Tag: South America

Iguazú gotta be kidding me…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Brazil, South America

My overland trip with Dragoman officially ended the day after we arrived in Buenos Aires, and after nearly four months on the road with varying groups of fellow passengers, I decided to add on a few days of ‘me’ time before heading back to normalcy in Amsterdam. As lovely as BA is, it felt silly not to make the journey to see Iguazu Falls, one of the modern seven wonders of the world, and a place I’d always wanted to visit since seeing a picture of it in a travel magazine over 10 years ago. I had pre-booked a tour to the falls, although in hindsight I should’ve just done it independently. For the first time on this trip I found myself in an airport. I could have taken a 19 hour overnight bus, but after so long sat on the truck, a 1h40m flight was calling to me. Despite not being able to afford to stay at the Sheraton or Belmond hotels which are located inside the park – unless I was willing to forgo a month’s worth of travelling – I was pleasantly surprised by the tour accommodation. I had an enormous double bed, a rare luxury on my travels thus far, great air conditioning, and two swimming pools (let’s not talk about how they were big enough for circa five people at any one time). They also provided the best breakfast I’ve encountered in South America outside of a cafe/ restaurant, although if I’m honest, the hostels and hotels I’ve stayed in up to this point didn’t offer up much competition in this regard.

A couple of hours after arriving at the hotel I was whisked away to the Brazilian side of the falls, Foz de Iguaçu. Our tour guide had earlier asked for our passports and when we arrived at the border he left the vehicle with us inside. Within a matter of minutes we were back on the road, stamped passports in hand. Having endured previous border crossings which had taken over three hours, this was a pleasant surprise, although I’m very surprised that we didn’t have to be seen in person by an immigration officer.

Having paid the $22 to enter the park, nothing can quite prepare you for the first sighting of the falls. Debate rages over whether the Brazilian or Argentinean side is better, with the Brazilian part offering the viewer the ‘big picture’ overview. I was pretty wowed by the cascading water opposite me and stood there mesmerised for many minutes. The Brazilian side is pretty small in terms in walking trails and ninety minutes later we were done, although I spent a similar amount of time watching a family of cute coatis foraging for food. You can obviously go at a slower pace, something done by the two selfie-lovin’, bikini-wearin’ Brazilian chicas I saw on several occasions, as did the posse of young local men who were enamoured by the view. And no, I’m not taking about the waterfalls.

After arriving back in the town of Puerta Iguazú, where I was based for the next few days, I decided to treat myself to a nice meal. Unfortunately for this Libran – I don’t believe any of that astrology bullshit, but I do consistently struggle with choice (insert Tatianna choices gif here) – the menu offered so many delicious sounding dishes, and in the end I plumped for three starters and a salad main. There’s no need for you to judge me as the full restaurant of fellow diners did that already having spied the multiple dishes being delivered to a table with a single diner. After the first delicious mouthful of suriba fishcake, I stopped caring what people thought and spent a wonderful hour eating my way through local specialties, including Patagonian lamb carpaccio which was divine, all of which was washed down with my new favourite beer, Patagonian Amber. Sorry Moosehead from Canada.

Unfortunately, I spent most of the night awake with stomach cramps and just couldn’t face a 0630 wake up call and a full day at the Argentinean falls. Thankfully, the pain passed by late evening and after a good night’s sleep, I was feeling well enough to visit the falls on this side of the border, albeit by myself. However, finding the bus station was easy, as was buying the correct ticket, and 25 minutes later I found myself once again being blown away by Mother Nature. Most people spend a full day on this side, as you’re able to also trek along a lower trail which takes you closer to the falling water, but I was only able to stay a few hours before jumping back on a plane to BA. I walked the upper trail which allows you to get a bird’s eye view of the falls, but before arriving at the first one I was treated to the sight of more coatis and a caiman.

As I wasn’t able to see all of the Argentinean side, I feel unqualified to declare which country has the best of the falls. I was enamoured with both and would encourage anyone visiting this part of the world to include this on their itinerary. It’s an utterly stunning spectacle.

Shortly after my flight took off, the pilot made an announcement, but as it was in Spanish only I didn’t pay much attention, until that is the majority of the passengers burst into applause. The people in the vicinity didn’t speak English so I stayed ignorant until the plane suddenly banked to the right and there was a collective ‘OOOOOOHHHHH AMAZING!’. I quickly realised that the pilot’s announcement was to inform us that we’d see the falls from the sky if we looked out of the right window, and then remembered he’d said derecha at some point, the Spanish word for right. Obviously, I was sat on the left side of the plane. I spent the next few minutes cursing my luck, and the check in agent who’d put me in this stupid seat. All that changed however when the pilot came on the intercom with another Spanish-only announcement which was greeted by an even more thunderous clapping. I tried to recall if I heard the Spanish word for left during his speech, but soon realised that I don’t actually know it. Thankfully at that moment, the left wing of the plane tipped and we were treated to an unforgettable view of the falls from the sky. When I saw that the couple of pictures I took didn’t do the view justice, I put my phone down and just enjoyed this incredible privilege for a few minutes. What a wonderful way to end this trip!

