Cycling the Andean Spine

Reflections

2008-07-14T23:43:00.004-04:00

It's been just over a week since I got back to the States. Was there any culture shock or did it feel strange to be back home? To be honest, not really, it feels like business as usual. There were a few things that are different, gas for one. Before I left, it was hoovering just above $3 per gallon. The food prices don't even bother me too much, anymore...I mean, that's sort of expected after coming from a place in which I got mad when dinner would cost more than $1.50 (that includes multiple plates). So far I've been to a BBQ, fishing, golfing, the normal things I'd be doing during summer vacation at home. Nevertheless, all these things feel rather mundane.

I recently was looking through the pictures from this year's Hopkins 4K for Cancer ride (click link on the right side). Back then, that trip was amazing, and it still is. But after experiencing Argentina, Chile, and Bolivia (sadly I didn't make it to Colombia), a USA cross-country trip is, well, tame! The highest point on the 4K trip was just over 12,000ft, but we spent over a month (freezing my ass off, mind you) over 13,000ft. I also thought I took a lot of pictures back then, hah! My count this time is just over 10,000 pictures, and if you include the others' photos that number goes up to more than 20,000. Now you see why I really had to limit myself posting to this blog, haha. In 2005, it took me 2 months riding with the 4K group to go from Atlantic to Pacific waters. In Tierra del Fuego, I saw both Pacific and Atlantic waters in a single day, crossing an international border while I was at it as well! Basically what I'm saying is while the US has quite a bit to offer, the world as a whole has so much more and it's not that inaccessible either. Miami, for example, is closer to Colombia (my next destination, I hope) than to San Francisco!

Looking back, there have been a few important, personal lessons learned from life on the road with a bicycle and from meeting a different crowd of people. I'm not at all afraid to be out of my element so to speak, to visit other places. People are people everywhere, we worry, hope for, and laugh at the same things. You just can't be afraid to dive in and strike up a conversation. One of my favorite pictures is this one because it shows more than just the beautiful scenery, in a way it represents the coming together of two cultures. There, we were passing through the road blockade in Potosi, but instead of riding right through I stopped to talk to the people and ask them why they were protesting. In my med school application essay, my opening line was "Fear breeds motivation." While not incorrect, it doesn't capture the whole essence of the word fear. In this case, I see how erasing fear of other cultures can open your eyes to a whole new understanding of life and what the truly important things are. I remember on a bus sitting next to a Bolivian man, we had a fairly long conversation (this being at the end of the trip when my Spanish was at its best). During that, he was so fixated on the vast difference in wealth between the US and Bolivia. I tried to explain to him that money isn't at the top of the list in order to lead a fulfilling life. What happens when you have everything you could want and then some, as is the case here? Driving back home from the Detroit airport, I saw all these expensive cars on the road and I thought to myself, so what? It doesn't impress me, it's just something for trivial people. Nevertheless, the man was still interested in coming to the US to find work ($5/hr vs. $5/day) and perhaps a new wife as well (I told him he needed to learn English to have a shot at that). To be honest, I felt as though I could, and did, get closer to random people down there than is at all possible here in the US. When was the last time you stopped to have a small conversation with a stranger?

Let me talk a bit about the three countries I visited.

Argentina - It probably has the best balance between modern, comfortable life, beautiful scenery, friendly people, and absolutely incredible (oh my god!) food and wine. I'm especially talking about 'asado', which is basically grilled meat. The people just love to have a BBQ, it's their national passtime. Almost every single house has some sort of non-portable, concrete-based grill. It's that important to them! For people who love camping, who love to just have a good time listening to music and grilling the best meat you'll ever taste (oh..my..god!), this is the place to go. Not to knock on the Chileans, but once (actually not the only time) we were riding along the Lago General Carrera when a passing car stopped to ask us what the hell we were doing, where we were going, and how was the trip so far. Argentines? You better believe it. They are incredibly friendly and open to strangers, curious and unabashed is perhaps a better description. There is just a love of life in the air in Argentina. Another time I met Jesus while riding alone, he was on his motorbike and me on the pedal bike. We both stopped, started chatting, and had a little photoshoot for about 10 minutes. It was great!

Chile - This is the land of rustic beauty. Sorry to say, but they weren't as friendly as the Argentines, and the food wasn't as good either. And for crying out loud, someone tell them to speak...more...slowly. I couldn't understand almost ANYTHING they were saying because they all speak like damn auctioneers! Ok, rant over. Inch for inch, the volcanoes and mountains in Chile are second to none. Perhaps my favorite day trip was hiking up to the top of Volcan Calbuco. I'd even suggest the government of Chile declare all of the Carretera Austral to be a national park. There's a reason why Torres del Paine was great, but not absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous, and that's because I'd been seeing terrain like that for weeks prior to my hike! There are really only two problems with Chile. First, since it's so long and narrow, you have to travel forever to get from place to place. Second, I just wish they would be a little more friendly :-( Certainly they have the most money and education of South America, but remember what I said above? Those don't impress me much anymore, well...the money part, education should always be a priority.

Bolivia - This is the country of extremes. Sometimes I hated it the most, sometimes I loved it the most. It is the most rewarding, but most demanding as well. Warm showers, for example, were hard to come by. Llama meat isn't that great, but you can't really get any other kind of steak. The fresh fruits are like ambrosia, though, and the scenery in the antiplano is like a Dali painting, certainly offsetting the need for coca leaves at such high altitude and low temperatures. The jungle and lowland regions were by far my favorite, despite the 100 or so bug bites I got during my time there. The girls, haha, I was warned about by Julian. They aren't the prettiest, until Matan and I started looking around the Yunga region and started seeing these jaw-dropping gorgeous women. God if there was ever a place to search for models...Despite everything the modern world has brought Bolivia, things really haven't changed. The people to this day carry their identity as though the Incan empire was still around. As much as people love their SUVs and trucks here in the US, the Bolivians actually NEED them to get around (sometimes literally impossible otherwise). Unlike in Argentina, it still blows my mind that their national passtime is protesting. For a whole country to just shut down for a few days is unbelievable, but that is business as usual.

I'm not sure how I'll return, or when for that matter, but I do hope to get back down to South America. If anything to show my family what it was like. Speaking of which, anybody who is planning on traveling in any of the three countries listed above, I can really help and truth be told probably know more than most travel agents booking trips. Maybe something pressing might come to mind, but this will probably be the last post on this blog unless anybody asks specific questions that I can answer for the benefit of everyone. Other than that, it's been a wonderful trip and I would like to thank everyone who kept tabs on me during my ride. Markus is still on the road until the end of the month, so make sure to follow his blog as he may continue riding in Asia fairly soon... Alright, that's it for now, ciao ciao!

Pictures: Rurrenabaque, Bolivia - Pampas

2008-07-08T23:27:00.014-04:00

Pictures: Rurrenabaque, Bolivia - Jungle 2/2

2008-07-08T23:11:00.008-04:00

Pictures: Rurrenabaque, Bolivia - Jungle 1/2

2008-07-08T22:29:00.013-04:00

Pictures: Bolivia part 1

2008-06-17T20:41:00.011-04:00

Pictures: Bolivia part 2

2008-06-17T20:01:00.012-04:00

¨There might be a party here next week¨

2008-06-06T20:56:00.002-04:00

It really figures that I would find a fast internet connection in Bolivia, but then not have my hard drive work to be able to upload pictures! I really was planning on it, but I digress...

Jan Willem, the Dutch cyclist we sometimes have ridden with, often asks me what was my favorite part of the trip so far since he and Gudrun have basically done the same route. I was honest in my answer when I said I wasn't really sure since there have been so many fantastic places that we've passed through. However, that being said, I would have an answer for him the next time the question pops up: the valleys of central Bolivia.

One a tangent, there is a reason why I did not update the blog in Sucre. I didn't want to raise any alarms because I wanted to tell it like it is. Our museum tour guide provided the quote at the top of this post, ¨There might be a party here next week¨. Protesting seems to be a national passtime, only after soccer, of course. There is always some sort of protest going on every day in every large city I've been to thusfar. The general road blockades were a bit different. At one point I asked if there was the possibility of a civil war in Bolivia to which the guide responded, yes. Basically, there is a power struggle between La Paz and the rest of the country. It reminds me of the city-states of ancient Greece in which various cities struggle for power over the whole country, in this case La Paz, Sucre, and throw Santa Cruz into the mix.

As it stands, Sucre is the constitutional capital of Bolivia, but La Paz is the de facto capital, where comrade Evo Moralez resides. Ever since Evo took the presidency, things have gone downhill a bit. Last November, the mass protests were actually able to push out the government forces from the city of Sucre. Upon leaving, however, the police opened the doors of the city prison and evidence suggests actually helped the convicts before evacuating themselves. The city was left to anarchy for 6 days before the forces came back to attempt to restore order. This was not before they warned the city that the next time similar protests were to happen, they would use lethal force. Fast forward to my visit!

The truckers created a general blockade in every city in the country (consisted of dozens of transport trucks parking their vehicles across the roads leading out the cities in an irregular pattern to prevent anything bigger than a motorcycle from getting through) . To get from city to city, people would have to either take a flight, or take a taxi/bus up to the blockade, walk across, and then catching a waiting taxi/bus on the other side. Transporting goods across was basically impossible. Bicycles, myself and my companions included, were free to pass through and in my experience actually cheered on by the protesters who seemed to have created a festive atmosphere at least when I went through, at the start...

Sucre, Cochabamba (the next destination), Santa Cruz formed the heart of the blockade, but it also extended to La Paz. Since those are the only cities linked by paved roads, the whole country was for the most part affected. The day after we left, however, the government and protesters had talks and things calmed down for the moment and probably long enough for me to get out of the country before anything errupts. Ah, Bolivia, what a place! Back to the ride.

Potosí is the world's highest city, at over 4000m altitude (the place runs up a hill, so it ranges from 4000 to 4300). Sucre sits at a gorgeous 2500m, a vertical mile difference in altitude. So between Potosí and Sucre is one hell of a downhill!! We rode out of the city and easily passed through the blockades, which actually worked in our favor to reduce traffic en route to Sucre. The first day started with a beautiful descent over about 80km that gradually put us onto a flat pampa-like plain staring into a valley system, behind which lies the Amazon, which we would soon plunge into. This is where I curse the computers here again, because the pictures, while simply amazing, can't even begin to capture the spectacular scenery that we experienced. First and foremost, it was much warmer. This was my #1 grievance, the cold of the antiplana, aka puno, aka plateau over 4000m that was freezing at night. Imagine the smile on my face when I got to wear just a short-sleeve shirt and riding shorts, only, for days on end since leaving Potosí. One we entered the valley, it was a repitition of plunging deep down by the river, riding downstream or upstream, and then climbing 1000+ vertical meters every day only to repeat. The descents, the climbs, everything was spectacular. Riding at the bottom and craning my neck up to the ridgelines on either side of me, the faces of the hills dotted with cacti, the ever-increasing amount of tropical vegetation, and of course the tiny settlements with farm animals and small plots of land for growing crops, all of this combined is why this area is my favorite of South America as a whole.

