A Hot Day in Madrid
2018年9月19日, スペイン ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C
It often amazes me how a city that looked completely alien just 24 hours ago can start to feel familiar. All it takes is a few landmarks to help you feel at home. The hotel entrance that looked strange last night when we arrived at 9 pm, already feels like a welcome refuge from the heat and crowds.
I guess everyone has their own way of exploring a new city. For many, their orientation consists of trying to see as many of the "tourist attractions" as possible in a limited amount of time. Judging by the number of people we saw with their selfie sticks, the aim is to take your photo in front of each and every attraction, presumably to prove that you were actually there.
My own way of exploring a city is to largely ignore the recommended attractions, after all there are only a limited number of cathedrals and art galleries you can really appreciate. I have always preferred to just wander the streets and see where my legs take me. I find every new street and alleyway an exciting place to discover and learn about the city and its inhabitants at the same time. After all, you do not go all the way to a place like Madrid, just to surround yourself with fellow tourists, Surely it is the locals you went to see.
And as for the selfies ? Anyone who know me already knows that I never take selfies.
After a reasonable night's sleep I met Allan and Douglas for breakfast at the (much later than usual) time of 9 am. I was very pleasantly surprised with the standard of the breakfast, especially considering we are staying in a "budget" hotel. The scrambled eggs were so good that I just had to go back and have a second serve.
Thus fuelled up with eggs in my engine, the three of us headed out into the city. Overhead the sky was clear and blue, and you could already feel the heat starting to build. A short walk from our hotel we discovered the Plaza Mayor (Main Plaza). Every Spanish city has a Plaza Mayor and this is usually the place that is regarded as the heart of the city. It seemed like a logical place to start.
I had not know what to expect to find in Madrid, however I did think that the buildings would be rather knocked about like they are in Italy. To my surprise I found the buildings to be in excellent condition. Madrid is filled with a lovely variety of strikingly beautiful examples of architecture, some of which reminded me of those you find in Paris. The streets were clean, the pavements in good condition and the traffic flowed freely. I immediately started to feel comfortable here.
After some time in the Plaza we wandered our way through the city towards the Parque de El Retiro. This is a huge park,right in the central part of the city. It seemed like a great place to spend a hot day. As we entered through the impressive gates an illuminated sign told us that the temperature was already 34 C. Shade seemed a logical idea.
By this time we were feeling like lunch. We found a nice cafe in among the trees and enjoyed a leisurely chat while we ate. The next couple of hours were spent wandering the gardens and watching the people pass their time. There were a myriad of activities available, including rowing boats around the large central lake. Many others were exploring the park on electric scooters and bicycles.
When our legs started to weary we felt it was time to head back towards our hotel. A late afternoon siesta seemed attractive, however when I reached the bed, the sleep would not come. I watched a little Spanish TV instead. I never knew that Jimmy Stewart could speak Spanish, but here was one of his old movies and his Spanish was surprisingly good. It was a pity that it really didn't sound right. Why don't they use subtitles I wondered ?
Much later in the day we walked a short distance to find a place to have dinner. We found a suitable place and were soon happily enjoying our meals while an unlikely looking muscle bound clarinet player did a very good job of playing Acker Bilk classics. His playing was excellent but of course it was not free. At the end of his set, he went around the tables "requesting" money for his efforts. We paid him, but we did not pay the very loud (and not so talented) piano accordionist that followed him.
It had been a lovely start to our brief time in Madrid.もっと詳しく
From Melbourne to Madrid
2018年9月18日, スペイン ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C
Once in a while we have probably all had one of those "plane flights from hell". You all know the type. It's the type of flight that gets off to the wrong start by being delayed multiple times, while you are sitting crammed onto a metal seat on the departure lounge. It's the type of flight where you find that the only set available was in the middle of the central row, where there is not a single empty seat on the entire plane and your fellow travellers on other side immediately take sole ownership of the respective "arm rests", leaving you no option but to try to cram your elbows into your own rib cage.To make matters even worse the oaf sitting in front of immediately reclines their seat to take away the remaining 3 cm of personal space that was left to you. And when the sad looking airline lunch finally arrives, the bun promptly jumps from the tray and disappears somewhere down into the dark space under the seat in front of you, never to be seen again for the duration of the flight. The real irony is that the little bread roll was the part of the lunch that, for some reason, you had been most looking forward to.
Fortunately for the four of us that were departing on the early morning Emirates from from Melbourne to Dubai, that was not our experience at all. Apart from the fact that someone in the Emirates hierarchy had thought it was a good idea for a flight to leave at 5 am in the morning, the rest of the story was about as good as an economy flight from Melbourne to Europe can ever become.
After the long wait at the airport we entered the huge A380 right on time. Allan and I had chosen to pay a little extra for exit row seats, hoping that our knee caps would not get fractured before our Camino walks had even begun. It was worth the extra few dollars.
We both made ourselves comfortable, stretching out our legs as far as we could. It was almost heaven in a biscuit. When we looked around the vast cavern of the plane's interior, we were very surprised to see that there were empty seats everywhere. The plane was probably only 50% full, possibly even less. The story got better and better. I started to think that I had dozed off in the waiting lounge and would soon awake to the real horror. But it never happened.
There is no gilding the fact that a 14 hour flight to Dubai is always going to be a LONG time, however this was almost certainly the best long haul economy flight I have ever had. I even managed to watch a couple of movies, listen to part of a talking book and get a few moments of sleep along the way. It was also such a delight to be able to stand up and walk around the plane any time I felt like it. There was also NEVER a queue at the toilet. All flights should be like this, even the hostesses were friendly and chatty.
After a short 90 minute transit at Dubai (it was over 40C outside - but then that was probably a cold day by their standards) we were ushered into another huge A380 for the second leg from Dubai to Madrid. If the first plane was only partially full, then this one was absolutely deserted. There were only a few scattered heads poking above the seats when the announcement came to lock the doors. It never gets any better than this.
After take off the few passengers on board moved around to secure some personal space - 5 or 6 seats each would be about right. I flipped up a couple of arm rests, jammed a pile of pillows under my head and pretended that I was in business class. It worked, because I managed to quickly doze off into a restful couple of hours sleep. It was only when I awoke and discovered that the pillows had slipped out, that I realised that the back of my head had been permanently imprinted with the shape of the armrest.
The entire flight experience was so wonderful that I have now been spoilt for all future flights to Europe. We arrived at Madrid, right on time at 8 pm. The sun was just hitting the horizon and we were about to see the wonderful end of a long day.
It's always a relief when you see your own luggage on the carousal and you know that you will not have to wear the same clothes for the next six weeks. We were soon out of the airport and at the taxi stand. I had previously done my homework and knew that a genuine taxi would charge exactly 30 Euro for the trip to the centre of Madrid. This is good value when we were able to fit three people in the same taxi.
I exchanged my three words of fluent Spanish with the driver and we were soon speeding on our way through the (now dark) streets. It was the first time any of us had been to Spain, but the passing kaleidoscope of illuminated buildings looked like any one of a hundred other cities that I had been similarly sped through.
About 20 minutes later we arrived at our hotel and were checked in. My room is about 2 metres wide by 7 metres long and the sole window is tiny. But it was clean, the air conditioner worked and the bed was comfortable. Good night everyone.もっと詳しく
旅行者After having done many 7-8 hour flights, many of which were overnight, I did my first ever long hop flight last year - Singapore direct to Manchester on Singapore Airlines. I was pleasantly surprised how quickly the time passed with good movies - some were part of the airline entertainment system and some on our tablets, acceptable meals and good service, plenty to keep me occupied and inevitably some sleep. 14hrs on a budget airline may feel like double that.
Packing in Pakenham
2018年9月16日, オーストラリア ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C
I can't remember exactly when I first heard about the Camino walk. I think it was several years ago when I met some walkers who were training on the 1000 steps in Ferntree Gully. It might have been unknown to me at that time, but over the past few years it has cropped up in conversations, books, movies and pictures so many times that I decided that it was something I needed to do for myself.
The word "Camino" simply means "path or way", but it has most often been associated with the walking path to Santiago de Compostella in northern Spain. This path has been walked by pilgrims for over a thousand years, ever since the remains of the Apostle James were apparently discovered there.
In ancient times the true pilgrim would start from their own front door and walk the entire way to Santiago. This means that there are multiple Camino paths that start from locations all over Europe and all converge on the Cathedral in Santiago. When travelling in Europe you often come across these various walking routes, all of which are identified by the symbol of the scallop shell. The radiating lines on the shell all converge to a single point and that represents the destination at Santiago.
Although there are many variations of the Camino, the most famous is the so called "Spanish Camino". This is a 700 km walking route from the Pyrenees to Santiago. When most people refer to the Camino, it is this path they are referring to.
Of course, to walk 700 km takes a significant investment of time - about 40 days in fact. The other factor I took into consideration was that much of the traditional route has now been taken over by busy roads. The prospect of walking for hour after hour on hard bitumen with cars flashing past at high speed is not so exciting. That meant I looked for another option.
The final answer was to complete a "modified" version of the Spanish Camino over a period of 17 days. This would allow us to still follow the full route, but we would skip sections that were busy or boring, concentrating on the parts which offered the most enjoyable walking experience. Although some might regard this as some sort of cheating, I figure that you are only cheating if you claim to be doing something you are not. Since we will still be walking up to 20 km each day and, since we never claimed to be walking the entire 700 km, I believe it will still be a very worthwhile achievement for every participant.
About 18 months ago I shared these plans and soon had a keen group of 12 who wanted to share the walk with me. Since it is a long way to travel to Europe for just a two week walk, I have also combined the walk with an 8 day bike ride in Portugal. I have never previously visited either of these countries before so I still don't know exactly what to expect.
With previous adventures I have developed a reputation for being very well organised. I prefer to have all details covered long before I leave Australia and to have my bags packed and ready at least a week before departure. Unfortunately this has not been the case this time.
Due to several circumstances outside my control, I seem to have had about a hundred matters that kept requiring my attention. My travel bag has remained empty in a spare bedroom, with a few random items scattered around it. It has only been in the last 24 hours that I was finally able to throw myself into packing. I furiously worked through my list, grabbing clothes, shoes, chargers, cables, batteries, etc and sorting them all out. By last night the packing was almost completed and I could finally begin to feel in control again.
Tomorrow night I will be meeting several others of our team for our Emirates flight from Melbourne Airport. I don't know whoever thought that 5 am was a good time for a flight, but that is what my ticket says. Of course the long wait at the airport in the middle of the night will be easy compared to the ordeal of 24 hours in transit between Melbourne and Madrid in economy class. I can hardly wait.もっと詳しく
Back Where it All Began
2018年6月16日, オーストラリア
There is absolutely no denying the fact that South America is a LONG way from Australia. No matter which way you look at it, there is just no easy way to complete a trip that takes you almost halfway round our planet. You just have to face it with as much fortitude as you can, hoping that the discomfort of the long flight will soon be forgotten once you get home.
For Paul and I the long journey began at 11.30 pm the previous evening. That was when my alarm rudely awoke me from a sleep which I had only just descended into. I switched on the light and staggered out of bed. At that time I tried hard not to think how many hours would pass by before I would again be able to lay my head on a pillow.
By 12.30 am Paul and I had checked out of our rooms and were waiting in the foyer for our driver to take us to the Buenos Aires International Airport. Outside in the street the massive TV screens were still shining brightly, showing that the Big Apple is a city that never really sleeps. I just wished that I could.
Right on time the ordered car arrived to collect us. It was not a taxi, in fact I am not exactly sure what it was. The hotel had organised it and had also guaranteed us a fixed rate for the trip to the airport. I didn't really care what it was, at least it was clean and comfortable and the driver seemed to know the way to go.
About 45 minutes later we were dragging our bags into the terminal. This was the part we were both dreading. Somehow we had arrived a little too early for the check in to open, meaning that we had to sit and wait for around an hour. It was the first of many such waits that we would have to do before our trip got underway.