U.G.L.Y not when one’s in Uruguay….

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay

….and if you don’t know the above title reference then you may be reading the wrong blog. But stay awhile anyway.

Despite loving Buenos Aires, a visit to a new country was too much for me to resist and so it was that I found myself waking up at 0600 to board a boat to Uruguay. Unfortunately, I had only been in bed for two hours thanks to a rocking night out dancing in BA, so I was rather grateful for the uninteresting crossing, scenery-wise, as it meant I could get another ninety minutes of kip. Four of my trip buddies accompanied me to the beautiful little town of Colonia del Sacramento. As I only had one free day, I opted to give the capital, Montevideo, a miss as the seven hour return journey wouldn’t have left much time for exploring.

The boat was modern and thankfully air conditioned as the temperature was already in the high twenties, even at that early hour. After disembarking, the five of us spent twenty minutes at the ATM discussing how much local currency to withdraw. Unbeknownst to us, you can use both USD and Argentinean pesos in most businesses in the town. Having taken out €50 for the day’s expenses, I was even more annoyed when we discovered that if we paid using a debit card, the tax would be deducted, almost 25%!! I later made one of my best life decisions when I decided to save my cash for a few glasses of nice wine at lunchtime and instead, used my card to buy some much needed shorts as those I’d bought with me were all looking rather worn after four months on the road. I ended up purchasing three new pairs as I couldn’t decide between flamingos, pineapples or floral prints. Welcome to gay culture in 2018.

After a delicious breakfast at a tiny cafe run out of someone’s house – the toilet was rather bizarrely a room in the garden – we spent the rest of the morning strolling around the old town. Its cobbled, tree-lined streets reminded me somewhat of Rye in Sussex in the UK. The temperature was steadily creeping up to 36°C and I started to struggle, not surprising given that I don’t really wear a jacket (or footwear other than flip flops or Toms) until it’s below 10°C back home as I get hot very easily. Thankfully, the old town is pretty small and we’d managed to see most of it by this time. I was glad to see everyone else was feeling the same way, so my suggestion to revisit the fancy beachside hotel-cum-restaurant-cum-bar-cum-garden that we passed earlier, having oohed and aahed through the wrought iron gate, was met with great enthusiasm. The ladies treated themselves to dessert and drinks while I splurged on a few glasses of a delectable Sauvignon Blanc. It was lovely to spend my last day with these four women as they’d really enhanced my enjoyment of the trip since they joined in Santiago (except for Sandrine who’s been entertaining slash annoying me since Lima). The hours were filled with lots of giggles and satisfying sighs.

By mid-afternoon I was pleasantly sloshed and although there was serious consideration in staying overnight, I had to get back to BA to pick up my laundry before closing time at the lavanderia. Rock n roll I know. There was also the small matter of getting up at 0430 the next day to catch my flight to Iguazu Falls.

Unexpected events in Ushuaia…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Argentina, South America, Ushuaia & Patagonia

Our journey into the Argentinean part of Patagonia didn’t have the most auspicious of starts. While on our way to see the Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) our truck got bogged in loose rocks while driving off-road. We had sandboards to wedge under the wheels but rocks needed to be moved from around each wheel first, a back-breaking and boring task. While most of the men and one woman helped shovel, the designated cook group for that day, which included me, set about preparing a hearty soup for lunch. The only problem was the biting Patagonian wind which blew out the gas flame time and time again. After three hours, the truck was finally moving again and we served something resembling a stew. Thankfully, nobody cared, we were all just happy not to be sleeping on the truck in the middle of nowhere that night! The majority of our trip through Patagonia saw us camping at night, either in the bush or at basic campsites. For me, it was one of the highlights of the trip. I’ve been lucky enough to share a tent with two awesome Aussie guys, and since they departed, I’ve been kept entertained by Sandrine, our resident Frenchie who has lived in the UK for the past twenty years. Not that you’d know it from her thick francophone accent.

We proceeded along legendary Ruta 40 and crossed the Magellan straits over to the island of Tierra del Fuego (Land of Fire), a territory that is divided between Chile and Argentina. In my humble opinion it is terribly misnomered as it was rainy and grey, but despite this, I was very excited to arrive in the port town of Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world.

City may be stretching it a little given that there only seems to be one main street in the town, however it did include a bowling alley so I was very happy and not just because it gives me an excuse to use this gif.