The two days toward Sucre passed by without incident, but I did have a sore throat on the ride, so I wasn't 100% happy with the ride. Arriving in the city, I found myself somewhat unimpressed at first. When I was able to walk around a bit, I quickly turned my opinion around 180 degrees. One of my favorite aspects of Sucre were the nightly high school parades that just seem to form and snake down the streets complete with dancers and a small band formation, traffic be damned. I loved seeing cars pull into one street, see the procession, and the put the gear into reverse and seek another way. Makes walking down the street quite easy as well. I also learned to appreciate the older colonial architecture, with most of the buildings' walls painted white in the center of the city. Then, there was the beautiful market. For a pound of delicious goat cheese, $2. For a full meal, lunch or dinner, $1.50. For a mountainous fruit salad, $1, or a blended fruit milkshake, your choice of about 8 kinds of fruit solo or in combination, $0.30, and that includes a refill! We could eat and eat and eat, and never get bored of the Bolivian gastronomy. Yummy!

The blockade on the way out of Sucre was just as easy to get through, though the people seemed less friendly. On the way toward Cochabamba (featured in the movie Scarface for one chapter at least), it was more of the same beautiful valley system. Day 1 - fantastic, downriver, paved, bottoms out at 1700m. Day 2 - horrible, uphill 40km straight, not paved and quite dusty, scenery not as nice, and my ass hurt. Day 3 - oh my god, what a jaw-dropping valley, mega-downhill, followed by a mega-uphill when we got out of valley on the other side. Day 4 - still beautiful area, but is this the road that never stops going up? We climbed back up to 3400m!! Heaven forbid I have to put on a jacket to complete the ride. The winds were also like those in Patagonia, literally whipping the Amazonia cloud system up and over the mountain toward us, and unfortunately not at our backs. Day 5 - We only have a bit to climb before reaching the top at 3700m, and then it's on our way to Cochabamba at 2500m. Oh do I love cashing in my gravitational potentail energy!! The 90km passes by quickly and even without the serious downhills, I am motivated to haul ass along the way partly because a few rain drops are falling, the first since Iguazu.

The city of Cochabamba, while not anything special, is a launching point for the the next and final portion of my trip in South America. Markus wanted to leave with the Dutch and French couples, and I chose to stay and rest a day after all the climbing of the past few days. Tomorrow morning, I will bus into La Paz, and from there decide where to next. We have plans to visit Lake Titicaca, perhaps climb a 6000m peak, riding down Bolivia's 'death road' toward a place called Rurrenbaque (sp?) from which I plan on doing a jungle and pampas tour that will take my via riverboat into the Amazon to see, among other things, gators, caymans, anacondas, pirhanas, capybara (one of the coolest names for an animal), jungle plants, birds, and butterflies to name a few. After that, it's back to La Paz, and then probably up to Lima to come home! (tickets are less expensive from there than from La Paz, by about half)

So there you have it, the past week, and the future weeks all laid out. Will update when Markus and crew arrive in La Paz in about 5 days. Ciao till later.

Potosí: history, mines, and dynamite!

2008-06-01T09:40:00.002-04:00

About a week back, thankfully, Markus arrived safe and sound in Uyuni. He had gotten a bit sick one day while I was holed up in bed, but it wasn't as severe as what I experienced. We took a day trip to the Salar, 30km out and 30km back. It was quite the surreal experience, since when you get into the world's largest salt flat, you see nothing but white salt for as far as the horizon spans. Traveling around is quite easy, just pick a direction and go! There are some pathes that the cars take, in which the ground is a little more compact than the regular salar, so we try to take those when possible. However, sometimes it was just fun to just change your vector and ride at a given angle away from the others. As soon as we had gotten out far enough, we set up 'camp' and started taking the obligatory perspective pictures (to be posted sometime either by me or Markus). While the Dutch were holding their bicycles in their hands, Markus was the missing primate link next to the cover of Darwin's 'The Descent of Man'. Later we were all standing on a banana, but not before Gudrun was holding Jan Willem in her hand who was pinching Markus like a pixie between his two fingers, who I was subsequently punching. Unfortunately during this time, I had forgot to apply sunscreen and the reflection was certainly doing its damage. On the ride back, instead of heading back to the road to Uyuni, Markus and I just rode along the salar. There are various types of salt, some are nice and smooth, while others have little mounds or bacon-like waves of salt that crunch or pop like popcorn. We came across a little bubbling spring in the Salar, and later some dead flamingos with single eggs sometimes lying on the ground (I found 6 of them). We arrived shortly before sunrise, and ate llama steaks that night along with a burger at the corner stand. Total cost: $3.

The next day, instead of riding out toward Potosí as the Dutch did, Markus and I (mostly my decision) decided to stay another day. My face was blistering from the salar sunburn, so I wasn't in any rush to really get back on the bike and in full view of the solar radiation raining down at us near 4000m. The following day, we did set off on what would become a 3.5 day journey up toward Potosí, one that was ladden with significant passes (5+ miles in length, going up the mountains). To be honest, I was sick of them by the third day since every descent into a valley, however beautiful and colorful the formations were, meant another climb right out. The roads were surprisingly good, with only some sandy parts in which we had to get off the bike and push. The tailwind almost the entire way also helped quite a bit, so I really can't complain there. There were many small villages, various houses with llama heards, and ruins along the way in which we camped each night. The first two nights were quite warm, the third night froze the water bottle inside my tent. However, my new blanket purchased in Uyuni certainly meant nights were quite toasty in comparison to Laguna Verde. On the last day, we had to cycle only 30km into Potosí. Even though my first sight of the city was one in which my neck was craned upward (Potosí is the highest city in the world, depending on the definition of a true city, of course), I was quite excited to pedal up to the center because I saw pavement for the first time since Chile!

I must say, Potosí is my favorite city in South America thusfar. It's history dates back to the Spanish colonial times in which at one point, the Cerro Rico (rich mountain) was the heart of the Spanish crown's wealth. There in the hills, silver flowed out of the hundreds of mines that were dug over the years. Though coins were created and shipped to Spain, it was said that the cargo was really the blood and tears of the native and slave miners forced into labor. Thousands of people had died inside and because of the mines, and many more continue to do so today. At the Casa de Monedas, a museum the size of a city block, many of the minting machines from the various years were preserved and set up for display, among other exhibits. We saw how coins were first stamped by hand using a hammer, which I also did at the end using a brass blank purchased from the gift shop, to more modern and uniform methods of production when Bolivia gained its independence in the early 1800s, and other exhibits displaying artifacts from around South America including child mummies. Today, Bolivia money is created by Spain, France, Canada, and one or two other countries. Ironic how Spain robbed Bolivia blind, and now Bolivia purchases its own currency from Spain. Given its history, once the world's richest city because of the mines, it really has a European feel with narrow streets and architecture that pre-dates the last century.

The highlight of the trip into Potosí so far has been the tour to the mines. This isn't one specifically and only designed for tourists, rather it is one that visits a working mine. We met the miners who had been working underground for generations back, often many of them starting when they were 13 years old (I saw more than one child working) until their death usually around 45 years of age. It's almost a curse to be born into a miners family, for the boys will work with their brothers, father, and uncles, while the girls will eventually marry and become young widows. The mines are privately operated, with claims passed down through generations, and the ore sold to companies who extract the silver, zinc, and lead, which is then sold around the world. As such, safety is in the hands of the miners themselves. Cave-ins and succumbing to poisonous gasses from the dynamite are not unheard of. Before arriving at the mine, we bought coca leaves, 2L bottles of soft drinks, and dynamite from the miners. Yes, you can buy dynamite off the street. With each miner we talked to or came across, a little gift was given by one of the 'gringitos' on the tour. Entered the blood-stained mine entrance (llamas are sacrificed every once in a while), it wasn't long before we were ducking and soon crawling through the shafts to get down to the lower levels in this one particular mine. El Tío, or the devil, is actually honored and paid homage to since he owns the minerals and he controls the fate of the miners. When certain miners are extremely lucky in finding rich deposits, the other miners say that particular group made a pact with El Tío. Randomly during the tour, brothers would come by dragging a mine cart along the track, at least one of whom was 13 or 14. We gave them a 2L as they went by. Descending deeper and deeper, the air became hotter, and the dust made breathing a conscious task. Thankfully, nobody had a bought of claustrophobia, because we would have been in trouble otherwise. The miners typically eat 3-4 plates of food for breakfast, and then again at night when they come out. Inside the mines, they chew coca leaves to keep them awake and their throat lubricated, important because of the dust in the air, the same dust that will eventually kill them. When we were sitting to take a break, we heard some shouts in Quechua (sp? the Inca language) from a shaft no more than 20m away. About a minute latter, a large explosion was simultaneous heard and felt by each of us. The dynamite created toxic gases that rendered that particular area a no-go zone for an hour. So when the old miner who had been working for about 40 years came out, he told us through our guides that he had to scramble up from level 4 to level 3 in the minute it took the fuse to detonate the dynamite. There, I gave him the rest of my coca leaves, which he sat chewing until we left. I must admit, I was not sad by any means to start ascending toward the surface, to breathe fresh air and to see the sunlight again. I'm pretty sure the others on the tour shared the same sentiment. Would I go back? No, but it was an experience well-worth it nevertheless. At the surface, we had the opportunity to blow up the dynamite we had purchased for ourselves. We learned how to prepare the dynamite including the detonator, fuse, and ammonium nitrate to give the explosion extra power. When the fuse was lit, we passed the dynamite around quickly taking pictures before our guide sprinted off, and sprinted back. Then we waited for the explosions to occur about 50 yards away, just down the hill from the mining area. I couldn't help but think of Iraq after hearing the explosion and seeing the dust cloud rise 30m into the air. Back in town, Markus and I found the local market and purchased fresh fruits and veggies, chocolate and candies, wonderful goat cheese, and some baked sweets from a street vendor before wandering through the maze of vendors selling everything from underwear and shoes to facial products and perfume. Bolivia, if you can stand the cold, offers one of the most colorful and stimulating experiences in South America. I really wish I could stay longer in Potosí, but tomorrow we leave to Sucre, which is supposed to be even more beautiful with its whitewashed colonial architecture. It's about 4000ft lower in elevation too, which means that much warmer. Woohooo!!!

Bolivia scores another point

2008-05-20T10:34:00.002-04:00

As an addendum to the previous post, I wanted to give a little update and clarify a few things. First of all, when I speak anything bad about Bolivia, it is specifically with respect to the harsh terrain this country occupies, cold and barren elevation only. The people here couldn't be more amiable. Walking down the street, the disparity between myself and the indegenous population is vast with respect to economics and such. However, I feel humbled by the presence of these people whose wrinkled faces reveal a past laden with difficulties I can only begin to understand, or in whose youth lies a similar fate. I don't think things have changed much in the past couple hundred years, Jeep tours and Internet access for tourists aside, nor will it change in the near future. With admiration, I confess to enjoy walking around the colorful markets much more than your typical grocery store that has the latest imports from around the world. I am amazed at when the vendors close shop for siesta or another reason, they simply drape a cloth over their products, though even some fruits can be seen sticking out at the sides. There seems to be no culture of theft and here, in one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, I feel safer than in a parking lot back in the US.