When we finally fronted at the check in desk I asked the girl if we had both been given aisle seats as we had asked. She looked up, smiled and asked "Would you like exit row seats ?" For me, that is a bit like asking if I would like an upgrade to business. "Of course", we answered in unison. She ripped up our previous boarding passes and issued us the new coveted "exit row" tickets for the long flight from Santiago to Melbourne. I could not help but think that we had hit the jackpot.
At 5.00 am we caught the first flight from BA to Santiago. The plane was only partially full, so we were both in relatively high spirits.These high spirits quickly sank once we landed at Santiago (Chile) and settled down to a six and half hour wait for the next flight. This would have almost been bearable if the flight had not been delayed, extending our wait to 7 hours. I kept encouraging myself by the fact that, when I finally arrived in the plane, I would have a luxurious exit row seat waiting for me.It didn't quite work out that way.
Eventually we did get access to the plane and yes, I did have an exit row seat. The problem was that it was squeezed in alongside the huge door. The body of the door took about half the width of my seat. Although in theory I could stretch out my legs, in reality I could only do that if I sat sideways in the seat and buried my head in the luxurious soft steel panelling of the plane door. Comfortable it was not, but I could not blame anyone else. I had actually asked for this seat.
In order to sit myself in this diminutive space, I had to reverse backwards and carefully manoeuvre my rear into position. Then fumble around trying to retrieve the ends of the seat belt. It was not easy. Ahead lay fifteen and a half long hours in the steel sarcophagus.
The direct flight from Santiago to Melbourne probably follows one of the most remote flight paths on the planet. The route begins by heading almost due south from Santiago, flying along Patagonia, past Ushuaia and then continuing another thousand kilometres or so across the Drake Passage towards Antarctica. For most of the next ten hours the plane is flying parallel to the coast of Antarctica.
From time to time I would bring up the flight map on the screen. When I saw our position, so far from the closest civilisation. I tried not to think about what would happen if the plane had to make any sort of emergency landing on the ocean. The chances of any sort of rescue mission so far south ? Absolutely zero.
Gradually the time ticked by. Gradually my backside lost all feeling. I tried to ignore the DVTs that were probably growing in my veins with each passing hour. At least I was getting closer and closer to home.
I could understand why the route of the plane took it a thousand km south of New Zealand, but it was harder to understand why the pilot decided to skip Tasmania altogether and head towards Adelaide instead. After almost reaching the proverbial City of Churches, the pilot apparently realised his error and abruptly executed a right hand turn towards Melbourne. To say I was relieved when we finally touched down at Tullamarine would have been a vast understatement.
I extricated myself from the seat, staggered to the exit door and out into the frigid night air. At first I thought we had maybe landed in Antarctica after all, but then I was told that Melbourne's weather has been like this ever since we left the place five weeks earlier.
When passing through Customs I admitted that I had purchased a set of wooden pencils in Argentina. They were to be a present for my grandson. They turned out to be a gift for the Australian Customs Office instead. Oh well.
It was a wonderful feeling to see Maggie waiting for me at the exit. All that remained was to survive the Monash Freeway and I would be finally home at last. It poured with rain the whole way home. Ah, the wonderful experience of winter in Melbourne ! It seemed strangely familiar.
By 10 pm I was snuggled into my own bed and happily drifting off into an exhausted sleep. The tortuous flight was already fading into memory and I was starting to think ahead to our next adventure in three months time. Travel is like that.もっと詳しく
The World on Two Wheels
The sun sets low in the sky as we cross the Antarctic Circle, near Antarctica
The World on Two Wheels
The mighty obelisk marks the real centre of Buenos Aires. This is the view from my hotel window on my final night in BA.
The Final Day in The Big Apple
2018年6月13日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ⛅ 9 °C
They say that all good things must eventually come to an end. This trip was most certainly a "good thing", but now the time has come for it to draw to a close. The weather in Buenos Aires is now cold and grey - a far cry from the hot and sunny days we experienced in Peru at the start of the adventure. We do not need any reminder that winter is now truly with us and that those sunny days are just a memory.
This morning we took a final walk around this city, passing by the famous Casa Rosada on our way to the docklands region. The last time I walked this route the sun was shining brightly and the streets were thronged with people. This time the winter chill has kept the crowds out of sight. Those few that have braved the elements are bundled into winter gear and thick coats. The docklands which were previously alive with so many people were almost deserted. Maybe this is another message that the time is right for us to return home.
Tomorrow we leave the hotel in the wee small hours of the morning to begin the long journey back home to Melbourne. Paul and I have been going over some of the highlights of the past 5 weeks. It truly has been full of so many sights and experiences that I think it has exceeded all of our expectations. It is probably unlikely that I will ever return to South America, but I am so glad that I had this opportunity to share this trip with so many wonderful companions.
Now I am ready to go home and take a well earned break before the next adventure on the Compostela de Santiago.もっと詳しく
旅行者Some of those photographs look like the Paris end of Collins Street. What a wonderful time you’ve all had.
The World on Two WheelsYes Buenos Aires has many buildings that look as if they have come straight out of Paris. The only difference is that they are often a couple of stories taller than are allowed in Paris.
A Visit to Evita Duarte
2018年6月12日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ☁️ 8 °C
I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Ever since we had arrived in Lima about 5 weeks ago, we had not experienced a single wet day. Not a single one. Not on any day of cycling. Not on any day of trekking to Machu Picchu. Not ever. In fact, on most days, we did not even see a cloud. It was uncanny.
It was only a matter of time before that incredible run of good fortune had to come to a close. That day was today. Paul and I had previously decided to revisit the Recoleta Cemetery and the famous La Boca region of the city, however when I looked out of my window early in the morning I was not rewarded with the normal view of cloudless blue skies. In fact the sky had clouded over and I could even see that the streets six floors below me were a little shiny with recent rain.
In some respects I was not disappointed. Rain is a normal part of life (especially for a cyclist) and it really would have been almost paranormal to complete the entire trip without so much as a drop from the heavens. I looked for my winter clothes and prepared to leave the hotel, but heard a noise from the streets near the Obelisk. It was a demonstration about to begin. Since I had a grandstand view of the proceedings, I decided to watch.
In a few minutes a convoy of police vehicles had arrived and disgorged a line of riot police. Soon the police greatly outnumbered the small band of protesters. The protesters did their best to maintain the rage, but it soon ran out of steam and the small band dispersed quietly. The traffic in the streets quickly returned to normal.
Since the Recoleta district was not too far from our hotel, Paul and I decided to walk. At that time the rain was not much more than a fine drizzle, although it was sufficient to dampen our trousers and shoes. Soon we were wandering the famous cemetery, which is the final resting place of hundreds of Buenos Aires richest and most powerful citizens. The most famous occupant is Evita Peron (Duarte) whose dark mausoleum is still visited by hundreds of people every day. Although she died way back in 1952, aged only 33, her legend has not diminished with the passage of time.
Paul and I spent some time wandering the macabre streets of the dead, however the rain started falling more heavily and it was beginning to creep into my clothing. It was time to find our way back to our hotel to warm up and dry out.
In the early afternoon the skies had lightened a little, the rain had stopped and the sun even peeped out a couple of times. We decided to visit La Boca district. This district is one of the more seedy parts of Buenos Aires, but is popular among tourists for its brightly coloured buildings, mostly constructed out of corrugated iron sheeting. Apparently these were originally constructed by the fishermen of the city out of cast off materials.
The hotel concierge had warned us about walking to La Boca, as the surrounding streets are deemed to be unsafe for tourists. We decided to take a taxi instead. After a few minutes of erratic driving by the taxi man, we began to think that it would have been safer to take our chances with the local muggers. After whizzing through numerous red lights and narrowly missing a group of pedestrians on a pedestrian crossing, we somehow survived to reach La Boca.
We found that the morning rain had somehow dampened down the spirits of the famous Caminita St. Most of the stalls were closed, the cafes were empty and the place looked even more down at heel than usual. Nevertheless we sat down to a lunch of empanadas and then spent an hour or so wandering the alleyways. Another hair raising taxi ride took us back to the centre of town.
By that time the temperature had dropped and the wind chill made the place absolutely freezing. It really felt like a bleak winter's day in Melbourne. At least it would help prepare us for the weather we were likely to expect when we step out of the plane at Tullamarine in three day's time.もっと詳しく
Hello Obelisco
2018年6月11日, アルゼンチン
After so many unforgettable memories and experiences, our time in South America is drawing to a close. After our short time in Salta we had both grown very fond of the place, however we are now reaching the stage where our thoughts are inevitably turning towards home.
This morning we packed our bags for the second last time. We had been told that our transfer would collect us from our hotel at 7.00 am and that is exactly what happened. A talkative lady walked boldly into the foyer of the hotel and called our names. She introduced herself as Natalie. Or at least that's what I think she said. We have now had so many different guides and drivers that I am starting to get my Jaecos, Raouls and Natalies all mixed together.
We bundled our gear into the boot of the waiting car, while Natalie explained that it is illegal to carry luggage in the cabin of the vehicle. It seems a little strange where its common for whole families to crowd on board a single motorbike, for cars to highball down the freeways at 140 kph while the driver is happily chewing on cocoa leaves and for all cars to completely ignore double lines to be so particular about where you can put your suitcase. But of course, this is Argentina.
We found ourselves at the airport in plenty of time and were quickly checked in. The security scan is cursory at best and soon we were seated on our LATAM flight for the 90 minute trip back to Buenos Aires. This was really the beginning of the long journey back to Australia for Paul and me.
Ninety minutes (and a couple of sleeps) later our plane bounced to a halt, right on time at the Jorge Newberry Auroparque, situated almost in the centre of Buenos Aires. Once again, everything had gone according to plan. We left the plane and made our way to the baggage collection area. Soon the baggage started arriving. I looked out for my distinctive blue bag. People progressively collected their luggage and departed. Paul and I tried not to get concerned, even when the carousel stopped and the trapdoor locked. In all my travels I have never had my luggage go missing and I really hoped that this would not be the first.
After about 10 minutes the belts started moving again and, to our eternal relief, both of our cases were aboard. All we needed now was a taxi. That was never going to be a problem since there was a tangle of them all fighting for passengers. We were bundled into one of them and charged 490 pesos (about $30) for the short trip to our hotel.
The absolute centre of Buenos Aires is marked by a huge obelisk. This is the most distinctive sight of the entire city and our hotel was as close to the obelisk as it is possible to be. At least we would never have trouble finding our way home.
After three nights in this mighty city our adventure will come to a close.もっと詳しく
The First Stagecoach from Purmamarca
2018年6月10日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
It was not an encouraging sight. After the numerous attempts to restart the ancient generator, the hotel owner had obviously given up. The motley handful of hotel guests were left sitting in the foyer in darkness. The few sad remnants of the would be breakfast sat forlornly on the table. Outside the wind was kicking up the first of many dust devils. Hundreds of large cacti looked on malevolently from the surrounding hillsides. We certainly did not want to miss our first (and only chance) to leave this place.
Our instructions said that we would be collected by some form of transport at 10 am. We did not exactly know what form the transport would take - minibus, horse, stagecoach, etc. We weren't really all that concerned. We were more than ready to leave.
Right on time at 10 am, a mean looking hombre pushed in through the door, looked around the foyer and then said he was looking for "Dawson". I wondered for a minute if I had offended someone and this guy was looking for a shootout in the main square. Fortunately he broke into a half smile, introduced himself as Raoul, and told us to grab our bags. We didn't waste any time. Soon we were were squeezed into a Toyota Hilux 4WD, along with another couple. And you guessed it, they didn't speak a word of English. Not a single word. We were learning that no one speaks English in these badlands of northern Argentina.
Overhead the sky was completely clear and the warm dusty wind foreshadowed a hot day. We bounced our way out of Purmamarca and soon the view from the rear window was completely obscured by a huge cloud of dust. It had been a surreal experience, but one they we will never forget.
We were soon back on the highway. Not just any highway but the famous Pan American Highway. This incredible sequence of roads stretches for around 30,000 km, all the way from Ushuaia in southern Patagonia to Alaska. Apart from a small gap in central America you could drive, pedal or walk the entire length of two continents.
