Patagonia

Surprisingly to me Patagonia was a bit of a disappointment. Maybe I have been traveling too long or just went about it the wrong way. The Argentinean airline went on strike, so I bused it down and then you realize just how big Argentina is and how scenery is so incredibly dull. Passing the same undulating scrub land for days on end, sleep on the bus, wake up in the morning, nothing has changed, the same view. It seems a long way to go just for a few hours site seeing. I saw whales on the east coast which was nice, but for that afternoon it took 17 hours on a bus to get there. I spent three hours staring out the bus window one morning and counted 3 horses, 2 sheep and 2 birds. That after 3 hours! no cars, houses, people, bored, bored, bored.

Long overnight buses transport me further south to unremarkable towns.This kind of pattern repeated itself, very long bus journeys separated by a day or two of site seeing. The good bits are really good. The roar of ice falling from a glacier, clouds sweeping the vertical faces of mountains, watching wood peckers in the forest, but it is always tinged with the fact that I have another long bus journey to follow.
I cross back into Chile. At this point there are only roads on the map. I face the same kind of issues as before in Chile with expensive accommodation and dire food, my standards are pretty flexible, but some of these places are the pits. I also get the only disappointment of my trip. The weather in Torres del Paine was awful. Constant driving wind, bitterly cold, damp, low cloud. I pay for the permits, do the four hour bus journey to the start of the treck, but I force myself to accept the reality of the situation and made the tough decision to turn around without really experiencing the mountains.

If you travel this far and spend this much you have to say how good they are, but...

I get a bit stuck trying trying to get out of town. There just are not many options this far south. So I take the easy way and fly over the mountains to Puerto Williams, Cape Horn. It makes me feel good just typing that. The last town in the world. Which amuses me as is quite an unassuming town, where as typically the Argentines across the water in Ushuia brag about being the most southerly town, T shirts, mugs. key fobs etc.

But here there is just nature. No gift shops, no restaurants, nor tourists, I was of only three visitors in town. Everyone just gets on with their regular jobs. Its very quite, calm, pretty, empty pebble beaches fringed with forests and zig-zag mountain tops. Its very much like Scotland, which is a bit ironic having traveled over 10,000 miles from Scotland.

In actual fact I get into a bit of a fud down here. Partly because I'm tired, the cold damp weather, the poor food and the constant traveling, buses and to be honest some of the other back packers. Anyway, leaving proves to be quite difficult. As nobody expects any tourists there aren't any regular means to leave the island. The thought of being stuck here over Christmas spurs me to find a boat going back north, as it happens a very uncomfortable and expensive journey to Argentina.

And what do I do next, jump on a boat on Christmas Eve going the opposite way heading south to Antarctica.

Northern Argentina

So I have arrived across the border with no money, no map and its dark, and promptly get offered a free lift to a really cool hostel, where they are quite happy to run a tab until I find a working ATM, nice. Its like coming back to civilisation, the streets are clean, well stocked supermarkets, no clouds of diesel fumes, and amazingly for the very first time hot water comes out of the hot tap and cold comes out of the cold tap. I am grinning with joy.

Move on to Buenos Aires, my Bolivian diarrhea finally calls it a day, which is nice. Try and adapt myself to the social scene, which is not so easy if you have been on the road for a long time. For what looks perfectly passable in Bolivia, gives the impression of being like a down and out in BA. First a shave, then some shopping for new clothes and finally get my shoes polished by a shoe shiner. Image is very much everything here.

Observing local life this seems like a typical day:
8:00 Breakfast; coffee, bread and jam.
13:00 Huge steak and chips with a glass of wine on the side.
18:00 Light tea of bread, soup, or empenadas (baby pasties)
23:00 Full evening meal, often a BBQ of sausages, followed by steak, by ribs, by more steak, etc. It is perfectly normal to sit down and eat at a restaurant after midnight, before going out for the night.
02:00 Any night of the week go to a club, any earlier and they are bit empty.
06:00 Wander in the early morning mist back to pick up some breakfast and go to bed.

