The Inca Trail

15-18 March

The Inca Trail, which instigated our trip to South America, finally arrived and we weren't disappointed, except that Sally Munro was unable to join us due to her not getting her A into G in time.

It was a tough 4 day walk - we were chuffed when Celso, our guide, told the two of us that we were good hikers and asked about our previous experience..(!?) This was no great feat considering a few of the other 4 members of our group suffered various hindrances; Diana flew in from the USA a few days before the trail and so had some difficulty with the altitude, Kris overexerted himself on the 1st day in order to keep up with us, so stressing his knees in the process and requiring our medical attention and patience for the rest of the trip! His wife, a South African (and the only South African we've met so far!) who has lived in London for the last 9 years and is now moving to Oz (sounds familiar..Gayle?), has lost her SA accent and unpatriotically badmouthed her home country, much to our disgust! Maarten worked hard over Dead Woman's Pass to keep up with us, but on the 2nd day was leading the group.

We did the trail with Llama Path who we found very organised but to some extent we felt we were unnecessarily treated like royalty; basins of hot water met us at every meal to wash our faces and hands with a porter standing close by to pass us our facecloths, 3 course meals at every meal, high tea including milo and our tents pitched awaiting our arrival at each campsite. Nevertheless, we had a great team spirit with the porters cheering for us whenever we left or arrived at camp and us cheering them on whenever they overtook us on the trail. It was intimidating having the snake of red (our porters wearing their red uniforms) charging up the mountain behind you carrying packs more than 4x the size and weight of ours, containing dinner tents, chairs, tables and gas cylinders! The physiotherapist amongst us was very happy to see all our porters wore back supports and specially made rucksacks with comfortable straps in comparison to porters from other companies who had pieces of rope cutting into their shoulders and underarms. Our porters definitely looked the fittest and happiest.

The scenery was unbelievable and varied - jagged peaks, lots of steep mountian passes and steps, dense forest areas and inca archaeological sites along the way. These sites would have been resting places for messengers and travellers, small communities or temples. Strangely this was the first time in all our walks in South America where we heard birds and frogs AND we even saw a bear eating a deer on the mountain side!

On our final day, we woke up at 4am to be first in line at the control point to Machu Picchu with the hope of seeing the sun rise at the Sun Gate. This hour and a half final walk in the dark with our head torches, turned out to be stressful and hair raising as over eager and aggresive gringos raced and pushed past you on narrow cliff paths to be at the Sun Gate first - all in vain as on arrival there was thick cloud obscuring the view of Macchu Picchu! As we descended, the clouds lifted and we saw Macchu Picchu for the first time illuminated by the early morning sun. This sight made the last 3 days so much more rewarding as opposed the lazy tourists who merely caught the train up that morning (we were however very jealous of their fresh and sweet soap smelling aroma).

Celso gave us a insightful tour around Macchu Picchu and then he left us to explore on our own. We found a perfect spot for a quick snack until we were whistled at from the other side of the ruin by an angry official, for being in a restricted area. Our exploration of the ruin ended prematurely with a short power nap on a grassy patch. It was only when we awoke with sleep lines on our faces that we realised our position was in the view from the prime photographic point - all tourists visiting Macchu Picchu on the 18th March were graced with 3 comatosed blonde gringos in their photos!

It was an incredible experience, only wished that more of our friends from back home were there to share it with us.

The Navel of the World

12-15 March
Cuzco, Peru

Admin and scenic days in Cuzco, "acclimitising" and preparing for the Inca Trail while soaking up the gringo vibe.

Cusco was the capital of the Incas and hence our base for indulging in the history. We went to a fascinating museum where we saw Inca mummies which were buried in ceramic pots in the foetal position as their believed in reincarnation. We spent a day, walking around 4 ruins just outside Cuzco, the last of which, Sacsayhuaman, was the most impressive and made from huge granite rocks some up to 3x3metres in size. Many of the rocks were taken from these sites by the Spaniards to build their own cathedrals in the centre of Cuzco.

On the Gringo Trail

11 March
Puno to Cuzco

We had incredible panoramic views on our front row seats in the bus from Puno to Cuzco. Here we witnessed that Peruvian drivers are no different to their compatriats in Bolivia, with excessive hooting and a no stopping policy (refer to blog entry Potosi to Sucre).