Our initial route took us north along the famous highway, towards Bolivia. In this section the highway follows the path of the Rio Grande River Valley. Since we were going upstream, the elevation steadily increased. My ears popped several times. My drink bottle expanded. We were getting used to these manifestations of rapid changes in elevation, although I am not sure if my lungs will ever really adapt.
The drive would have been relaxing if Raoul did not have the somewhat disconcerting habit of taking his hands from the wheel and turning around to talk to his rear seat passengers. I am not sure what the official speed limit was, but Raoul seemed to think that 140 kph was a reasonable speed in these conditions. The incredible scenery flashed past our windows. This region really is breathtaking, and not just because of the altitude.
By midday we reached the comparatively civilised town of Humahuaca. This marked the northernmost part of our journey in Argentina. Somewhere in the morning we had crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, officially placing us in the tropics. No wonder it was so warm.
Paul and I, along with our new (non English speaking) amigos found a likely looking restaurant for lunch. Soon we were enjoying a plate of delicious empanadas . These are like small pasties, filled with hot meat or cheese. They are a staple food item in this region, and they really are quite delicious.
After wondering the plaza and examining some of the "maybe alpaca" handicrafts that were on sale, it was time to climb aboard the Toyota for the return trip down the valley. We had a long way to go before reaching our destination for the evening in Salta. Once again Raoul revved the engine and wound up the speed. The car wandered over the road. Numerous passing manoeuvres were executed right over the continuous double lines. Sometimes his hands were on the wheel and other times they weren't.
One common sight along this highway were motorcycle riders without helmets. Sometimes whole families were on a single motorbike, with the smallest sitting astride the handlebars.
"Are helmets compulsory in Argentina ?", I asked. "Of course", Raoul replied, "but this is Argentina". That explained everything.
Another interesting sight we observed was several heavily laden cyclists making their way slowly north along the highway. I wondered if they had ridden from Ushuaia. I also wondered how far they would go north before common sense finally dawned on them.
Very late in the afternoon we finally arrived back in Salta. According to my GPS we had travelled almost 400 km during the day. It was a wonderful feeling to be back in familiar territory. By now we had both developed a warm affection for this lovely city.
After checking into our hotel we walked back to the plaza. The night was uncharacteristically warm. Young lovers sat in the park. The city dogs wandered about, proudly wearing their free jerseys. Music wafted through the streets. Unlike Purmamarca, we would both be sorry to leave this place.
Early tomorrow morning we catch the first flight back to Buenos Aires. This adventure is drawing to a close.もっと詳しく
To the Clouds and Beyond
2018年6月9日, アルゼンチン
I think that a lot of people have a fascination with trains. There is something romantic and magical about taking a seat in a nice carriage and then being whisked along while the world passes by outside your window. I cannot recall when I first heard about the iconic “Tren A Las Nubes”, but I know that it somehow found its way onto my radar and stirred my imagination. Part of the original train link from Argentina to Chile, the Tren A Las Nubes (Train to the Clouds) has become one of the 5 most famous train trips on the planet. It certainly is one of the highest.
The original route of this train took it from Salta to the Polvorilla Viaduct and the journey took around 7 hours each way. Unfortunately the maintenance of the track has now fallen behind to such an extent that much of the original track has become unsafe for the train to travel on. For the past couple of years the trip has been reduced to a 90 min climb from San Antonio de Los Cobres to Polvorilla Viaduct. This means that it is now necessary to take a 4WD to get from Salta to the train station at Los Cobres.
Paul and I each packed a small overnight bag and waited in the foyer of our hotel for our driver. Right on time at 7 am an unshaven guy wearing a traditional South American hat wandered in and asked for us. Our final adventure was about to begin.
We threw our gear into the back of the waiting Toyota Hilux and set off in the early morning traffic. We had not gone far when our way was blocked by a number of police vehicles. There had obviously been a serious accident and one vehicle was on its roof. Our driver announced “I have 4WD”, and then proceeded to bounce over the curb, drive along a roadside bike path, through a few ditches and back onto the road. It looked it could be an exciting day.
One of our previous guides had already explained that “we have laws in Argentina, but well, you see”. What she was trying to say was that nobody really takes any notice of them. On numerous occasions we had seen that double lines on the road serve no purpose at all. They almost serve as an invitation to pass, especially when there is a blind bend coming up. We had also noticed that all our drivers cut off every corner, deliberately swinging onto the wrong side of the road in an attempt to straighten the curves. Since everybody does it, we have (almost) gotten used to it.
For the next three hours we climbed steadily through a succession of breathtaking landscapes. The scenery here really is on a monumental scale, and it was not something I had been prepared for. The Toyota coped very well with the worst of the roads and we started to relax when the driver explained that he had driven this road something like 3000 times before.
Along the way we passed hundreds of cacti dotting the barren, rocky hillsides. A couple of tiny, dusty and neglected looking townships completed the picture. We really were heading into true frontier territory. The only things missing were a few tumbleweeds. Once again the skies were cloudless and my increasing shortness of breath indicated that we were heading back up to near 4000 metres in height.
Finally at about 10.30 be rumbled into Los Cobres and our driver took us to an unlikely looking little café to buy a few empanadas for our lunch. Soon we were at the little station and ready to board the waiting train. After a ticket and passport check (you need your passport for everything here) we were looking for our seats. Due to the world’s strangest seat numbering system, our seats turned out to be in the very last place we would have looked for them. But this is South America after all.
At 12 noon the Tren a Las Nubes was underway. It immediately began climbing. The big diesel locomotive strained hard to keep the train moving at a steady 25 kph. Paul and I sat mesmerized as the landscape changed outside. We could not believe what a harsh environment this place is, and what an incredible engineering achievement it had been to design and build a railway in this most hostile of places.
The train slowly moved along high embankments with sheer drops (just as well David was not with us), through deep rocky cuttings and over a succession of steel bridges. The elevation was already too much for the elderly couple in the next seat and they called for oxygen masks. This train is always equipped with oxygen tanks and nursing staff for those who succumb in the thin air. Fortunately our time in Peru had already hardened our lungs and arteries, and we did not feel the need for supplemental breathing assistance.
The undoubted highlight of the train trip is the arrival at the monumental Polvorilla Viaduct . At 63 metres high and over 200 metres in length it really is an impressive structure. It was constructed between 1930 and 1932 and required a massive 1600 tonnes of steel. We both hoped that it was still inspected for safety from time to time. Due to the narrow gauge of the track, the doubtful maintenance and the sheer height above the ground, the train slowed to a walking pace for the passage across. Anyone suffering vertigo would be advised NOT to look down as this is a VERY HIGH bridge indeed.
Once across to the other side, the train stopped and then reversed back across the bridge. I guess this is to scare the wits out of the passengers for a second time. It then stopped for a time alongside the bridge for the passengers to sample the thin air, take pictures and possibly buy some doubtful “genuine” handcrafts from the sellers gathered alongside the tracks. We had been warned that most of this stuff is actually cheap counterfeit copies imported from China. Instead of the “baby alpaca” that every tourist is looking for, it is more likely to be “maybe alpaca” instead.
The journey back was achieved a little quicker. We were going downhill so I guess the locomotive was in cruise mode or something similar. At 2.30 pm we were back with our driver, who had apparently enjoyed a lovely siesta while we had been on the train. With a rev of the engine we were on our way again. Our next stop was the famous Salinas Grandes, the huge salt flats that stretch for over 200 square km.
After two hours of bouncing over a rough, rock strewn road we finally pulled up at the side of the massive white expanse that marked the salt flats. With no external visual references, these places are famous for people taking amusing photos that distort our usual concepts of perspective and size. With the sun still shining brightly overhead, the glare from the brilliant white salt was quite overwhelming.
Our final stop for the day was the tiny frontier town of Purmamaca. We rolled into town just on sunset. Neither of us had ever seen anything like it. It really was something out of an old wild west movie. The streets were made out of inches of fine powder dust. Every few moments a dust devil would whip down the narrow alleyways and stir up a cloud of choking dust that stung the throat and eyes. It looked like it had been a long, long time since any form of rain had fallen here. The surrounding hillsides were liberally dotted with huge misshapen cacti plants.
The driver dropped us off at our hotel, then disappeared. We really were on our own. Opening the door of the hotel we entered and found a young girl behind the counter. The rest of the place was dark and deserted. We quickly found that she spoke not a word of English. Not a single word. This was going to be interesting. There was no point is asking any questions as it would only have confused both her and us.
Fortunately she did have our bookings and handed us two room keys. We groped our way down the dark corridor to look for our rooms, while our shoes squeaked alarmingly on the shiny tiled floor. When I managed to find my room I was pleased that it looked clean. I was not so pleased that the room was filled with ear splitting amplified music from a party next door. I have had previous experience with South American all night parties and started to worry if this was going to be a sleepless night. It turned out to be a memorable night, but not for the reason I first feared.
After settling into our rooms Paul and I ventured out into the town in search of dinner. Our prospects did not look good. The dust continued to blow into my eyes and the music still belched from the party. Although most of the potential cafes looked closed, we did eventually find a wobbly looking place that appeared to be open. We pushed open the ancient door and ventured inside. The place was empty. I half expected to see a sign informing us that smoking was compulsory in this town. I also felt a little vulnerable without a six shooter by my side. We might have to leave the place in a hail of bullets. It was that sort of place.
We sat down and tried to decipher the menu. You guessed it – not a word of English. We both made a random selection and pointed our choices to the young waitress. She smiled and disappeared. We were still the only ones there about 30 minutes later when our dinners arrived. To our relief the dinners were good and we did not have to fight our way out of the place. The party was still in full swing. I regretted not having packed ear plugs.
Fortunately the bed was clean and, in spite of the racket just outside my window, I somehow fell into a deep sleep. Some time later I was awoken by a call of nature. I groped for the light switch. It did not work. I was immersed in complete darkness, not able to see my own hand in front of my face. This sort of darkness is seldom encountered in our modern world and I found it quite unsettling. Getting carefully to my feet, I felt around the walls for a clue as to my location. After a couple of minutes of groping, I eventually found my phone and finally had a glimmer of light.
The light allowed me to find the toilet, but then I discovered that the electricity was not the only thing that was not working. There was also no water ! Perhaps the town had been taken over by bandidos ??
At least the lack of power had one advantage – the party had stopped. Without electricity their amplifiers would not work. I looked for the time, it was 2 am. When I closed the phone, the darkness returned with a vengeance. I pulled up the sheets and tried to sleep, but it was not so easy anymore.
The light did not return to my room until 7 am, however the pronounced flicker indicated that it was coming from a generator. I tried to check my emails. Guess what ? No wifi, no Internet and very soon, no power either. The generator had failed. Over the next half hour there were several attempts to restart the generator, until someone obviously just gave up and the hotel was plunged back into darkness.
I won’t go into detail about breakfast, suffice to say it was almost non existent. Paul and I looked at each other and smiled. We both knew that the past 24 hours would be something that both of us would remember for the rest of our lives. We just hoped that the promised driver would turn up for us as had been arranged. We were very ready to leave Purmamaca.もっと詳しく
We Enjoy a Salta Free Day
2018年6月8日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C
After more than a month of quite relentless travelling, I always look forward to the occasional "rest day". It is a blessed relief to not have a tight schedule to adhere to, and it also gives an opportunity to make some inroads into that other pressing task of catching up with laundry.
Once again I awoke to yet another perfectly clear morning. I really could get used to this climate. With its low humidity and perfectly clear and dry weather, it was absolutely perfect for exploring this delightful city on two feet.
On our previous walks around the city I was impressed to see that all the stray dogs had been provided with lovely warm coats to wear. With the extremely cold nights that you get at this time of the year, I could appreciate that the dogs must have been grateful. I could also believe that any city that showed such compassion for its stray dogs had a lot going for it.
After breakfast Paul and I headed back to the central plaza. It seems that any exploration of a colonial city must always start with the plaza as that is where all the action always seems to take place. We had heard that the Museum of High Altitude Archaeology had a fascinating exhibit of an Incan mummy and we both wanted to see it. Unfortunately so did about 200 local school children who were already lined up at the entrance. Judging by their behaviour it was evident that most of them must have been fed copious amounts of red cordial before the excursion. Or maybe they just didn't get out much.
