South America by Bike

Home!

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 18:32:00 +0000

I spent a lovely week in Barcelona getting know my little niece Emilia. She’s lovely, a little angel, and I had a great week getting to know her in person. She really likes bouncing and swinging in her bouncy swingy thing. She is trying solid foods now, many for the first time, and her reactions to salmon, avocado, cooked pear and white fish, seem to indicate that she has working taste buds.

Then I cycled over the Pyrenees via Puigcerda, camping at about 1700m with temperature dropping below -5 at night. Brrr. Then down towards Toulouse. In Toulouse I thought about just getting a train. There were a few little irritating things wrong with the bike (chain and brakes) and a few things wrong with me (cold and sore knee). And the weather was lousy. But after I'd polished off a croissant and a coffee, and warmed up a tad, I fancied taking a look at the canal path. I followed for the next two days.

With running repairs my bike was in reasonable shape, and my knee and runny nose improved too. I continued up through france. I struck a route taking pretty much straight line. There are loads of quiet roads and at one point I followed a great marked cycle route that I stumbled across. I wild camped all except one night. Mainly in picnic areas, laybys, in woods or in fields.

In Tours I realised I was running out of time. In fact I had somehow forgotten a whole day. So I hopped on a train and nailed it to Caen in time to catch the overnight ferry to Portsmouth. I met up with a group of mates for breakfast and we all cycled up to Hambledon to my Mum's house.

We celebrated with a beer and I took a much overdue shower!

So that's it for this bike ride! A life-long ambition fulfilled. I thought I might write a post linking back to some of the highlights (so stay tuned...) but perhaps this is a good chance to say a few thank you.

I never would have fulfilled a dream if I hadn't of had it in the first place. So firstly I must say THANKS to Mum and Dad who always encouraged me to dream big ideas, to be open-minded, determined and, with all the stories, gave me insatiable wanderlust. When Dad died, one of the reminders was that life is short and you must take your opportunities when you get them. That was maybe the spur that really got the trip under way.

Next, thanks to my sisters Penny and Caroline and Ben, my brother. They were all really supportive and helpful

Ben: Thanks for helping to put Mum at ease when I first broached the idea. And thanks for the camera and all the enthusiasm about getting good photos.

Caroline & Alejandro: Thanks for making me an Uncle and a Guardian, and thanks for all the help along the way, and when I was planning.

Penny: Thanks for opening my letters, sorting out banks, and being "HQ", thankfully I didn't have to turn to you for too much emergency help but it was fantastic peace of mind knowing you were there to help if it all went tits-up.

Many thanks to everyone who cycled with me. Especially...
Russ: Wish you'd been there the whole way, man. Thanks for joining me, being a delivery service, for great conversations, ipod filling, pizzas, and inspiration.

Also, "Rocket Scientist" Mike, "Bullshit" Brett, "Iron" Mike, Monika and Thorsten, "Bird Shit" Chris, M,J&C the "Plastic Sheet" Chileans, Ray "El Chino", "Bus Stop" Frank, and "1000 Mile Stare" Dot.

Also my friends at Sacred Suenos and everyone I met out and about...

All my climbing and hill walking and tour group companions, particularly>>>>> Ashley, Sam, Dave P, Dean, The Hyuana Potosi Gang, the Villaricca Girls, Los Llanos Gang, Maricabo german girls and and guides...

Thank you to the musicians who I recorded along the way, particularly Nick, Carlos and El Camino.

Thanks to the many many people who gave me a place to stay or food. Especially Josmir, Sergio, the Casa de Ciclista people. S&K and the warmshower and couchsurfing people. Flacco, Jordan and other equally generous Colombians.

Thanks to everyone who supported me and kept in touch via email, phone, facebook, etc. Thanks for all the comments on my website and on facebook, especially thanks to my CAAC friends.

Thank you to Chas Roberts for my fantastic bike, stanfords, edinburgh bike coop and crosso for sponsoring me with great quality maps and equipment.

And everyone else I have forgotten, sorry...if you fancy donating a few quid to the Mother's Union please do, I will leave the donation thingamy up there.

What a great trip, eh?!