Before we could go bowling, or do anything else for that matter, I had to urgently visit the laundromat as I was perilously close to running out of clean pants (read ‘underwear’ if you’re in the US) and, I’m ashamed to say, not for the first time on this trip. Unfortunately the owner of the joint didn’t share my sense of urgency, turning up 40 minutes after the place opened according to the signage in the window, but all’s well that ends well. Except it didn’t end well. Later that night, a few of us went out for some drinks, while others went out for, let’s just say, more than some. One, a 75 year old American who has been on the tour from the beginning of my journey in Quito, couldn’t make it into bed at 0230 without some assistance from one of the other boys in the dorm room. Having fallen back asleep, we were all woken up a couple of hours later by the ear-splitting shrieks from a group of Israeli girls staying in a room on the same floor. For some reason, the American had entered their room, from where we could hear him repeatedly say “you’re all going to die tonight” which was followed a few minutes later by “I’m going to kill someone tonight”. Needless to say, the girls were extremely frightened and the situation was exacerbated by the small fact that he was naked from the waist down! A couple of people tried to get him away from the girls’ room, while we tried to locate his underwear. Understandably, the girls called the police and the American was no longer allowed in the hostel. He did, however, much to my surprise, rejoin our tour a couple of days later.

When you’re woken at 0430, there’s not much else to do but watch the sunrise over the harbour.

After that drama, a group of us decided to spend the day serenely sailing on the Beagle Channel where the only thing we would face were cute king penguins and sea lions. It was so relaxing being out on the water, and the weather played ball for us too, the warming sunshine and stunning scenery making me once again think about how lucky I am to be on this trip.

Leaving Ushuaia we crossed back into Chile to visit Torres Del Paine (separate blog post here), before spending the next few days working our way up through Argentinean Patagonia, via El Calafate, where we saw the incredible Perito Moreno Glacier, one of the very few in the world which is still advancing. It’s a breathtaking sight and we were lucky enough to witness a massive carving while we were there, the aftermath of which you can see by clicking here. I also got to feed a baby goat for some reason.

The consecutive 12-hour drive days through this region of Argentina were tough; camping in the wild, cooking on gas stoves with the unrelenting wind, and a temperature which increased from 3° to 34° in a matter of days as we drove north, leaving behind the mountains for a flat pampas-covered landscape.

I was delighted to stop in Gaiman (stop sniggering at the back!), a Welsh-speaking enclave where we scoffed a delicious cream tea, and nearby Puerto Madryn, a small seaside resort which offered snorkelling with sea lions. I tried snorkelling once before in Croatia and lasted all of three minutes, panicking as I felt like I was being smothered, but I really wanted to conquer this mountain and with the help of some friends who came with me, I ended up having one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I’d love to come back in March when you can see orcas beaching themselves nearby while hunting. I’ve seen it on television and it’s incredible.

As we approach Buenos Aires, I’m looking forward to having a week by myself. I have met many lovely people on this trip over the last four months, some of whom have become good friends. But the combination of long drive days in confined spaces with certain ‘personalities’ and lots of group activities mean I’m craving some alone time, something I won’t get when I get beck to Amsterdam in a few days time.

Lounging in the Lake District…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Argentina, Lake District, South America

The high from the previous night’s meal in Santiago didn’t last long on account of even more diarrhoea coupled with an eleven hour day on the truck. I also said goodbye to Riley, a young and interesting Australian who had been my tentmate/roommate while Ian stayed with his lady friend who has also now left us.  I’ll miss Riley for many reasons, the main one being that not only did he not judge me for eating five ice creams each day, he actively encouraged such behaviour by paying for them! Thankfully the drive to the Lake District distracted both Ian and I from our tummy troubles as we were yet again treated to some spectacular scenery. Our first stop was the quaint town of Pucon, which sits on Lake Villarica. Its cute streets are well maintained with roses used to separate lanes on the roads and the low-lying wooden buildings give it an alpine feel. In fact I was reminded of a place called Idyllwild in California, which has a very similar look and feel, and was the scene of a very happy holiday. The town is very small so I decided to go for a walk by myself rather than do the guided tour. While I’ve met some fantastic people on this trip, I do crave some alone time, so while Ian made friends with his bed I strolled around for a few hours, enjoying some time at the lakeside beach. You could walk around the whole town in around 30 minutes, but as I stopped to play with the numerous street dogs, I took rather longer. The town is very geared toward tourists and there are a lot of adventure sports on offer, including scaling an active volcano. Unfortunately, never knowing when one will need toilet facilities and not wishing for a repeat of rainbow mountain, I shunned such excursions and enjoyed a couple of blissfully lazy days. I stumbled upon a great cafe which I visited on multiple occasions, despite it being 30% more expensive than Amsterdam!! Oh no, I’m complaining about the cost of things; perhaps I am becoming more Dutch than I realised.

The next town on our trip was Bariloche, on the Argentinean side of the Lake District, which we reached via the incredibly scenic Ruta de los Siete Lagos (Seven Lakes Route). As you can see from the pictures, it does what it says on the tin. Bariloche sits on the shore of the Nahuel Huapi lake and is flanked by the Andes, creating a truly picture postcard setting.  Similarly to Pucon, it is set up for lots of adventure sports however, arriving on Christmas Day, meant that most people took it easy.