With that said, Bolivia the land claimed another point in its match against the cyclists. Gudrun was throwing up last night and is bedridden today as well. Unbelievable...same symptoms: shivers, nausea, lack of appetite and strength, etc. I had a wonderful pizza with her last night while Jan Willem stayed in bed, so let's see. If everything goes according to schedule based on my recovery, Jan Willem will be dining on fine American-made pizza tomorrow night (the owner from western MA moved here after marrying a Bolivian woman), while Gudrun should be eating with us again on Saturday. Markus is expected by then, so a celebration it shall be in honor of recovery and a point for the cyclists!! I just hope I'm not counting eggs before they hatch, eh?

PS - I'm spending about half the day wandering around the city now, feeling much better. Today I'll go to the museum where they have skulls, artifacts, mummies, and explain the process of mummification. Might come in handy someday, who knows? Then I think Thursday, I'll venture on the bicycle for a few hours into the Salar de Uyuni to scout the route, terrain, etc. Let's just hope the reflection off the salt doesn't burn a hole in my retina, that'd be the last thing I need.

Bolivia - 2 vs Cyclists - 0

2008-05-19T11:53:00.005-04:00

When we left San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, a couple days ago, I was expecting to be on the road for 10 days before reaching Uyuni, Bolivia. Nevertheless, here I am now in Uyuni having arrived two nights ago on Saturday. Why so soon? Because I abandoned the ride, put my bike on top of a Jeep, got inside, and was driven here. Why did I abandon the ride? Because I fell sick; coughing, chest pains from the coughing, generally sore body, and weakness sum up the symptoms that I had. How did I become sick? Have you ever camped outside at -20C at 14,000ft in which ice was caked onto the outside of your sleeping bag in the morning? Believe me, not fun. One point for Bolivia.

On the first day out of San Pedro, the road just went up. I was able to average about 7kmph in the beginning, but that soon dropped to 6kmph and then toward the end of the day 5kmph. We heard going down, bikers could average 65kmph. Like I said, the road went up. And then we crossed into Bolivia, my undoing...

Our first campsite in Bolivia, my nemesis, was inbetween Laguna Blanca and Laguna Verde (literally white and green lagoons, respectively) that are basically touching. The Laguna Verde, however, with its green hue and location at the base of Volcan Licancabur, is the more famous of the two and represents a destination for the Jeep tours that travel through SW Bolivia. Pictures to come later, but it really is a spectacular sight if you don't have to sleep outside. In the morning, I debated whether or not to head back into Chile and take a Jeep tour from there to Uyuni, or sally on and see how I fare. Sally on I did!

Bad choice, because it was clear that I felt like shit, had no appetite, and seriously questioned whether or not I could finish the ride when I was pushing the bike up the 15,000ft pass that day for the last kilometer or so due to lack of strength. Thankfully the downhill was gradual and quite long, which meant all I had to do was battle with the washboard and the sand on the 'road'. We did see the Rocks of Dali (yes, formation created by the artist), which was quite amazing to behold coming over the pass.

Small tangent here, Bolivian 'roads' in this area are not like any normal roads by any means. There are simple tracks that previous vehicles have traveled on, some better worn that others, but often 2, 3, and at times up to 6 tracks parallel to each other going in the same direction. There are no road signs, so if the main path loops around and there presents an opportunity to take a shortcut through a ROCK field (between the side of your fist and your head), drivers will take it! (they usually lead in the same direction anyway). Couple in the deep sand at times, and you can kiss your vehicle goodbye unless it is a Jeep, truck, or a Dakar-grade ride (we cyclists try!).

So by the time I get to the thermal hot springs that evening, I have made up my mind to jump on the first jeep out of there. The cafeteria on location let us sleep inside on the floor, and even built a bed so I could try to rest comfortably (cost: 15 Bolivianos each or just over $2, typical of Bolivian accomodations). It took about 20 minutes under 4 covers to stop shivering, but after that I was much better. Markus, Jan Willem, and Gudrun went into the hot spring for 1.5hrs after dinner, which I skipped, and I simply tried my best to stay hydrated with the various teas and even mate de coca that was brought to me. Hell, at least I was warm!!

Note: mate de coca is basically tea from coca leaves, it's the de facto national drink of Bolivia served at all times of day, notably breakfast. And no, there is absolutely no euphoric or any other effect that I felt from the coca leaves.

In the morning, we identified a Jeep tour that would take me to Uyuni, but after it went to the Laguna Verde first during which time the others waited with me before started their climb to the 4950m pass or so (15500ft???). The Jeep was late, they left, but it eventually showed up and I was glowing once again with the prospect of a hot shower, and a real bed to rest in for the next few days.

The trip took 7.5hrs, the 'road' was as described above, but I was enjoying every shock absorbed by the Jeep's suspension that I did not have to feel directly for a change. Along the way, I was very concerned for my friends seeing what they would have to deal with in the coming week, but at least there were dozens of tours going by every day should they need help. I also was thinking thankfully Markus has and uses his GPS with the waypoints provided by a previous cyclist. We ate lunch at the Laguna Colorado, a crimson-colored lagoon flush with flamingos. It was unlike anything I have seen before, and luckily I was able to palate my first meal in 24hrs, a simple salad with some rice. I felt up for some cookies as well, they were enjoyed by everyone inside the Jeep.

By the time I found a hotel in Uyuni that had room, it was dark, getting cold, I was tired, and I didn't care about the $25 room so long as I could rest in peace. After checking out, I went to an internet cafe and met up with...who else, but Joe!! What a surprise, last time I saw him was in Ushuaia. I gave him the gossip, and he told me to go to his hostal where there was heat in the rooms at night. I did that, walked onto the streets to buy some bananas and apples, came back to get settled in bed and cracked open ¨The Broker¨ by John Grisham. About 150pgs in, Joe comes knocking on my door. ¨You have friends¨What? Jan Willem and Gudrun are here, JW is sick with the same bug that I got, but he was also throwing up earlier in the morning so they took a Jeep up to Uyuni.

Bolivia-2
Cyclists-0
Shit!

Where is Markus? Still riding, alone. I don't think it's the best idea, but there are always Jeeps. I just hope he scores one point for the cyclists! His ETA is Friday, we'll see about that...

Now, I still spend most of the day inside only venturing out for food or to write this, for example. The rest of the time I am just resting in bed, reading or cleaning some gear such as my stove. I have to find a new book, though, having started and finished The Broker while listening to, to my amusement, the ubiquitous futbol (that's soccer in the US) announcers' random outbursts of GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL *gasp* OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL from the TV downstairs every so often. Ah what a place Bolivia is, and South America for that matter.

Right now I'm getting quite hungry, so have to go. Joe left today with a group of 6 cyclists or so into the Salar de Uyuni, Jan Willem is still in bed, and I hope Markus is still healthy and en route.

Hasta luego!

Onward to Bolivia!

2008-05-13T11:40:00.002-04:00

This will be my final update for some time after uploading photos since Iguazu Falls. Markus and I will be traveling with our Dutch friends, Jan Willem and Gudrun, from Chile to Uyuni in Bolivia. We'll be past 4000m almost the entire time while en route to the Salar de Uyuni (largest salt flat in the world), passing by places like the Laguna Verde and Laguna Colorado. While there are refugios to sleep in and points of water on the way, we will still have to carry food for 10 days as there aren't really any towns with kiosks or supermarkets. In any case, the terrain will be very much like the pictures from Paso de Sico and probably more spectacular. I'm quite excited, but it will be nearly 2 weeks before I'll be able to come online again. In the meantime, enjoy the photos and check out Markus' blog for additional posts tonight. Ciao till later!!

Pictures: San Pedro de Atacama - Valley of the Moon, Sandboarding

2008-05-13T11:31:00.007-04:00

Pictures: Paso de Sico (Chile part 2, San Pedro de Atacama)

2008-05-13T11:23:00.009-04:00

Pictures: Paso de Sico (Chile part 1)

2008-05-13T11:17:00.005-04:00

Pictures: Paso de Sico (Arg to Chile border)

2008-05-13T11:10:00.007-04:00

Pictures: Salta to San Antonio de los Cobres

2008-05-13T11:00:00.007-04:00

Pictures: Cafayate to Salta

2008-05-13T10:52:00.011-04:00

Pictures: San Ignacio to Cafayate

2008-05-13T10:42:00.008-04:00

Pictures: Iguazu Falls

2008-05-13T10:33:00.004-04:00

Changes to Blog

2008-05-10T22:21:00.003-04:00

I'd like to draw everyone's attention to the right-hand side of the screen. I've posted a link to Markus' blog, who I am traveling with, and will add more links as time goes on. I'm finally understanding blogspot!! On his blog are more pictures, videos, and stories of our travels with a little more rigor with respect to week-by-week reporting than my pitiful postings. Enjoy!

Paso de Sico

2008-05-10T21:09:00.001-04:00

We arrived in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, yesterday in the early afternoon. The past week or so has been very difficult, so I'm not sure many people should really be so envious of my trip as I've been hearing since it does come at a price. At times we were camping and it was so cold that the water in my plastic bottles was freezing inside of my tent. I think it was -10 or -15C at night, and I couldn't really sleep at all because I was so cold. The air is very thin because we were so high up in the mountains, camping past 4200m a couple times, which means it's sometimes difficult to breathe. Then, of course, there was the road on which we were riding. The conditions were horrible, the washboard bumps and the sand was the worst. I have never had to get off the bicycle and push it downhill before until now. We had to ration our food and Chile wouldn't let us enter with meat, cheese, fruits or vegetables and the like. Of course, bread only lasts for a day or two before it gets too hard, so we didn't always have bread either. The wind dried out my eye, which caused blurry vision two days and a massive headache that when combined with the terrible road actually made me cry. And if we got into trouble, well in two days we saw 5 cars pass us on the road...

With that all said, however, the scenery was absolutely incredible. After coming down a pass from 4600m, we saw the largest salt flat/dry lake I have ever seen in my life surrounded by red mountains all around for as far as I could see. This,of course in the middle of no where, is where we encountered a German-driven seek and destroy vehicle (fuel capacity of 400+ liters is absurd!!) We spent the rest of the day cycling along the edge and at times I would just stop and look at what was below me. Another time, we rode up to this Andean lake at 4300m with a salt beach that is as white as you can imagine surrounding again by not mountains, but 2 large volcanoes with 2 more in the distance. On the lake was a population of black ducks that live there year-round and grazing on the golden hills around us were herds of vicunas (google it, like a cross between a camel and a deer) with very fuzzy fur that people sometimes use to make very soft and very expensive clothes. We camped there that night and were able to see the volcanoes and lake during sunset and sunrise in the morning. And we were alone with nobody around for miles and miles. If you can stand the conditions, then the reward is massive down here.

