Missed my flight to Peru, an inauspicious start.
But did eventually get to Lima, a polluted, frenetic and dangerous city hemmed in by impoverished shantytowns. …
For the complete travelogue & photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive. 
» Miraflores
Departing last time to South America I arrived at the airport with no visa for Brazil. Air Canada scrambled to re-route me to Chile, same day.
I blamed the agent who neglected to inform when she booked me. (I did not mention that others had urged me to check on the visa requirements. What country would not greet ME with open arms, unannounced?)
This trip I arrived early at the airport April 5th. My charter had left on the 4th.
Darn. Gosh. Rats. …
For the complete travel disaster & photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
» hiking Choquequirau Trek, Peru
We misunderestimated G.W. Bush.
He got elected for a second time. How is that even possible? 😦
___
Just booked my ticket back to Peru. Departing April 5th.
Here’s the plan so far:
I could work August, or hike — perhaps in the USA. I would love to get to Burning Man in Nevada Aug 29 – Sept 5. (They burn the Man September 3rd.)
Peru may sound like a repeat holiday for Rick — but I need return to do more of the great hikes of South America that I missed last trip. It is research for my hiking website. 🙂
George Novak will be joining me for at least 5 weeks — hiking, biking, sand dune surfing & getting chased by bandits. The high point may be summer solstice at Cusco & Machu Picchu.
I have posted 4 South American hikes since New Years:
For the first time, I am making a serious attempt to build a revenue stream from these websites — the goal is $30 / day. Rick’s retirement fund. : )
So far I am at $3 / day so I have room to grow.
Half the income is from Amazon.com ads. Half from Google (don’t be evil) ads.
What else is new?
I helped my parents relocate to Parksville, B.C. from the family cabin in the Kootenays.
My folks moved for the weather & the fishing.
… Well, the fishing is great.
I remember fondly family vacations on the beach in Parksville when I was a kid. The tidal flats are huge.
In US$50 / gallon Calgary I moved back in with my second family, the Mason clan, which always finds me a bed & internet connection.
I eat leftovers & help referee their 3 sons.
Harry Houdini escape artist game
Kids are great — but a lot more expensive & troublesome than pets. Perhaps we should engineer a compromise. 🙂
The Masons moved to Cougar Ridge on the edge of the city to be walking distance from their private school — Waldorf.
Duffy is a great golfer, but his theories on education are controversial. Waldorf schools have actually banned the strap, relying on a truth & reconciliation circle in cases of bad discipline. The victim admits the criminal is not a bad person, only that he did a bad thing.
Then they move on.
I was a kid before there were play dates,
Were the Grammys lame this year or what? Should call them the Grannies.
Good ski year.
For now snug in the bosom of the Mason family hearth. Delivered by a forest green mini-van through the gaping maw of a cul-de-sac double garage.
A am agreed with Outside magazine’s 25 (Essential) Books for the Well-Read Explorer having read most of them. Some gutsy inclusions & omissions.
Let me know if you have job suggestions starting August 2005. It will have been a year. Time to get back to work.
And email if you can meet us in Peru this Spring.
For now snug in the bosom of the Mason family hearth. Delivered by a forest green mini-van through the gaping maw of a cul-de-sac double garage.
Rick
Most visitors to Peru clog the southern Gringo Trail: Cuzco, Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca.
But many are banking on making the north just as enticing. The attractions are there but not yet the infrastructure. …
For the complete travelogue & photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
» north coast Peru
» mountain biking the Andes
» hiking the Santa Cruz trek Trek
The main reason I travelled to South America was attending the marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds.
Actually, it was to hike Fitz Roy (Argentina) & Paine(Chile).
Both are stunning postcards. But which is the better hike?
To get to southern Patagonia we took a 20+ hour bus ride through scrubby, barren Patagonian steppes. I sipped red wine, dozed, listened to music & read — as I had the last two 20+ hour bus rides.
First stop, though, was the Moreno glacier, perhaps the most visited & photographed in the world.