But in all this where do they manage to work, sleep and study? On top of this everyone smokes. Sat in a travel agency opposite a computer operator and she promptly lights up. Seems smoking at your desk is perfectly normal.

If you can get with the BA life, its a cheap place to live. A two bed apartment in a top neighbourhood for $50,000 US, cant be bad.

In this city have I changed accommodation more than any other. They are either full of very quite people on organised tours or full on partying types. I find an ideal compromise with the bonus of being between two 24hr fast food joints. 14 inch pizza for 60 pence! Some long parties, and cool times.

Checked out the flea markets, wow is BA tough on the show leather, its a big place.

Watched a man casually dressed strolling down the street, stop at the restaurant door, stoop forward twisting his arms and then entered the restaurant and started begging.
Watched street kids taking turns with a baby, holding it up, giving the big eyes holding out a grubby hand. The suited and beautifull coming out at lunch time walking past big shop windows stopping to check their reflections. It all seems a bit false and superficial at times.

Got my self in a bit of a routine, so its time to get out and head south. Parcel up and leave my warm clothes behind as is going to get cold.

Chile (Part I)

I decide not to return but to take a short cut to Chile. The 4x4 leaves me at the edge of a desert lake, no road, just mountains and sand. When over the horizon on an indeterminable track comes a bus. I am hurried on and we visit the lonely customs office, placed like a sugar cube on a empty shelf . Turn right after the mountain and burst onto a tarmac road, yellow lines and sign posts. Its like turning out of a farm gate on to the M1, very odd. My first experience of Chile was disappointing, horrendously expensive for really crappy accomodation almost as bad as Bolivia but six times the price. The walls shake with every step, I can hear every toilet flush,and i am stuck here, not another bus out of the place for three days, great. The rough guide says the mueseum is unmissable so I dont miss it and waste the price of a good meal. I have worked out I can only eat once a day before my cash runs out. hmmmm.

No breakfast and I have a twelve hour journey ahead of me and the remains of one small packet of biscuits. To my utter surprise they serve cooked food on the bus. Its bad, but I was so happy and to round it off they provide a free game of bingo. This kind of makes up for the three hour delay getting into Argentina. Bus full of people, one computer and a single fingered typist records each and every passport detail. Listening to tap, tap, tap, its the modern equivalent of water torture.

Salt flats

Dusty road, winding through another dusty set of mountains, zigzagging around gaps where the road used to be. The colours play with the mind, the hillsides washed in pastel oranges, the verges a gentle blue washing into freshly turned fields of green earth. I want to get out and grab a handful, is it real. Ghost towns, mud brick houses open to the sky, mountains turn to dunes. End of the road an edge of a flat white expanse.

Crap hotel, cold shower, no electric, write by candel lite, but I do a deal and get it for free and leave tomorrow by 4x4

We set sail in an ocean of blinding white space. Its unhinging just white, no shadows like staring at porcelin, There is just a single horizontal line where the sky starts. No echos, violent bright sun but no warmth. Even with Raybanned eyes the sunsears by frazzled retinas.

I forgot to mention after the last climb I suffered snow blindness, its like having a handfull of grit permanently revolving around your eye balls. Using my eyes for more than two hours required lying the dark for another four for the paim to subside. My eyes took a week to come back to something likr normal, PS dont use Bolivian sunglasses.

Continuing the journey we stop for lunch at an island in the dry salt lake. Cacti stand shoulder to shoulder and spectate on the tourists scurrying across the bleak wasteland.

We drive for hours, but nothing is moving only the engine noise gives any indication that something is happening. Visit a house made of salt, tables and chairs of salt, play with the local kids, forget its 4000m above sea level and it leaves me gasping for air. The lake gives way to desert, sand, scree, dirt, wind swept shapes rise from out of the ground. The wind whips stinging sand into any exposed skin. We stop in grey mud brick town.I amble through the deserted street and watch the lamas herd themselves for the night in their corals.I got surprise when I looked over a high wall into the church yard, shaking in the wind were hundreds of pink and purple paper flowers. There brightness was shocking in this brown and dusty town.

i sit by a lake and count the colours, blue sky, red mountains, lilac hills, terracota sands reflecting in a smooth lake of blue grey, edged in sulpher yellow, while vivid pink flamingos stroll on white banks of salt. No one really talks, we spend our time sitting and watching.