Christmas Day was weird. After a disappointingly quick Skype (thanks to crappy WiFi) with my partner who was working on a job in Dubai, we set off on a ten hour drive that included an international border crossing, but one which was made bearable by the two adorable Labradors ambling around the waiting area. Upon arrival at our hostel, we were treated to Christmas dinner, which meant a traditional Argentinean ‘asado’: barbecued meats. The meal and the heat meant it didn’t feel very Christmassy to me, but the bottle of local Malbec and the easy-on-the-eye chefs helped us enjoy the festivities.

The next day Ian and I decided to go on a short hike up to a nearby waterfall but twenty minutes in he felt ill and so we turned back. Unfortunately, Ian’s stomach was getting worse so we took him to a local clinic for some tests. Over the next couple of days things didn’t improve and he had to leave the tour in Perito Moreno to see another doctor. I’ve been really impressed with the healthcare in South America and was so again, although the 90 second ambulance ride to our hotel seemed somewhat excessive. Ian had gone with me to  the hospital when I had my accident in La Paz so it was an easy decision to stay behind with him and one of the tour leaders, Lars, while he sorted out his repatriation with his insurance company. New Year’s Eve was rather low-key however; Ian slept while I had two cans of beer before turning the lights off a couple of hours before midnight. Lars and I took a 12-hour overnight bus to catch up with our truck and we were treated to another incredible sunset. It’s just a shame that a) the bus played a ten-year old movie at full volume until 0130 and b) that I couldn’t drown it out with music because my iPod fell down the gap between the seats becoming irretrievably wedged. It was lovely to see the group again, but I will miss Ian terribly; he’s been on the trip with me since the very first day in Quito and quickly became a good friend. Both he and Riley live in Melbourne so I guess I’ll have to head there at some point!

Seeing stars in San Pedro de Atacama….

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Atacama Desert, Chile, South America

My time in Bolivia was all too short and I would have loved to have stayed longer. The last day’s drive out of the country did its best to persuade me to stay, but onwards to Chile I go.

The immigration exit post in Bolivia was a tiny brick building, and bizarrely we weren’t even required to show our faces. Our guide entered with all our passports and returned five minutes later with our exit stamps. We crossed  into Chile at San Pedro de Atacama, where the process was rather more onerous, although relatively painless, despite having to haul out all of the bags and undergo a truck inspection.

It was only a short drive to the town and our cute hostel, although the bedroom was so small, my hair barely fit in there. Thankfully, a few days later a lovely Scot called Kirsty came to my rescue and snipped my barnet back to a more respectable length. The streets of San Pedro are very cute; red clay roads, low-lying buildings and a beautiful main plaza, all surrounded by the nearby mountains. As usual, I could’ve stayed longer, exploring all of the little side streets, each populated with interesting restaurants and shops. The only negative aspect of the town was the extraordinary amount of tourists, something that I’d not really experienced thus far on the trip. They seemed to outnumber the locals by about fifty to one. Thankfully, this is offset by the fact that the streets are lined with dogs, all of whom are very well fed, impeccably behaved and wanting tickles, so obviously I was in seventh heaven.

Speaking of seventh heaven, the following day we went on a midnight stargazing tour where we learned that the phrase came from a time when astronomers thought there were only seven planets in our solar system, of which Earth was the sixth to be classified as a planet. The Canadian astronomer was very engaging and despite the very late hour, many of us could’ve stayed longer, and not just for more of the delicious hot chocolate.

Earlier that day we also drove out to Moon Valley, an incredible section of the Atacama Desert that was reminiscent of a set on Star Wars, or so I was reliably informed.  I’m not a sci-fi fan, and indeed on my first date with my partner, he spent 15 minutes trying to explain the merits and differences of Star Wars and Star Trek. He eventually picked up on my bored/vacant expression and thankfully the subject has  never reared its head again. Let’s just say I’m very happy the new Star Wars (or is it Star Trek?) film is released while we are  12,000km apart! Anyway, I digress. After a short hike up to a ridge, we were greeted with a landscape like none other I’d seen on this trip. And yes, I do realise I sound like a broken record but there are only so many superlatives available in my vocabulary. My introduction to Chile has been pretty special, but I have to wait a while to see if the rest of the country is equally impressive as we drive to Argentina tomorrow, the fifth country on my trip, before we spend the next few weeks criss-crossing the two countries.

Quaffing wines in Cafayate…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Argentina, Cafayate, South America

Having spent two incredible days in Chile, it was time to head to Argentina, but thankfully the final seven weeks of my trip will be spent criss-crossing the two countries and I’m already looking forward to seeing more of Chile. After a short drive, we crossed the border at Paso Jama. Well, we attempted to cross the border, but the Argentinean authorities weren’t playing ball for some unknown reason so we went back to the truck and entertained ourselves by eating lunch and playing football. After some enquiries by the tour leaders, we were eventually allowed to drive through, some three hours after arriving. It was then another six hours or so on the road to Salta where we would stay for a couple of nights. I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic during our time there, although I was entertained watching a Manchester United fan watch the Manchester derby in a local bar (they lost, hurrah!).

