About a year ago I started planning a return trip to South America to revisit some of the places that I had experienced in 2010. I also added a few extra locations to my wish list and the itinerary developed from there. Read more
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  • Day 22

    The Track to Machu Picchu

    May 19, 2018 in Peru ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    We all knew that this was going to be a long day - and it was. It began with an early breakfast and a complete repacking of our trekking gear into a lightweight duffel bag. But before we could begin the trek, we still had some awesome cycling to do.

    Our cycling guides took us back up the sacred valley along a potholed dirt track, until we were back high in the mountains. Unlike the previous day's ride down the Abra Malaga Pass, this one was going to be a real test of our ability to handle mountain bikes on a rough descent at relatively high speed. Several of our riders decided that discretion would be the better part of valour and decided to stay in the vehicle instead. The rest of us donned knee protectors, elbow protectors, helmets, etc and prepared for an exciting and challenging downhill thrill ride. We weren't disappointed.

    We were soon descending rapidly, while at the same time concentrating on letting the bikes do the lion's share of the work. It was hardly ever necessary to pedal, but it required constant concentration to keep the bike under control. At each switchback corner the surface of the road was covered with a treacherous layer of fine dust, sometimes several cm thick.

    In spite of the dangers we all managed to stay upright and reach Ollantaytambo safely. We then sadly packed the cycle gear for the final time and bade farewell to the tremendous cycling support staff. Because Diego, Jimmy and the rest of the crew really had done a fantastic job in looking after us.

    After a flying visit back to the Tikawasi Hotel to change into our trekking gear, it was time to return to the bus for another drive far back up the Urubamba River to begin our trek. The destination for the first section of the trek was the hamlet of Marcacocha at 3400m above sea level.

    Although the elevation was high, the temperature certainly was not. Once the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the temperature plummeted to around zero. Everyone started looking for extra clothes to pile on to avoid freezing solid.

    As the night descended a number of us stood outside to gaze at the incredible night sky and some unfamiliar constellations. While we were standing staring at the heavens we all witnessed the most incredible astronomical sight that I had ever seen. Right where we were all looking a huge fireball appeared and proceeded to carve a line across the sky, parallel to the ground. Trailing behind the fireball was a tail of glowing debris. We stood in amazement and I held my breath, waiting for the explosion as it hit the ground. In a lifetime of watching the stars, I had never seen such a dramatic and prolonged example of a large meteor. Fortunately there was no explosion and it died before hitting the ground. Nevertheless, it is something that none of us will ever forget.

    After the fireball we made the first difficult foray into our sleeping bags. I know that the older I get the harder this process becomes. After a painful series of contortions and spasms I manged to partially insert my body into the confines of the bag, although my top half would have to take its own chances with the icy conditions. I then set about trying to manufacture some sort of pillow out of cast off clothes and other oddments.

    If getting into a sleeping bag is hard, then getting up in the middle of the night for a "nature break" is at least two orders of magnitude even more difficult. First you have to fumble about in the dark for the torch that should be there somewhere. Then you have to don enough clothes to ensure some degree of decency and protection from the frigid conditions. Finally come the shoes and the fight with the tent zipper to make an escape into the outside world.

    You then stumble across the campsite under the stars, do the deed and then repeat the whole process in reverse. It's certainly not easy.
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  • Day 23

    The Going Gets Tough

    May 20, 2018 in Peru ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    We began the day early, with a 5.00 am wake up from the staff. I was already awake and keen to get out of the sleeping bag and into some proper gear. Our guide Jeiko, had already warned us that this was to be a tough day of walking with at least 10 hours ahead of us. Not exactly a pleasant proposition.

    After breakfast we donned our sun screen (yes it was yet another sunny day), picked up our walking poles and headed off. We were soon climbing steadily and puffing even more steadily in the thin air and ever increasing heat. After a short time we were joined by a colourfully dressed local Quechuan holy man, who was to accompany us for the next couple of hours.

    He led us through a never ending series of navigational challenges and scrambles over rocks and through brambles and prickles. It certainly was not what I would call a "trail". When we finally started to descend we though the worst was behind us. It wasn't. We then started to climb ever more steeply up to the hilltop ruins of Pumamarca. It was here that the Quechuan performed a ritual offering to the Sun and mother earth. No matter what your spiritual beliefs, it really was interesting and actually quite touching.

    An hour or so later we were back on the go again. By this time the sun was burning and, even though we were again heading downhill, the going was never easy. We started to look at our watches and wonder how we would ever cover the distance we still had ahead of us before darkness set in. As it turned out, we didn't.