Whatever the reason for their exuberance, we decided that it might be a good idea to come back later in the day. Hopefully the kids might have left by then. We walked through the city to the base of the nearby San Bernando Hill. This small mountain dominates the landscape of Salta and has a modern cable car to take visitors to the summit.
We went to the ticket office and were delighted to see that there was a special rate for "elderly" travellers. After carrying my senior's card all over South America, now it was finally time to make it pay. And it did. The elderly price was about half the price for "normal" people, so sometimes being ancient really does have its own perks.
Thus equipped with our special elderly tickets we staggered to the nearest gondola and made our way to the summit. The views down over the city were superb and the neat rectangular layout of the streets was clearly evident. Unfortunately the glorious views at the top of the mountain were offset by the extremely loud music that was blasting from the cable car station. After a brief stay we climbed on board for the downward trip back to the town.
On our way back to the plaza we found ourselves in a group of high school students. Judging by the nice clothes and makeup they were wearing and the impressive smart phones they were carrying, we got the impression that the town was relatively quite prosperous. We have not seen a single beggar or homeless person since we arrived here and the modern shops and dozens of classy eateries all seem to be doing a very healthy trade.
Back at the museum the rowdy schoolchildren were nowhere in sight. I walked to the counter and proudly produced my elderly card to get another discount. It didn't work here. Only locals get the lower rate. At least I tried.
The main exhibit in the museum is an incredibly well preserved mummy that was found on the top of a 6700 metre volcano. I guess it must have been a bit disappointing when the first modern climbing team reached the summit, only to discover that the Incans had been there over 500 years earlier. Not only had they climbed just about every major summit,but had done so without oxygen, modern gear, climbing boots, etc. They had also carried enormous amounts of artefacts to the snow covered peaks and dug excavations to bury their preserved offerings to Patchamama. It was an amazing feat.
The mummies that have been discovered on the highest peaks are mostly of young children which had bee specially chosen because of their perfect beauty. They were amazingly preserved and the one in the museum at Salta really did look like she was just sleeping. Not only was the body almost unmarked, but the clothing and other items were as pristine as the day she was buried. It really was quite touching to see her beautiful face and the sensitive way her body had been arranged. Unfortunately we were not allowed to take any pictures in the museum, but maybe that was not such a bad thing. Perhaps the sleeping child mummy was entitled to some dignity.
Apparently the Incans did not look on it as a human sacrifice. They believed that they were taking the special chosen one to the highest place where she would be close to heaven and would be able to see out over all the surrounding region. I could not help but wonder if the body should not have been left in peace where she had been placed all those years ago.
After our time at the museum it was almost time for afternoon siesta. After all , when in Salta, do as the Saltanas do, or something like that. It was a habit that I could easily grow accustomed to.
Much later in the afternoon Paul and I ventured out for a lovely coffee at a nearby coffee shop and then made our way back to the plaza. Where else would we go ? A gaucho band was getting ready to play. We had arrived just in time for some free lively entertainment. The sun was dipping behind the colonial buildings and the chill was already coming into the air. A lovely dog was enjoying being patted by those listening to the band. It obviously enjoyed the attention and its warm coat would ensure it did not suffer too much when the temperature dropped. Young lovers sat on the seats and cuddled. Everyone seemed genuinely happy. It had been another typical day in Salta.
Tomorrow we head further north to the very top of Argentina. Another chapter of our adventure is about to unfold.もっと詳しく
A Lovely Day in Mexico
2018年6月7日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ☀️ 1 °C
Up until now I had never been to Mexico. Along with the Congo, Kazahkstan, Iceland and about 160 other countries I had never had any reason or desire to travel to the land of cacti, sombreros and siestas. You can therefore imagine my surprise when that is exactly where I found myself. Well almost.
The day began with yet another early start and a long 200 km bus trip to the mysterious sounding Cafayate region of Salta. When putting together this part of the trip, I cannot now recall why I decided to include the Cafayate, other that it probably seemed like a good idea at the time.
After making our way out of Salta, the bus joined the famous "Route 68", apparently one of the most "iconic" national highways of Argentina. Paul and I were both clutching our passports since we had been warned that, on any national highway, police roadblocks are common and everyone has to produce their identity papers. Neither of us had any wish to be sent to some sort of Argentinian salt mine, so we decided to behave ourselves.
About two hours later we were leaving the flat plateau and entering into a strange, alien looking landscape of huge twisted and raised tectonic plates. Whole mountains appeared to have been lifted and dumped on their sides. Weird manifestations had been given wonderful names like The Titanic, Amphitheatre, Devil's Throat, Obelisk, etc. This was not what we expected to see. If fact I am not sure what we expected, but it wasn't this. In any case, it really was impressive.
From time to time the bus stopped to allow us time to take photos of the landscape. Each time this happened three young American girls took the opportunity to do what all young Gen Y people now do - take selfies of themselves in front of each and every interesting place. When they got back on the bus they then spent the next 10 minutes admiring every photo. Sad but true.
As well as the amazing mountains, there were also numerous cacti scattered across the barren landscape. Apparently it only rains here for about 2 months of the year. The rest of the time it really is as dry as dust. At this time of the year every day is clear and sunny, although the temperatures do plummet to around freezing very soon after sunset. It is actually the perfect time of the year to visit. The air at 1500 metres was clear and fresh and the viewing was excellent.
We were also warned about the various dangerous creatures that live here in the desert. These include Black Widow spiders, huge tarantulas and rattle snakes. Apparently the huge spiders can sometimes be seen running across the road, maybe with a large rabbit in their mouths. On this day we didn't see any, although I would have loved to.
After passing through the Cafayate Mountain region we finally reached the lovely little town of Cafayate. To our delight it looked even more Mexican than any town in Mexico possibly could have. With the brightly coloured shops, large central plaza (every town has a plaza) and the blazing blue sky overhead, it really seemed magical.
Paul and I found a sunny cafe and sat down to enjoy a cup of coffee. A few of the local stray dogs were sleeping in the early afternoon sun, while the rest of the population looked like they had knocked off for the daily siesta. After the early start to our day, a sleep would have been very welcome. In any case, we were both really glad that we had discovered this treasure.
We wandered back to the bus to face the long journey back to Salta. We followed the same route back, however the changing angle of the sun allowed some better photos to be taken. As the afternoon drew on, the gentle rocking of the slow moving bus rocked just about every one on board into a deep sleep. It had been a lovely day.
In the evening Paul and I wandered to the centre of Salta in search of dinner. Hundreds of people were happily walking the streets. A few buskers filled the evening air with bright music and many of the old colonial buildings were beautifully lit with feature lighting. We both agreed that this seemed to be quite a lovely place to live. We also agreed that the cold was starting to creep up our legs so we returned to the hotel to thaw out.
Tomorrow we have a free day to do some more exploration of this fascinating city.もっと詳しく
Back to the Land of the Incas
2018年6月6日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ☀️ 15 °C
It's not easy waking up at 1.00 am. But when your flight is scheduled at 4.50 am in the morning, that is what you have to do. When the alarm sounded it would have been so easy to just switch it off and ignore it. If I did that I knew that the consequences would have been even more dire than our missing the ferry yesterday.
I rolled out of bed, jammed my luggage closed and made my way down to the foyer. The hotel was situated within the airport precinct, but outside it was dark, cold and deserted. It felt a little strange to have now separated from the rest of the group. From now on it would be just Paul and me.
At 2.00 am our taxi arrived and we jammed our luggage and ourselves aboard for the short trip to the terminal building. The driver was interested in where we were from (in fact this is the most commonly asked question) and told us that he would like to bring his family to Australia. Since he had previously spent two years in the USA his English was very good. In fact he seemed like just the sort of person who would be an asset to our country.
We gave him a modest tip for his service and he was genuinely thankful. It was a good way to start the day. When the time came to check in for our flight (it was the first of the day), we were happy to see that very few were lined up in the queue. To our great relief this meant that the flight was only very lightly booked and there were dozens of empty seats throughout the plane. If only all flights were like this.... I propped my head against the window and managed to sleep for almost the entire flight.
A couple of hours later we were descending to land at Salta Airport. It was still pitch dark outside and the plane braked to an abrupt stop on the short runway. It did not take long for our luggage to join us and we exited the terminal to find a driver waiting for us. We knew it was for us because he had the name "HARRY DAWSON" proudly printed on a piece of cardboard. It was almost correct.
Soon we were making our way along the quiet streets to our hotel. Although we were extremely early, the hotel managed to find an empty room for us to rest in. We also sneaked our way to the breakfast room to take advantage of the breakfast buffet. In the overall scheme of things, I am sure this is classed a "minor sin".
Paul and I then decided to explore the city. Our initial impressions were very favourable. The streets were clean, the shops modern and the air was fresh. At 1200 metres elevation Salta is nowhere near as high as we were a couple of weeks earlier and we relished the cool, clean air of the early morning.
We arrived at the central plaza just in time to hear the music playing. We were soon joined by a large marching band that proudly welcomed us to their city. I assumed that they had heard we were coming and had been patiently waiting to perform for us. Their gesture was surely appreciated.
Later in the day we were treated to a half day bus tour of the city. We were the only English speaking people on board and the monotone drone of the guide/driver soon had me on another trip altogether - to the wonderful Land of Nod. It was most relaxing.
Tomorrow morning we once again start early and take a 200 km bus journey to Cafayate. This is a famous region that is located at a significantly higher altitude than the 1200 metre high elevation of Salta. It promises to be a long and interesting day.もっと詳しく
The Boat Goes Without Us
2018年6月5日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C
"Well that's the end of my job", I proudly announced as I handed out the final tickets to the group gathered together in the foyer of the Hotel Italiano in Colonia. I must admit that, after worrying about all the complicated arrangements for the past month, it was something of a relief to know that everything had actually gone according to the plan.
Apart from the early mixup with the name of the hotel in Cusco, everything else had actually gone almost too well. The hotel bookings were always correct, the transports were always where they were meant to be, the guides all knew what they had to do. Now our adventure was rapidly approaching its conclusion. Within a couple of hours our group would begin to disperse and start the long journey back to Australia.
With our boat tickets and passports in hand we climbed on the bus for the (very) short ride to the Buquebus terminal. Actually it was only a few hundred metres, but the organisers had provided a large bus and guide for this final leg. What could possibly go wrong at this late stage ?
We bade farewell to our guide and thanked him for the world's shortest bus trip. The terminal was deserted. "Looks like we missed the rush", I jokingly announced. It turned out to be truer than I anticipated.
With our tickets in hand we proceeded to the Buquebus (ferry) terminal. I allowed some of the others to go before me. Before long I noticed that there seemed to be some consternation at the desk. I then saw David, with his face a lovely shade of ashen, run headlong away from the desk. "Where are you going ?" I yelled. "The boat's gone already", he gasped, "I'm running to buy another ticket somewhere else". I had previously noticed that David does not cope well under stress, and he certainly seemed stressed. I had to investigate further. Meanwhile David continued to huff and puff and run around in ever diminishing circles. I think at times like this, he really needs Carol.
It turned out that the boat that we had tickets for had indeed departed over an hour earlier than scheduled. While this might seem strange for most countries, it is apparently quite normal for South America. The problem was that nobody had been notified of this random change of plans.
Of course our problem was that the Rio de la Plata is over 50 km across. The major part of our luggage was still in storage at our previous hotel and most of our group were rushing to get to the airport to catch their flights back to Australia. The presented something of a challenge. I have learnt from many previous "emergencies" that seldom is anything as bad as it first appears. If you remain calm, there is almost certainly a "Plan B" that is available. All you have to do is look hard for it.
I went to the counter and explained to the staff that we had official tickets from their company that stated that the ferry was due to leave at 10.15 am. As far as we were concerned , the company had a responsibility to get us to Buenos Aires at their expense. They accepted this fact and, within about 45 minutes, we were issued with tickets for a ferry owned by one of their competitors. It was an interesting change of plans.