We arrived in Cuzco in time to put our names down on the list for a Sunday Roast at our hostel, Loki. This was in a beautiful building with 2 huge courtyards, a bar filled with gringos, regularly cleaned bathrooms which had toilet seats and toliet paper, and the cherry on the top - duvets! Had a few G & T's after our roast in the bar where Spanish was scarce.

Nicky spent the first few days trying to get her head around the pronounciation of Cuzco which has the same name as a gynaecological speculum!

"The Caca"

10 March
Puno, Peru

From Puno we caught a boat trip out to Uros and Taquile Islands on Lake Titicaca.

"The Uros use reeds for everything. They eat the reeds, make houses of reeds, boats of reeds, they sleep on reeds, they even make babies on reeds!" Alexander our guide. The Uros have cleverly used the uniqueness of their culture to their advantage to attracting and welcoming tourists to gain an insight into their simple lives. We learnt about and were given demonstrations relating to the building of the islands and how each community on the island works. We found it very amusing while departing from one of the little islands on a reed boat - we were sung renditions of traditional songs as well as "Row row row your boat" and "my Bonny lies over the ocean".

Taquile Island: We walked around this island where the only escape for an islander is to convince their community they are epileptic in order to marry someone from the mainland. We were shown colourful wedding belts made by the bride to be who cut her long hair and intricately wove this in with the yarn. It is a very male dominant society - the women have no say/input in community meetings and always have to walk a few steps behind their partners!

On the road again..

9 March
Copacobana to Puno

Gayle caught the traveller's bug and it was touch and go as to whether she'd be able to handle the 6 hour bus ride across the border to Puno. Armed with her makeshift vomit container, made with her trusty swiss army knife and half a empty water bottle, she boarded the bus. Thanks to Dr Frederick's bowel clogging and anti-nausea tablets it remained unused.

Nicky was very happy make it out of Bolivia and into Peru with no complications at immigrations.

Now more streetwise, Nicky used her bargaining skills to wangle a superb deal at a hostel, 15 soles including breakfast - all in the name of the Galapagos Fund. Maarten also pulled through with a bargain for a tour of Lake Titicaca and a bus trip to Cuzco. Gayle lay in bed..

The Birth place of the Inca King and Queen

7-8 March
Copacabana to Isla del Sol

Our plans to avoid the typical motorised boat trip to Isla del Sol was potentially rained out, but after the rain eased, we decided to brave the 17km walk to Yampupata.

This lead us through beautiful rural villages where many of the locals stopped mid-hoe to stare at the rare sight of 3 blonde gringos walking past. They were all incredibly friendly, asking where we were from, where we were going, and gave us very varied ETA's. By the time we got to Yampupata (and we had finally learnt to pronounce the town's name), we bargained with a local Yamputatian, who looked about 60 with arthritic hands, to row us across to Isla del Sol.

On the island we were met by Alan, a 6 year old bearing a homemade bow and arrow who had never heard of Robin Hood (go figure!). He marched us a fair distance across the island to his family's hostel which had the most incredible view overlooking Lake Titicaca. Here we sat and had sundowners, proud of our day's accomplishment.

The next day we walked across to the north side of the island, making up stories about the Inca sites dotted along the way. Saw a sacrificial rock where virgins were sacrificed to Mother Earth. Caught a boat back to Copacobana which was filled with Argentinians - it was great to hear the familiarity of their accent and feel their vibrancy.

Bolivia has the "Titi", Peru has the "Caca"

6 March
Copacobana, Lake Titicaca

On insistence by Maarten, we caught a 2nd de Febrero bus (his birthday) to Copacabana. This is a typical Bolivian bus with all the luggage and even 20 layers of eggs tied to the roof, and local passengers carrying unusual precious cargo - we heard tiny "meeows" coming from one bag and witnessed wriggly bundles of blankets (babies). At one stop bundles of wool were packed in through the back windows, where the occupants found themselves buried under masses of colourful yarn.

An obstacle along the way was a river crossing barely made possible by a rickety barge powered by a 20 horsepower motorboat engine, which precariously transported the boat swaying like a pendulum to the other side! We had to catch a smaller passenger boat where we doubted if we'd ever make it across after the engine cut out not even a third of the way across.