We then drove through the spectacular rock formations of the Quebrada de las Conchas, with a night’s bush camping on the way, to reach the peaceful town of Cafayate. The small town is the centre of one of Argentina’s principal wine producing regions, famous for the quality of its Torrentes and Tannat wines, although I wasn’t a fan of either. However, just to make sure, we went to a local producer, Piatelli, for a delicious lunch and wine tasting.

My roommate, Riley, doesn’t drink and the waiting staff didn’t realise to begin with, but I ensured no wine went to waste. The grounds of the vineyard were beautifully kept and it felt like a real treat, especially given that we were staying at a very basic campsite that evening. However, THE BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN MY 38 YEARS HAPPENED THERE!

There were a few dogs at the campsite and, as usual, they were very placid and friendly. One bitch seemed to take a particular liking to me and as we left to go to the supermarket she decided to follow. At one point, she ran off barking at another dog on the opposite side of the road, but with one yell from me she came back to us. I was pleasantly surprised. Upon arriving at the supermarket, I assumed she’d sit outside awaiting our return, BUT NO! SHE CAME INTO THE SUPERMARKET WHILE I SHOPPED.

I never want to shop any other way. It’s really lovely to see how well dogs are treated here (well, the further south you go from Ecuador at least). You see them hanging around in and outside of stores and there are often old food containers full of water for them.

It would be hard to top that day a.k.a. the best day of my life, but thankfully the next three days would be spent on a working estancia which meant horse riding and multiple doggies. The dogs on the farm were all super friendly, especially Clyde, one of the border collies who was addicted to playing football and could run around all day. I particularly liked one of the old black labradors who would roll over for belly rubs if you dared to pass within ten feet of her. Needless to say, I was generally found laying within two feet of her at most times.

On the first night we were treated to a tasting of wines which were grown nearby, along with a competition to see who had the best nose. Our host produced multiple mini-bottles of scents commonly found in wine – from something called Le Nez du Vin – and we all had to guess its identity. Ian won the champagne prize on a tiebreaker of rose after several of us drew. It was a very entertaining and engrossing evening with lots of fun debate over the smells: “it’s burnt toast, no it’s oak, no it’s caramel”.

The following day we explored the estancia on horseback. That is as long as you weighed under 95kg. The public weigh-in was somewhat embarrassing, especially as I came out as the heaviest rider at 90kg! I was more distressed that despite all the activities I’ve done over the past couple of months, I’ve actually gained weight! I wonder if there’s a parasite I can host for a couple of weeks to shift some pounds. The horse ride was a lot of fun, galloping across the surrounding hillsides felt so far away from my daily life in Amsterdam, which I guess is kinda the point of this trip. I used to ride in the school holidays as my aunt stabled some horses and it soon came back to me. I quickly remembered how much I loved being on horseback and I’m looking forward to more opportunities while on the trip. There’s also a riding school in Amsterdam which is very close to my apartment so I think I’ll check it out when I get home.

After the estancia, we headed to Mendoza, the wine capital of Argentina, however, beyond cranking out a blog post over a Starbucks soy latte one morning, I spent most of my time making friends with the hostel toilet. Perhaps my parasite wish came true after all!!

The one and only picture I took in Mendoza

A tit in Lake Titicaca…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Bolivia, Lake Titicaca, South America

Leaving Cusco behind was a wrench as it was the site of so many cool experiences, but onwards we must go, this time towards Bolivia. The journey to Puno, a town near the border,was uneventful, much like the town itself which seemingly consisted of one plaza and one street. A couple of us treated ourselves to a slap up meal of fried chicken and chips from a street vendor for the princely sum of four soles (€0.80) and headed back to our ‘hotel’. I use that word loosely as the smell of petrol and the suspicious white stains on the bedding did not exude an air of salubrity. We had an early start the following morning, although not as early as scheduled.  This was due to one passenger deciding to choose breakfast as the appropriate time to shout at the tour leaders about the standard of accommodation on the trip. She also had (non-existent) issues with what she saw as a lack of truck decorum. I’m not usually one for getting involved in petty dramas, but when she said “half of the people on the truck want to leave the tour”, I had to speak up and tell her not to speak for me under any circumstances, especially when nothing could’ve been further from the truth. I left the breakfast room to finish packing so wasn’t sure how the ‘meeting’ concluded, but it seems that it didn’t, as upon arrival at our lunch destination, the disgruntled passenger decided to end her tour early and leave the truck. There was a collective, audible sigh of relief when everyone found out, no doubt because she had been disruptive and annoying to everyone since the day she joined the trip. 