Airport Ugliness

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 13:54:00 +0000

"It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, 'as pretty as an airport.' Airports are ugly. Some are very ugly. Some attain a degree of ugliness that can only be the result of a special effort."
-from The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams

I feel increasingly despondent about air-travel. The worst bit is airports. They are hollow, soul-less places. As I stood looking out of a house-sized pane of glass in Caracas airport, I watched the baggage handlers loading up the plane that would take me out of South America. I was watching for my bike, but I happened to notice that about half the suitcases whizzing up the conveyor belt were wrapped in cling-film. Indeed, as I walked in the airport I had been acosted by several people offering their services to wrap up my stuff in cling film. But why? For security, to protect your precious bag, for waterproofing? I don't see how it does any of these things really. This is a fairly new thing, which seems to be popular, but I'm pretty sure it is a swiz. A waste of time, money and, in the end, a lot of cling-film.

Wastefullness is part and parcel of air-travel. The microwaved food comes in disposable containers, with plastic cups and plastic cutlery which can all be ditched. The headphones, to listen to a film on a post-card sized screen on the back of the seat in front, are disposable. The plane itself is burning through who knows how many gallons of fuel, churnning out waste gasses.

I'm in Barcalona now. My bike (she's a hardy thing) and I survived an overnight bus, overnight flight, and overnight train. I will be glad to sleep in a bed that doesn't move.

I will take flights again. I like to travel and, unless I get into sailing in a big way, I will have to put up with air travel as a necessary evil.

Venezuela Safaris!!

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 21:10:00 +0000

After I got soaking wet yet again in a walk in the mountains I decided to sign up for a tour to Los Llanos. This is a flat land area with tons of animals and birds. First stop was Barinas to collect a Russian couple from the airport (strong silent types) and go rafting down a big bouncy river. Next morning we headed to the camp in Los Llanos but before we even arrived there were animals to spot.

Junior, our guide, spotted some howler monkeys in some trees. When we piled out of the truck to take photos. Later, near the camp, we saw a load of caimen surrounding a lake.

The camp was a collection of homely shacks with numerous children, an anteater and a very humourous parrot. We looked forward to slinging ourselves up in hammocks for the night but first we climbed on the roof of the truck to go caimen hunting. The goad was to catch a caiman: just for a laugh! Junior and Ali, his friend from the camp, set off into the fields, and after a few false starts came back carrying a bundle of baby caimen. We oohed and ahhed, took photos and had a little race. Then Junior and Ali (AKA the black dolfin) set off to find some bigger ones...

The following morning we fished for parahnas (despite looking really easy...I caught nothing), hunted for anocondas (and found a little one) and went on a fantastic boat trip to spot fresh-water dolphins, capivaras and many exotic and beautiful birds. Then back for an eight-year-olds birthday with dancing (for everyone), rum (for adults), piñata (for kids) and cake (for those who lasted that long).

After a painful attempt to hang on to a cantering (or trotting?) horse, we piled back into the truck and drove back to Merida.

I was lucky enough to have a fantastic group: the Belgium stallion, two chain-smoking Germans and a couple from the UK.

After all that excitement I ended up back in Merida, it was still raining so my hope to climb Pico Bolivar was out. I was thinking of having a day at a natural hot-spring, but a recent land-slide had filled it in...So I booked on another trip.

This time I had a pair of very pretty young German girls as companions and the trip was to see the famous Catatumbo Lightning. I guess it isn't that famous really. Odd though. We stayed in a house on stilts right in the middle of the lake and watched this silent lightning going on all night. We also took in a night safari on the speed boat and spotted loads of birds of prey. The next day we visited a village built on stilts. This was a real highlight for me, a very strange and wonderful place of fishermen and more children than you would imagine. They all get about by boat. Kids paddle around on bits of polystyrene, plastic buckets or anything else that will float. There are two pubs, a church, a school, shops and about 800 people live there. There is also a power plant which fires up in the afternoon for the telenovelas (soap opreas) and then in the evening for the lights.

And that was it for Venezuela, and for South America.

Shivering In El Cocuy

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 22:24:00 +0000

Getting to the Sierra Nevada del Cocuy isn't an easy thing to acomplish by bike. I had anticipated it taking me a day or two from Bucaramanga...But then I did get a little waylayed by some paragliders, a surprise birthday party, some basketball fans, a man in a wig, a maricahi band and something that I recommend you never drink called "aguardiente".

Then came the toughest stretch of road I've cycled sinse the Careterra Austral. Stupidly steep, narrow, ugly gravel and crossed by gushing rivers on every bend. I arrived at the little village of Guican almost a week and a half after leaving Bucaramanga. A small pueblo perched on the side of a mountain valley with a steep sloped central square.