That is the life I have for the next few weeks before I return to a 'normal' way of life. On one hand, I am rather sad to leave the adventure, the exploration. On the other, I will be glad to have food at anytime, to be able to wear clean clothes and take a shower every day, to be able to talk to friends when I want. Too much of one or the other is not good, traveling teaches many lessons, but you must be able to share them with the people near and dear to you. In a way both lifestyles can keep you grounded in different ways. At home, you have the opportunity to interact with your community, friends, and family. You have a chance to advance society in some way or another, you grow and keep doing those things that help mold your persona. On the road, you learn to appreciate the comforts of home. You begin to understand what truly matters in life behind the facade we often erect around ourselves. You can appreciate the simplicity of life, and may even learn a thing or two about how to make things work around you. You can begin to understand the commonalities shared among all people, and from that baseline can then recognize and probe the uniqueness of the different cultures: the origin of the language groups of people speak, their myths and legends, holidays and festivals, foods, and most of all values. There is something to be said about breaking down the walls of ignorance, which often seem to be the origin of fear. Xenophobia, ignorance, in some ways equal, feeding one another in a vicious cycle until one day you decide to quit your job, pack your bags, and join the other travelers whose stories nearly always begin in the same manner. I can always return to the quote given to me by our Brazilian friend Bernardo, "If you want to travel with friends, go to your destination and you will find them there." The bond that exists between travelers is one of values, openness, one not exactly found in the average tourist who comes to snap a few pictures while being ferried around in a tour bus and then hide in their hotel room at night until they return home to boast of their grandiose adventure to far and distant lands. A websearch would serve the same purpose, and I hope I do not return to that as I have now been both a tourist and a traveler and understand the difference.

Pictures to come before I make the plunge to Bolivia!

Plunging into the Antiplano

2008-05-02T17:09:00.002-04:00

Right now I am writing from San Antonio de Los Cobres, Argentina. Markus and I have been here for a few days adjusting to the altitude (3800m) before we head off toward the desert of the Atacama tomorrow where we will encounter some passes near 5000m and nightly temperatures that will drop to -10C to -15C. The people in this region are poor in wealth, but rich in culture and very proud of their land, which is harsh yet beautiful at the same time. Here we have made friends with two guys who work in the local tourist information office, Abel and Ignacio, who have shared dinner with us and have taught us much about the region. We will head toward San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, and then from there ride north toward Bolivia. I plan to give another, long-overdue update from San Pedro. Until then, no worries. The headache from altitude is gone, Markus and I haven't needed to chew coca leaves yet, the cold is little problem, and we are eating plenty. Hopefully it stays that way! Ciao till later.

Torres del Paine - final story

2008-05-02T16:59:00.002-04:00

To finish the Torres del Paine story, I left off on a bus ride into Puerto Natales after my hitchhiking adventure with Maren and Kara initiated by a cracked rim on my bike. To make a long story a bit shorter, I arrived at the Erratic Rock hostel with a gimp wheel (after unsuccessful rebuild #1), and still no sign of Markus or Joe.

There at the Erratic Rock, I passed the time meeting new friends including Monica, Roanna, Rainbow (his birth name, no kidding!), Mark, and some of the staff including Bill, Mauricio, Rustyn, and Bo among others. Between screenings of movies such as A Brief History of Time featuring Stephen Hawkins or the classic Pulp Fiction, sitting in on the sweet info sessions about the Torres del Paine National Park, and preparing for a mega trek in the park, I waited and waited for any word from Joe and Markus for two full days.

Finally on my third night at the Rock, Joe walked in after sunset looking pretty tired from the day's ride. He basically said Markus went straight into the park. On the next and final day of preparations, Joe and I gathered supplies for our respective hikes and later learned that Markus would be starting his hike that day. Joe only wanted to do the 'W', a 5-day hike, while I planned to do the full circuit, the 'W' plus the backside of the park.

I entered the park with Rowanna and Monica, each carrying a fully-loaded (and by that I mean overloaded) pack. Rowanna probably had a kilo or two of excess food, mostly due to the gigantic avocados that she carried in addition to the two liters of red wine. Monica, on the other hand, would prove that she ate like a bird the entire trek and as such also carried an excess amount of food which would later be given away. I probably had half a kilo of excess pasta and/or rice, but everything would be consumed including the two liters of wine that I was also carrying. Having borrowed a pack from Sofia, a girl Joe met while cycling through Central America and who now worked at the Torres del Paine, I was off with my new companions for the trek toward first campsite: Serron.

Day 1: Hosteria Torres to Serron We dealt with a light drizzle for about an hour while hiking toward the first campsite. Though we got a bit of a late start because I had to find Sofia, our starting point was only 4 hours away from the campsite instead of 5 hours. Most of the time was spent adjusting to the pack, I believe mine weighed around 24kg at the start. The hike involved a bit of climbing, but we were all full of energy made it to campsite no problem. There we met two Australians, James and Mark (aka Team Oz), who we would hike with for the next few days. It was a little cold at night, but I fell asleep quickly after a wonderfully hot shower. One liter of wine, gone.

Day 2: Serron to Dickson This was a long day, 18.5km of hiking. It started with a bit of a climb and there at the top of the ridge along which we would hike toward camp we discovered what the Patagonia winds could do. At least once Monica was knocked off her feet, while I had to brace myself with my hands on the ground to avoid the same fate. Because of the conditions, the rate of progress was slow, but steady. Monica and I had been following the trail of other hikers ahead of us as we formed the tailend of the group. Through the valley, we finally spotted campsite surrounded by a glacial lake and swarming with thousands of the legendary Dickson mosquitoes. That night Monica was able to score a warm cabin in which to cook dinner because of her Chilean heritage, so Team Oz and Team America ate well. Hats off to Monica! One more liter of wine gone.

Day 3: Dickson to Perros It was a short day through a forest with James as we decided to book it. The 4-hour hike took a mere 2.5 hours and we had plenty of time to relax in the sun, explore the nearby glacial lake, knock off another liter of wine. In the meantime, I talked to some Americans (English is the spoken language on the trail) who were taking a lunch break before heading up the John Gardner pass. The day after, we would make the ascent up toward Glacier Grey. That night, another liter of wine was consumed, two kilos less weight!

Day 4: Perros to Las Guardas I started walking with Rowanna, keeping pace more or less with Team Japan while scrambling over and up the scree field leading up to the pass. We had been lucky the past few days with sunny and warm weather, and today was no exception. It was a relatively easy climb, especially with the lighter pack on my back, down to about 21kg. At the top, it was a windless, partially sunny party with Teams Gemany, Israel, Japan, Oz, and of course America. We ate and admired the expansive field of ice below us. It wasn't hard to fathom how it took one guide a week to cross from one side to the other because of the dangerous crevasses along the way. It drizzled for about 3 minutes as we started to descend, just enough to create a rainbow over the glacier. The descent was the hardest part of the trek, and the stress it put on everyone with the drop of about 2 feet with every step. Fatefully, it would be this day that aggravated Rowanna's knees. Passing Campamento Paso, we hiked up and down the mountain even over ladders at times along with Colin from Team Ireland. Tomorrow, Team Oz would leave the park and we would be immersed in the hordes of regular tourists and the 'W' hikers.

Day 5: Las Guardas to Italiano Together with Monica and Rowanna, we continued the descent toward Campamento Paine, where the catamaran takes people back to the bus and out of the park. Along the way, we met many day-hikers and those just starting their trek. I hadn't shaved nor showered in a few days and though we looked beat, my pack felt light and I already felt a sense of accomplishment. Too bad the peace would be lost among the hordes. Rowanna was suffering the entire way, so when we got to Paine, Monica stayed there with her to see the next day if she was fit to continue. If not, it would be the catamaran option for Rowanna and Monica would come join me the next day. I continued on toward free camping Italiano at the same pace I did with James a few days back to see if I could make it to Britanico. In the end, it was a good idea that I chose not to push on because the hike up Valley Frances would prove to be hard enough without a pack.

Day 6: Italiano to Los Cuernos During my hike up into the Valley Frances, I was wondering whether or not I would see Rowanna, or if Monica came alone. Because I had left my pack at the campsite, I felt as if I was flying up the valley. Passing a major glacier that broke apart before my eyes multiple times, I was treated to a spectacular view of the surrounding formations of the valley including my favorite, the shark's fin, after having arrived at the viewpoint just past Campamento Britanico. Though I believe I got a late start, I was still ahead of the horde and was able to enjoy the viewpoint in peace with a German, a few Brits that soon left, a French guy, three Israelis I knew from the start, and a woman from Holland. They all respected nature and as such, their company was pleasant and we took pictures of each other. On the way down, I discovered the speartip of the horde on its way up. Perfect timing!! When i encountered Monica working her way up, I was disappointed to hear that Rowanna had left and it was down to us two. Shame. I waited for her and we hiked toward Los Cuernos about 2 hours away from Italiano. That night, it did rain a bit, but not before we had already set up our tents and ate dinner. Alongside Lago Nordenskold that day and the next, we saw one rainbow after another. We really couldn't have asked for an easier season to do the trek.

Day 7: Los Cuernos to Torres Monica had slept in a bit, and so I started the trek out of camp passing those who camped in the open and had wet tents to pack up. The hike was a beautiful one along Nordenskold, one in which I was lost in thought for much of the time. The sun came out, and the winds picked up again at the junction in which I could either continue toward Campamento Torres, or Hosteria Torres. I snacked a bit and started hiking up the next valley. Along the way with an extremely light pack, I passed dozens of newbies fresh off the bus and still adjusting to the new load on their backs. Thank god the wine is gone and food almost sharing the same fate. Upon arrival and ahead of mostly everyone else, I had prime pick for my campsite that night. After pitching tent, I made my way up to the finale, the Torres del Paine. It was a scramble up through a forest, and then a scree field to the top. what seemed like hours, I finally caught sight of the towers in their spectacular sunlit glory. So far, the trip had been basically perfect. Tomorrow, we planned to go up at 5am to see the towers at sunrise. I went down an waited for Monica with a pasta dinner. She arrived too late to make the climb up to the towers, so we hoped for the best tomorrow morning.

Day 8: Torres to exit! We were told if at 430am the alarm went off and we heard rain, roll over and go back to sleep Well, we heard rain, so I did just that. When at 830am or so I rolled out of tent, I saw an incredible sight, snow falling. Just days before I could walk around without a T-shirt, but now I would exit the park in true Torres del Paine fashion along with our new friends, Lauren and Kendall. I was wet, nearly slipping all the time in my cycling shoes, but truly enjoying myself on the way down. At Hosteria Torres, we waited for the bus to take us back to Puerto Natales along with about 60 other people. I felt sorry for those just arriving in the park, but didn't think too much about it as I tried to get dry and warm myself. I chatted with Sofia and gave back the pack. Everything was coming together, and finally after 10 days or so I would see what Markus had been up to so we could continue our way south toward ushuaia. In the coming days, Joe would help me rebuild my wheel, we would buy supplies, and say goodbye to our new friends. Puerto Natales had certainly treated me well, and maybe later I would meet up with Monica elsewhere in South America.