I camped so as to have the fabulous glacier to myself once the buses departed.
the hunky Moreno glacier.
Next a happy rendezvous with Stacey and Bevan, a cool couple from Vancouver. We had hiked Alpamayo together months before. The three of us were psyched to finish our hiking adventures together before going home — as all good Canadians do— for Christmas.
We went first to Fitz Roy named for Captain Fitzroy of the Beagle. He and Darwin were likely the first Europeans to see the massif.
I feel a kinship with Fitzroy. Despite sharing a dinner table with Darwin for 5 years, he managed to come up with diametrically opposite positions on almost every issue.
While Darwin is a regular guest on Oprah, Fitzroy’s scientific theories have languished! (As has my own modest discovery that sea creatures once lived in the high mountains. It’s true! I can show you the fossilized shells.)
I had high hopes for Fitz Roy as it is far less visited than Paine and more famous with mountain climbers. The book Enduring Patagonia, by Crouch, details the history. I was particularly interested in the tale of the best first ascent in Patagonia, the Super Couloir on Fitz Roy, 1965. The Argentine climber Comesana said his fitness, at the time, was unimproveable.
Even more impressive is The Tower (Cerro Torre), most often climbed by theCompressor route, named for the 150 pound compressor hauled up by Maestri in 1970. This desecrated the mountain with 350 bolts, one of the great controversies in mountaineering. The compressor is still up there near the summit.
(Cheap chortle: one of the top climbers in history is named Athol Whimp. Talk about a boy named Sue!)
Also of note is the smaller Egger tower, sometimes named one of the 7 real summits — the most difficult peaks to climb on the 7 continents.
Unfortunately we had to endure Patagonia — in 3 days we did not see the tops of any of the famous peaks. The weather at Fitz Roy is horrific, even by Patagonian standards of horror. It sits on the largest ice shield anywhere in the world outside Antarctica. Near constant storms rage.
Horizontal rain and gale force winds. Snow at higher altitudes.
I love high wind, though, at night. The sound through the trees is wonderful. Wind is alive, like fire.
Wind batted my tent like a cat playing with a mouse.
We bailed on the Fitz Roy hike a day early. It did not look like the weather would clear. Ever.
Oh well, as Crouch says, It’s not Patagonia unless you hang on the cross for a while.
I was reading Naipaul too & recalled his advice on how to face disappointment, Take it on the Chin. And move on.
On to the Towers of Paine.
Super touristy, Paine is, regardless, the highlight for many who tramp South America.
Spectacular and uniquely chiselled peaks, granite towers, stunted & twisted trees, colourful flowers including orchids, huge undeveloped glacial lakes, brilliant glaciers — WOW! — What’s not to love?
Animal life is plentiful: llama-like guanaco, ostrich-like rhea, Andean fox, condors, flamingos, water fowl, hares, the endangered huemul deer. We saw all these. People hiking with us even saw a puma, not uncommon.
We did the 100km+ circuit of the Paine massif; no rush, plenty of time for side trips, in 9 days. Wonderful.
Unlike Fitz Roy, on Paine we had, for the most part, remarkably good weather. On the notoriously stormy Glacier Grey, you could light a match when we arrived at the Pass.
Bevan at Glacier Grey
Anemomaniacs be warned, our most vivid memories of Paine are of the wind which often blasts 170km / hour. Several hikers were thrown to the ground. My glasses were whipped off my face and blown 10m. Two pack covers blew off: one recovered by a group a half hour behind; the other never seen again, flying like a balloon out of sight.
One night we sheltered in one of the expensive Refugiosas winds I estimated at 140km / hour tried to blow in the windows.
At last light (11PM!) Bevan went to check on their tent — it was close to Maytagging away down the valley. All the pegs had pulled out but the weight of 2 packs was justenough. Other friends had their rental tent flattened.
We saw waterfalls blowing UP.