I doubt many border crossings have this view

We drove into Bolivia and I think it may be the nicest border crossing ever. The view across Lake Titicaca was beautiful and the immigration process took all of 46 minutes for 16 of us and the truck. We continued on to Copacabana (no, not that one), a quaint little town situated right on the lake, and enjoyed a cheap and delicious lunch, washed down with a litre of Judas beer. We then boarded a boat to Isla del Sol, one of several islands on the lake which, by the way, is the highest navigable lake in the world.

The crossing was very choppy and silence soon descended as everyone concentrated on not throwing up. Everyone except the two qualified sailors who instead decided to try and outdo each other with their yachting experiences. The conversation certainly helped send some of us to sleep which was appreciated given the rough water.

Our hostel was a 45 minute hike up to the top of the island, and it’s location meant we were treated to a wonderful view across the glistening water. Hunger was calling so a few of us decided to grab a pizza – sidebar, pizza in South America is, so far, without fail, amazing – at a local, hilltop restaurant. Upon entering, I bumped into an Instagram follower who lives in Spain, and who had messaged me a couple of weeks previously saying he would be in Peru, but we kept missing each other by a day or two. We chatted until my food arrived and he left amid promises of meeting up for a beer in La Paz where we would again cross paths in a few days. 

The next morning we boarded the boat again, this time in the direction of Moon Island, where a 12km hike awaited us. Having not slept well the night before on account of snoring by my fellow roommates, I decided to laze about on the beach and soon made friends with a local dog with whom I shared my packed lunch. Once the hiking masses had returned, we made our way back to Copacabana for a group dinner before heading to bed. I slept soundly, no doubt dreaming of a drama free bus ride, a dream that became a reality the very next morning as we headed to the Bolivian capital of La Paz, where once again, new passengers awaited. 

Hiking the ‘Classic Inca Trail’ to Machu Picchu…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Machu Picchu, Peru, South America

So, the day is finally here: Macchu Picchu here we come. For many, this is the thing to do during their time in South America, and while it was amazing, I think I’ve preferred discovering the less well documented, but no less impressive sights such as Lake Quilotoa or Rainbow Mountain. Nonetheless, it was an incredible four days and one that won’t be forgotten in a hurry.

500 people are permitted to start the trail each day, but this number includes approximately 300 support staff in the form of porters, cooks and guides. I chose the Classic trek because the equipment is carried by humans who choose to do so, as opposed to pack animals which are used on other treks. The porters are truly incredible; they carry up to 30kg of equipment on their backs, while I struggled with my daypack weighing 7kg. Having finished our breakfast, we would set off on a day’s hiking, only to be overtaken by running porters who would then have lunch ready for us upon our arrival. This was repeated for dinner when we would arrive at the campsite to also find our tents and bed all set up.

DAY ONE: PISCAYCUCHO TO WAYLLABAMBA

Distance: 12km

Starting elevation: 2,700m

End elevation: 3,000m

Start time: 1103

End time: 1627

# of showers: 0

# of poos: 0

We started the Inca Trail at KM82 in Piscaycucho, where we met our team of porters and guides. Having shown our passports and permits, we crossed the Urubamba River, following the shoreline through lush farmland before gradually climbing for the next few hours. The walk today was relatively easy, and we were treated to some stunning views of Mount Veronica (named after a woman who went missing on the mountain and was never found).

DAY TWO: WAYLLABAMBA TO PACAYMAYO

Distance: 11km

Starting elevation: 3,000m

Highest elevation: 4,200m

End elevation: 3,650m

Start time: 0643

End time: 1429

# of showers: 0

# of poos: 0

# of coca leaves chewed: countless

Today was by far the hardest of the four days, with the hike being almost entirely uphill with steep inclines. The scenery made the effort worthwhile, although I had to consciously remind myself of that at times, especially when I felt the formation of several blisters on my feet. The group made good progress first thing and were therefore treated to a two hour lunch, during which I took the opportunity of a nap. However, upon waking I felt decidedly ropey but unable to put my finger on why. We started walking again but I was quickly beset with a splitting headache. Lauren – a.k.a. Wonder Woman on account of the fact she was doing the Inca Trail only three months after surgery to repair het ACL – confided that she was feeling something similar and we decided to try chewing coca leaves which we’d been told would help. The first taste was revolting. Having chewed five leaves, we stored them in our cheeks like hamsters and waited for them to work their magic. We were told to change the leaves every ten minutes and counting the time helped me concentrate on something else besides my throbbing forehead. The leaves are indeed magical as within twenty minutes, both Lauren and I felt much better, even putting on a bit of a spurt. We reached the highest point on the trek, Dead Women’s Pass, and stopped for some celebratory photos. Thankfully, it was downhill to that evening’s campsite where, upon arrival, I promptly slept for several hours before dinner.