Ushuaia trek pictures - part 7

2008-04-24T22:02:00.007-04:00

Tierra del Fuego pictures - part 6

2008-04-24T18:28:00.009-04:00

Return to Cycling

2008-04-17T14:03:00.002-04:00

Today I ended what I hope will be the last of a number of bus rides around Argentina, and South America for that matter. I had traveled up from Ushuaia to Buenos Aires with Markus and stayed there for just under a week as we made our rounds through the city and figured out where to go next. Thus, we decided on heading up to Puerto Iguazu and then over to Tucumán where we would possibly cycle with our Dutch friends, Jan Willem and Gudrum.

On the day before we left Buenos Aires, Markus and I saw saw the Olympic torch relay pass through the streets. If anyone was watching, I happened to be at relay station number 36. You would have seen me on the sidewalk getting shoved by the overzealous security (bastards) because of the Tibet protestors who had put the torch out in London and caused havoc elsewhere (good for them). Unfortunately for us, it became quite cold in B.A., but that would soon change when we took an overnight bus up to Iguazu.

I don't have pictures right now because I'm at an internet cafe with little time, but do a Google search for Iguazu falls under images and that'll give a taste of what it was like to be there - spectactular! One, I loved the subtropical climate (warm, wet, jungle). Two, it's just a sweet place to be for the falls themselves. There Markus and I walked through the park, saw a few giant rodents, monkeys, colorful tropical birds, and a tiny waterfall that I stood under before laying eyes on one of the wonders of the world. Imagine a river over 1km wide, and along that 1km width it's as if the land dropped 300 feet creating hundreds of tiny (in width only) and some massive waterfalls along the entire edge. Given, the dropoff was not completely perpendicular to the flow, but rather spread about 2km downstream from the initial point of falls (Devil's Throat), it is nevertheless a sight to behold and one I will never forget.

And three, Foz du Igauçu and Ciudad del Este (Brazil/Paraguay, respectively). I left Argentina, crossed into Brazil, and then Paraguay all in the span of about 20 minutes to go look for a new camera (by now it had really broken all the way) in what is considered one of the most corrupt cities in South America. Only once was my passport checked during that time. In Paraguay, it was like a completely different world between the massive swarm of street vendors and stalls with hundreds of heavily armed private security guards in sight. Why does a Panasonic shop need a guard with a shotgun anyway? Whatever, I changed money, bought US dollars, bought my camera, and got out. I really wasn't worried about violence per se, but rather pick-pockets and the random spot check by immigration officials. Basically, everyone from Argentina, Brazil, and other foreign countries like yours truly (and that's a couple thousand people, every day) is there without having received a stamp in their respective passports. No worries, though, Mondays are known to be quiet days, as are the early afternoons, I threw away the box from the new camera (would have cost me more than double in Buenos Aires), and had money for a bribe in case they threatened to throw me in jail. Nothing came of it, so it was back on the bus through Brazil and into Argentina, woohoo!! I was visibly less apprehensive once I got my Argentina entrance stamp back in Puerto Iguazu.

This is becoming an unfortunate trend, but I have to continue this later!! Markus and I have to go shopping at the supermarket before we collect and assemble our bikes so we can start riding again. I expect to reach San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, in just under 2 weeks. From there, we ride onto the Salar de Uyuni!

Torres del Paine pictures - part 5

2008-04-12T17:56:00.008-04:00

Carretera Austral + Fitz Roy pictures - part 4

2008-04-12T17:43:00.011-04:00

Carretera Austral pictures - part 3

2008-04-11T15:58:00.011-04:00

Continuing my late series of the Carretera Austral, below are a few of my favorite areas in Chile. The Lago General Carrera is the second largest in South America, and it is shared by Chile and Argentina. Despite the nasty ripio as well as the constant headwinds and 'useless' climbing, the scenery was simply spectacular and I would have done it again, though in the opposite direction! It took us 3 days after leaving Chile Chico to get past the lake, three days to cover just over 100km, but three days of this below. Some of the river pics are of the Río Baker, soon to be dammed up by Chile so Santiago doesn't have to rely on Argentinian oil and fuel. In other words, visit soon before the landscape is changed forever. The final pics are from the final section of the Carretera Austral just past Puerto Yungay and less than 100km from Villa O'Higgins, really quite the frontier town as I mentioned before. Enjoy the pics, I'm off to Iguazu Falls now!

Carretera Austral pictures - part 2

2008-04-11T09:44:00.010-04:00

Here's another set from the Carretera Austral, this one takes us up just past Chile Chico along the Lago General Carrera. Hasta pronto!

Carretera Austral pictures - part 1

2008-04-10T23:34:00.010-04:00

Ok, right now I'm in Buenos Aires with Markus. We have tickets to visit Iguazu falls tomorrow, so it's off to the jungle we go! Yes, I will bring the bug spray. After that, we have a week or two in Argentina before making our way into Bolivia! In the meantime, enjoy the pics from the beginning of the Carretera Austral. Will post more later on, as well as finish the story in Torres del Paine and Ushuaia. Ciao till later!

Sideway trees, bog juice, and the last ship to Antarctica...

2008-04-03T00:27:00.004-04:00

A more appropriate update is forthcoming, but I guess I'll just have to tell this part of my tale Pulp Fiction style, which is to say not quite in chronological order...

Today I did ride to Laptaia Bay, which is where you would end up if you drove a car from anywhere on mainland South America and started going south until you could drive no further. Sure, Chile claims Puerto Williams which is a bit further south, but we'll let Argentina keep their claim to the ¨end of the world¨. To the south, Antarctica. To the far north, Alaska, 17,848km away from Lapataia Bay. Oh yeah!

I must admit, leaving Patagonia proper or what seems like the end of Patagonia, I didn't have much hope for the Tierra del Fuego. The last real view of the mountains I had was the incredible hike around the Torres del Paine National Park, near Puerto Natales, Chile. Heading southeast, it was nothing but laaa laaa paaampa. Translation: flat, windy, desert-like grass plains for grazing cows, running ñandus (aka lesser rheas, aka small ostriches), pink flamingos (I'm not even kidding, and this is SOUTH of penguin colonies), and the guanacos, a cameloid species that really looks like a cross between a camel and a deer. They aren't a very timid species, sure they keep their distance, but guanacos are quite curious creatures sometimes running up onto the top of a ridge or hill and just watching us. I recall one lunch by the side of the road during which we were being watched/stalked by a voyeur guanaco; we could only see his head over the hill!

I digress, the pampa is not very visually stimulating. The only saving grace for me, mentally that is, was the presence of a strong western wind. Crossing the beginning of the Tierra del Fuego (the island at southern tip of South America shared by Chile and Argentina), for example, was one of my favorite riding days. Why?

Well, we started the day by leaving Porvenir and the Straight of Magellan. As we cycle a bit south, we saw one of the bays attached to the Straights which connects the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans. Joe got an earlier start, so Markus and I rode until we saw a real beach. I must admit, I do miss the beach and sea/ocean, though this really counts as neither. Anyway, we spent a good amount of time there because of three words - holy shit, look! In the water were dolphins breaching the surface, probably hunting for lesser fish. Well of course they stopped when we rode to a better viewpoint down the beach, figures. Then we road along the edge of the bay more or less heading south along rolling hills and tailwinds alongside guanacos, ñandus, and some fishing boats every once in a while. At one little fishing shack village, we saw the dolphins again breaching the water just behind one of the fishing boats. THIS time, Markus DID manage to get a picture of one in the air, to be posted sometime soon of course. I forgot to mention, I busted my camera's LCD in Torres del Paine, so I can neither preview pictures I want to take nor review them after the fact. It makes taking anything at zoom difficult. Anyway, it was a pleasant day and primarily because the tailwinds just never stopped. When we left the bay and started heading west toward Argentina, 160km or so from Porvenir earlier that morning, the winds not only followed our direction of travel, but also got stronger. There's something to be said about riding along on a dirt road at 42kmph and watching little cotton-like seeds fly past me as they are carried along with the wind. At one point I yelled for Markus to STOOOOOOOP because he past one of those Patagonia trees growing with the wind. Imagine a vertical tree trunk with branches perfectly and uniformly growing sideways. It's as if you would prop your elbow up on a table, point toward the sky, and then bend your wrist 90 degrees. That's what this tree looked like, can't pass up that picture. So when Markus, aka 'the tank', turned around to come back to where I braked, he had to dismount and push the bike, hahahahaha. We grabbed our pictures and kept riding. On a flat if I pushed, I could approach 50kmph, but usually stuck in the low 40s range when I got lost in thought and just sort of rode with the wind. Ahhh, yes, I wish all cycling days were like this. When we finally met up with Joe, we were 150km away from Porvenir at the border crossing on the Chilean side. It was a long and rewarding day, but I wasn't thrilled about San Sebastian (could count the number of buildings on two hands) nor about the 50 pesos fee for a bed that night. Luckily, the owners of a restaurant next door to the hostería let us sleep inside their heated building on the floor for free. Out of the cold, showers, no need to pitch a tent in the wind, what more could I want? How about not getting ripped off for the dinner, but I guess it sort of made up for the free space to sleep...

The next few days into Ushuaia were very similar, filled with strong tailwinds and nothing beside the road. Hell, even the guanacos went away for a while for some reason. The day into Ushuaia, however, was filled with mountains not unlike those on the Carretera Austral. I think it was quite an appropriate and surprising end to this leg of the journey; I say surprising because I expected much less from Ushuaia based on reports from people going north and the terrain of northern Tierra del Fuego. There, I would find new friends among the impressive travelers' community spread among the local hostals, and a fun little multi-day hike laden with bog juice.

That I'll get to later because right now I need to find a bed. Hasta pronto!

To PN Torres del Paine

2008-03-10T11:47:00.002-04:00

Wow, there is so much to say about what has happened in the past two weeks. The Patagonia winds have been as strong as expected, on the road and off.

Just 2 days out of Calafate, home to the Moreno glacier, while cruising at 30kmph I heard a pop from my rear wheel followed by severe noises from the rim rubbing against the brake pad. After a quick check, I saw the rim had in fact cracked. That was it for me, I couldn't believe my luck. It was on pavement too!!! After the 1000+km of ripio, and the pavement is what gets me. Unbelievable...

Markus and I finally caught up with Joe, and we decided to split up. I would hitch a ride either to Puerto Natales, or back to Calafate and bus into Puerto Natales. Joe and Markus in the meantime would ride on toward somewhere with an internet connection and thus a channel of communication between where we were at the time and either Puerto Natales or Torres del Paine. So I sat my ass down in the wind, and started to catch up with my diary sticking my thumb out for the random and uncommon occurance of a passing car.