And never before had we seen the wind pick up sheets of water and splash it on to the shore, drenching us at one point
After Paine, the remaining days of my trip were a let down. I moped at the southern extreme of the continent. I did not reach the barbarian coasts of the uttermost part of the world, but I could see it from Punta Arenas.
Punta Arenas. Tierra del Fuego in the distance.
I daren’t cross the water to Fireland, forewarned that fearsome, naked giants live there, tending constant flames to stay warm, even in their canoes. They would devour me sure as shooting.
That’s it.
I am happy to go home to the best country in the world. Dreaming of a raisin bagel &double double at Tim Horton’s.
Pleased to stop torturing people with my Spanish.
I have a staggering genius for not learning languages. That is not the problem, though — perhaps I just got off the boat yesterday instead of months ago — the problem is my heartbreaking willingness to try to speak Spanish.
I am weary of filling in unnecessary bus roster & hostel registration forms. The amusement of using the nom de plume Richard Cranium is wearing thin. Occupation:grave robber. I invented new passport numbers each time.
When I was last in South America the blanks asked:Religion?. But this trip I was denied the chance to respond: lapsed pagan.
When I wandered into a high security Chilean naval base, I used my New Zealand driver’s licence as ID before being escorted out past red-faced security guards.
What part of the States are you from? The Canadian part. This no longer amuses anyone.
I will miss the plentiful time for reading, one of the great joys of travel. A few holiday recommendations:
• Kim, Kipling (classic)
• DaVinci Code, Brown (page turner)
• Life of Pi, Martel (original, intense)
• True History of the Kelly Gang, Carey (well wrote)
• Sea Wolf, London (classic)
• My Imaginary Country, Isabelle Allende (on Chile)
Next?
I was gifted a guide book to Molvania, a land untouched by modern dentistry.
Or — last minute berths to Antarctica by ship were going for US$1200 all inclusive 10 days.
hmmmmmm
Rick
What?, muchileros scolded me, You are going to CHILE! No way! Go to Argentina, man!
B.A. is all-night fiesta, all-day siesta. Las chicas. Las chicas!
Truth is Chile is the least popular country on the continent with backpackers. You’d think I’d know, having been glum in Santiago the first week of this trip.
After months in the rural Andes, I was culture-shocked by modern Chile: tattoos, hair styles, midriffs, child obesity, piercings, girly bars, women painted like female impersonators. In short: civilization.
Coming from Bolivia, Chile seemed an expensive nation of do-nothing, chain-smoking posers. (Though it’s impossible not to grin at a Latin nation who’s Liberator is named Bernie O’Higgins. Didn’t she sing back-up for The Commitments?)
So why Chile?
I am stubborn. Stubborn as those garbage bags that time cannot decay. I had originally planned on Chile, you see.
Partly it was due to the cover photo of Sara Wheeler’s book, In a Thin Country. I had to find THAT place.
And I wanted to visit the Atacama, claimed the world’s driest desert.
But excitements like the Earth’s biggest open pit copper mine didn’t do it for me.
It was partly Enzo’s fault I went to Chile. He’s the founder of Pachemama by Bus which wheels tourists through endless stretches of this most oddly shaped country, painlessly.
Effortless, mindless travel in a modern vehicle, directed to the best local pubs, hostels & restaurants by an expert guide, boozing continuously.
We tried Carmenere wine, a grape wiped out in Europe, recently rediscovered here.
I drank Misiones de Rengo but locals buy cheap Gato Negro, same as Canadians.
We gorged on huge feeds of fish & seafood, by far the best grub in Chile.
We cruised the famed Lake District, the southern most Province of Germany. Great weather for ducks, it took 5 days before I finally got to see a snow-capped volcano looming over a picturesque lake.
For we passer-throughers, Chile offers superb Catholic canoodling, an engaging spectator sport. This was the last democratic country to legalize divorce. No test drives, either in Chile. But anything that you get away with in public falls short of mortal sin.
(People keep telling me that the current Pope — May His Holiness cling to life — is a liberal. S’truth? I don’t hope for a Conservative successor.)