At five-thirty in the morning, at the corner of this square, I found myself waiting along with 5 or six locals, for the lechero. This is an open-sided truck that drives a loop of the mountain roads, collecting small pails of milk from tiny farms and moving about various things like sacks of potatoes, kids going to school, boxes of tools, cowboy farmers (in thick woolen ponchos, ganster hats and welly boots) and a weirdly dressed gringo who wants to go hike in the mountains.

Well, after a very cold ride (for those poncholess idiots), getting stuck in the mud and stopping every five minutes to pick up milk the journey to Cabañas Kanwari took five hours. I could have walked in three, but I guess it was a novel experience. By the time I reached the cabañas it had began to rain. I scutled into a hut and downed a few tintos (coffee) and ordered a slap-up lunch. This would be the last decent meal before the hiking rations of pasta, rice and oats. It was still raining after lunch but I began the walk.

Once I'd hiked to the end of the road, I continued along a track up to a pass and down into a valley. By this stage I was in the mist and couldn't see much at all. The valley was waterlogged and vegetated by the strange, triffid-esque cojine plants unique to this mountain range. Just as it was getting dark, with the rain still lashing down, I found the first lake and put my tent. I was in for a cold night. My sleeping bag has now lost a lot of its feathers. With a wet me inside it, it doesn't provide much warmth. Also, I wasn't well aclimatised and insomnia is one of the first symtoms of altitude sickness for me. But the cold was the worst thing. Every few hours I warmed up the tent by boiling up some water. Unfortunately I couldn't make tea as I forgot the tea bags so I just had bowl after bowl of hot sugary water.

I was packed and walking as sunrise broke. I didn't see it as it was still misty. The terrain switched from bog to rocky trails. I climbed another two 4000m passes with towering cliffs disappearing into the clouds with Laguna del Isla in between. At mid-day I reached Laguna Avellanal and stopped to cook some pasta for lunch. Just as the water came to the boil a hail shower started pelting me. There was no shelter but I decided to wang the tent up by the lake double quick. Then I moved my bag indoors and clamboured over the boulders with the furiously bubbling hot stove in my gloves. Inside it was quite plesant as the hail bounced off the flysheet. I settled in to eat dinner and read "Flashman".

With the rain still hammering away, and being tired after a sleepless night and seven hours hiking, I decided to stay put and spend the night here. However, as it got dark outside, I realised that water was starting to seep up through the groundsheet. I had put my tent in a depression that was filling up like a pond. Within a few minutes everything in the tent was soaked. I did my best to move about and find a dry spot but it was hopeless. Moving elsewhere was out of the question. It was pitch black outside with a craggy path to follow in mist and heavy rain. I would twist an ankle in minutes. So I rolled over and tried to avoid touching the soggy clumps of icey wet sleeping bag. No sleep. Cold. Shivering. I put my headtorch on and looked at my thermometer: zero degrees. It was time for a cuppa. Got the stove out, and sat up (heat rises). I thought about burning the tent down, and carbon-monoxide poisoning, but really my only concern was warming up. I downed the water and left the flame burning as I laid down and turned out the torch. I still didn't sleep and after a few hours I put the torch back on and finished Flashman. That was supposed to last me for bedtime reading for the whole walk...

By morning I had made up my mind I was going to just turn around and march a nine hour slog back to the cabañas and give up on this hiking lark. But when I got out the tent the mirror flat lake reflected the surrounding mountains. The mist had risen, not completely, but enough to encourage me. I packed and set off. Even so, I wasn't keen on too many more cold nights in my clapped out sleeping bag. I put in a 10 hour march, rolling together two of the planned days.

It turned out to be quite a nice day, and by lunchtime the mist had risen quite a bit. I crossed Valle de Cojines a swampy place with rows and rows of triffids. I didn't bother to pick a careful route through the marshy ground. My feet were wet anyway so I just stomped through spashing mud. I had a quick bowl of cold oats for lunch, an insurrance measure against rain. Rain that began shortly after I put the pan back in my sack and started on the next day, if you see what I mean.

Now I was back to mist and rain and after 4 hours I reached Laguna de la Plaza. It looked like a sea, the other side disappearing into mist. The map said an hour walk to the campsite. It was 2:30pm so, although I was cream-crackered, I assumed I would have time to walk the further 3 hours to the nearest Refuggio. Ha.