With our fresh tickets in hand, we eventually boarded a much smaller, but still perfectly comfortable ferry and were soon on our way again. As it turned out the different ferry had a completely different terminal in the city and the entry to Buenos Aires gave us a new vantage point that we had not seen before.
We arrived at the terminal to see the familiar face of our guide Sandra, waiting for us. She explained that this happens all the time as apparently the Uruguayans have a very cavalier and somewhat random approach to time zones and are prone to changing without reason or warning. Now that we were all safely back in Argentina, we could afford to laugh it off as just another exciting part of our trip.
We returned to the Cyan America Towers Hotel to collect our luggage and bid farewell to our fellow travellers. After much hugs and kisses, it was time for the group to finally split. We had shared so many laughs and wonderful times together that it felt a bit like a family breakup. It really was sad to see them go.
For Paul and I, the adventure will continue for some more time yet. We caught a taxi to our next hotel, right next to the Jorge Newberry Domestic Airport. We will be rising at 1 am tomorrow to catch a very early flight to Salta, in the far north of Argentina. It is actually quite close to Peru and Bolivia and our trip will take us back into the land of the Incas that we had been travelling for the first three weeks of our trip.
We both need a very early night.......もっと詳しく
It's All Quiet in Colonia
2018年6月4日, ウルグアイ
It is already starting to seem a very long time since we all gathered at Tullamarine Airport on that very wet Friday afternoon. Over the past 26 days we have all shared so much together, that I am sure it will take a long time to organise the images and memories into some sort of consistent order.
After our fun time in Buenos Aires I thought that the group might appreciate something entirely different. Uruguay is a tiny nation situated in between the much larger nations of Brazil and Argentina. There are a series of ferries which regularly carry passengers across the Rio de la Plata from Buenos Aires to Colonia Del Sacramento.
Although it looks like a sea, the mighty Rio de la Plata is actually a huge freshwater river, over 50 km across. We began our day with a ride on the huge Buquebus high speed ferry. The journey took just over an hour with the ferry cruising at between 65 to 70 kph most of the time.
As we left the ferry, complete with some extra stamps in our passports, we were met in the terminal building by an eager young guide with an unpronounceable name and halting English. She ushered us to a large comfortable bus and then proceeded to take us on a tour of the small city of Colonia.
This place certainly is a complete contrast to Buenos Aires. The traffic is almost non existent, the pavements are old and crumbling and the streets are all lined with majestic plane trees. Over the centuries this tiny town has regularly changed hands between Spain and Portugal (and even Brazil) before getting its independence in 1828.
As the bus cruised the deserted streets I could not help but think that this driver had a much easier lot than the ones who had transported us in places like Lima, Cusco and Arequipa. To my surprise I did find one traffic light but I suspected that it was entirely unnecessary.
After taking us to the enormous abandoned bull ring that looked a bit like the Colosseum, our guide explained that it was only functional between 1910 and 1912. It has been a ruin ever since. Although she was stumbling over most of her words, the young guide really trying to do her best to educate us. I don't think she understood the Australian sense of humour.
We finished our bus trip at the famous Historico Barrio (the old city centre). This place was recognised as a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its beautiful old cobblestoned streets and original Portuguese buildings.
I thought it was time to represent the group in asking a question. "What does the name Colonia del Sacramento" mean ?, I asked. The young girl smiled excitedly and answered "Exactly". I tried to figure out this answer,but somewhere the truth was lost in translation.
After about an hour of trying to understand the commentary, we were finally led back to the waiting bus (and its sleeping driver) and driven a few hundred metres to our hotel. When I walked to the counter of the hotel the young concierge greeted me in a distinctly Australian accent. I certainly was not expecting that. He explained that his parents were Spanish but that he was born in Australia.
After checking into my room I then spent the next few hours wandering this sleepy and very appealing little town. One feature of the place is the numerous old cars that you see here. While some are still being driven, many others have just been abandoned in the streets and allowed to become a permanent ruin in the street.
It was only after I was safely back at the hotel at around 4.30 pm that the rain finally started to fall. The timing could not have been more perfect. This is the final full day most of our group will have in South America and this is the first rain we have seen since we arrived in Lima. The weather could not possibly have been more perfect.
By this time tomorrow our group will have split into several small fragments. While most will be on their way back to Australia, Paul and I will be preparing for a whole new adventure in the north of Argentina. But that will be a whole new story.もっと詳しく
A Day of Leisure in BA
2018年6月3日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ⛅ 10 °C
Anyone who knows me would appreciate that I am usually an early riser, in fact for most of the past four weeks I have getting up between 4.30 and 5.00 am. I think I lost the ability to sleep in once I passed the age of 21. You can therefore imagine my great surprise when I was disturbed from a complicated dream by a large bang outside my hotel room door. It took my eyes some time for my eyes to focus, and my brain a lot longer to emerge from its nocturnal confusion. I struggled to check my watch. Surely it cannot really be 9.10 am ??? Actually it was. Apparently all the excitement of those long legged tango dancers the previous evening had left me so exhausted that I had slept for over 9 hours. Absolutely unprecedented.
I quickly showered, got dressed and went to the breakfast room. Only three of my fellow travellers were still there. Apparently the rest had already breakfasted and disappeared out int the city. A look out the front door showed that it was to be yet another perfect day. If this weather could hold for just one more day we would be able to take enormous pride in the fact that the entire trip had been spent without a drop of rain during the day time.
I decided that I would spend the day doing what I often do in cities that I do not know well. I would just walk the streets and see where my feet took me. I was also hoping to get another memory card for my camera since my previous one had failed the day before.
When I asked the concierge where I might be able to buy such a card, he rolled his eyes. "But today is Sunday", he said, as if that explained everything. I looked at him. "Everything is closed today", he added, in case I was a bit slow.
When I left the hotel I soon saw what he meant. The streets were deserted. Almost no walkers and even fewer cars. It was quite eerie. All the shops were closed and covered by grates or shutters. At least it was easy to cross the road. I could have just walked down the centre of the road.
I set off looking for any sign of life. My circuitous route took me finally back to the main avenue of the city, the mighty Avenida 9 de Julio. This enormous avenue is over 140 m across and was named after the date that Argentina obtained its independence. I had to admit that, in the brilliant late autumn sunshine, it really did look superb.
Without having any other real aim in mind I gradually worked my way towards the waterside. The old harbour area has now been converted into a trendy waterfront entertainment precinct, filled with cafes and outdoor eateries. As the day wore on, gradually more people started to emerge and wander the waterfront paths. I found a nice place to have lunch while where I could watch the world pass me by just outside.
This also gave me a great chance to think back over the past few weeks and evaluate how the trip had gone. At the end of every trip it is easy to reassess and think where things could have been improved. In this case I came to the decision that there was virtually nothing that I would wish to do differently. We had all shared an incredible experience together and everyone had cooperated brilliantly to make sure that it was a fantastic success. In a couple of days the group will all go their separate ways but I know that the time we spent together in this incredible continent will remain with us for ever.
I decided to cross over the far side of the waterfront to take advantage of the warm sunshine on that side. I had not walked far before I stumbled upon a large concrete area which had been taken over by a large crowd of testosterone charged teenage boys on special trials bikes. Each lad took the centre stage for a few seconds to demonstrate his latest tricks. One by one they performed impressive jumps, mono wheeled riding and all sorts of quite clever tricks. A few teenage girls looked on, waiting to be impressed by the next performance. I had to admit that it really was interesting.
As I made my way back towards the hotel I could not help but notice how much Buenos Aires really does remind me of Paris. Not only are many of the public buildings and apartment buildings built in the classic French style, but even the gardens and street lights look like they could have come straight out of a French planning guide.
I detoured back around the Casa Rosada (the official office of the Argentine President) and more famously known as being the place where Evita addressed her adoring masses in the plaza. Soon I found myself in the middle of a huge street celebration. To my surprise it was celebration of all things Russian. Russian dancing, clothing, food, travel and music. The streets were full of Russians. I wasn't expecting that, but that is sort of what South America is all about. It is certainly never boring.
I have a simple way of numerically classifying how much I like any particular city. I simply ask myself how long I would be prepared to live there if I had to. While some cities, like Juliaca in Peru would get a 1 day rating, I think I could give Lima and Cusco a one month score. On the other hand I really think that Buenos Aires would rightly earn a 1 year score. It is a lovely city with a lot going for it. The streets are generally clean, the parks are amazing, the shops modern and even the traffic flows freely. Because the city plan is largely based on a square grid , it is very easy to find your way around. As well as all that - you can even flush your toilet paper down the toilet. What else could you ask for ?
Tomorrow we rise early for the final leg of our adventure - the journey across the Rio de La Plata to nearby Uruguay.もっと詳しく
We Explore the Big Apple
2018年6月2日, アルゼンチン ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C
Since most of our group will only have two days in the huge city of Buenos Aires I looked for some way to give them the very best introduction to some of the unique sights and experiences this place has to offer. I finally came up with an all day sequence of activities that seemed to encompass the best aspects the "Big Apple".
At 9.00 am our group was gathered in the foyer waiting for our guide and bus to arrive. Fortunately we did not have to wait long before a young, blonde Argentinian girl walked in the door and introduced herself as Mercedes. "Just like the car", she added.
We climbed into a very comfortable bus and headed out into the streets of the city. Even though it was a Saturday morning, the traffic was very light and the driver had no trouble making his way from place to place. Over the next 4 hours we were able to experience a wonderful succession of fascinating locations.
The first of these places was the large manicured parkland, situated quite close to our hotel. Apparently it had been designed by a French architect and this certainly showed in the beautiful layout. Another nearby huge sculpture featured a huge stainless steel flower which apparently opens and closes its steel petals according to the amount of sunlight falling on it.
The next stop was the somewhat macabre Recoleta Cemetery. The most famous "resident" of this place is of course Evita Peron, however it is well worth visiting for its curiosity value alone. Over the course of over a century, the wealthy and powerful citizens of Buenos Aires had huge mausoleums constructed so that they could be buried in the style to which they had become accustomed during their lifetimes. Many of these structures are massive and even feature multiple levels and basements. The sad thing is that the process of decay is unstoppable and all of these tombs are steadily deteriorating and returning to dust and ashes. Some still contains the fragile remains of flowers that were placed there following the funeral, so many years previously.
Of course no visit to the Recoleta would be complete without visiting Evita's grave. Every day passionate admirers still adorn her mausoleum with fresh flowers and gifts. Considering she died over 60 years ago, this is quite incredible.
Unfortunately Evita was not the only dead item in this location. While taking my photos, the memory card in my camera also decided to die. Perhaps it was some sort of curse for poking my head through some of the broken doors to old graves, or maybe it was just bad luck, but the card just failed for no reason and, along with its demise, went all the pictures I had taken that morning. Fortunately I had backed up all the previous images the night before, or else I really would have been quite upset.
We then proceeded to visit the central plaza, featuring the Casa Rosada. This is the official office of the President of Argentina and was most famous as being the place that Evita addressed her adoring supporters from the balcony.
Also in this location was the main cathedral of Buenos Aires. We entered just as a mass was taking place. Somehow we seemed to take a wrong turn and sort of got involved in the liturgy, much to the chagrin of the organist and cantor. I had to admit I was more than a little embarrassed, although I did enjoy the amazing acoustics of the place. It took all of my self control not to break out into my famous Benedictine chant of "My Father can play dominoes better than your father".....
We slowly worked our way out of the city and finally ended up at the town of Tigre (tiger) situated some 35 km from the heart of the city. It was here that we climbed aboard a powerful cruiser and headed off through some of the myriad of channels that make up the river delta. The most amazing feature of this location is that around 4000 people have set up residence here. They have built a kind of hippy world of stilt houses and piers, all steadily sliding back into the mud of the delta. This was an entirely unexpected and fascinating insight int this alternative way of life.
After returning to our hotel for a rest and a change of clothes it was time for our entertainment for the evening. We had booked a dinner and tango show at the famous El Quarendi. According to my research this is one of the best tango shows in the city. Since I know nothing about the tango, I had no idea what to expect.