Looking across the desert and see black sgwiggly shadows rushing across the horizon, expanding and contracting as if held behind a lens. The lighting plays tricks, its three 4x4s in a mirage. As they get closer a wedged shaped wall of dust rises up to obscure the distant mountains.

At dawn with the temprature hovering at -10 C we bath at the edge of a thermal spring, the lake frozen, ice crystals catching the low angled light. Take a stroll around the adjacent geysers. Its a vietnam war movie, great bomb holes let forth engulfing plumes of steam ,rims of the interlocking crators form a maze from hades. the jet engine roar of escaping gas, splash and plop of boliing mud leaping and landing. The sun is hidden, shadows of other tourists appear and disapper in the twisting sulpher clouds , Feet gently sinking in the soft earth, closing and opening jets of ankle high steam.

An apology (re-edit)

New posts have been a bit thin on the ground. Its not like there has not been anything to write about. In Bolivia the cafe bit of internet cafe has yet to be sussed out. Shoulder width cubicles, dirty keyboards with selotaped keys, wires tangling around your feet, network game players killing each other in stereo sound, naked women flickering on computer monitors. Its hard to concentrate.

La Paz was tiring, edgy, the cold nights, the trash, urine streaked streets, the belching bus fumes, but there are fun bits and things that just catch you by surprise and make you wonder how and why. There are fun things, but the novelty wares thin. I leave for Sucre, warm, rich colonial town with pretty parks and squares, pleasant if a little boring.

On to Potosi, not a great start as brown flood waters blocked the streets. It was not the best time to look for accommodation. Stayed in the most dire place, a cell for a bedroom, no furniture, a strip lamp, cardboard piled under the mattress to stop it sagging, not that it worked.

The red mountain towers over the town and brings its only employment. The mining tunnels were all bit random which is not surprising considering the miners seem to spend a lot of time chewing coca and drinking 96% alcohol. Told not to brush against the walls to avoid disturbing the asbestos fibres! Experienced some underground detontations, which were distinctly worrying. No whistles of safety proceedure. 10 second fuse and you just run round the corner. You look up to see where the dust is falling from and there a few tons of rubble above your head held back by casually placed plank.

Went with a tour group and purchased some supplies for the miners. My group were quite dull and would not try any of it, not the 96% alcohol, or the filterless cigarettes, or even nibble the coca leaves, let alone play with the high explosives. I did. It was fun, outside I made a bomb, a big one, TNT is really smelly and bright green, I dropped the nitroglycerine detonator, whoops (you should have seen their faces). A miner lit it for me (im not that daft). It went off with a very satisfactory noise and little stones fell on my head. This is how bombs are in the movies. I guess I have to apologies again. Its every boys dream. Another one off the list. Now where to find a space rocket....

Its the anniversary of the town, its cold, dark and wet and any body who is anybody is marching. Does the local taxi association really have to march through town, or the three people from the tourist office with a flag on a pole bigger than their office really need to (I wonder where they keep the flag pole). I wonder whether all the money on uniforms, guns, instruments, would not be spent better elsewhere, like public toilets (peeing is the street is the norm) or drainage. I am sure goose stepping through the town square with roman eagle topped spears is not going to improve things. This goes on for hours. So while the men march down the street in second hand gestapo uniforms (that's a lie actually, but you get the drift) the girls, and this has to be emphasized, normally dress very conservatively, you wont see a bare midrift here, but now, and there are hundreds of them in neat rows, coming down the street in white micro skirts and knee boots. They have legs, they have other bits too, I now understand why the whole male population (miners) has stood here patiently in the cold for hours. The expression on the teenage boys is a joy, they are in teenage heaven, temporarily they have been transported away from this crappy mining town, so I guess its all worth it after all.
Sexism, I guess I have to apologies again, damn.