The walk round the edge of the lake was more like a scramble on a series of wet terraces which sloped a hundred metres above the lake, with a film of water running over them. I slipped up several times and decided that going slow was the best course of action. I'd been walking nine hours and hadn't slept for nearly sixty. There was no trail and the cairns were far enough apart that you couldn't see the next one in the mist. My photocopied sketch map was next to useless.

And then came the reward.

The skies cleared. The mist rose. The rain stopped and the view opened up. Laguna de la Plaza was revealed in all its glory. Unreal. Snow capped mountains loomed over the lake. I stuck up the tent and walked around snapping off hundreds of photos. Fantastic. (it would be another night of shivering but who cares, eh?)

How to Open a Coconut

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Mon, 27 Sep 2010 14:04:00 +0000

I'm sure some of you are sat at a desk, as autumn sets in, and that nagging thought is bothering you again...How do I get my hands on a tasty snack and refreshing drink if I happen to be lazing on a Caribbean beach? Well fear not, for here is How.

Firstly, you need a machete. And if you don't have one a hand axe. Failing these a knife of some kind. A heftyish fixed blade sort of knife or at the very least locking one. I saw a dude open a coconut with a Swiss Army Knife. He succeeded... but there was blood.

Next, you need to find a coconut. Look under coconut palms. But beware these things fall down without much warning and can kill (also worth bearing in mind when putting up your hammock). Look for greenish ones of a fair size. Avoid old rotten looking ones.

Step One: Remove the husk. Make three lengthwise cuts in the husk on the flat parts. Then, cut out a smaller segment. This should give you a hand hold to pull of the first third of husk. The other two follow quite easily. The fiberous stuff that makes up the husk is quite easy to cut through but it is grabby so watch out.

Step Two: Drink the milk. Clean up the coco and drill a hole with the point of your knife through one of the black "eyes". Drink up.

Step Three: Crack shell. Twat the coconut against a log or rock until it cracks. Don't obliterate the thing, just make a crack. This can be levered wider with your knife to prise open the coco into several peices.

Step Four: Get the meat out. Use a small sharp knife to score the meat and cut it out. Put in your mouth. Eat.

Cali to Cartagena: ¡Bienvenidos Caribe!

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 19:33:00 +0000

"Mi interés fundamental es pintar una naranja más naranja" - Ferdinando Botero

Cycling through Colombia is a joy. The scenery is beautiful. The people are the most open, friendly and generous of my trip. Especially as you travel north. Also the girls get slimmer and prettier, the weather gets warmer and even the traffic seems to ease off. Most days someone will offer me some fruit, beer, cake, or share their lunch with me. Many cyclists or motorbikers will slow down and accompany me for a chat.

I camped at the Casa de Ciclistas in Cali and Hernan, who is a great guy, showed me a map of Colombia that had elevation profiles. I copied these out into my note book and it has been fun to watch the last few hills roll by. I tried to leave the large, long and complex city. Navigating out of a South American city is no easy task. Firstly, there are little or no road signs. If there are signs they are not necessarily acurate. Then, there are road works, often with a single diversion sign. It seems to say: turn right into the barrio and fend for yourself.

But back on the open road things are simple again and the PanAm winds up and down, loosely following the course of the Rio Cauca. I swerved the Pereira and Manizales conglomoration and stopped in Chinchina which is in the heartland of coffee production. This is the sort of place that comes alive at night. Street vendors selling arepas con queso (a fried maize bread, stuffed with melted cheese, and dribbled in honey), girls gossiping on benches smoking cigarettes and men laughing their way through cans of Poker beer in cafes.

Before long I reached Medellin. Another stretched out city. Tower blocks, built on a hillside, continue for mile after mile. I took a rest day and visited an art gallery which has a lot of stuff by Botero. He makes paintings and statues of thick people (but not fat because it doesn't hang - just looked it up and the arty term is "exaggerated proportional deformation"). I think they're great fun. His pictures are a bit of a game too. It takes a while to spot some of the things he does. The security guard told me that doors and windows in his pictures are always open. You notice there are lots of horses often with humourous expressions. There are lots of hands and feet too.

Enough of that, time to hit the last hill. Very cold and raining. I needed waterproofs and thermals again for the first time since Patagonia. Also, I got a bit of a dodgy tummy again so I checked in to a swankyish hospedaje and visited the phamacy. Then down down down. The Cauca was huge when I rejoined it and full of brown mud. It whips along at a fair old pace too. The coconut palm lined valley is full of people living in shoddy shacks and eating fruit whilst lazing in hammocks.