I waited no more than an hour when Lady Luck showed up, rather I should say two ladies of luck. Maren and Kara from Arizona were driving to Calafate after having completed a trek in Torres del Paine. I didn't even have to stick out my thumb that time, they stopped for me and offered a ride into Calafate. After debating for a moment, I would have been stupid not to take their offer since I could try to fix the rim and then bus into Natales the next morning.

On the way cooped up in the car backseat with the bike, though quite the plush and comfortable ride I must say, we chatted about the Torres and Calafate among other things on the way into town. I really couldn't be more grateful to Maren and Kara, but at the same time I was wondering where the hell Markus and Joe would finally meet up with me or when for that matter. However, fixing the rim was my first priority and first mistake as well.

I found a bike shop literally one block away from my dropoff point in Calafate and purchased the only rim that would work with my bike from the shop. I then spent the next 4 hours or so at the bus station trying to transfer the spokes over to the new rim and then subsequently tune the bike. In short, I got the new rim on, but I was working with the wrong spokes and the wheel ended up not only lopsided, but also very much wobbly side to side. I didn't feel like doing much more when it got dark, I already had booked a ticket to Puerto Natales for 8am the next morning, I just needed to find a place to stay for the night. I luckily chose to stay inside the first hostel I came across as opposed to camping outside because it rained that night. I chatted with two neophyte French cyclists and gave them information about the roads ahead of them to the north where I just came from. I think I cooked dinner around 1130pm, it was just late and I was tired. The shower was quite nice I must say, having been the first for me in a couple days. (notice trends developing here?)

As expected, I slept most of the way on the bus to Puerto Natales, a 5 to 6 hour ride into Chile for the third time for me. Did I mention the cattle call while boarding the bus? That is the best part about biking around. You wake up when you want. Ride when you feel like riding. Take a break at any time. Eat on your own schedule. Stop and pitch tent on the side of the road, whenever, wherever. It's a freedom that is not possible otherwise, but I digress. That day, I was one of the sheeple sitting next to Niv, one of the many Israelis around. He had just started his trek in South America, so I was giving him the scoop on the places that I've been to which he will later travel. In the meantime, I'm looking out for Joe and Markus on the road who we should have been passing sooner or later. I never saw them on the way and wondered where the hell they were. It was raining at the time, so perhaps that had something to do with it...

Must continue later because I'm heading out to Punta Arenas. Ushuaia, here we come!!!

Patagonia Zephyr

2008-03-06T09:16:00.002-05:00

zephyr. (n.d.). The American Heritage® New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition. Retrieved March 06, 2008, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/zephyr

Zephyr [(zef-uhr)]
The Greek and Roman god of the west wind, considered the most pleasant of the winds.[Chapter:] Mythology and Folklore

--------------------------------------

Well, we made it past a pretty ridiculous, but at the same time spectacular border crossing in the middle of a forest, accessible only by foot or horse. Rounding one corner in a channel not wide enough for me to even keep my feet in the pedals, we saw the single most amazing sight of the trip - Mt. Fitz Roy across the Laguna del Desierto nestled in between mountains, forest, and a glacier on the right (which we camped beneath that night, it dropped below 32F). At the time Joe, Markus, and I were traveling with a Dutch couple and a British couple also on bicycles. It was a party in no-man's land!

After spending 2 days in Chalten, hiking some of the trails about Mt. Fitz Roy, we hit the road heading west out of Chalten en route to the Torres del Paine National Park. Despite having less than 3 hours of daylight left, we managed 65km with time to spare. Ah how wonderful it was to pedal leisurely at over 30kmph.

Right now, we are in Calafate, home of the Moreno Glacier, perhaps one of the most famous in the world. However, since we already took a boat to the O'Higgins glacier, which was quite spectacular enough (we saw a huge piece break off its jagged face), we're heading south toward Torres del Paine to arrive there in about 3 days in time for a little 5 day hike.

Well, time to head off and hit the road once again!

Will be over a week before the next update. Hope to finish the trip before the dollar collapses!!

Racing to Villa O'Higgins

2008-02-26T10:28:00.002-05:00

The roads lately have been quite difficult. There are few services between towns and I think it's been 3 days since I've had a proper shower with few perhaps a week to go before the next opportunity. We have to catch a ferry in Villa O'Higgins on Saturday, or we wait a week, which is not an option. After the ferry, load up on donkey or horse and walk south toward Mt. Fitz Roy. This is going to be a highlight of the trip, so I'm getting more excited by the day even though my butt thinks the opposite.

Along the way, there is maybe one place to get food in the 230km between here (Cochrane) and O'Higgins. After I get off this computer, I'm off to the supermarket to stock up. At least our only expense is food since we ride until 830pm and stop wherever we may be at the time.

The lake route along Lago General Carrera was some of the most stunning scenery of the trip so far, there really isn't anything I could compare it to. However, at the same time it was a series of useless climbs. Let me define: travel say 50km in which the elevation is the same at the end as it was in the beginning, but climb a total of 1200+ meters during the ride. That is what I call useless climbing, up and down, up and down. When combined with loose gravel, steep roads, and 30(?more?) kmph headwinds in which I struggle at 4 kmph uphill sometimes pushing the bike because the roads are unridable so, well, it's not the easiest road. I actually had my first legitimate crash too while descending one road, but thankfully I unclipped and landing on my feet running down the hill while my bike, bags rather, didn't fare as well.

And by the way, the Chilean civil engineers and maintenance workers responsible for the roads can go screw themselves along with the SUV and truck drivers who drive too fast and create the shit in the road in the first place.

Ok, I forgot about the other things I wanted to mention. We're still in a rush to push 70-80km per day, which means another 50-60 to go with who knows how many useless climbs ahead.

I appreciate everyone's comments so far and encouragement, it helps me along this difficult section.

Winds, Glaciers, and Israeli Hitchhikers

2008-02-22T08:43:00.002-05:00

Apologies for not updating sooner, more often, and with pictures this time. Unfortunately, time is something that is a precious commodity down here, there's always too much to do and not enough waking hours to do it in.

We are traveling through Patagonia, a region full of wet jungles, more snow-capped mountains with the occasional glacier, and plenty of small and large falls that we drink from (the water really is delicious). There are fjords like in Norway, and there isn't a single moment in which my neck isn't contorted in some way to look up or behind me at the mountains, or down at the nasty ripio, haha.

I'm writing right now from Coyhaique, which is the capital of the region. We hope to be in Villa O'Higgins on Feb 29, so we can take a ferry south (the road ends there) on Mar 1. Upon exiting the ferry, we load up the gear on horses and traverse a difficult 20km section of land (didn't feel like pushing the bike for 5 hrs like other bikers we've met going north have done).

I also mention the Israelis because there are tons of them down here, traveling after their military service. In every town and on the road in between, we find multiple groups, not just multiple people. It really is surprising, but at least they know English so we can talk to them!

The next few days should be good weather for us, so the traveling will be more or less ok, Carretera Austral ripio aside, of course. If anyone has a chance, I would highly recommend renting a truck (note: not a car) and traveling south on the Carretera Austral.

I'm 3 min late getting to the other riding partners, so gotta run!

Puerto Montt and Volcan Calbuco

2008-02-09T18:58:00.000-05:00

Puerto Montt -

Our time spent in Puerto Montt has been quite relaxing, and more and more I've started to open up to the city. The first day Markus and I wandered around town to find, among other things, the ferry docks to inquire about a ticket down to Chaiten. Little did we know that we would have to wait until the following week to get a ticket! However, all was not lost since we have to wait anyway for the hub to come from the United States. As of now, it has left Santiago, hopefully to arrive on Monday.
In our little walkabout, we found the local artisan section of town 3km out from the city center. Markus there was able to get a sweet leather shoulder bag for his SLR digital camera, something he'd been looking for since the trip began. Just past that section was the local fish market, woohoo!! We planned to cook a salmon dinner that night. Imagine, 1kg of salmon filet for $3, can't beat that price! I'm definitely warming up to this town. Just after dinner, we signed up for a hike to the top of Volcano Calbuco. Little did I know what I was getting myself into...

Our guide, Pato, picked us up at 8am the following morning. Juan, an artist who created the copper depiction of a biblical scene found at the top of the cathedral in town, later joined us when we were stocking up on food for the day at the nearby supermarket. The drive out of town was our first experience with the Carretera Austral, not too bad given that it was a paved section. About 45 minutes later, much of it on ripio, we arrived at the base of the climb. I wondered why they needed helipad markings on the main parking lot.

For the most part, I'll let the pictures show what it was like. The roundtrip was 22km, almost all of it a climb or a descent on foot. At times, we hiked through a forest with some trees over 2000 years old. At times, we were scrambling up volcanic rock that was slipping under our feet. At one point, we donned climbing harnesses and ropes to scale one small section. We tried to ski with our shoes alone in the snow that was remaining at the top of the volcano. The meltwater was delicious right from the source. And of course, boys will be boys, we tossed large rocks and small boulders down the cliff and watched them roll down the snow-covered slopes below (there was nobody down there, yes we checked). We were a little behind schedule because of the extended breaks, and so at the end we got caught hiking in the night through the forest. All in all, nobody was hurt, thankfully, and of course it was an incredible experience. I wish I will be in the shape Juan was when I'm 61. Right now, two days after the hike, I'm still nearly limping because my legs are still so sore. The sad part, I don't know what % of Americans would be able to do something like this, but I hope that figure will increase in the coming decades.

The Cat 5 Problem

2008-02-09T12:11:00.001-05:00

Villa Agostura, Argentina to Puerto Montt, Chile -

Among the reasons why Joe and Aaron chose to continue south through Argentina was because Chile is more expensive. However, it soon became apparent to me why at least I think I made the right decision to cross into Chile toward Puerto Montt. Markus and I were only able to make it to the border before it was too late to cross through Chilean customs, so we found a tiny lake to camp at within the Puyehue National Park.

Markus, with his million and one auxillary items packed away, pulled out a diving mask and we both swam looking for and finding plenty of fish. At dusk around the lake, there must have been two dozen fish jumping out of the water every minute! (the ripples are from the fish) It really was an incredible and peaceful scene, I couldn't help but think of my dad who would love to put a fishing line, or three, into the water. Hell, I wish I had a hook and line since bread tossed from our dinner spot on the lake was gobbled up in less than a minute.

The next morning we descended the rest of the bajada (downhill) toward the aduana (customs). No more than 2km past, break time! There were some small, but beautiful falls to stop by and take some pictures. Had we not been en route to the natural hot springs and if it weren't so early in the day, I would have taken a swim. The tabanas were as nasty as ever, though, and with a bamboo stick I was actually able to bat 3 out of the air swinging like Yoda in Attack of the Clones Star Wars movie. I stopped when I realized I have nothing on Yoda, missed the tabana I was going after, and hit my own leg breaking the stick in the process. I still have that mark almost a week later...