When we arrived at the sumptuous restaurant/theatre we were ushered to the very front table. That was a surprise since I thought we would be given the cheap seats. The waiters started serving various types of wine which was good for the drinkers in our group but not very exciting for me. Since I had idea about the food I decided to just accept the waiters suggestions for each course.
By 10 pm the final guests had arrived and the music started to begin the tango show. Over the next hour we were entertained with some extreme high speed tango dancing and brilliant music. Since I was at the front, there were times when I could feel the swish from those long fishnet stockinged legs, just a few cm from my face. It was certainly enough to make a simple guy feel all hot and bothered. It was soon clear that the real secret of the tango is that it is really all about sexual excitement and stimulation. Even though it was well past my normal bedtime, I managed to stay awake for the whole show.
When the show ended and my heartrate started to subside we were told that "our bus was waiting outside". We piled out into the cool night air and laughed about what we had just seen. It was a perfect beginning to our time in this captivating city.もっと詳しく
Up Close at Iguassu
2018年6月1日, ブラジル ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C
The mighty Iguassu Falls was recently voted as one of the seven natural wonders of the world. This is more than can be said for Victoria Falls or Niagara Falls, both of which missed the final cut.
The falls themselves are situated in the north east of Argentina on the Iguassu River. This huge river forms the natural border between Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. When I had last visited this place in 2010 I was only able to view the falls from the Argentina side. Even so I remember thinking that it was one of the most amazing sights I have ever seen. Soon after that visit I was able to travel to Africa to view the famous Victoria Falls, and I must admit that I was a little disappointed that it was not as memorable as Iguassu.
On this time I had arranged the plans so that we would be able to view the falls from both the Argentina and Brazil sides of the river.
Our first stop was on the Argentina side. Rising early we caught a bus to the entrance to the Iguassu Park and then took a slow 30 min train ride to the Devil's Throat, the largest and most spectacular of the hundreds of waterfalls that make up the complex. An elevated steel walkway took us to the very top of the falls. This walkway was recently washed away in a large flood and had to be completely rebuilt. Fortunately the river was not in flood this time, so we were able to make the walk safely.
As you near the thundering torrent, a huge spray of mist saturates anyone brave enough to venture near the cascade itself. The plastic ponchos which many of our group paid 4 Sols (about $2) each for, did very little to keep us dry. They did serve to make all of us look like grade A, certified clowns.
After an hour or so exploring the walkways on the Argentina side, it was time to return to the bus and prepare for another series of border crossings as we returned back into Brazil. From this side you are not as close to most of the dramatic action, but the advantage is that you can see almost the entire span of falls from a single viewpoint. The effect is absolutely mindblowing. In a single second, almost 2 million litres of water flow over the edge. In flood times this volume can increase a staggering 20 fold. In times of drought the flow can reduce to almost zero. Fortunately, at the time we were there, the falls were neither in flood or drought. In fact they were just about right.
Just as important was the fact that the fine weather that has followed us for the entire time we have been in South America, held on for another day. This is a high rainfall area where it rains almost every day, but NOT on the day the Ghostriders paid a visit.
After another drenching and hundreds of photos, it was finally time to say bye to the falls and return back to Argentina to catch our flight to Buenos Aires. The tiny airport on the Argentina side is currently undergoing major rebuilding and the place was in a bit of a mess. This leg of the trip w as the only time we would be flying with Argentine Airlines (all other legs were with LATAM).
We had been warned that Argentine Airlines had recently reduced their baggage allowance from 23 kg to only 15 kg. With this in mind we approached the check in desk with fear and trepidation. I needn't have wooried. When I dragged my large 21kg bag to the scales, the lovely check in girl just smiled and handed me my boarding pass. "Too easy" I thought, and wandered to join the rest of the group.
A few moments later I was joined by David. Something was wrong. He was absolutely livid. "That $^@@&$ girl made me pay excess baggage", he yelled. I must admit that I had never heard him swear like that. I had always thought him to be quiet and dignified.
"You have really had a LOT of luggage", I suggested. He replied that his total luggage was only about 17kg. I decided not to tell him that I had exceeded his total by a good 4 kg and paid not a cent extra. he already seemed to be well past his breaking point. He went and sulked in the corner, counting how the lost $40 would affect his future retirement plans. Oh well, life sometimes is never fair. I secretly smiled to myself and went to have a cup of coffee.
A couple of hours later we were landing in Buenos Aires. Actually it really did feel like we weer landing right in the middle of the city itself. The Aeroparque domestic airport is right near the centre of the city. As we descended to land I could see the large illuminated high rise buildings passing by a few metres past the end of our wings. For the while it felt like we were driving along the freeway, as I could almost wave to the drivers moving along parallel to our plane. Even with the "exciting" landing I was still a little surprised when all the passengers broke into excited clapping and cheering when the plane landed without careering off the end of the runway and into the centre of town. Maybe it is unusual for planes to survive such a landing. I was just relieved to be on the ground. It almost felt like the pilot had landed us at the door of our hotel, just to save a bit of time.
After collecting our luggage (and David having collected his tiny, but very expensive bag) we were met by an energetic local lady who introduced herself as "Sandra". It is always a relief when you land in a foreign city to be met by someone who is expecting you. Soon we were escorted to our large waiting bus and driven to our nearby hotel.
After getting our room keys we all went out in search of dinner. Buenos Aires is a large, modern city and is often likened to the Paris of South America. Since nobody eats their evening meal here until after 9 pm, we were certainly not out of place walking into a restaurant at about that time. In fact I think we were one of the first ones there. The food was excellent, but the waiter's insistence on being rewarded with a generous tip is a little hard for us Australians to get used to.
Fortunately the beds in the Cyan America Tower Hotel were huge, warm and comfortable. Sleep came easily.もっと詳しく
Into the Rain Forest of Iguassu
2018年5月31日, アルゼンチン ⋅ 🌙 16 °C
Well today had just about everything. It began with a 4 am alarm and an early morning dash through the back streets of Arequipa to beat the blockade around the city by striking workers. It certainly was an interesting way to start a new adventure. At one stage the road was blocked by a large rock in the middle, but our driver managed to wriggle the bus around it.
Then we entered the tiny check in area of Arequipa airport to find it in a state of complete chaos. The check in queues stretched as far as we could see. If that wasn't bad enough , the departure time for our flight was actually brought forward by 25 minutes.
After eventually boarding our flight to Lima we arrived at the Lima airport just in time for a full blown fire alert, with sirens, flashing lights and an immediate full evacuation of the terminal buildings. For some time we stood on the tarmac, surrounded by fire and emergency personnel. It was one of those moments.
One thing we did notice and appreciate was the extra oxygen in our air. After spending the past three weeks cycling, trekking and living between 3000 and 5000 metres, it was a real delight to be able to exert ourselves without having to gasp for air.
We finally got back in the building in time to board our flight to Iguassu. The flight travels over some of the most incredible barren landscapes you could see anywhere (see the images). Most of the plane was filled with Japanese and Koreans whose behaviour was dreadful. Every time the stewards asked people to return to their seats because of turbulence, the aisles were full of these people wandering and stumbling all over the place. You would think they had never been on a plane before.
We finally landed in Iguassu in Brazil just after dark, only to find only 1 immigration desk open resulting in a very long wait time. When we finally reached the primitive baggage collection area we were relieved to find all our luggage, but many other people from other groups were not so lucky. Apparently many bags went somewhere else. That was a problem we could well do without.
We left the terminal and were relieved to find a new guide and luxury bus waiting for us. We were also bemused to see the first rain we had seen since leaving Melbourne. After first crossing the border into Argentina we took a short 30 min bus ride to the best hotel, right next to the famous waterfalls - surely one of the natural wonders of the world.
We are now all safely ensconced in the lovely Melia Hotel, right next to Iguassu Falls in Argentina. The rooms are sheer luxury and the free dinner they provided for us (because we are the famous Ghostriders) was divine. It's a pity that we could not spend more time here.
Tomorrow we tour the falls from both the Argentina and Brazil sides.
We were warned not to leave our hotel windows open because the monkeys will enter our room and steal our stuff. We really are a long way from Peru now.もっと詳しく
A Free Day in Arequipa
2018年5月30日, ペルー ⋅ ☀️ 19 °C
After almost three weeks of keeping up a hectic range of activities, it was a rare treat to have a day of relative leisure. This gave us the opportunity to spend some time wandering the beautiful streets of the historic centre of Arequipa.
You do not have to go far to appreciate the Spanish colonial history that permeates this part of the city. The narrow streets and white volcanic stone buildings really are a lovely feature. Of course the major highlight is the Plaza Mayor, the major plaza. The plaza itself consists of a lovely grassy park surrounded on all sides by lovely white stone buildings.
The plaza is dominated by the Arequipa Cathedral. The original structure was built way back in 1540, but almost immediately was destroyed by a large earthquake. Over the successive centuries it was destroyed and rebuilt numerous times. The catastrophes ranged from earthquakes to volcanic eruptions to large fires.
The most recent such catastrophe was a large earthquake that occurred in 2001. This destroyed the left hand bell tower and severely damaged the right hand one. By this time, however, it appears that the locals had become adept in recovering after such events and, a little over 12 months later, the damage was repaired.
Today our group dispersed over the city and I actually never saw any of them at all during the day. David and I even waited in the foyer at the end of the day for over an hour without so much as seeing a single one of our team. I guess that means that they are having a good time.
Having failed to meet any of the others, David and I took the beautiful back route to the centre of the city and had a most enjoyable quick meal at one of the popular eateries in the mall. On the way back we stopped to watch a talented mime artist who had attracted a large crowd of onlookers. We had to admit that he really was very good and his entertainment was well worth the few sols we tossed into his hat. It was a perfect end to our time in this fascinating city.
Tomorrow morning we rise early to avoid yet another city wide strike (such strikes are a part of life in South America). We begin with a flight to Lima and then a much longer flight across the desert and Amazon Jungle to Iguassu Falls in Brazil. It will be our first time down at relative low altitude in almost three weeks. We are all looking forward to feeling superhuman.もっと詳しく
Down to the White City
2018年5月29日, ペルー ⋅ ☀️ 15 °C
If anyone came on our 2018 South America Trip expecting it to be an easy tourist doddle around the continent, they would have been greatly mistaken. This trip was never designed to be "easy" and, ever since we landed in Lima three weeks ago, the pace has been pretty relentless. Yesterday was no exception.
The day began with my alarm(s) simultaneously sounding at 5.00 am. With the high altitude and deliciously cold overnight temperature I had enjoyed one of the best night's sleeps of the entire trip and it took a degree of discipline to open my eyelids and crawl out from under the blanket.
Outside it was still dark, the air was still and the stars were shining brightly. It already looked like the day would be just as fine and clear as every other day since we arrived in South America. In fact, the run of continuous fine weather has been nothing short of amazing.
In my half awake state I quickly sorted out my cycling gear, added a thermal top and jumper and stuffed everything else into my suitcase. Either the case is getting smaller or the contents are getting larger, because the zipper is getting progressively harder and harder to close. After a bit more wriggling and rearranging of items I was able to lock the case and take it to the hotel foyer.
At 7.00 am we were met by a new bus and driver. It was just as well as there was no way we would have been able to cram all our riders and luggage into the small bus we had been provided with yesterday. Since this was to be our final day of riding I think there were mixed feelings within the group. While many were happy to be successfully completing the cycling part of our adventure, I think that there was also a feeling of sadness that our time in Peru was drawing to a close.
The bus headed out of Peru and was soon climbing steadily out of the Colca Valley. The narrow road had somewhat precipitous drops down to the valley floor and we often collectively held our breaths as the driver slewed the bus around each corner. He was certainly a more "adventurous" driver than most of the previous drivers we had had. I grabbed on to the seat in front to avoid being thrown from side to side, although I did manage to avoid the temptation to adopt the dreaded "Brace" position.