As at arrival at every bus terminal, we were mobbed by locals offering accommodation at their casa. The first viewing was shocking even by our cheapskate/Galapagos Fund standards. The toilets didn't flush so this had to be done manually by filling a jug with water from a large barrel positioned outside the toilet. Thankfully, we were rescued by Sonia, who took us to her hostel with more desirable amenities.

Spent the afternoon in a pub/coffee shop watching football and doing travel research. We went to an interesting restaurant for dinner, recommended for its trucha (trout) to find it occupied by 3 giggly drunk Germans and a waitress with a curler in her fringe. After ordering we witnessed her scuttling out the restaurant, across the road to the market and returning with our items. It was our first taste of trout freshly caught in Lake Titicaca.

Downsize

5 March
La Paz

The awesome foursome lost a member on Monday morning to the real world (some of us have jobs). Ron had to return to reality and attend meetings in Buenos Aires for his Travellers Guru newspaper. We left La Paz the following day for Copacabana and Lake Titicaca.

WMDR - World's Most Dangerous Road

4 March
La Paz to Coroico

We survived!! This is a treacherous 60km downhill mountain bike ride, on a 3m wide gravel road, with steep drops (some up 600m) to the valley below where approximately 25 cars per year meet their doom. This used to be the only way to get from La Paz to the city of Coroico, regularly used by buses and trucks which maneuvered themselves around corners and along roads wide enough for only themselves. Fortunately, an alternative new road has been built which has alleviated most of the traffic on this road.

Nicky, Gayle and Ron opted in for the big adrenaline rush. Maarten being a little fearful of heights, decided not to risk his life and was left at home with all our emergency contact numbers and passwords in case of tragedy.

The first part of our experience was on a tar road in the pouring rain. We have to admit that after being soaked through within 2 minutes, raindrops piercing our eyes, a visibility of a maximum of 10 to 20 metres and our hands so frozen we couldn't squeeze our brakes, the two of us resigned ourselves to defeat and when the option came to travel 40 minutes downhill while warming up in the bus came - we jumped at it. A little lower down the mountain, the rain subsided a little and the feeling returned to our fingers and toes. We got back on our bikes and pushed ourselves to redeem our bruised egos.

The scenery at the start of the gravel part was spectacular, with the cloudy mist obscuring the deep ravines and eagles soaring in the air currents. Dense rain forest vegetation covered the mountains adding to the treachery of our surroundings. We quickly learnt it was necessary to keep our mouths closed or else eat butterflies or mud. It was an absolutely exhilarating ride where we had to navigate a narrow rocky road, dodging landslides, occasionally going through thick, boggy mud and cycling through small waterfalls and rivers. We stopped regularly to view cyclist memorial sites and graves as well as parts or whole cars or trucks in the valley. The most recent tragic accident involving a bus with 65 passengers occurred 6 months ago, with only 25 surviving. (Since we did the WMDR, the latest statistic we learnt from fellow travellers includes an Israeli and a Canadian who lost control and died going over the edge!)

Arrived home full of mud, soaking wet, muddy shoes and exhausted from an unforgettable day - no regrets! (Especially not for getting on the bus)

The Highest Capital City in the World

La Paz
3 - 6 March

We gave the the thumbs up to a cheaper hostel after checking our the rooms (all in the name of the "Galapagos Fund"), however this was immediately vetoed by Ron and Maarten who turned up their noses at our choice. They demanded an immediate relocation and we were forced to trapse across La Paz with our backpacks to an establishment more to their liking. Hotel Fuentes, was situated on the well known Witches Market known for its selling of magical potions, herbs, dried out frogs and llama fetuses which are supposed to ward off evil spirits.

We were really impressed, but also felt a bit targeted as tourists when 3 police women followed us to our hotel and kindly warned us of pick pockets and evil con men pretending to be policemen who would demand to see ID/passport and money, and rob us of these items. Fortunately we had none of these encounters.

That evening we visited the Ozone Oxygen Bar, where you sit wearing an O2 facemask delivering high volumes of flavoured oxygen, supposedly to replenish your oxygen deprived body suffering from the high altitude. They claim its a "natural high", we think its a load of bullshit.