The travel gluttony of Pachemama by Bus might be some people’s idea of a good holiday — but not you or me.
GONE TO PATAGONIA FOR 6 MONTHS
This was the telegram famously sent by Bruce Chatwin when he quit his real job with a prestigious paper to become a travel writer.
Do you recognize the name Chatwin?
If you hosted a chic soirée for elite travel writers, Chatwin would top your list of invitees. Rumours of his 1989 death from rare blood disease merely add to his mystique.
Chatwin’s In Patagonia is the most famous read on the region though travellers down here often can‘t get through it. Puzzling, academic — it doesn’t have much to do with Patagonia.
If you are talking to a name-dropping travel snob like Chatwin (don’t you hate his type?) be sure to ask for specifics on the horrors of public toilets, especially bus toilets. That will shut him up for a while.
The best of the many bad ways to get to the central Patagonian Andes — by far the least settled — is the great Southern Highway (Carretera Austral). Only a mad dictator could push through a road so geographically illogical — 1200km long, starting nowhere, leading nowhere. I had to take a 12 hour cramped, diesel-smoke-filled freighter from Puerto Montt just to get to the highway.
Considered the Adolf Hitler of South America to some — families of the thousands he disappeared during his 17 year rule — that mad dictator was General Augusto Pinoche. (The over-decorated despot was recently ruled sane by a Spanish court of law.)
Pinoche took over on Sept. 11, 1973 after he convinced the elected President, leftist Salvadore Allende, to commit suicide by machine gun, a gift given Allende by admirer Fadel Castro.
The Americans supported the new dictator, of course, liking Pinoche’s policy of savage capitalism.
Travelling Pinoche’s Southern Highway though, to me, was akin to a Canadian trying to hitchhike to the Arctic Ocean.
On logging roads.
In May.
1965.
There’s not a LOT of traffic.
The road itself is something like driving the interior of British Colombia or South Island New Zealand: snow-topped mountains, huge lakes, trout-filled rivers. Very pleasant indeed.
The attraction is the absolute remoteness (it is difficult to get Diet Coke!) & foul weather. A grim 16-year-old local named Diego, who plans to run to Philadelphia when he is 18, asserted, It always rains here. Always.
But we had very good Spring weather.
The few homesteaders, still called pioneers, should import some convicts or Australians to clear the tens of thousands of stumps. Where is Ned Kelly when you need him?
A DC3 crash-landed near the highway. The military carted off the wings. Then a family of pioneers moved in. Can’t sneeze at free digs.
South Americans have the quaint, backwards notion that castrating & imprisoning dogs is cruel. Carry a handful of rocks in rural Patagonia to greet the large, furry survivors — or call yourself puppy chow.
The great Southern Highway is not for the faint of heart. Most who travel here speak Hebrew — but you will find the old odd Canadian too. Israeli adventurers love the Carretera Austral, cramming 6 into a rent-a-car. (Two of their jeeps had rolled in recent weeks.)
I travelled the highway with Shimmi who turned 23 during the journey, an extremobackpacker. He was determined to hitch the Careterra Austral. He would play guitar while we sat on roads empty as far as the eye can see. I gazed skyward dreaming to flag down a helicopter.
On a good day we made about 90km with 4 short rides. On bad days Shimmi would finally join me in a guest house when it got dark & we would take the bus — if one showed — next morning.
Hey. A friend e-mailed to touch base and confirm travel plans. Seems he will, on early retirement, acquire a VW van and a bra-less wife.Freedom 55!
What say you were the retiring founder of Esprit & Northface clothing. On what would you spend the $140 million payout?
Right. Wed the ex-CEO of Patagonia clothing & start buying up pristine land in Patagonia.
Douglas Tompkins says he’s trying to undo a little of the damage he did to the environment when he was busy producing consumer items nobody needed.
We visited his Park Pumalin, the world’s first privately-owned National Park. It crosses into Argentina from Chile protecting some of the wildest land on earth.