    By early afternoon we stumbled into Ollantaytambo, right into the middle of their huge festival. The dusty streets were jammed with a succession of brightly dressed dancing groups. We followed them into the central plaza and watched as they each performed their carefully choreographed dances before the judges. South America is NEVER boring.

    We then resumed our trek out the other side of the town. A look at the time showed that there was no way we would be able to complete the route that was originally planned. We searched for that ever popular "Plan B". Fortunately there was one and, with a few deletions, we were able to reduce the remaining distance by about 50% and also cut out another huge climb. It was a very popular decision as by that time we were all exhausted.

    We made steady progress through the afternoon and managed to reach camp number 2 just before dark. It was situated alongside a large, but somewhat dilapidated home. Fortunately at this lower elevation, the temperature was noticeably warmer than the previous night. After a delicious evening meal, we repeated the antics of getting into our sleeping bags.

    Unfortunately there were no repeats of the previous night's celestial performance.
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  • Day 24

    Closer to the Lost City

    May 21, 2018 in Peru ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    After another early start (but not quite as early as the previous day) we proceeded to follow the Rio Urubamba through the Sacred Valley. On our right hand side towered the huge Mount Veronica. At 5900 metres in height, it's ice capped summit dominates the surrounding peaks. This mountain was to be our companion for the rest of the trek.

    The trek itself was undulating. The path never seemed to be horizontal and by noon the heat of the sun was quite overwhelming. Each time we reached a patch of shade we rejoiced at the temporary respite. Looking down we saw the turbulent waters of the Urubamba, seeming to show the way to Machu Picchu.

    After another challenging day's walk we were very glad when we arrived at the permanent campsite at Apu Veronica. I had stayed there before on my previous trek in 2010, so the place had a familiar feel to it.

    To protect from the howling winds at this point, the tents are covered by straw shelters. I am sure that the cooking staff were also glad to have something resembling a real kitchen to prepare our food in. There was even a sauna for those brave enough to face the searing heat inside. I certainly wasn't.

    By this time in our trek we were all excited that the goal of reaching the Lost City of the Incas was due to be achieved the following afternoon, however in South America plans are apt to change at the last moment. And they did.

    We had originally planned to travel a short distance in the train and then resume our trek a little further on. Without reason the train company decided that it would no longer stop at Apu Veronica and, unless we were willing to jump on a moving train, this plan was no longer possible.

    The only alternative was to hire a bus to take us all the way back to Ollantaytambo and catch the train there. This meant a 4.00 am start to the final day ! Oh well, some things were never meant to be easy.
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  • Day 25

    We Reach Machu Picchu

    May 22, 2018 in Peru

    With the last minute change of plans for our final day of trekking, the wake up time was brought forward to an unearthly 4.00 am in the morning. Fortunately for me the sleeping bag decided to become my vicious enemy during the night and I was awake and ready before any need for the wake up alarm.

    I flashed the torch around the scattered ruins inside my tent, deflated the mattress for the final time and stuffed everything into the duffel bag. I was not really sad to be saying goodbye to my time in the tent and I couldn't help but feel that my days of camping have probably come to an end.

    By 4.15 I had crawled out into the pre dawn night and noticed that not all of my fellow trekkers had awaken yet. I flashed my torch around to hasten their departures from the Land of Nod and proceeded to grab something to eat for breakfast.

    At 5.00 am the order was given that it was time to move. We shouldered our bags, switched on our lights and formed a single line along the narrow walking track. At this point there is a dramatic drop down to the Urubamba and a single slip could prove disastrous. For some in the group it was probably a good thing that they could not see what was lying just a few centimetres away from each footfall.

    After crossing the suspension bridge across the raging river, we climbed the other side and boarded our waiting bus. We all knew that we had less than 75 mins to catch the train as it passed through Ollantaytambo. This would not seem much of a challenge, but the roads here have to be experienced to be believed.

    For the next hour we crawled our way along goat tracks, passing several other vehicles with only a few cm clearance on each side. In some places the road was almost completely blocked with piles of huge rocks. At one stage several passengers had to get out in order to lighten the bus and increase the ground clearance. Our guide started to get noticeably nervous at our glacial rate of progress

    Just when we though the worst was behind us we noticed that the road ahead was blocked by a police roadblock. We all knew that if we stopped we would miss the train and the consequences would be disastrous. The only answer was to tell the driver NOT to stop. So that's what we did. The driver planted his foot and just ignored the waving policeman, narrowly avoiding running over his foot. We looked at each other in amazement. Would they send out an all points alert for the notorious Ghostriders in their runaway bus ???? Apparently not.