Joyride Cafe

Sucre
27th February - 2 March

The large size of our travelling group, including the Awesome Foursome, Thomas and Louise and Sarah (who we reunited with in Potosi), meant that it was more worthwhile to catch a 1 and a half hour taxi ride to Sucre. This was our first encounter with real Bolivian driving we´d been warned about! Points included excessive hooting at anything and everything within a 50m radius, hooting as a substitute for indicators, overtaking on blind rises and corners, and avoiding ever coming to a complete standstill in traffic.

We found a hostal on a main road opposite a huge local market with smelly rooms and beds that smelt of seweat. Been-there-done-that Sarah, immediately lead us to the Dutch-owned Joyride Cafe near the main square for lunch, which subsequently became our stomping ground for the next few days. This was Ron and Maarten´s highlight of Sucre (or possibly of the past 2
weeks!) as they were in their element with free Wi-fi, typical Dutch food and Heineken.

The following day the 7 of us, missioned up to the 7 Waterfalls. We caught a local bus where we made friends with a 9 year old shoe shiner. He kept us and the rest of the bus entertained with his friendly conversation. We were in hysterics when his reply to Ron´s question about his school hours innocently included "y tu?". He also tried to guess our ages: Ron - 40 Maarten 43 Nicky 31 and Gayle 28.. He also kindly stayed 2 minutes longer on the bus past his stop so he could point us in the right direction to walk to the waterfalls which earned him a few Bolivianos.

After a bit of a dull hour walk along the gravel road, we spent the afternoon swimming, sleeping and relaxing at one of the falls. The walk home was yet another Inca training session. While waiting for the bus at the top of mountain, Ron, Maarten and Sarah played football until the game was ceased when Sarah made a spectacular wipeout while running for the ball and landed head first in the dirt!

That night we had supper in Joyride Cafe, and the following morning met everyone there again for the Treehuggers breakfast (muesli and yoghurt). Maarten, Nicky and Ron went for a mountain bike ride around the outskirts of Sucre - awesome views of the Cordillera de los Frailes, dodging pigs and sheep, avoiding yapping dogs, and a downhill to prepare us for the upcoming World´s Most Dangerous Road.

Gayle had a day of chilling and ended up spending 7 hours in Joyride drinking a few beers with Sarah before getting the wagging finger for taking the 4 o´clock photo in the supermarket.

We reunited (at Joyride) after the cycle and watched the evening movie "Crash" (at Joyride) At suppertime, we put our foot down and dragged the boys away from theri beloved Joyride to its competition. The boys spent the follwing day playing internet poker (in Joyride). By this point we had had enough (of Joyride) and went for a scintilating museum tour on Bolivian political history where everything was in Spanish and it basically consisted of portraits of every single Bolivian president dating back to 1600´s. We had lunch at a courtyard cafe while the boys stayed (in Joyride).

That evening we caught the bus to La Paz. The bus terminal had an interesting system where you checked in your luggage at the floor about which was then attached to a hook and a rope and lowered down to the bus with little warning to unsuspecting bystanders who occasionally received a bash to the the head!

On top of the World

Potosi
25 - 28 February 2007

Potosi is the highest city of its size in the world and in the early 17th century was the largst city in the world. Now, however, it is a run down, has-been town where the only real attraction is the Casa de Moneda and an excursion to the mines.

Casa de Moneda is a colonial looking museum filled with the tools and machinery used to make coins in the mid 1500`s , initially for the Spanish, and then once Bolivia gained independence, for itself. The beams of the roof had an intricate arrangement holding then together instead of nails. The silver for the coins was flattened by an incredible wooden machine made of numerous enormous cogs which was operated by mules walking in a large circle on the floor below, these mules only lived 3 to 4 months due to the harsh working conditions.

After this intersting cultural experience we awakend our senses with a trip to the local markets where we were able to revise our anatomy knowledge as every organ and body part of cow, sheep, chicken and llama was on display. You merely had to point at an animal, have the swarms of flies flicked aside, have the meat hacked off by a large knife (which was washed by a wipe across the womans apron) and off you strutted with your lovely piece of meat! We had to stop oursleves from mock-charging on a few occassions!
We then walked around an "imported from China" market where Nicky took a photo of some traditional woman braa-ing/bbqing a llama and was unaffectionately braded a gringo by the disgruntled woman.