We finally reached the top of the plateau at around 4,900 metres elevation. We calculated that this was about 5 times as high as our own Mt Donna Buang, therefore a new scale of elevations was born. We therefore classified this as a "5 dongers" ride. Challenging in anyone's language.
We stumbled out of the bus and were soon confronted by the twin sensations of freezing temperatures and painfully thin air. The surrounding ponds were all frozen solid - and so soon were all my fingers. Immediately I regretted my negligence in leaving my long fingered gloves in my suitcase. All I had between my extremities and impending frostbite was a pathetic pair of fingerless riding gloves. Sometimes my own stupidity surprises me.
We were soon on the bikes and ready to go. The guide pointed towards Arequipa and the towering silhouette of Mt Misti. This huge active volcano is situated right near Arequipa and would be our constant companion during the day. To our right the now familiar Mt Sabancaya was letting fly with yet another early morning volcanic eruption. It no longer seemed as dramatic as it did two days ago.
We started riding through the eerie landscape. When I was here last I described it like "riding on Mars" and my opinion had not changed. At this elevation there is almost no vegetation, apart from some moss on the rocks. Thousands of piled rock towers dot the landscape and a few tiny black and white Andean mice scuttered about between the rocks. It really is like an alien world. At least the bitumen was smooth and the traffic was very light.
Within a couple of minutes my fingers lost all feeling. I tried to switch on my GoPro camera but could not feel the buttons at all. I started to wonder how long it takes for genuine frostbite to set in. I have shared the company of my ten digits for quite some time and was not ready to part company with any of them just yet. I even tried riding with one hand in my pocket, just to relieve the pain. I helped a little.
Of course the other challenge was the very thin air. At this elevation you find yourself hauling in huge lungfuls of air, just to keep moving. With the high altitude also come very low humidity, so you also find that your throat dries out completely. This makes it almost impossible to swallow. It is certainly an interesting challenge.
In these conditions every person is affected differently. While some really struggled to make any headway, others did not seem to notice any difference. This is where Janna amazed everyone. While most were languishing to make headway, Janna just effortlessly cruised up every hill, just as if she was riding the Warburton Trail. David also reverted to his usual behaviour of riding away, completely oblivious to anything or anyone behind him. Even when we called for rest stops, no amount of shouting would stop him from just disappearing into the distance as an ever diminishing red dot.
As we rode along we were often accompanied by small herds of vicunas. These lovely animals are a type of camel and have some of the best fleece available anywhere in the world. They are all coloured brown and thrive at these harsh high elevations. From time to time they stopped, put their heads back and let out a high pitched cry as we rode by.
Each time we reached an uphill section (and there were many of them), the going really got hard. Even in the lowest gears it required a supreme amount of effort to keep moving. Each time I crested another hill I hoped for a long descent. It never came.
At the end of 35 km of this section, we finally reached the turn off. My GPS showed that we were still at 4500 metres (4.5 Dongers). It was no wonder it still seemed hard. At least the temperature had increased and my fingers had thawed out. One by one our riders arrived at the turnoff. Some were not in a coherent mood. What Lynda (aka Fumblefingers Maconnachie) actually said when she collapsed over the line cannot be printed on a public blog site. Suffice to say it would have made a hardened sailor blush. Others had already made the sensible decision to call it quits and revert to the support vehicle.
We were then shown a pot holed, rock strewn dirt track and told that this would be a downhill section. It wasn't. It actually alternated between hair raising, bone shaking downhills interspersed with tough little climbs. We were still well above 4 Dongers of elevation when we finally arrived at a small village.
I looked at the remnants of our once large and proud peloton. "Well done everyone", I said. "That is now the end of our cycling and no one had an accident". I was wrong.
Just when I thought the riding was over, the guide took off again. It was a steep uphill. My thoughts at that time were not pleasant. I reluctantly climbed back on the bike and headed off again.
A short distance further on my worst fears were realised. I rounded a corner and found Steve lying motionless on the rocks. He had apparently come adrift on a particularly treacherous corner and had fallen heavily. After a few moments he stirred and started examining his body for protruding bones and areas of bleeding. Fortunately it looked like he had escaped serious injury, but was quite shaken. At that point I lost my appetite for further cycling. The thought of being admitted to a Peruvian hospital did not excite me greatly. I decided to walk the remaining few hundred metres to the real end of the trail.
That marked the real end of the riding section and, apart from Steve's recent incident, we had all escaped from serious mishaps. It had been a great effort from a group of "mature aged" riders. Of course we could have settled for a sedate holiday, but we had all chosen to do something that required a real effort. It had been a wonderful experience that I am sure no one will ever forget.
After a picnic lunch by the railway track we climbed down a steep path to see some amazing rock paintings in a cave. These date back some 10,000 years and are amazingly clear and well preserved. The hard part was climbing all the way back up the path to the waiting vehicle. It had already been a long day.
We finally rolled into Arequipa at around 4 pm. The traffic was bedlam, just like it is in all large Peruvian cities. Arequipa has a population of 1.6 million, making it the second largest city in Peru and it looked like they were all driving on the same road as us.
After checking into our hotel and enjoying a well earned shower and change of clothes we took a walk to the beautiful central plaza. Arequipa is known as the "white city" because of the stunning array of lovely colonial buildings, all constructed out of white volcanic rock. A few of us chose a balcony restaurant to enjoy the evening view down into the plaza. At "only" 2500 metres (2.5 Dongers), we savoured the denser air and found that we didn't have to struggle to breathe every time we moved. It was a wonderful sensation.
Tomorrow we have a rest day here before flying out early the following morning for the Iguassu Falls in Brazil. Another 3.00 am start ! Oh well, someone has to do it.もっと詳しく
Up Close with the Condors
2018年5月28日, ペルー
Some days are destined to stick in your mind for a lifetime. Today was such a day. After an early 4.00 am alarm, we set out from our hotel at 6.00 am for an exciting drive along the edge of the spectacular Colca Canyon to an elevated vantage point known as the Condor Cross.
The main aim of our early morning was to observe the mighty condors as they rise from their cliff side nests and catch the rising thermals to soar high into the sky. Any such bird watching activity comes without any guarantees. We knew that it would be possible to spend considerable time perched on the edge of the precipice and not see a single bird.
The first 30 minutes went by without seeing a single condor. I started to get slightly anxious. "I am sure they will appear at any moment" I stated. Actually I wasn't, but I did not want my anxiety to be passed on to the rest of the team. We waited some more. Then the first condor appeared. A cheer went right. Then another. And another. Soon there were 6 or more in flight at the same time. We were going to be in for a treat after all.
For the next 60 minutes we sat mesmerised by these huge birds as they glided back and forth over our heads, looking to catch that elusive thermal updraft. At times they flew so close that we could clearly see their heads. I am sure that no one was disappointed.
If that was not memorable enough, we then went on a walk along the cliff tops of the canyon, and to our sheer joy, several condors followed us at close quarters. It was almost as if they were attracted by our yellow jerseys. Whatever the reason it was a moment that we will all cherish for a very long time.
After the walk we met our new cycling guides and climbed aboard our allotted bikes and started a challenging ride along the side of the canyon. It was not so challenging because of the climbs, but because of the thin air and the fumes from the nearby erupting volcano. From time to time we all burst into fits of coughing, alternated with fits of laughter.
The final part of the ride consisted of an extended technical MTB descent over a rock strewn dirt track down to the valley floor. It was like riding a bucking horse, but the feeling was absolutely exhilarating.
It was very obvious that this team was nowhere as experienced or as professional as the cycling team we had worked with in the Sacred Valley. Not only were the bikes no so well prepared, but the guides often seemed to be lost along the way. The lunch was "forgettable" to say the least, and the "support vehicle" looked like it needed life support itself. In fact it was so bad it was quite funny. At the end of the day I passed on a few suggestions (ie instructions) as to how they needed to improve for the final day of riding.
Tomorrow we complete the final day of cycling and finish a long day in Arequipa, the city that nestles under the shadow of the mighty active volcano Mt Misty. I hope it can delay its next overdue eruption until we are safely out of the area.もっと詳しく
Into the Land of Volcanoes
2018年5月27日, ペルー
Whenever anyone travels in underdeveloped countries like Peru, one challenge which is commonly encountered, but seldom discussed, is blocked toilets. People who are not experienced travelers may not realize that, in most countries on earth, it is a definite no-no to put toilet paper in the toilet. Most hotels will have a sign next to the toilet advising that it is NOT for toilet paper. So what do you do with the toilet paper then ? They will always have a small bin next to the toilet which is specifically for the used toilet paper.
Although this might initially seem quite gross to many, there is actually a very good reason for it. It is because the sewer pipes and sewer treatment plants (if there are any) are simply not designed to cope with anything other than human waste. Those who choose to ignore this direction are likely to see the very daunting sight of the water in the bowl rising to potentially disastrous levels and hoping that it will somehow unblock itself. This is just another example of things we take for granted daily in Australia, are quite different in other places.
Why am I mentioning this ? I’d rather not got into too much detail, suffice to say that I might have had one of those nervous moments, just before checking out of our hotel in Puno. Of course, after our two nights in the city by Lake Titicaca, it was time for us to continue our journey towards Arequipa – the land of volcanoes.
Our team loaded our luggage into the waiting bus and settled down to another long day on the road. In fact our journey was going to be over 350 km and would take us much higher than any other place we had visited so far in Peru. Fortunately the roads were generally quite good and our new driver proved to be capable and careful.
During the morning we continued across the flat altiplano at an almost constant elevation of around 4000 metres. The warm sunshine coming in the bus window soon made me sleepy. In fact, lately I am discovering that just about everything makes me sleepy. When I looked around the bus I saw that many of the others had already succumbed and were fast asleep.
The kilometers slowly ticked away until we started to climb steadily. We passed a succession of beautiful high lakes, some populated with pink flamingoes. When we finally pulled to a stop it was to admire the breathtaking views (and at this altitude, everything is breathtaking) and to be entertained by a small group selling all sorts of handicrafts. Up to now I had strongly resisted the urge to get out my wallet, but it must have been the thin air, or maybe the fact that we only had a few more days in Peru, or maybe it was because the sellers were really good natured and ready to bargain.
Whatever the reason I found myself happily picking up an assortment of goods and handing over a number of Sols (Peruvian currency). It actually felt good to be making the traders happy although I am not exactly sure how much my bag will weigh when I get it to the airport at Arequipa.
After the retail therapy, the mood in the bus was quite light hearted as we compared what we had purchased. The kilometers continued to slowly tick by. The elevation continued to increase. At around noon we stopped at a rather barren looking roadside stop to eat our box lunches. The coffee was excellent and the weather was absolutely perfect. We were also joined by our new guide. I did not catch her full name, but I think it was something like “Liz” or “Lisa”. This means we now parted company with Sue who had been an excellent educator and anecdote sharer for the past two days.
A little while later we saw the first volcanoes. I was very surprised that it was actually spewing forth an impressive cloud of smoke and ash. I had previously though that the volcanoes in this region were extinct. I could now see that they certainly aren’t. Lisa (or Liz ?) assured us that it was safe and that it was some years since it had rained death and destruction on the region.
At the highest part of the journey (almost 5000 metres) there were large patches of ice beside the road and countless other travelers had stacked rocks to form thousands of rock piles that stretched far in every direction. Of course we had to do the same, it would have been a sin not to do so. We each made a small rock pile, photographed it and then climbed back into the bus.
The next stage was a hair raising descent down to the town of Chivay (pronounced kibay). Our lives were very literally in the hands of the bus driver, but fortunately he was not suicidal and delivered us safely to our hotel for the night.
Tomorrow morning we rise (very) early to go to Colca Canyon to view the huge condors. These massive birds have wingspans up to 3 metres or more, making them one of the largest flying birds on the planet.もっと詳しく
The Journey to Mysterious Uros
2018年5月26日, ペルー ⋅ 🌙 7 °C
Puno is a sprawling city of some 150,000 people, situated on the shores of the huge Lake Titicaca. The biggest challenge for any new visitor to this city is to survive on the rarefied atmosphere that you have to breathe at nearly 4000 metres above sea level. Even though we have now been living at high altitude for over 2 weeks, we still find that we regularly find ourselves short of breath. It is little wonder that our hotel has a large oxygen cylinder on hand in the foyer for anyone who really needs an oxygen boost.