Boys adventure

Followed the gringo crowd and went down the most (hyped) dangerous road in the world. Bus up to a snowy pass at 4700m, kitted up with sun glasses and cycling shorts. Blasted down a good asphalt road, arse out, head down, tears streaming from my eyes, over took our guide. I hear "Moy rapido, mucho crayzee". Switched to the dirt road section, rocks and mud, slid round the front of a big truck coming the other way, trying to catch the pack after totaling my first bike; derailer went into the back wheel, snapped spokes, broken chain, derailer in pieces. There are some stunning vistas but my eyes are darting all over the path picking the most fun line. Arhh! white out, Im in a cloud, on my left precipitous drops into the jungle, I can hear the horns of the trucks but no idea if they are in front or behind. The path in places is just wide enough for the huge trucks, their outside wheels grinding the loose rocks over the cliff edge, like jam in a sponge cake. More Arghh, heard a scream, dumped the bike, and walked slowly back to the last bend, bracing myself, cluster of bikers looking straight down, held my breath, there she was smiling brightly in a stunned but gorgeous grin, bike in one piece and not a scratch a 7m vertical fall and nothing! bike and rider pulled up by rope and continued. The problem is most here have never ridden a mountain bike before. Its slippery but its a typical dirt road, stones, mud. I was surprised by the amount of traffic, and its two way, ever seen an artic reverse so it wheels are touching a 2000m void! We see smashed tangled trucks in the jungle below. A Peruvian beat me to the finish, Im covered in mud from streams, puddles and the occasional waterfall. 64km long and a drop of 3600m in three hours! Great fun.

Took on biggest mountaineering challenge yet to summit Huyani Potosi at 6088m. Started off in usual Bolivian haphazard way, forgetting to buy bread, hanging around then off past vivid lakes of green lapping against shores of purple. The refugio was warm and friendly, having coffee in front of the log fire watching curling clouds wrapping around the vast face above us, not really appearing as a real rock of ice and snow just a good picture.

Had a play on the ice peaks at the foot of the nearby glacier. Going up a near vertical face, trying to pull myself over a shelf I found flaky, unstable ice. My ice axe exploded the ice into nothing but sherds, eventually found some purchase. I moved up on the tips of my crampons and my axe gave way smashing into my head. Count to five, no, head against the ice, count again to five, okay, okay lets get on with it, find some good hard ice and finish the route. My hat took some of the blow but had a nice bump, hair sticky with blood.

Next day pack up all kit, boots, ropes, etc an enormous pile of awkwardly shaped gear and lug it up the mountain. Go through endless bolder fields, rocks rock, boulders bounce, the sun is hot, there is a lot of up. Finally dumping the kit enables us to appreciate the view. Our hut looked for a the world like a kettle and as was equally as hot. Food was a disaster but fortunately the altitude had robbed us of our appetite.

Teamed up with a swiss climber, kitted up at midnight having had a good nights sleep (ha ha ha). Pleased with our strong confident ascent, ice was firm and reassuring under foot, in this starless night the only indication of our progress was the slow diminishing of the head torches of others behind us. Very cold, wrapped in the best of modern materials, I pull out my old woolen scarf, pulling it over my face, trade off between breathing and freezing, it was that cold. Somewhere in the region of minus fifteen plus wind chill. Big holes in the ground, black and bottomless (well they look bottomless). Oh yes, lets leap over snowy cravasses in the dark, what a great thing to do at two in the morning . Great, now need to ice climb in the dark. Awkward move up and around a corner, bloody hard, head torch shining through the ice, dancing shadows, surrounded by emptiness. alone above a cravass, stuck to the wall by steel toes and a point of an axe. Nothing but me and the night, perched above the sky. I know im not going to fall anywhere, but you cant see anybody, anything tangible, nothing, an absence of reality. Its you alone faced by a bloody stupid abstract obstacle of contorted ice that makes no sense at all. Emotions go to the back and i give up figuring out what might be the best route. Its not that you can have a bit of a chat about it, besides the wind would just whisk your words away. Make one carefull wack, then another. And when after I finish the crux there is just a big wall above, great, whack whack whack, remember to breath. Get to the top no one says anything, you dont have the spare air, and besides no one is going say they were crapping them selves just then.