Our 2nd day invloved scrambling and crawling in low, narrow, dirty shafts; climbing rickety ladders and hearing dynamite implosions in the mines. Before entering the mines we bought gifts for the miners - coca leaves (which they eat to desensitive themselves to hunger, and keep their mouths moist), drinks, as well as dynamite and fuses (yes it is legal to just buy it from the corner shop!). After donning oursleves in bright yellow overalls, a hard hat and gumboots, we set off towards the mines, stopping on the way to light one of our dynamite sticks and watch it explode..
The miners work for themselves in medieval conditions with basic tools and carrying the gravel containing silver and other deposits in large bags weighing 60kgs, or wheelbarrows of 250kgs. Miners normally die within 10 years of entering the mines due to exposure to the noxious chemicals and poor ventilation.

High in the Sky

22-24 February
3 day 4x4 tour through salt flats

We arrived at Extrella del Sur, our tour operator, bright and perky in eager anticipation for our 4x4 trip into Bolivia, along with hungover Ron and Maarten in tow. This is where we met Thomas and Louise, from Denmark, also hungover from a night of partying with the locals. Once again, due to superb planning we had little Chilean pesos left over, as did Thomas and Louise. In desperation for something to eat for breakfast, Thomas had to walk around the group begging for ¨small change for bread¨.

Maarten, still convinced that the US$18 laundrette had stolen his precious bright orange Netherlands football shirt, banged incessantly on the launderette door from 8am-8:30 when finally they opened. Much to his despair, it wasn’t hanging on the line, but Gayle found her missing sock and undies...

Caught the bus to the Bolivian border. Immigration was going smoothly until Nicky got to the front of the queue with her South African passport… ¨South Africa?.. no visa?¨´ and had her passport confiscated by the border officials. Waves of nausea and adrenaline surged amongst the group, fearing that we’d be returning to Chile and Nicky would be jailed!

Bribes were contemplated, however the border officials agreed to let Nicky into the country provided that her passport remained in the custody of our tour guide until arrival in the next town, Uyuni where she’d have to go to immigrations to purchase visa. The requirement of a visa was a shock to Nicky as she had checked this out previously, both South African and Bolivian home affairs had said it was not necessary. We’re convinced the border is using an ancient photocopied document of countries requiring visas (typical 3rd world country, feel like we’re in Africa) - NOTE to South Africans holding another passport USE THIS INSTEAD!

So the six of us, Nicky, Gayle, Ron, Maarten, Thomas and Louise, set off in our Toyota landcruiser into Bolivia (with Nicky’s passport in our tour guide´s, Vallerio, breast pocket).

The scenery was exquisite. We could see how Salvador Dali found his inspiration from this landscape as the slightest change in light and angle transformed oranges to greens, reds to blues, and browns to purples. Each lake was a different colour - creamy white, azure, lime green and brilliant red with millions of pink flamingoes, all created by different minerals and micro-organisms. We swam in Aguas Termales, the hot spings, and saw geysers of hot, blubbling, plopping mud and spewing out steamy gases.

One of the highlights of the trip was staying in the Hotel de Sal, built entirely of salt including the chairs, tables and the floor, another being the Uyuni Salt flats. Photos of these 12000km2 salt flats can never fully capture the mesmerising panorama of this neverending expanse where the land reflects the sky and it is difficult to differentiate between the two.

Our tour ended in Uyuni where we found a closed immigration office. There are not many places in the world where you can knock on the door of the brother of the immigration official, speak to his cousin´s wife´s and then her uncle´s son, who gives you a phone number, and 20 minutes later, the immigration official opens the office door at 4pm on a Saturday afternoon for a gringo! One hour and US$45 later, Nicky had a Bolivian visa in her passport and we fortunately able to leave the dump of Uyuni behind and catch a bus to Potosi.

The bus ride was another adventure in itself. Initially we were all pretty pleased with ourselves and our comfy reclining seats in the back row until, at the time of departure, last minute stragglers jumped on the bus with bags, babies, groceries along with their body odour and deposited themselves on the floor between our legs for 4hour bus ride - much to our bemusement. The humour was heightened when Ron hit his head numerous times on the roof of the bus, as we bumped along a horrendous dirt road to Potosi.