Our plan for today was to spend the morning visiting the famous floating islands of Uros. These amazing islands are entirely constructed of reeds and are home to around 2,000 indigenous Uru people. Just why they chose to live this strange lifestyle is open to debate, but the prevailing theory is that they retreated to the middle of the lake to survive attacks from the Quechuan (Inca) invaders, many hundreds of years ago.
We were met at our hotel by our latest guide. She introduced herself with some completely unpronounceable name, but then said we could call her "Sue". That seemed entirely sensible. After a short bus trip to the port we boarded a private boat for a 30 minute ride to the Uros Islands. Just like every previous day we have had in South America, the sky was cloudless and the conditions were completely still. In other words, a perfect day for a cruise on this huge inland waterway.
Our journey took us along a channel cut through the huge expanse of reeds and soon we were docking on one of the islands. Some of the local ladies welcomed us aboard as we sank into the soft carpet of reeds that bounced under our feet. The local people have an almost childlike manner and seemed genuinely pleased to see us (and hopefully not just because they wanted us to buy their handicrafts).
Nearby we could numerous other floating islands, each one liberally dotted with dozens of tiny reed huts. It seems that everything here is made of reeds - the locals even eat them like candy. After an explanation as to how the islands are constructed we were ushered two at a time into individual huts to "spend time" with the owners. This was mainly an opportunity to sell their handwork, but the pressure was not too overwhelming and we all thoroughly enjoyed the unique experience.
Our visit to the islands was completed by a journey in a reed boat to one of the nearby islands. This was a lot of fun and the warm sunshine really served to make this day a highlight of our adventure so far.
Soon we were motoring back to Puno and an opportunity to have a free afternoon. I chose to do my favourite pastime while travelling - people watching. I wandered around the city for a most enjoyable couple of hours, stopping at various locations to sit in the warm sunshine and observe the people around me.
Tomorrow we resume our Peruvian Odyssey as we progress to the lovely city of Arequipa. Our journey will take us even higher into the Andes. I wonder if the bus will be equipped with oxygen ?もっと詳しく
旅行者I am going to Puno in a couple of weeks,staying at one of the floating islands (Uros Titicaca Lodge). Very interessting to read your "footprints", making my anticipation to my trip to Peru even bigger 😁
The World on Two WheelsMiriam, I hope you have a wonderful trip. It is a surprising and very varied country.
Across the Altiplano
2018年5月25日, ペルー ⋅ ☀️ 2 °C
They often say that there is nothing like a good night's sleep to make you feel on top of the world. If that is the case then I should be feeling terrific, because last night was nothing like a good night. In fact my final night in Cusco was a disaster.
It certainly started OK. After grabbing a quick dinner and having a final walk around the perimeter of the plaza, I returned to my room, eagerly looking forward to an early night. By 9.30 pm I was in bed and drifting away to the mythical Land of Nod. By 12 midnight I was rudely and abruptly awoken by some extremely loud music coming from somewhere nearby. It went on and on.
By 1.00 am I turned on the TV to try and get some distraction. By 2.00 am the music was still thumping away and my thoughts were turning murderous. By 3.00 am I had tried hiding my head under the blankets, putting my fingers in my ears, tossing from one side to the other. Nothing worked. The music played on.
When the clock finally showed 4.30 am I gave up, got out of bed and spent some time on my computer. My only consolation was that I knew that we were going to have a very long time in the bus today and hopefully that would give some chance to catch up on lost sleep.
After a quick breakfast we were met by a tall Quechuan, introducing himself as Karlos, or more particularly Kar-r-r-r-los (with a rolling r sound). He was going to be our guide today to safely escort us to Puno, about 350 km further south than Cusco.
We were quickly ushered to a small bus that was parked outside the hotel. By the time we crammed all our luggage and our 13 travellers inside it was quite squeezy. The thought of 10 or more hours of travel in this bus no longer seemed quite so attractive. Fortunately I needn't have worried as the small bus was only used to transport us to the outskirts of the city where we were transferred to full size luxury tour bus. Beside our guide, Karrrrlos, we also had two drivers to rotate the driving duties. We all spread out, tilted the seats back and made ourselves comfortable.
As we left Cusco behind we first stopped at the mighty Incan wall that marked the southern entrance to the city of Cusco. Each time we are presented with such a structure we have to marvel at the engineering brilliance of these people. How did they achieve so much in such a short time, without even having written language ?
Steadily climbing we soon reached the massive central plateau, known as the antiplano. This massive region is mostly over 4000 metres above sea level and consists of a huge central flat region surrounded by towering mountains. Along the road we passed through a never ending succession of tiny towns, all languishing in the dust. All that was missing were a few tumbleweeds to complete the scene of desertion and dilapidation.
After a lunch stop at a large roadhouse the journey continued. Each little town was preceded by a large speed hump, requiring the bus to almost slow to a stop in order to bounce over it. The towns themselves always consisted of several large petrol stations and a motley collection of half finished buildings. In fact nothing ever seems to actually ever get finished here. The skyline is populated by a sea of reinforcements pointing into the sky. I would have loved to have visited each town with an angle grinder, just to give all these unfinished buildings a proper haircut.
After about 10 hours in the bus we had covered a distance of a little over 300 km. In Australia such a drive would probably have taken around 3 hours, but we were certainly NOT in Australia. Our final destination for the day was to be Puno, the city at the edge of the mighty Lake Titicaca. This massive lake is shared between Peru and Bolivia and, at 4000 m elevation, is reputed to be the highest navigable lake in the world.
Before reaching Puno the bus had to travel through Juliaca. On our last trip to Peru in 2010 we all agreed that Juliaca must be the dirtiest, ugliest and dustiest city in all of Peru. By 2018 I think the place has deteriorated even further. I won't try to describe the chaos and filth of this crowded excuse for a city, but I would advise any would be traveller to NEVER consider looking for a hotel to stay in Juliaca.
About 30 mins later we finally reached Puno. The sun had set but we were able to get our first sights of the mighty lake as we fought our way through the traffic into the centre of the town. Our hotel is the Casa Andina, not far from the centre of the city. The location is quite good, but none of us could ever understand how our driver managed to squeeze a full sized bus through narrow lanes without causing major damage along the way. It did require the additional services of an outside assistant and much reversing and manoeuvring to finally reach the hotel. But we did make it. Tomorrow we will explore the lake itself and visit the enigmatic floating islands of Uros.もっと詳しく
A Striking Day in Cusco
2018年5月24日, ペルー ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C
One inevitable thing that happens to me when I travel is that I find myself going to bed earlier and earlier and waking up earlier and earlier. After two weeks in South America I now seem to find it impossible to sleep any later than 5 am. Of course that also means that I am seldom up later than 9 pm in the evening.
This morning was no exception. I found myself wide awake a little before 5 am. Of course my waking was probably precipitated by the loud shouting, detonation of huge fireworks and beating of big drums right outside my bedroom window. I pulled aside the blinds to see what was going on. Of course, today was the city wide strike and it looked like some of the strikers had decided to get to their business of celebration before the sunrise.
As the small procession made its way down the street past our hotel I could not help but reflect on how different things are here. The protesters certainly didn't look too angry to me, it looked like they were actually having fun. I found myself really looking forward to a relaxed day in Cusco. If anything is going to happen here, it always happens in the central Plaza and our hotel is ideally situated right at the corner of the plaza.
Since sleep had now well and truly evaporated, I got up and went for an early walk. Already the police were setting up road blocks and taking up strategic positions. I guess they had to be prepared for any eventuality, however remote. It seemed somewhat innocuous that the line of heavily armed police, complete with batons and riot shields were actually allowing themselves to be included in people's selfies.
The sun rose to reveal another beautiful sunny day, just like the previous 13 days we have had in this country. One of my favourite pastimes when travelling is to just find a vantage point and watch people in action. Since this was our first "free day" it was the perfect opportunity to do just that.
I sat on a chair in the plaza, enjoying the warm morning sunshine. All around me the shops of the plaza were shut tight, but the wandering vendors were doing a brisk trade. Young (and not so young) travellers waved their selfie sticks trying to find that elusive holy grail of the perfect selfie. Nearby I could hear the sounds of drums and whistles approaching. It turned out to be the first of many small groups of workers marching to the central square.
As each group entered the plaza they clapped, shouted, blew their plastic horns and seemed to have an all round good time. The vendor selling plastic horns also seemed to be doing a brisk trade. Onlookers held their cameras high trying to catch another selfie with themselves in front of the workers. The police smiled and looked relaxed. Just another sunny day in Cusco.
All this watching made me hungry so I bought a delicious sweet treat from a wandering vendor. It cost me 2 Sols (about 80 cents) and it was worth every cent.
More groups entered the plaza and the police presence was strengthened. Maybe this will get interesting I thought, however the demonstrators seemed to be enjoying the sunshine just as much as me and soon they just disappeared into the surrounding streets. The riot police smiled and chatted and then eventually drove away. If it was a strike it was a very half hearted one.
I read later in the day that Peru had actually suffered several earthquakes in various places in the past 24 hours. I hadn't felt any of them. I almost wished I had as it would have added some extra colour to the final day in Cusco.
It is now 7.30 pm (almost time for bed). Outside there are still a few loud fireworks going off. Maybe they were left over from the demonstration that fizzled out before it actually got started.
Tomorrow we have another very early start as we begin the long journey south to Puno and the famous Lake Titicaca.もっと詳しく
Exploring Machu Picchu
2018年5月23日, ペルー ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C
After reaching the end of the Inca Trail yesterday, we were too tired to explore the lost city and chose to take the bus down to Aguas Calientes and return early in the morning. We hoped that this would enable us to miss the worst of the crowds.
Catching a bus at 7.30 am we once again began the tortuous ascent back up to Machu Picchu. When we arrived about 30 mins later we discovered that, although the crowds were smaller than the previous afternoon, the masses were already beginning to arrive. When I was last here in 2010, it was at the end of the GFC and global tourism was in the doldrums. At that time it was actually very quiet and we were able to wander almost anywhere we wanted throughout the ruins. That has all changed now.
Not only has the flow of visitors gone through the roof, but there have also been many restrictions placed on where you can now walk within the city. Apparently one of the main reasons for these new restrictions is the stupid obsession with people taking selfies. After several fell to their deaths in recent years in the attempt to take the ultimate selfie, now everyone else has to suffer for their narcissistic stupidity. I can never understand why some travellers feel the need to prove they have been somewhere by taking pictures of themselves in front of every landmark. Surely it should be enough that you know you have been to a place, without having to stand in front of it ?
We tried to avoid the worst of the selfie stick generation and were spellbound as our guide revealed to us many of the secrets of this remarkable construction. Even though much of the original city is still covered by jungle, the part you can see is absolutely breathtaking. It is an incredible testimonial to the engineering brilliance and tenacity of this race of people. Unfortunately it all rapidly came to an end when the plundering Spaniards invaded in 1532. In spite of their building genius, they had no real defense against the guns of the Spanish invaders. The rest is history.
After exploring the lost city we returned down the hill for a final time and then caught the bus back to Ollantaytambo. Then followed a tiring bus trip back to Cusco. Although Cusco is only about 35 km from Ollantaytambo as the condor flies, it is a tortuous 125 km by road. We arrived after dark and were bewildered at the chaotic traffic jam we drove straight into on the outskirts of the city. We gazed open mouthed through the windows of the bus as hundreds of tooting vehicles all jostled for survival on the rough and narrow streets. One thing is certain, I would NEVER be an UBER driver in Cusco.
We finally arrived back at the Casa Andina Hotel just in time to experience an underground earthquake of magnitude 4.8. Apparently it was 10 km right under Cusco city. As I said previously, South America is never boring.
We also received the news that tomorrow a city wide strike has been declared throughout Cusco. Most of the shops will be closed and the city will be in a partial lockdown. What was that I said about South America ?もっと詳しく
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