The fruits are fantastic and juices too. Zapote, Lulo and Cheremoya are some of the best. Once, when I was leaning against a tree reading my book and munching some bread, an old man walking past threw me a fruit. I have no idea what it was or what it is called. It was green outside, pink inside, not sweet but very flavourful and delicious.

It is very common to see people walking, or cycling about, even quite far from towns. Often they have a machete sheathed on a belt with colourful leathery tassles. Sometimes you see 8 year old children hacking away at stuff with a machete taller than them. There is also a distictive straw hat here, sort of like a cowboy hat but with black and white weaving. It's pretty neat.

From Caucasia the road takes you away from the river and through mainly flat and hot countryside. Then I reached Cartagena and my first view of the Caribbean sea!

Good Things on the Internet Part One: Blogs

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 21:40:00 +0000

Here are a few blogs that I have enjoyed reading...

1. Alastair Humphreys

Who is he? Al Humperdink is a round-the-world cyclist who is now eeking out a living for himself as a writer and motivational speaker. His abition is to be a sort of proffessional adventurer. His recent adventures have been on a smaller scale (six week walks) but include several interesting approaches such as using carrying an inflatable pack-raft in his rucksack.
What does he write about?
He writes about his expeditions with a focus on photography, motivation, and his emotional response to the journeys. He often quotes from literature, poetry and old duffer explorers. Many of his posts refer to other adventurers and he has contributions of photography and guest posts. He writes a huge number of posts, almost one a day.
Some good posts
Make a living doing what you love

Work hard

India

2. Andy Kirkpatrick

Who is he?
A very very funny man. Also a mountaineer with a penchant for hard, dangerous big-wall climbing. His mountaineering lectures are more like stand up and well worth seeing.
What does he write about?
He writes about climbing, writing, his life and things that amuse, iritate or interest him. He writes informatively about climbing and outdoor equipment and techniques. He writes about his hatred for William Shatner, Ben Fogle and Bear Gryls. He often will dwell on the humourous and uncomfortable aspects of climbing.
Some good posts
Rock Me Sexy Jesus

Closer

The Balance

3. Ride Earth

Who is he?
Tom Allen is a cyclist who set off on a round the world trip but became entangled, and married, in the middle east.
What does he write about?

Cycling in some out of the way spots like Sudan, Iran, Yemen, Syria and Mongolia. Ranting about life, polotics, the environment, culture, history, and also practical stuff like photography, equipment,
Some good posts

Tenny

How to wild camp

Finance for a big trip

Building an expedition bike

4. The Hungry Cyclist

Who is he?

Another Tom. This one is a bit of a foodie. His cycle tours are often spent searching for local recipes and the perfect meal.
What does he write about?

Food, travel and cycling in the Americas, Europe and SE Asia. He's pretty handy with a camera too.
Some good posts

Faces

Discover your inner...tube

Energy Bars

5. Dave McLeod

Who is he?

A Scottish climber who put up an E11 on Dunbarton Rock in Glasgow at the time the hardest rock climb in the world. His trials were made into a really good film called E11. Dave comes across as the humblest bloke you can imagine but his hard work is inspiring stuff. He is an all round climber going for hard trad climbing, bouldering, sports climbs and winter climbing.
What does he write about?

Climbing. Particularly about the physical training, the mentality of climbing and philosophising on the risk. He is an advocate of setting and acheiving goals.
Some good posts

Baños to Cali: Into colombia.

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 16:58:00 +0000

Baños is a place for tourists. Ecuadorians and Gringos alike go there to get a hot bath, go bungee jumping, whitewater rafting or to rent a mountain bike and cycle downhill to Puyo. It seems like the big cycling attractions are always downhill (the big hitter being "The Road of Death"). Its a shame as, truth be told, some of my favouirte cycling has been uphill.

I too headed to Puyo. I hadn't yet been to "The Jungle" and I fancied cycling downhill for a bit. (I know, I know, what goes down must come up...) Also, I had been told that the road from Baños to Puyo is a great cycle ride. And it was. Along the way there are many waterfalls and the scenery is never less than dramatic.

Puyo is a medium sized modern hot and sweaty place full of shops selling flashy jeans and people sitting at tables eating hamburgesas and wearing shiny jeans.