DAY THREE: PACAYMAYO TO WINAY WAYNA

Distance: 16km

Starting elevation: 3,650m

End elevation: 2,650m

Start time: 0635

End time: 1437

# of showers: 1 (if you count dipping one’s balls in a bucket of warm soapy water)

# of poos: almost 1 (despite repeated attempts in the bush)

Today was my favourite day of the trek. Up to now I could generally be found at the back of our group of 14, with one of the guides, Willian, who was great at making us take breaks and not go beyond our limits. However, today was mostly downhill which suits me much better. Several of the group struggled more today because of the impact on their knees, but for me this was much preferable than the ascents. At one point, a small group of us, inspired by the amazing running porters, decided to run down the ancient stone steps with them, for about 30 minutes. It was exhilarating and I had a massive smile on my face when we reached our next checkpoint, the ruins at Phuyupatamarca and waited for the others, filling the time by doing some handstands above the valley. The drop in elevation meant that I felt fine and my breathing and heart rate returned to normal almost immediately upon stopping. It felt bizarre given that I’m usually out of breath for a few minutes having run twenty minutes for a tram in Amsterdam!!

DAY FOUR: WINAY WAYNA TO MACCHU PICCHU

Distance: 4km

Starting elevation: 2,650m

End elevation: 2,430m

Start time: 0330 (!!!!)

End time: 0730

# of showers: 1 (upon return to hotel at 1930)

# of poos: lots (also upon return to hotel and its functioning, clean toilet)

The porters woke us up at the ungodly hour of 0300 to start the short walk to the Sun Gate and our first sight of Machu Picchu. When I booked this trip, the brochure said we would arrive at Machu Picchu at sunrise, but this wasn’t entirely true. We walked along the jungle path for fifteen minutes, before joining the queue of hikers who were waiting for the path to be opened at 0530. Ian ‘entertained’ us with the five jokes he has memorised for such an occasion, our polite laughter the only sound piercing the early morning silence. The gates were promptly opened at 0530 and we began the 75 minute walk up to the Sun Gate. By this time, sunrise had come and gone, and after climbing the final super steep steps, we were treated to our first sight of the famous Inca city of Machu Picchu. Except we weren’t. A mist had rolled in at exactly the worst moment, and all you could hear were the disappointing sighs of smelly and tired hikers. Thankfully the sun worked its magic and the mist soon cleared to reveal the ancient stones. It’s a truly remarkable sight and it’s hard not to be impressed by the spectacle.

After the obligatory photos, I was craving some alone time, so I went for a coffee and sandwich before playing with the numerous well-fed pooches who hang around the entrance of the sight hoping for scraps from tourists. Ian and I then caught the bus to the nearby town of Aguas Calientes (literally Hot Waters) and celebrated our achievements with a couple of litres of beer and WiFi. I’m not sure Ian felt much of a sense of achievement given that he said he thought it was a lot easier than he’d imagined (needless to say I thought it would kill me at one point on the second day), or perhaps his achievement was managing to cope with me as a tentmate for three nights without killing me. Either way, the beer went down a treat.

The group met for lunch after which we took the train back to Cusco. Following dinner, copious amounts of alcohol was consumed before a corresponding amount of dancing took place on the bar of a local club.

I decided to call it a night at 0430, 25.5 hours after I’d woken up the day before. The walk home was probably my favourite part of the evening, once Ian and I had discovered Cusco’s slippery stone pavements.

Challenges in Cusco….

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Cusco, Peru, South America

The main reason for visiting Cusco was its location as the gateway to Machu Picchu, but we’d also heard there was a great trek up to Rainbow Mountain, known as Vinicunca in the Quechua language, and having ogled the relevant Instagram hashtag, four of us decided it was definitely worth doing. I’m not quite sure how or why we reached that conclusion given the following:

* The day trek requires a 0400 wake up call for a 0430 departure, and we’d return to the city at 1930;

* The hike would take us to 5,200 metres above sea level, by far the highest we’d been on the trip so far, and altitude sickness isn’t fun;

* We would be doing the 4-day Classic Inca Trail hike to Machu Picchu after Rainbow Mountain, with only one rest day in between.

Like I said, I’m not sure how we decided it would be a good idea, but nonetheless we paid the fees and off we went. It took three hours by minibus to reach the start of the hike which is located at 4,700m above sea level (Cusco is 3,600m). On the way we stopped for a very hearty breakfast, but as those close to me already know, I can’t eat anything before ten in the morning. I managed to swallow a few bites of a bread roll while my fellow hikers scoffed cereals and panqueques, a far more sensible preparation for what was to come.

The first couple of kilometres were relatively flat so we declined offers of ascending on horseback – something I came to regret later – and we set off purposefully, the rhythmic clack clack of our walking sticks the only sound to be heard. The inclines got steeper after the third kilometre and it became a real struggle, especially as we had to reach the summit by a certain time in order to be able to descend in daylight and return to the city by early evening. There were horses available at various spots on the mountain and Ian came up with the mantra of ‘every horse you pass is a victory Gazza’ which really helped by appealing to my competitive nature. However, by the time we got to the fourth kilometre, that competitive streak which has served me so well throughout my life decided to desert me when I needed it the most, and I finally gave in to the idea of completing the trek on horseback. The only snag, however, is that horses were forbidden from going any further from where I currently stood. I stopped and wondered what I’d done to deserve such a cruel fate.