Our guide pointed to peaks in every direction. None had been climbed. He claimed impenetrable valleys that had never been seen by a human being, untouched since all continents were one.
Trees 3000 – 4000 years old abound.
Very cool. I was much excited by this bold eco-experiment. It is being copied in Africa & in the Amazon.
Shimmi & I had a fantastic hike at Castle (Cerro Castillo), the biggest draw of the Carretera Austral. It was a surprise to see other hikers, a British youth group.
I doubt Pinoche will live long enough to see his road pushed through to southern Patagonia. Only then will it become one of the world’s great road trips. For now it is still a place to get some peace & quiet.
I did not make the southern roadhead either. I bailed into Argentinaafter about 700 kms.
Shimmi hates Chile and loves Argentina. Loves chowing down like Fred Flintstone in all-you-can-eat barbeque restaurants. In Argentina, vegetarianism is impractical, if not illegal.
And Shimmi has a theory about the shapeliness of the Argentina latina assienda which, I had to concede, was proved by the evidence.
Going down,
Ricardo
Go to Bolivia?
Everyone else was.
Beneath my radar, I had never heard good things about Bolivia. It is the prototype South American disaster: corrupt, turbulent history, over 190 leaders in 180 years, breakdowns, roadblocks, strikes. Mucho problemas!
Yet Stephan from Vancouver (yet another engineer) and I crossed the border to Copacabana, Bolivia — a classic hangout for travellers.
Bolivia looked good to us!
On the standard Island of the Sun tour I mostly ignored the ruins and dreamed about the mountains in the distance. The weather was perfect even though this was supposed to be the start of the rainy season.
Stephan returned to Peru to do the Inca Trail. I climbed on a local bus with my huge luggage, the only gringo trying to reach the tiny mountain town of Sorata.
I ended up in La Paz instead.
If you are planning your next family vacation to La Paz — reconsider.
I expected to like La Paz as most do:
But I did not thrive. It was very difficult to get anythingdone there. Accommodation & food were disappointing.
My hotel was last modernized in the 1950s. But I loved the location beside central Murillo Plaza & theRoyal Palace (known as the Burned Palace for historical reasons).
The statue is President Villarroel, dragged from the Palace and hung on this spot in 1946. Coincidentally, much the same thing happened to President Murillo in 1810.
Ancient history? Plaza Murillo was riddled with bullets a year ago. (Oct. 2003) The then President Lozada fled to Florida rather than face the mob.
So is La Paz safe?
Surprisingly, yes. It is one of the safest large cities in South America. Dunno why. Perhaps because there are more armed personnel here than any city I can recall aside Mexico City.
The most frequent crime in La Paz is theft of ladies bowler hats, worth on average US$40.
The wonderfully colourful indigenous costumes some say were imposed on natives by the King of Spain in the 1700s. They are charming. Bolivia has the highest percentage native population of any South American country.
Actually, I was twice approached by awkward scam artist / pickpockets. My usual tactic of walking into busy traffic dissuaded them.
I note 2 interesting things in La Paz, though:
1) Shoeshine boys are everywhere, dressed as bandits! Ski masks protect the identity of the young men and their families. It is lowly work of last resort.
2) No need to own a phone. Everywhere are people in uniform leashed to mobile phones. Local calls are US$.15 / minute.
Like La Paz, hiking in Bolivia has great potential, but is surprisingly undeveloped. Access to trailheads is problematic. Bandits are a concern. In the end I did none of the major treks.
But for climbers, Bolivia is a paradise. No restrictions. No permits required. No fees. Screw the Himalaya, come to Bolivia!
The Royal Range (Cordillera Real) near La Paz offers 6 peaks over 6000m.
photo source unknown
The most popular mountaineering peak is Huayna Potasi— though it is no cinch due to altitude. The last 200m is a steep scramble above 19,000ft. Roped together, keeping the line taut, you have very little control over the pace of ascent. I was exhausted for two days after.