I resolved that it was probably too much of a detour to go further down into the rainforest (plus there are insects down there I'm told) and so I rode out to a zoo, of which there are 100s, in order to see some jungle wildlife. I feel a bit weird about zoos, but anyway I went. The place I wound up at had monkeys, turtles, parrots, crocs and some tigrillos (miniture tigers). All very nice. Most of the monkeys just run free around the place. Gringo volunteers were working in the zoo which I imagine must be a fun way of spending a few weeks, and really I think that would be the length of time required to get any enjoyment out of a place like that, or even to suss it out. Putting together a zoo like this would cost very little. Just knock up some cages from bamboo and chicken wire, drive 3 hours east, fill your van with animals, drive back, put up a sign, and charge people like me $2 for a 20 minute walk round. If you call yourself an "Animal Refuge" instead of a zoo, it makes people like me feel better. But in order to remain in existance they need customers and so they need animals, so the "refuge" aspect is only really wordplay. I suspect.

Anyway, I got back on the hot and humid road and cycled to Tena through countryside of strange trees and cobbled together shacks. In Tena, I stayed with a guy called Jorge and his father, called Jorge, and tried not to get confussed. We ate fantastic breakfasts, had fried fish and yuka dinners and went to a kareoke. Then it was time to head on.

From here the weather took a turn for the worse, and as I climbed back up into the mountains, it was cold. A stop in a small mountian town proved a lucky find as the hostal had a small scalding hot swimming pool in a basement.

I pressed onwards through Ecuador's hilly north, crossed the Equator and crossed into Colombia. The change is noticable straight away. You are no longer in an "Andean Country" but in a "Caribbean Country". People are more relaxed and friendly, you get given gifts of fruit on a regular basis and salsa-pop thumps louder than ever from every house.

Modes of Transport (Part II)

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 22:37:00 +0000

Following on from this. Here are some more methods of getting about.

Very Long Distance Walking
As I was packing up my tent one morning, about 100km away from Cusco, in the middle of nowhere, a rather odd man appeared. He was dressed in shorts and a bright red Peruvian Fire Brigade jumper. He had attached to his tiny backpack a huge Union Jack. I asked him where he had walked from. Mexico, he replied. How long did it take you? I wondered. Three and a half years. He had bits of car tyre glued to the bottom of his boots. He didn't carry a sleeping bag.

I think it is fair to say that walking is just about the slowest form of land transport. I can see a few advantages though. You are not stuck to roads, you can go just about anywhere, over mountain passes and through fields and forests. There is little to go wrong; the only thing to break is you. On the downside you can't take as much stuff and crucially you can't free-wheel down hills.

Other googlable or wikipediable (very) long distance walkers are:
Karl Bushby
Rosie Swale-Pope
Nicholas Crane
Hamish Brown
Colin Skinner
Chris Townsend
Ffyona Campbell

Hitch-hiking

Hitching like many of the best things is not easily pinned down. It can be fun, frustrating, challenging, dangerous or very boring. It can be a great way to learn a language, meet interesting people or even a dive-in-at-the-deep-end way to learn to drive. It is generally either free or low-cost, so in my mind that makes it better than buses. Jack Kerouac wrote a classic about it in On The Road. Douglas Adams broadened the scope a bit more in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Tony Hawks hitched round Ireland with a fridge. In the Mighty Boosh there is a weird green cockney with a giant polo mint where his eye should be.

Ah, whatever. Check out Road Junky for advice and for inspiration check out Tom.

Stowaways, Boathitching and Trainhopping

"Keep everything dark, dark clothes, dark pack, dark sleeping bag or blanket. This will make it harder to get caught by the railroad cops as you blunder around the train yards."

That is the sort of terrific advice you get from Wes Modes on his website that makes for thrilling reading. He also encourages Urban Adventures, such as sneaking around factories for a laugh and climbing buildings. Check out his great website The Spoon.

Stowing away obviously has a great history as a method of crossing oceans. And on a practical level you can see why. Once the boat has left port the captain is stuck with you. I can't see it all panning out like in Treasure Island thesedays. Starving to death on a long voyage, freezing to death in the wheel-well of a plane, or being hearded into the back of a lorry don't sound like much fun. But many desperate immigrants still resort to these measures.

Boat-hitching might be a better option. How to go about it is detailed quite well by wikitravel on this page. There are a ton of websites where you can look for people who require crew on thier yacht, such as crewseekers.net, or you could just turn up at a port and get to know people.