Another thing I've learned is to never ask the locals about road conditions. They ride in cars, and thus they lie. It's not worth the frustration to ask and expect an easy ride. The 4km detour off the main road to the hot springs with some climbs and some downhills according to a hotel guard at the bottom turned into a solid 3.5km climb with two tiny downhills. However, it was a worthy detour as the hot springs were everything they promised to be and more. Between the hot dog italiano (with guacamole and tomatoes on top, yeah, don't ask) the soaks in the hot
yet relaxing thermal waters, and the near freezing river water, I had enough energy and motivation to last through the end of the remaining day.

As I said before, the locals lie. The 45km ripio road to Lake Llanquihue turned into an minor but endless climb. The town we expected with campsites half-way through, Rupanco, didn't exactly exist either in the capacity that we expected. I had bought 6 eggs for breakfast, so it meant I had to stand to protect them in my backpack for the entire way until a gracious familly let us camp in their fenced-off grass that night near Rupanco proper. I also forgot to mention my near Cat 4 mishap, but I found the parts of my derrailleur that had fallen apart onto the ripio. Although we had no showers, the water and tall grass meant I could look forward to a good night of sleep, those 6 eggs that emerged unscathed, and the volcanoes that were starting to show themselves.

The rest of the ripio the following morning ended earlier than expected. For the first time of the trip, it was a cloudy day! Clouds mean cooler weather which means a less sweaty ride. It did feel in a way like the middle of Siberia with the desolate road cutting through a timber forest that served as a path for this Swiss vehicle that looked like it could withstand a nuclear blast and keep on trekking with the full-size BMW motorcycle easily strapped to its back. I have no guesses to offer as to where the said vehicle came from, except for perhaps
military surplus. Anyway, it disappeared into a gigantic dust cloud leaving us pondering what lies ahead. I sometimes wished that my bike wasn't the only one failing here and there, but I really just wish none of us had to deal with anything. Inevitably, on a trip like this, with the ripio we are experiencing, challenges are to be expected.

When we reached the pavement, Markus noticed the hub of his rear wheel broke. That's it, that's the Cat 5
I hoped to never see. The bike was rideable, but not on ripio, and not for long for that matter with the broken hub and 5 or so spokes now useless. We would head toward Puerto Octay to call Phil Wood and have a hub shipped to Chile ASAP. Markus redistributed most of his pannier weight to the rear pannier bags now attached to the front racks, and I took his backpack and solar panel (I told you he has everything) on my rear. Before limping off, we noticed the commanding Volcano Osorno directly behind us on the road toward Puerto Octay.
Over the next few days, it we would ride along the western edge of Lake Llanquihue, opposite to Osorno. We camped the night at a site in Frutillar, and ate lunch the next day in Llanquihue.

The headwinds were very strong the whole way to Puerto Montt, but they were especially noticable when Markus and I rode on Ruta 5, the PanAmerican Highway. All it really meant was that it would take close to 3 hours to get to Puerto Montt instead of 1.5 hours had the winds been at our backs. Markus wanted to stop by Puerto Varas, however, so I followed despite the 3km descent down to the port city on the southern tip of Lake Llanquihue. There we met Elicia and Andy from Portland, Oregon, who are writing for a web magazine and also traveling south like us. Find their blog here in which they share their thoughts on the same region we are passing through. <http://www.wendmagazine.com/elicia-andy/>.

The town of Puerto Varas proved to be a worthwhile stop with its situation right on the lake and a pretty cool business district downtown. I was somewhat, but not really, surprised to see some signs in English. Quite a few more Chileans speak English than did their Argentinian counterparts. Anyway, we asked about routes to Puerto Montt and instead of riding on Ruta 5 again, we were able to take a pretty flowing country road south, albeit with more hills and traffic than Ruta 5 (traffic that comes closer to us that is), but more stimulating nonetheless.

My first impressions of Puerto Montt is that I've finally reached a city once again, outside of Buenos Aires. Puerto Montt itself is situation on the edge of the water, a couple hundred meters from the surrounding countryside. Coincidentally, it's also where I felt least safe on the trip in the sense that I did not want to leave my bike attached to anything outside. We finally found just after sundown the Hostel Don Teo to where the Phil Wood hub was shipped, and what I would call my home base for the next few days just across from the water front.

Markus and I ate a gigantic plate of french fries, diced hot dog, steak, tomatoes, avocado, pickles, onions, and maybe one or two other things I forgot. On the menu it said for 2 people, but thinking we could finish a 2-person portion, Markus and I eached ordered one. This gave our waitress, Vanessa, a laugh because she didn't think we could indeed finish it and only put in the order for one initially. Well, she was right. The plate was more like for 3 or 4 people, and so we settled on that, beer, and a durazno (peach) drink for dessert. A shower and a bed were certainly welcomed that night.

Ruta de Los Sieto Lagos

2008-02-09T11:29:00.000-05:00

The ride from San Martin de Los Andes to Villa Angostura was one of the few in which all four of us, Markus, Joe, Aaron, and me, rode together. It was as spectacular as all the Argentinians had said it would be, along the way down the Rute de Los Siete Lagos (7 Lakes). The first part of the ripio wasn't bad and we were by no means in any rush to get through this region, so we camped on Lago Traful near the middle of the region.

I really would characterize this particular ride by extremes. On one hand, the region is gorgeous with another mountain lake after what seemed like every turn or climb. It was during a lazy break at one of the lakes, I believe Lake Falkner, when we picked up picked up Bernardo, a Brazilian vet who does epidemiology work for the Brazilian government. Bernardo joined up with us for the next two days. Yet on the other hand, the road was quite terrible and absolutely demoralizing. Amongst the heat, the steep and useless climbs (up and down), the attacking tabanas (biting flies that draw blood), and of course the ripio made from loose rocks, I just felt like giving up right there. A few things, however, helped.

First, the bridge we found that spanned a relatively deep river. Bernardo, Markus, and I jumped off it (8m high?) starting a trend in which some other Brazilians and some locals also joined in.

Then there was the comic relief from Bernardo, who kept saying Jesus! with a great accent whenever we would talk about ridiculous things. For example, that night camping on Lake Traful when some obnoxious teenagers tried to steal my fire that was keeping me warm no more than 1m away while I tried to sleep at night under the stars without a tent (I had to move anyway becuase they were so damn loud). Then there was the Great Power Chinese character tattoo that Bernardo sported that for all we knew could have meant man-whore. However, Markus was pretty sure he saw a toilet in Japan with two flush options, one of which was one of the same characters, so Great Power it was. When the ripio finally ended, we kissed the pavement. The next day Bernardo was to leave to Bariloche and I decided to cross into Chile with Markus, while Joe and Aaron would continue south through Argentina.

The morning ride with Joe and Markus through the national park in Villa Angostura was
invigorating, especially because we traveled to the small island without the panniers.
Uphill I could easily break 20kmph on pavement, it was even more useful when climbing steep
inclines through the Arrayanes forest (they do not appear anywhere else in the world except
this general region). On the way back I caught Berarndo leaving, said goodbye. I'll
certainly miss Great Power who said to us, "If you want to friends to travel with, go to
your destination and you will find them there."

Vive la Francia!!

2008-02-09T11:02:00.000-05:00

Waking up in Junin de Los Andes, I had to make a run to the supermarket to pick up lunch for the day. On the way back to the hostel, I saw a lone cyclist coming from the north down the main roadWhat luck! Julien, a Frenchman, was riding from Lima, Peru, down to Ushuaia like us. I invited him back to our hostel to meet Joe, and to make a long story short I would ride with him for the next two days. Before leaving Junin, he had to stop by the supermarket and the tourist information office, both just a stone's throw away from each other. In that same area, we saw a giant Land Rover with an Eiffel Tower sticker right on the front. Jacque and Marie-Paule were traveling around South America and had even written a book to be used as a guide for other French travelers doing the same thing. <http://www.landandino.org/> We soon parted and I hit the road with Julien, while Joe chose to stay and explore one of the nearby lakes for a day while waiting for Markus to arrive.

The route we took to San Martin de Los Andes was mostly ripio, but a number of factors made the ride an easy one. First, there was a tailwind the entire time, even if we turned a corner 90 degrees, hah! Second, there was very little traffic which meant we could take the best route of the sometimes very nice or very nasty ripio. Third, the region we were riding through really felt like a national park trail instead of a road connecting two relatively large cities. Finally, new company always makes for a refreshing ride in which you can pick up various tidbits and lessons. From Julien, "So long as you eat well and sleep well, everything will be ok." Amen! Lunch was delicious, and every passing stream or lake warranted a quick wash or even a swim. Now he knows how to live!

Later that night in the super expensive San Martin de Los Andes, we spent most of the afternoon drinking mate on the beach near all the major tourist activities at the end of a spectacular mountain lake. As luck would have it, I saw Jacque and Marie-Paule parked no more than 100m away! We were invited to dinner and given this anise-based French liquor, beer, salad, chips, and chicken, of course on a little table set up right along the edge of the beach. When we parted, the plan for Julien and I was to free-camp on the beach without pitching a tent using the excuse that we were only drinking mate.

Worked like a charm, the cops if there were any had to deal with the drag races in town and our only company was a small group of teenagers smoking weed. It was a fantastic night to say the least.The next morning we woke at sunrise and I decided to climb to one of the local peaks, 20km up with Julien, and then return to meet up with Joe and Aaron.

The long climb was broken up by the fortunate enounter with yet another French couple traveling in a camper. Some cookies and an hour of talking later, we were back on our way up to the peak. At the top we could see Lake Lacar below, as well as the tip of Volcan Lanin! An appropriate end to a fine journey with Julien. Though we parted for the moment, I'm sure somewhere on the Carretera Austral we'll meet again en route to Ushuaia. Please visit his website and support his ride, he survives on 150 Euros per month down here. Bon voyage amigo y vive la Francia!

Mapuche Holy Ground - Volcan Lanin

2008-01-28T14:55:00.000-05:00

The road back into Argentina was not unlike those traveled in Argentina, but there were certainly more forests. As expected, the Conguillio National Park was still closed, so it was back south and east for us. Right before the pass at Icalma, we saw the first of many lakes to come at the north of the Lake District. In a way, it reminded me a bit of Lake Tahoe with the deep blue water, cabins, and mountainous area. I just wish they had the roads like California does! The pass was only 3km, thank god. Those were 3km of steep ripio, which I didn't take too kindly too. However, 10 minutes of riding for 1km of distance isn't bad. Coming up, it really felt like I was in Cambodia/Laos/Vietnam with the hills that were surrounding us. You can see Joe creeping up just behind me. With my flyweight body and 20 few years of age, I climb a little faster than he does.

The Argentinians, I love them. Once again, people were waving and honking at us, and border guards really didn't care what we carried. Conversation is as follows: Passports...anything to declare? Nope. Ok, suerte! Gracias, ciao! We camped at Lago Alumine, which was so beautiful that Joe asked me in the morning if we really had to leave. Yes, that is my tent and bike at the lake front during sunset. Ah, life can be good sometimes.