Climbing Potasi was a wonderful experience though. Perfect weather! I saw the grandest shooting star of my life up close through the thin air. (My climbing amigos were so tired & focused they barely acknowledged it.) Climbing a mountain at night by full moon was unique. This photo shows the knifetop summit ridge.
Annotated climbing photos with Into-Thin-Air-likedetail.
Many climb Potasi first in preparation for peaks of 6300 – 6500m, very doable for the average Edmund once acclimatized.
Not me. I prefer carbogganing & hiking. I will be back to Bolivia to do the major mountain routes. (May – June are probably the best months in the central Andes if you want to join me.)
Most every backpacker in Bolivia bikes the world’s most dangerous road. Something like a 3000m descent from high peak to steamy jungle in one go.
It reminded me of Going to the Sun highway in Montana. (Bikes not allowed there, of course.)
The title of most dangerous was designated by the Inter-American Development Bank. Can you dispute the claim? An average of 26 vehicles a year were disappearing over the brink.
The bank helped fund (US$120 million) a safe road on theopposite side of the valley. The new road was paved with good intentions.
But the day I biked the new road was closed yet again for repair. All traffic took the dangerous road. In fact, we learned that buses & trucks always take the old road with the cyclists. The new bridges were under built — they cannot support heavy vehicles. That is Bolivia for you.
It was good fun. The torrential rainstorm on the way down cut the dust until the complimentary beer at the bottom.
Rainy season had finally arrived in the Central Andes.
Time to head for sunny northern Chile via the fabulous 3-day salt lake jeep trek.
I travelled by train to Uyuni, in remote SW Bolivia with Jenni from Finland. She’s a gamer having just toured North America by Greyhound from sea to shining sea.
Kid, the next time I say lets go some place like Bolivia, lets go some place like Bolivia!
Paul Newman
Our train had been robbed by 2 Americanos. But a posse from Uyuni tracked down Butch & Sundance in 1908. Cornered & wounded, Butch shot his partner and then himself rather than surrender. (That’s not how the movie ended, you may recall.)
Che Guevara died too in Bolivia in a rash attempt toliberate the country from a U.S. backed (one of the George Bushes, I think) military dictator.
El Puro’s end was sad. Age 38, emaciated, sick, defeated; shot on a schoolroom floor by a lowly CIA-trained sergeant bolstered to the task with beer.
Che is dead as Elvis. But his icon lives on, a vague symbol anti-capitalism, pro-revolution. An ex-girlfriend says Che would be mortified to have become a consumer product. But I bought the t-shirt.
Rather than read the much edited Motorcycle Diaries, I recommend Chasing Che (2000) by journalist Patrick Symmes. He retraced Che’s early footsteps giving a more accurate & entertaining account.
Bolivia is named for Simon Bolivar, one of the few hombres who deserves a statue.
There have been three great fools in history: Jesus, Don Quiote and I.
An idealist who could get the job done — he liberated Venezuela, Panama, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia & Bolivia — but none the less died broke & abandoned. Bolivar dreamed of unifying Spanish America into a single country.
Why is North America so advanced, Bolivia & South America so slow to develop?
Bolivar knows.
Last Bolivian stop — gorgeous Laguna Verde on the border. See you in Patagonia!
Ricardo
Many years ago John Fair’s photos of Machu Picchu & Angkor Wat (Cambodia) helped inspire my now compulsive travelling. These two spiritual sites are often compared, both magnificent.
I was blown away by Machu Picchu and appreciated it all the more as I walked the 4 day Salcantay trek to get there. Salcantay is the most popular of the Inca Trail alternatives.
I opted not to do the 33km Inca Trail, the most famous hike in South America. Most serious hikers feel it is over-priced (US$220+), over-regulated, & over-crowded (500 / day in high season). Worst of all, most of the troops arrive at Machu Picchu too late in the morning to take photos with the site empty. There are many grumblers.
My last night on the Salcantay I had a fantastic campsite to myself looking over to Machu Picchu 6kms away. Thunder rumbled. I knew the Gods of the Inca were angry.