Vilcabamba to Baños:

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 01:36:00 +0000

For a few days in Vilcabamba a lovely retired couple put me up on their farm. In exchange I picked coffee for a few hours in the mornings, and did a bit of painting in a flat they are renting out. Then I loaded up the trusty steed and headed for the Panamerican. It rained most of the way to Loja and from there most of the way to Cuenca.

Weird that it is so cold so close to the equator. But then I was still cycling along above 2000m. Camping in an unfinished house that a shop owner said I could use kept me out of a biting cold wind. The next night I found a Wild West themed restaurant out in the middle of nowhere and the owner let me camp outside. There must have been something about the clay hereabouts as I saw many little brick factories as I climbed up, up, up.

Cuenca is a delightful old colonial city and so it is also quite expensive. I got my fill of architecture and slept in a bit too much comfort. Then I headed on towards Riobamba. Nice campspot in a corn feild with a beautiful sunset. Met a huge gaggle of cyclists heading south. Fully supported. There website is bike-dreams.com. Check out the price 8400 euros for 129 days. Phewy!

Also met Ewan McGreggor. Or at least someone who looked a bit like him...

Got to Riobamba and found my couchsurfing host, Wladimir who had also fixed me up with a climbing partner and guide to have a crack at Chimborazo. Dean and I got a bus to the national park and hiked up to the refuge at 5000m where we spent 2 days eating, playing cards, warming ourselves by the fire, eating, drinking tea, eating and waiting for Ediverto, our guide, to show up. Occassionally we went and lay down pretending to sleep. The weather outside shook the refuge and we saw nothing of the mountian we intended to climb. All this time we saw groups arrive and looking at the conditions, turn back. There was much discussion about an accident earlier in the week in which a climber was injured by a rock fall/avalanche. Very few even left the refuge. Also, a slightly creepy Russian bloke, called Igor, started probing us with questions. It was soon clear that he intended to follow us when we set off. Bit cheeky seeing as we'd paid for a guide and he hadn't.

Ediverto showed up and at 11pm we set off. The sky was clear now but it was very windy. The fresh snow, warmed up by that blanket of cloud, was described by Ediverto as suave (soft or gentle) and later on loco (crazy). I began to get the impression this wasn't going to happen. As we headed up we saw that Igor was following us. Then, as we stopped to have another good look at the snow, he overtook. At the base of "the corridor", the site of the accident, we couldn't see Igor above. Ediverto said he was very worried about him as it was a very dangerous part to be on your own. He decided that the risk of rockfall in this spot was too high especially with the strong wind. And higher up the chance of avalanche was also strong because of the poor snow conditions. He explained all this to us and we had to accept his decision. As we walked down he was very worried about Igor. Soon we saw his head torch following us down.

Back in Riobamba I got a full day's sleep and then set off again. Due to my lousy sense of direction, and Ecuador's lack of sign-posts, I ended up going up a very long hill in not quite the right dirrection. I ran out of water and had to top up from a village tap, bit risky. Then got some dry bread to eat for lunch. In the end I managed to work out roughly were I was and the bonus of all that climbing was I got to freewheel for thirty odd kilometres down to Baños.

Next, I head for the jungle town: Puyo...

Ecological Farming on a Ecuadorian Mountainside

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 21:26:00 +0000

"We are stardust. We are golden. And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden."
-Woodstock by Joni Mitchell

My friends Ryan and Jenn travelled through South America a few years ago and visited an ecological farm called Sacred Sueños. Jenn wrote an article about Permaculture farming in a Canadian magazine. Ryan recommended the place to me so, with my bike safely locked up in a garden shed at the base of the mountain, I hiked the two hours up the mountain to the farm.

Yves Zehnder bought the land here 7 years ago. He is a ginger haired Canadian driven here by his frustration with modern society. He put up his tent and set about trasforming the 10 hectares of land. The soil was very low quality, years of slash-and-burn farming had left only bracken fern. He built himself an adobe brick house which now acts as the kitchen and communal area for the volunteers like me who come to live and work here for a few weeks.

In his first few years the local Ecuadorians thought this young gringo who had bought land would make an excellent husband for their daughters. They would bring their loveliest seventeen-year-olds which he would politely decline. Rumours spread that he was gay. One day, after a hard day building the kitchen, Yves decided it would be fun to strip naked, jump in the mud pit, used to make the earth bricks, and splash around and make monkey noises. Perhaps too much time alone on a mountainside was to blame. Unbeknownst to him a local farmer was on his way with another angelic young daughter. They got the shock of their lives and Yves pulled on his jeans. His muddy legs stuck to the inside.