The final two inclines were only another 400m or so, but were undoubtedly the hardest physical activity I’d ever asked my body to undertake. To give you some perspective, the summit of Rainbow Mountain is only 125m lower than that of Mount Everest Base Camp. Thankfully, on this final descent the level of camaraderie really swelled and there were lots of encouraging ‘you can do its’ and ‘you’re almost theres’ from not only the group, but complete strangers who knew exactly how I was feeling. They definitely brought on an extra spurt of energy and the sense of elation on reaching the summit was like nothing else I’d ever experienced. I think Ian and Matt were a little taken aback by the bearhugs they were subsequently treated to.

The view from atop the summit was something unique to me. So many different coloured soils were exposed, hence the name Rainbow Mountain. It was amazing to look back from where we had come and the realisation hit of what we’d achieved. After 45 minutes of celebratory back slaps and selfies (including one sitting on our guide’s shoulders, at his insistence!) we began the descent back to the start. The downhill terrain was much appreciated and we were making good time when I started to feel a bit ‘iffy’. It began with a splitting headache, and was soon followed by an upset stomach. Matt (who thankfully I’d shared rooms with already on this trip) and I sped up once I told him that I needed to reach the dreaded drop-toilet that we could see in the distance asap. We arrived just in time, however, upon squatting into position I realised that not only did the rickety door not lock, it did not even close shut. Poor Matt stood guard as my stomach fell out of me at quite a rate of knots, no doubt wondering what he’d done to deserve such a fate. I could see the hiking boots of fellow trekkers trudge by, and their footsteps increased in speed once their ears and noses were assaulted by indescribable sounds and smells. As I exited the shack, rather sheepishly I have to admit, Matt asked me if I felt better for the experience at least. I don’t think he was expecting my response to be in the form of projectile vomiting near his feet, and to be honest, neither was I. The combination of no breakfast and drinking lots of water meant that a constant stream of bright yellow liquid landed on the mountain for the next five minutes. Unlike in the drop-toilet, this time I could see the sympathetic faces of my fellow trekkers. It didn’t make me feel any better.

Matt, ever the gentlemen, accompanied me for the entire descent and I’d never been more glad to see a minibus in my entire life. Ian tried to make me feel better by telling me that another guy in our group had also puked, but I was too busy wallowing in my exhaustion to pay much attention. The drive back to the city was the best medicine and for every kilometre we descended I felt much improved. So much so that upon arrival in Cusco, I felt like I did at the start of the day. We treated ourselves to a carbtastic dinner and red wine before collapsing into bed, telling ourselves that it was good prep before Machu Picchu the day after tomorrow. My body was not convinced.

Acquired tastes in Arequipa…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Arequipa, Peru, South America

Arequipa is the second largest city in Peru and is known as the ‘White City’ on account of it being built with ‘silla’ or white volcanic rock. It sits on the Peruvian altiplano at 3,500m above sea level and is truly beautiful. Its main square is a breathtaking sight, especially in the evening when complementary lighting shows it at its best.

After a relatively relaxing drive, we checked into our hostel and headed out for dinner to a restaurant that had been recommended to one of the group. It had an amazing view overlooking the square and the ponchos we were handed upon entering soon had us feeling cosy. This feeling started to dissipate, however, when two of us decided to share a meal of guinea pig and alpaca. It probably didn’t help that we were sat next to a committed vegetarian.  Sorry, not sorry. The guinea pig was served whole and the appearance didn’t really help make it appealing and to be honest, I wouldn’t order it again. If you like eating the skin of a roasted chicken, then you’d like the skin of these rodents, but there was little else to get excited about. The alpaca steak on the other hand was delicious and much needed to be honest.

The following day was free so a few of us decided to go to a museum to see the ‘Ice Maiden’ Juanita, said to be one of the best preserved mummies in the world. The young teenage girl was sacrificed as an offering to the Inca gods sometime in the 1400s and discovered in 1995 on Mount Ampato. Imagine stumbling across that on a hike!!

As has been common during my trip, it was a sunny day so a few of us decided to have a couple of afternoon drinks at a pub close to hostel. I don’t know if it  was the copious amounts of coca beer or the euphoria from besting everyone at darts, but I somehow found myself stumbling home at 0130. Definitely not part of the plan! Having forgotten about dinner completely, needless to say I woke up with my first South American hangover; it wasn’t pleasant. Thankfully, my roommate, Ian, is a diamond and when I eventually rolled out of bed at 1000, I saw that he’d collected my laundry from down the road. Like I said, he’s a diamond. Luckily our drive didn’t start until 1200 so I had time to down a Starbucks and some unsatisfying Turkish sandwiches. Arequipa was a bit of a blur but I’d love to come back, even just to correct all of my food choices!