Indeed, the next day a Russian tourist was killed, struck by lightning atop the imposing peak overlooking Machu Picchu. Local guides told me nothing like this has happened before.
Only the most bent traveller leaves Machu Picchu unmoved. It is far bigger and more beautiful than postcards reveal.
I travelled south Peru with Neil, a petroleum engineer from the UK who works for a Calgary company.
In Cuzco our hostel had a wonderful view of the main plaza. I did my best to avoid the Plaza and Gringo Alley as touts get tedious.
Still, pretty Cuzco is a terrific tourist town. Much to do & see. It is the centre of the Americas for archaeology.
We motored to Lake Titicaca.
Expecting the famous world’s highest navigable lake (3800m) to be painfully touristy as well as a bogus claim — we surprisingly had a terrific day. The floating reed islands (they last 8-10 years) were amazing. I was a big Thor Heyerdahl fan; remember the Ra Expeditions on reed boats, Africa to South America?
The stark, lofty funerary towers of Silustani are unique too and impressive.
Peru has long attracted treasure hunters like me.
But I am leaving.
Overall Peru is the number 1 country in South America for the gringo. A few argue for Ecuador or Colombia as less tourist-infested & friendlier. Argentina is HOT right now with travellers as it is so inexpensive after the recent currency crisis. And the best parties are in Brazil.
Normally food is of little interest to me while travelling. But I have been quoted as saying South American food is the worst in the world, outside Tibet. (There is a vocal African lobby saying food there is even less edible.)
This trip I made more effort to try and find good grub.
The one thing I could count on was excellent coffee.
Right?
No. The coffee is great in some countries, but Nescafe rules Peru. In one small town we went looking for a good cup of coffee. Directed to an elderly woman’s home we were denied filtered coffee again because she could not get her vicious dog into another room to let us in. We left without coffee — but I did entertain an offer for a Peruvian bride. In every town it is easier to find a wife than a good cup of coffee.
A mountain guide liked coffee mixed with the ubiquitous coca leaf. I chewed the leaves after finishing the java assuming I could hike for days without food or sleep.
Must be some other kind of coca leaf. Doesn’t do much for me. I prefer Earl Grey.
In Cuzco the South American Explorers club hosted a tasty Andean food and drink night.
Pisco sour, made from local white grape brandy is too fine. Cuzquena beer has many devotees including me.
Bread & rice are disappointing here. But potatoes — the greatest gift of Peru to the world — are excellent. there are hundreds of different kinds displayed in local markets.
We were served a local potato with cheese, oil, lemon, egg yolk — cooked, then served cold
Soups are sometimes good. In a smoke-blacked kitchen I enjoyed a typical Andean breakfast warm-me-up, sheep neck soup.
Ceviche, raw seafood marinated in lemon and chillies, is perhaps the National dish of Peru.
Inca Cola rules here, Coke second, Pepsi a distant third.
Grilled chicken and chips is the default meal. Avoid the gamble of cheap, bland, cold set meals at restaurants if you are looking for gusto.
Fruit & veggies are superb. Best advice is to shop the local markets & cook for yourself.
Peru is great. But shun Lima.
The strangest, saddest city thou canst see.
(Moby Dick)
I have heard it called the Scorch. Zero inches of rain per year.
Population 8 million; the worst city in South America. I got stuck in Lima on a connection at dusk. In the red light district. Smog, noise, crowds. I have not seen urban devastation like this since northern India. Almost post-apocalypse — but with taxis.
My airport bus driver, navigating the lawless traffic, was perhaps the most skilled I have ever seen.
A month later I returned to Lima. In bright sunshine the city looked better.
Or my outlook had softened.
A 10 minute bus connection was still more than enough time in Lima.
As Che said: Until the Final Victory! On to Bolivia.
Ciou for now,
Ricardo
P.S. For the record, massive Angkor is by far the most impressive destination in the world. The pyramids, Taj Mahal, even Machu Picchu should be pleased to be listed on the same page.