The road from Villa Pehuenia to Alumine was a bit of asphalto, a bit of ripio, but mostly along a river valley that made for the most part a pleasant ride. It was only a 60km day or so, very pleasant. At one point while still near the lake, we passed by some guys butchering a cow on the side of the road! It's a common custom for the Argentinians to chill out over BBQ with a gigantic slab of meat, enough to feed an entire family. I didn't know, however, that they'd do the whole animal! Kidding, but when you have cows in such abundance that they sometimes even walk along the beach, why not!? Right?

The following day, Joe and I split up. Markus was still visiting with his cousins in Los Angeles, Chile, (as we had just learned), Aaron was a day or two ahead, and I wanted to push to the base of Volcano Lanin, where there was another national park. I took off and had a very long 130km day in front of me...

I made some good time on the asphalto, and the ripio wasn't too bad. I stopped when I saw a tandem bicycle parked on the side of the road, loaded with panniers. Where are the cyclists? I looked over and saw this woman calling out to me from high up in a tree! What is she doing there? Picking cherries, that's what. She and her husband were Germans biking from Ushuaia to Mendoza, exactly the leg that we're doing in the opposite direction. They gave me some cherries in exchange for information, and oh my god they were the most delicious and juiciest cherries I have ever put into my mouth. They mentioned some of the winds in Ushuaia region at one point reached 130kmph, which is about 80mph. Of course, for them, it was a headwind. Push the bike a few meters, rest, repeat. Usually they are more on the order of 50-60kmph if they are blowing. In any case, it will be a tailwind for us, so I'm excited!

After we parted ways, the ripio got bad, and the climb started. It was deceptive because every turn that I thought was the top turned out to be only one of the many, and long switchbacks I had to contend with. I really could not go more than 7-8kmph, much lower than my normal 10kmph uphill speed, or 15kmph ripio speed, or 20+kmph asphalto speed. It completely screwed up my day. When I was beginning to get frustrated, Jesus descended upon me with a motorcycle covered in stickers of Che Guevarra (sp?) and his boyfriend. He said there wasn't much more to the hill, so I pressed on reluctantly. He was right! But near the top, it started to rain. I pulled over and spent some more time on the side of the road, eating under a gigantic tree while waiting for the storm to pass. Maybe this 130km day wasn't the best idea...

The downhill was perhaps worse than the uphill. The ripio was UGLY. I fell while braking at one point, and again hurt my elbow and knee in the exact same spot as before! That really pissed me off, especially because I was preparing to take video to show everyone. I'll post it one of these days, perhaps when the internet connection is a little faster, just to give you an idea of what it was like going down. Think - not fun, at all.

Reaching the end of the ripio, I found the asphalto road and saw for the first time my target - Volcano Lanin. It was already around 7pm, with 2.5-3 hrs of daylight left, and 40km to cover. I was going to do it, it just looked too inviting. I pedaled in a race against time, rather race against the sun. Get to campsight before it descended. I took a small break to filter water at the river and clean my wounds, perhaps it wasn't the best choice. The time went by quickly as I got closer and closer. Finally, I approached the park entrance. A couple coming out stopped and asked if I needed water or food, and if I knew where I was going. Apparently, there was no campsight as I thought, and the ripio was as bad as it gets because of the serrucho conditions. Apparently the husband was a cyclist who participated in races, which would explain their kindness to me. They wished me luck, and I pressed on. I think I got about 4km into the park, with another 8 or 9 to go to the lake before I had to just stop and camp, illegally might I add. But, almost nobody was there, and I wasn't going to make a mess, so why not? My efforts were rewarded with an incredible sunset right behind Volcano Lanin, which attracted a local thunderstorm that night.

The morning ride out into the valley fog was stunning. I had set the alarm to be on the road before sunrise so I wouldn't get caught by any park agents, haha. It was cold and I had on between 2 and 4 layers, but absolutely worth the cost in sleep I gave up. I had only 60km to go before reaching Junin de Los Andes, where I would find Joe, and perhaps Aaron as well. The ride passed by quickly, and I was in town before noon. Just like on the 4K, time for A.M. ale! Try Quilmes beer if you ever get a chance, it's a treat! Right now, Joe is back at the hostel, Aaron went to Chile and will cut back to San Martin de Los Andes tomorrow (40km south), and Markus is still in Chile somewhere catching up to us. I am hungry, haha, so time to go!

C'Mon Chile, work with us here!

2008-01-28T12:59:00.000-05:00

Our last day in Chos Malal was yet another worthy farewell for our trip. Victor had once again picked Aaron and I up along with his friend Nelson, and from town we drove up into the mountains to see the area, check out this little salmon farm, and visit his grandfather. It was funny because I was able to squeeze out a bit of a political discussion about the left-leaning governments down here in South America. Apparently, they send the incompetent Argentinian president out of the country as much as possible so the government can do its work! She is the wife of the former president, there's something to be said about these spousal presidencies...

So anyway, the road down to Las Lajas from Chos Malal was difficult mentally and physically, for me. For the first time in a few days, the four of us rode together. Markus, however, had cousins in Los Angeles, Chile, and so he parted after only 30 minutes or so of riding, before my woes began. The late start out of Chos Malal meant I had just eaten lunch right before the ride. Probably a combination of physical demands with the winds and climb, eating too much, and eating tuna (protein in a can, good before, but I bought the cheaper stuff this time), I felt sick for much of the day. We ended up camping off the side of the road, I had been in mental distress because there was no way to make it to the planned stopping point before sunset, and of course it rained that night. It always seems to rain when we camp in the middle of the desert.

Continuing on, I was happy to reach Las Lajas the following day because this is where we were told things got interesting. Before, there isn't much to mention because it's just a desert. Past Las Lajas, we would reach the Lake District of Chile/Argentina. I didn't feel like pushing on, so Joe and I stayed the night while Aaron continued on. However, the story of Las Lajas wouldn't be complete without mentioning the town drunk. For the first time, I was actually afraid something bad would happen. The drunk, though I could barely understand his slurred and heavily accented Spanish, approached Aaron and I who were lounging around in a park near the center of town, wanting to intimidate or really pick a fight. He said he wanted to hit and fight with Aaron, try to provoke him with little smacks in the arm. Aaron, in the meantime said 'Am I going to have to kick this guy in the face?' I don't have a picture because I didn't want to show the guy we had cameras, but in the end he took a liking to me and gave me a little necklace with a bullet on the end. In return, I gave him my backup lighter, reluctantly. He was replaced with a bunch of curious kids who started talking to us. I bought Tomas an ice cream cone because he said it was his 11th birthday. I gave his friend a little tune-up of his bicycle, adjusted the spoke tension to true his wheel. Later, some other teens started talking to us about the region. All in all, it was a reversal of fortunes as we had also a brand new little hosteria complete with shower, toilet, bidet, three beds up stairs with a brand new TV, and a full kitchen! It was the first time I slept in a bed since Mendoza, what a treat.

The following day, I wanted to go into Chile to visit the Parque Nacional Conguillio. This, if you remember, contains the Volcano Llaima which was featured in my first post because of the eruption 3 weeks ago. I couldn't get any information on whether or not the park was closed, so I took my chances anyway. If the park was closed, we would head south and take the next pass back into Argentina. The climb to Pino Hachado was long, but picturesque and I thoroughly enjoyed myself the entire time. Toward the top, the valley was absolutely incredible. I keep using these words, but really this one takes the cake so far. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, the funky looking tree I believe are called Arruancurias, though I think I have the Spanish spelling wrong, the English equivalent is monkey tree. From the border of Chile, or frontera in Espanol, it was possible to see the Volcano Llaima in the distance.

The border crossing into Chile was a bit of a hassle, comical too, though. Apparently, no plant or animal products are allowed from Argentina. I could say more, but it's not worth my time. Thankfully we had an hour before the border closed, which meant feast at customs! I had a monster sandwich of some salami-like meat, a huge block of cheese, a carrot, 2 or 3 bananas, 2 or 3 apples, and some raisins that Joe shared with me as he was doing the same thing. I threw some of the rest away, but not my jar of honey. Like hell if I was going to throw away the honey! (given to us by Victors grandfather) Everyone inside was ready to leave, so when they searched my bags and opened the jar of honey, the one doing the searching asks his colleague, 'is this honey?' No, he replied. Hah! I win, I keep my ARGENTINIAN honey. I'm sure he just didn't want to deal with the fine they would have slapped me with. Sorry, no pics of that, too busy eating...

We camped that night by a river just on the fringes of Liucura, Chile, by a river that had fish literally jumping out of it. It's much wetter in Chile, and so the region is like a world away with many deciduous trees and greener landscapes. That didn't matter much to us, rather as much as the ripio and grading of the road does matter. I forgot to mention, right before customs we had a huge 15km or so descent, a section of which (4km?) was under construction. They had stopped traffic on one side to let the other pass through. Unfortunately, they forgot about us two bikers coming down, so right at the end they sent up the line of cars and trucks in my direction with one lane to share!! I've got video of this, I'll post it sometime...

short updates/comments

2008-01-28T11:49:00.000-05:00

So much has happened in the past few days, it really seems like Chos Malal is a distant memory right now. Before I forget, a few things that I believe I forgot to mention in the last posts.

Cat 1 = Stop for less than a minute, bathroom break and such, riders keep going
Cat 2 = Minor mishap, other riders slow down or take a water break
Cat 3 = This will take a little while, up to 10 minutes for a flat or a broken pannier in my case, usually solved with a ziptie (I love those things)
Cat 4 = Alright, let's find some shade, we're going to be here a while. This is a major repair such as a broken spoke or a fairly nasty crash, could take a long time to fix.
Cat 5 = We're hitching a ride to the nearest bike shop or hospital

Flies, they are to be feared. I don't know what kind of animal they've had practice on, but these things are aggressive, and they draw blood when they bite. I've had some of these little bastards follow me for over 1km on the bike! Neuquen is the province with the two largest dino museums in the world since so many fossils have been discovered here, so I'll assume these things are prehistoric and leave it at that.

Argentinians 2, Chileans 0 - Almost nobody waves to us on the Chilean side! I don't know what's going on, but the Argentinians definitely seemed to be more friendly and genuinely curious about the trip. Not only that, but the roads in Chile are steeper than the stock market fall right now! Despite the ripio and serrucho, I definitely prefer Argentinian roads and drivers.

The spork - I've got a little eating utensil that has a spoon on one end, and a fork on the other. It is made of plastic, or was I should say. Now I have a mini spoon and a mini fork made out of plastic. I pulled it out one day and found it had snapped in half, shit! Now it's as if I'm eating with my fingers, which have a permanent layer of grime caked in on some areas, at least until the trip is over. Oh well, at least I'll return with a stomach of steel. Note to self: metal over plastic, folding over stiff. Got it? Good.

We're getting close to the planned Chilean border crossing, so perhaps by the weekend we should be in Puerto Montt, Chile, for the Superbowl. Since I've slacked a bit, I'll retroactively (as has been done before) post about the last week or so.