Walking on the Moon

20-22 February
San Pedro de Atacama

Ron and Maarten still couldn´t get enough of us, so flew with us to Calama and onward to San Pedro de Atacama, a true oasis in the desert in Northern Chile.

On our first night we had our first taste of a traditional Chilean dish, in one of the many restaurants. It had a roaring campfire in the centre and Chilean Musicians performing while we ate under the stars in the desert.

The following day we walked around San Pedro, a vibey little town with sandy streets and clay houses with no pavements and the doors opening onto the street. In the afternoon, in typical male style, Ron and Maarten decided to sit in the pub and watch football (Liverpool vs Barcelona) instead of an incredible excursion to the Valle de la Luna. This included a walk through the Valley of Mars (NASA has actually found a remarkable similarity between this part of the desert and Mars itself) ; watching the sunset over the Valley of the Moon (with only water bottles in hands for sundowners) and a moonlight walk through rocky crevices where the rocks reflected the moonlight making the rocks and ridges look like they´d been sprinkled with fairy dust.
We arrived back at the hostel to find two drunken dutchmen awaiting our return. They proudly announced that they had found a local restaurant, which fitted our strict budget to use up our last few chilean pesos. The restaurant was so dirt cheap, that each meal actually cost the same as a quart of beer! In typical female style, on the way home, we had to take them on a brisk walk in the fresh air to sober up. This involved stablising Maarten, and controlling Ron´s skipping down the street! We didn´t want to be boring, but we could not help but wag our fingers and warn them of their impending hangover for the 4x4 trip the following day...

Our holiday from our holiday

17 - 20 February
Valparaiso, Chile

Valparaiso was the reunion of the Awesome Foursome. Maarten and Ron arrived after a 24 hour bus ride to join us for a few days at the beach.

On Saturday, we spent the day at Reñaca Beach, a very european beach, flanked by very tall apartment blocks, Burger King and a Macdonalds (to Ron´s excitement) and with people practically sitting on top of you. This was the beginning of the massive backgammon challenge between Nicky and Ron while Gayle and Maarten observed surfing competitions and beach football. Nicky´s over-zealous game of beach bats resulted in a broken bat that we had purchased on arrival at the beach!

Sunday: "C-Day" (Complaining Day). We spent two days on various forms of transportation to get to La Compana National Park. It was a stifling hot day, and we only had 1 litre of water between the four of us. According to the lonely planet, this park offers some of the best views of Chile, we however strongly dispute this.
For the second day in a row, Ron and Maarten discussed the eccentricities of Ale, our house mate at Mara´s, at great lengths. We have resorted to limiting them to 20 minutes of this subject matter per day.
At the supermarket, the Dutchmen had little confidence in our catering ability and as the trolley filled up we heard mumblings of feeding the 5000... However, as we anticipated, we demolished our delicious ratatouille pasta (while the boys had undercatered on the wine front).

Monday, we spent another day topping up our tans, and swimming in the Pacific. We took Ron on shopping spree (yet another episode of Nicky and Gayle´s extreme makeovers).
That evening, Maarten was adamant he wanted to cook, but when it came to the crunch he discovered that one of the guys in the hostel was an Argentinian chef and pawned the preparations off to him, not that we´re complaining.

Jet Setters

15 - 16 February 2007
Ushuaia to Punta Arenas

Not much to report on for these days, as these were basically travelling days as we had booked our flight from home from Punta Arenas to Santiago, so we spent yet another 12 hours on a bus from Ushuaia to Punta Arenas. Had dinner at a working mens club with a few new friends and had our first taste of Chilean apertif, Pisco Sour - 2 of these and you are pisc-ed!

We stayed in a dodgy decrepit hostel called The Blue House (unbeknown to us its sister hostel had burnt down 2 weeks before killing about 20 backpackers!) which was filled with Israeli´s, our first "real" backpackers with showers that hardly worked, felt slimy and scummy, and you practically slept on top of your stuff to make sure nothing got stolen!

Spent the following day walking around the "metropolis" of Punta Arenas, sorting out admin and killing time. Also paid our deposit for Inca Trail - if anyone is keen to join us we´re doing it on the 15 March... Flew into Santiago in the afternoon, and then caught the next bus out to Valparaiso, which according to the Lonely Planet is the Chilean equivalent to the French Riveria!