the bridge on the way back...

We camped 25 kms out of town in a grassy patch along side a stream... we’re up late cooking as we have to provide breakfast, lunch and dinner to go for tomorrow and be packed up and on the road at 6.30.... this camping is hard work.....but off road vehicles and camping are the only way one gets to see this unbelievably scenic place.

El Chaiten is  almost a ghost town after a devastating volcano covered it with ash in 2009. Many houses are dug out, but struggling to survive after 30 mths because there’s still no power, sewerage or fresh water. It’s eerie..... school’s playground equipment still half buried in ash, just the peaks of roofs poking out through the ash/sand as we back onto the ferry for a tedious 9 hour ride to Porto Montt....an old once prosperous German settlement which thrived on sending grain to States before the Panama Canal was built.

Procured smoke salmon and strong old cheeses from local market as a supper in our VERY BASIC camp .... a stony dirt patch on the edge of town  beside a servo and truck depot; litter and you don’t want to know lining the nearby  fence..... but it turned into a wonderful night around the fire. Terry the old Aussie bushie from Mandura was a closet balladeer.... he sang and serenaded us with old folk songs and classics in the most beautiful voice.....

Walked into “Banos” at servo at daybreak, and stumbled across 3 young kids are sleeping huddled together on scraps of cardboard....

I wake up with sore throat and a head cold... easy drive down to Pucon, a pretty tourist town on a lakeside, at foot of a volcano....not sure whether I’ll make the climb up there tomorrow....these old bones are starting to tell the tale of sleeping on a ground matt and rough travelling for 6 days!!!!