There is a particular anonymity about being in tents. … Once the zip is closed, all sense of location disappears. You might be in the Rockies, the West Coast Trail — or in the Andes with Joe Simpson. …
For the complete travelogue & photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
» hiking the Huayhuash Circuit
» hiking Alpamayo
» mountain biking the Andes
» canyoning
14 days of Rocky Mountains hiking in what ET calls venues of delight.
Organized by Rob Gadd Glaser, I tramped with between 4 and 18 others. Logistics were complex as you might imagine.
Only ET, Rob and I signed on for the full two weeks in the woods. That was 2 weeks of alpine splendor and the benefit of Rob’s duct-tape-like folk wisdom. Rob is a carpenter (like Jesus) and a fireman (which Jesus never mastered).
In the wild, away from mundane distractions like work, e-mail and loved ones, you come up with the best ideas. Like Rob’s concept of smell-amplifiers.
Helicoptering in to Assiniboine I had the heaviest pack — over 70 pounds. You are allowed 40 pounds. Is it cheating to take the chopper? Yup, but it is 7 minutes rather than 7 hours to reach the continental divide.
Assiniboine was gorgeous as ever. We set up in the overflow meadow. ET woke one night to pee and had an ethereal experience with stars and a resident mule deer.
Second day we scrambled high on Wedgewood, part of the Assiniboine massif. Caves and crap rock with plenty of death fall potential.
ET nearly died, in fact. As I turned to inform her how to dodge a falling stone, I saw a rock bounding down the mountain towards her. ET was frozen in place during the last 2 bounces. A split second before the stone hit her in the head, she moved a foot or two to the right. Whizzzzz.
It was a huge open scree slope. The single rock came from nowhere. Perhaps God sent a warning shot.
We got lost the next day and had to wild camp. Best fun was hanging our food between some rock pinnacles.
Later we were lucky to be able to watch a Grizzly at work, only the second I have ever seen.
A bigger highlight for Rob was hiking through a forest fire burnout from a year previous. We saw literally millions of odd twitching caterpillars devouring fireweed which sprouts quickly after a fire.
We cheated again on our 2 weeks of continual hiking by returning to Bragg Creek for a terrific party at Rob’s log house in Bragg Creek.
(What do you call people who live in Bragg Creek? …
Braggarts)
When Rob’s van door wouldn’t close on departure next morning, he pulled out his drill gun. Screw it.
We continued on to Tumbling Glacier, joined by Les and 3 adventurous teens including 2 of Rob’s sons. It was fun to scramble the glacier itself.
Finally we reached gorgeous Lake O’Hara, perhaps the most scenic idyll in the Canadian Rockies. We joined the annual Glaser / Cartwright family reunion at O’Hara. We had children as young as age-6 enjoying the mountains.
As an educator I love getting kids into the wild.
I sagely advised them to hike with open umbrellas — the best defence against drop squirrels which are regular squirrels gone vampire with rabies. Squirrels chatter then drop down on to mammals to suck the blood from our necks!
We warned too of the Rocky Mountain barking spider — often heard, smelled … but never seen.
At Lake McArthur there was a bit of incentive for boys to jump off a cliff. Before jumping they toss a boulder to soften the water — to reduce the circus tension as little Anna calls it.
Calgary Folk Fest was another treat of the summer. Headliners were Lucinda Williams and Steve Earle, partners in world weary Americana roots music. I liked Steve’s line, “I bin happily married … 5 times.“
Finally, the biggest highlight of the year. Kyle Shewfelt from Altadore is Olympic champion on Floor Exercise, an unbelievable accomplishment. I heard the fantastic news while hiking the West Coast Trail with RC & BM. I cried & then had a victory swim in a gorgeous waterfall
Kyle’s coach Kelly Manjak celebrated a week later with the birth of a son.
Tomorrow I depart for South America. More news from there.
Adios,
Ricardo
Rick McCharles 