    To cut a long story short we reached the train station with only about 5 mins to spare, scrambled on the train and settled in for the hour long trip back to where we had just started from earlier in the morning.

    The train eventually stopped at the so called Km 106 point, deep in the jungle. If the famous Paddington Bear came from darkest Peru, this certainly looked like the sort of place that could have been his birthplace. We climbed out of the train and assembled at the start of the final leg of the famous Inca Trail.

    After passing through the checkpoint we started out on what was probably the toughest section of the entire trek. The path climbed relentlessly up and up, so that the river was soon hundreds of metres below us. Once again our ageing legs ached and our lungs heaved as we trudged on and on. We did not reach the resting spot until we had climbed around 1000 metres from the valley floor. It was only then that the guide told us that we were the fastest group he had ever had on this climb. In fact we had cut 60 mins off the "normal" time for this climb. I guess that is not so bad for a group of elderly travellers !

    For the next couple of hours the going was considerably easier as we passed through the magnificent rain forest known as the Jurassic Section. I must admit that you could almost be forgiven for thinking that we were walking through some sort of prehistoric forest, laden with miniature orchids, towering ferns and all manner of mysterious plants. Now and then butterflies fluttered through the dappled sunlight. It was a magical time.

    The final major challenge in approaching Machu Picchu along this trail is to negotiate the famous "monkey steps". This is an almost vertical wall of 50 stone steps. Presumably it was built as a final defense to fight off any would be invaders of the city. Nowadays it does a great job in almost killing the daily army of trekkers as they approach the final stages to the Sun Gate. This section is best done on hands and knees, but once it is achieved you can rest assured that the city is almost inn view.

    The final few hundred steps lead to the famous Inti Punku (Sun Gate). This is a narrow opening high in the mountains that allows the sun to shine directly into a window on the Temple of the Sun on the summer solstice. For the modern day trekker, the rewards of passing through the Sun Gate is that you get the most amazing view down to the city of Machu Picchu. This is a moment in anyone's life that I am sure they will never forget.

    After a few moments of savouring the view and reflecting on our achievements, we began the final climb down to Machu Picchu itself. An hour later we were there. It was a pity that about 6,000 others were there also. Of course most of the huge throng had not arrived via the trail, they had just taken the bus up from the train station at Aguas Calientes, way down in the valley.

    By that stage we were hot , exhausted and greatly dismayed by the huge throng of shoving and selfie stick carrying tourists that had invaded this sacred spot. We decided to quickly pass through and return early the following morning when it hopefully would be quieter.

    Before we could descend to the town we had to wait about an hour in a huge line of jostling tourists, all waiting to catch a bus. It was not pleasant. We finally squeezed onto a bus and completed the hairy zig zag drive down to Aguas Calientes (Hot Waters). This town has developed solely because of the massive tourist traffic to Machu Picchu. It is full of expensive restaurants, bars and gift shops. Wandering pan pipe playing buskers do a roaring trade entertaining the wandering tourists who have just climbed off the train from Cusco.

    For us, we just wanted a nice hotel, a shower and a clean bed. We actually got all three and a whole lot more. We find we had been booked into the best hotel in the town. With a tariff of around $500 AUD a night it was far above what we had been expecting to get. But we certainly were not complaining. We LOVED it. The El Mapi had beautiful rooms, luxurious showers, minibars, delightful beds, good Internet and a superb breakfast, in fact everything that an exhausted trekker could possibly want.

    After enjoying a superb final meal with our main guide, I returned to my room and went to bed. It was about 9 pm, pretty late I thought.
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  • Day 26

    Exploring Machu Picchu

    May 23, 2018 in Peru ⋅ ⛅ 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 ?
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  • Day 27

    A Striking Day in Cusco

    May 24, 2018 in Peru ⋅ ⛅ 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.
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  • Day 28

    Across the Altiplano

    May 25, 2018 in Peru ⋅ ☀️ 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.
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  • Day 29

    The Journey to Mysterious Uros

    May 26, 2018 in Peru ⋅ 🌙 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 ?
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  • Day 30

    Into the Land of Volcanoes

    May 27, 2018 in Peru

    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.
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  • Day 31

    Up Close with the Condors

    May 28, 2018 in Peru

    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.
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