We round a crest and the yellow lights of La Paz flicker on. I forget what im doing, take in some good lungfulls of air and soak in the view. before moving on again. The night is long (actually madrugada, the time before dawn) but we are treated when the sky slowly lightens, casting pinks and purples over a low blanket of cloud, perfect untainted snow folding over the mountain smoothing all the edges, making it all look soft and fluffy. Looking back to our route ahead the black silhouettes of jagged teeth dont look soft and fluffy at all.

Legs feel stong, lungs work well, steady, clear head, pleased, i have no doubts. Sebastian slows, the Andean air making it taxing. Last pitch was determined, long 70 degree slope, required stamina, not finesse. Occasionally the axe would rebound off steel hard ice, or alternatively shatter into a million fragments. Every bit of energy is precious, I can only string a few actions together before forced to stop to fill my lungs.
Im first to summit. totally shocked, swore like mad, this is not a summit, this is a curtain of snow stacked high on a mountain top. Im hit by the wind and am leaning against a ridge no wider than the back of your sofa with a 2000m drop behind it. My life now depends on this ridge. Im roped, no im not attached, there is nothing here to attach to, i have run out of mountain. If we stick an ice stake here it will come out the otherside, (more swearing) Okay put common sense (any sense) to the back of my mind and with mad heart climbed the final parapet to the slightly higher bit. well if i am going to fall then im going to fall from the summit, at least get some glory. this felt insane, (no it was insane), i deploy every spike and point to guarantee purchase (id use my teeth if I could). By the way the rope is very clearly hanging loosely below me at this point as I traverse to the true summit. i clench buttocks, grit teeth, let go of the axe and take a photo. no standing room here for smiles and hand shakes. I turn around, bugger i had forgotten that i now had to do this backwards to go down again.

Mr Crampon who ever you are i truly thank you. Point both your feet, and now imagine walking down a slope that necessitates walking like this. what ever you do dont lean forward, at all, balance is everything. but your legs are tired and you quite fancy breakfast, and to possibly visit the toilet and not gymnastics at 6 in the morning.

Walk back in the hot sun, see airplanes flying below my feet. zig zag back and fore past long slashes of deep cravasses. stand on the edge, really, really on the edge and absorb the endless shades of blue flooding down the walls. The ice belongs to a devilish underworld and I leap to the other side.
Checked out the ice wall from earlier, try to make it look hard in my mind, but in daylight it looks a doddle. took a photo then deleted it.

Then it was over and the mountain went back to being just another pretty vista. I still dont know why people climb mountains, in retrospect it all seems very pointless and unpleasant but something in my heads tells me I enjoyed it. What actually "it" is I dont know.

Amazing Amazon

Finally got round to going to the Amazon. Took the easy way, flew in a little turboprop plane and bounced and weaved over the mountainous Cordillera Real. Better than any roller coaster! Great views of snow capped 6500m peaks. On landing we skidded dramatically sideways on a wet grassy landing strip cut into the jungle.

Great to be warm again. Stayed in a small trading post on the banks of the river Beni. Little shops selling rope, spades, oil lamps and the like. Very relaxed and easy going, watch the morning mist rise from the tree tops. Got lucky and joined an english speaking group leaving the same day. No real road, just a flat rutted muddy expanse that overloaded trucks weaved where they choose. Our Landcruisers broken windscreen had to be held to stop it falling in. Formed a human chain to load the wooden canoe and meandered up a Willie Wonka chocolate river. Trees hanging over the river, turtle laden branches rise from the surface. So much wildlife, vultures, eagles, blue & green kingfishers with russet undersides, toucans, too may others to remember. Swam with pink river dolphins, watched crocodiles line the bank, their eyes glowing orange at night, hand fed monkeys and went fishing for piranhas. Spent a day hiking through the swamp armed with forked sticks trying to catch anacondas. Got eaten my mossies, started counting bites on my right leg from my foot up I got to 100 before I reached my knee. They attack even in the shower I have some on my backside!

Great fun, lots and lots of insects of all shapes, masses of saucer sized butterflies. Glow flies dance at night with flashing yellow and green neon LED eyes. Sat quietly watching two tiny yellow flies performing a little dance on my knee, so cute, with comic wings, when a black fly swooped down and killed one, then promptly jumped on the other before flying off with it. I was dismayed and it cheekily returned to carry off the other one. On another occasion I was closely viewing a big spider in its web, maybe 10cm from my nose when a blue bottle in front my face slammed straight into the spider. The spider just devoured there and then. I was too surprised to react.

Saw herds of the largest member of the rat family grazing on the river bank, the capybara. Bigger than sheep!

I stayed in a little wooden hut on stilts, watched a tropical storm come in and paint the sky with lightning and become deafened by the roar of the rain. The sun returned with a vengence, 38 C degree heat and 100% humidity. In direct sunshine it was like having your head in a vice. You did not so much as sweat but leak. Water just flowed out of you. It was hard to see for sweat pouring into your eyes.

Took a stroll in the forest by myself to sit and listen to the jungle sounds, mozis buzzing, croak of frogs, the occasional snap of a crocodile, unseen birds arguing in the treetops. Saw a herd of wild pigs march through the swamp, black like bores their teeth clacking in alarm. A cuddly cute looking anteater hung in a tree. That animal should never ever go hungry. There are trails of ants everywhere, on the path, in trees carrying little green leaves, nasty orange fire ants, giant black ones that could cut chunks out of you for fun.

Our camp guide showed us how to make necklaces from seeds and nuts he had gathered. All over too soon, Spent a morning waiting for the plane to turn up. Its a bit like catching bus, sometimes it comes, sometimes it doesn't, a little hut next to the strip, check in and they pile your bags on the grass, no seat numbers sit where you like.

Glad to return to the cool of La Paz. Typical crazy Latin capitol. Can eat well, drank real beer in pints! its been a long time. Seems perfectly normal now to see women wearing boller hats, children slung on their backs in stripy purple blankets. Beggars in rags with nut brown walnut faces, hand outstreched for pennies. Sharp suited gents sitting having their shoes polished by blackened handed six year olds. The shoe shine kids wear ski masks here, always carrying a blue rough hewn box containing bottles of shoe polish. Overcrowded microbuses forcing their way through the stationary traffic, always shouting out for more passengers. Its all part of the mix. Life is easy here, anything is possible. Not a day goes past without something taking me aback; green jacketted police night sticks raining on a mans knees, pretty indiginous girl long black pigtails, dark eyes, cobbled street corner on her knees, hands rakeing through the market refuse.

Leaving Peru

Ended up in the tourist ghetto of Cusco. Its probably the party town of Peru, on entry to a club they offer the first drink free, so if you visit enough clubs...did not do much sleeping after falling in with a great group of Irish lads and lassies.

Prised my self loose of Cusco´s various delights and went to Machu Picchu. It started pretty miserably, a dawn start in heavy cloud and rain. After an hour´s near vertical hike sat huddled nibbling chocolate biscuits under a rock peering into the gloom. Cold and wet, for the want of anything else to do eventually decided to climb the mountain that towers over the ruins. Dodgy slippery path, up into the clouds. How the Inca´s managed to build such structures without continually falling off is anyones guess. Sat and waited for the clouds to rise with an eagle perched next me, maybe a meter away. When the clouds burnt away revealing the vista it was all worth it. Machu Picchu is magnificent.

Before I ended up back in the Cusco rut I bused overnight to the town of Puno on the edge of lake Titicaca. I enjoyed visiting the villages built on floating reed islands, bit like a bouncy castle. It is a complete tourist trap, but it was sunny, the locals friendly and it was fun to be on the water.

Next crossed the border to Bolivia and stayed on the mystical island of the sun. It was pretty much like being on a very quite Greek island, but with llamas. Very pleasant. Have a look at the piccies to get an idea. The air was especially thin (3,827m) giving the sky a painted appearance. Good place to unwind before moving on to the city of La Paz.

Colca Canyon

Went to Colca Canyon to do some hiking in the deepest canyon in the world. The scenery traveling there was stunning, the red luna landscape contrasting with the cloudless blue sky. I passed terracota crags where frozen water arced against the cliffs. Elsewhere in a flat landscape, with nothing higher than a blade of glass someone had balanced little rocks in towers for hundreds of meters . It was the lack of variety that stunned me; nothing but rock and sand uniformly extending in every direction. I found this slightly unnerving.

Stayed at a tiny tumbled down village with roofless mud walled homes. I was the only guest in a hostel still under construction, it also lacked a roof. Took a hike up an open book valley. Vast rolling hills captured between multicoloured volcanic mountains. Great cascades of white, red, orange and green sand tumbling down their faces, the sun changing the hues as it traversed the valley. The emptiness, the fenceless expanse. I looked up and saw a condor floating down the valley. At the foot of the mountains geysers constantly blasted boiling water in huge plumes. While a field of small holes bubbled and hissed like hundreds of demented kettles. The sun fell behind the mountains, a biting wind quickly arose. I had not taken a map. I like the freedom and adventure of not knowing what is over the next rise. I picked up the pace, constantly scanning the foreground for possible pathways. Pushed through thorny scrub, boulder fields, following a pathless bearing on a distant mountain. Finally I spotted a reassuring footprint and another. It was still another hour of walking with my hands wedged deep into my pockets. I was glad to get back. Unfortunately there was no hot food to be found, so I tucked into a chocolate bar sandwich while hiding under the covers, as the wind shook and whistled through the window frames. I was surprisingly woken at 4:30am by blaring tanoy system broadcasting the news across this tiny hamlet.

I took an early hike along the canyon edge watching the early mist, up and down gorges, terraced fields, flowering cacti. Sat on a dry stone wall watched tour buses zoom by in clouds of dust, disturbing the silence of the cattle gently bathing below. I could flick a cigarette end into the 1200m void beneth me, out of vision it rose above another 2km in a curtain of imposing peaks. The immensity was impossible to photograph. I could see the silver thread of the river below me in birds eye view. The low sun, hazing everything into soft focus and casting it in violet hues. Condors in black silhouette, floated up from the depths, pivoted on hidden thermals before gracefully slipping into the distance.

Sweet home Arequipa

I stayed here for over a month and made it my home, living in a great hostel with some good guys and girls.

Arequipa, is a pretty town bathed in blue skies, nestling at the foot of two towering volcanoes.

In Arequipa I bought a guitar, hung in a hammock, salsa to dawn, wall to wall with the most beautifull of girls, order bottles of rum to our table, daytime play barefoot footy, race go-karts, endless conversations. It puts living in the UK into perspective. These are some of the exploits.

We hired motorcycles, big 400cc motorcrossers and went exploring off road. Blasted rocks and sand, up sand dunes, fast U turns, donuts, great fun, huge grin, got a new set of scars performing power slides. Fun fun fun. Though writing this some time later I think I might have broken my arm, whoops!

I also gained two permanent souvenirs of Peru. I broke a tooth (unrelated to the above)and the subsequent treatment was so good I got a second tooth fixed up for the fraction of the cost of at home.

Went mountaineering up El Misti which towers over the town. See the photos to get the gist. No guides sussed it out our selves, pretty remote. Had to go to the toilet near the summit. Number two´s, no shelter just perched on a ledge I had kicked into the snow. Heard a massive roar behind me (dont snigger, this is serious) and seeing we had a near miss with a rock fall earlier that morning assumed an avalanche. Shat my self - literally. Instead there I was with my trousers round my ankles and a passenger jet flying just beneth me. Great.

There were numerous other bits of nonsense, but it was a good time that I will miss.