Seven years on and things are in a little more order. Yves and his partner Jenn are live at the farm and a stream of volunteers come up to help out for a few weeks. The farm has been designed along permaculture principles and aims to become self-sufficient and sustainable. All sorts of trees are in the ground such as Hazelnuts, Avocados and Peach, but it will be several years still till they reach maturity. The garden is fairly fruitful especially with salad, beans and grenadilla. I spent 3 weeks digging trenches, building trails and steps, building new raised beds and helping to build a new water tank. Here is a summary of the kind of thing they are doing.

Improving soil
Chicken Tractor (Chickens are kept in a movable coop. Their droppings help to improve soil fertility)
Humanure (The result of the composting toilet. One of the best fertilizers on the farm)
Compost (Layers of dry grass, donkey shit, kitchen scrap, ash, fresh green matter and more donkey shit. Turned infrequently in the hope that nutrients don't escape to the air)
Compost tea (Fish beans and comfrey mixed in water or urine. Water soluble nutrients are more likely to form in a liquid, bit smelly though)
Planting native species
Planting dynamic accumulators such as nitrogen fixers.
Heavy prunning
Protecting with mulch, contour ditches, bunds and tree roots (to stop all that good soil being washed down the mountian).

Building
Cob - A building technique using clay, sand and earth bonded together with straw fibres tradditionaly but recycled plastic strips can be used. The dormitory where I stayed had a "Bodega" built from cob with a wooden structure above.
Adobe bricks - Tradditional building material in South America. Bricks are made from clay, sand, earth and water and dried in the sun. The communal kitchen is built from adobe.
Earthbags - Another technique using earth, this time in polypropelene bags (3 cents each) which are filled and rammed in place. Sucessive layers are tied with string and help in place with barbed wire. The water tanks are built in this way.
Natural timbers and rocks.
Cement, Tin roofs, transparent plastic sheeting and lumber from down the hill

Animals
Donkeys and horse (used for logistics, i.e. for carrying food/gas/people/building materials up the hill and thier shit is collected to go in the compost)
Goats (Yves runs a small goat cheese business so he can afford to pay the weekly $25 for food)
Dogs (companionship and security)
Cats (companionship and pest control)
Chickens (eggs and soil fertility)
Bees (polonation, in the future hopefully honey, wax and propolis)

Human Services
Toilet (Composting toilet for poo. Essentially just a glorified bucket. Sited with great views of the mountian. A scoop of sawdust (which they get for free) goes over the shit. The bucket is emptied into a pile where it decomposes into a firtile soil called Humanure. Wee on trees, or collected for compost tea).
Shower (A lovely outside heated shower with a coil of black pipe that heats up in the sun)
Laundry (bucket and washboard. There is also another spiral of black pipe to heat up the washing water.)
Cooking (gas bottles from down the hill)
Food (some fruit and veg from the garden plus $25 a week each for food from the market in Vilcabamaba)
Light (candles and headlamps)
Computer (solar charged)
Batteries (charged down the hill)
Cell phone (solar charged)

Stimulus
Music (mp3 players and a solar powered amp and speakers)
Musical instruments
Books (well stocked library)
Animals
Radio
Games box
Firepit
Conversation and stories

Recycling
Food scraps and peels is used for compost or animal feed.
Paper is burned.
Plastic is reused where possible. Milk and oil containers are turned into planters. Other plastic bags are either reused or cut into strips to be used in cob building.
Only the most scanky of stuff, and non-rechargable batteries, go down the hill.

Water
Water tanks
Dammed creeks
Drainage ditches and contour bunds
Ponds
Gutters to collect rain off roofs which is then diverted to plants.
Mulch
Micro catchment (when a new tree is planted, ditches are dug to provide proper drainage)
Greywater system (waste water from washing up, showering, laundry etc is used for irrigation)
Dry toilet (so no water lost in flushing)

Sucessful Plants
Naranjilla (for juice)
Granadilla
Tomate de arbol (for juice)
Scarlet runner beans (causes lots of farting)
Lettuce and salads
Herbs (oragano, thyme, basil, rosemary, lemon verbatim, mint)
Aloe
Raspberries
Blackberries
White carrots
Tomatoes in greenhouse and outdoors
Uvillas
Capeberry
Kale
Zuccini
Tarro root
Laconi
Zambo (a type of squash)

Gardening Methods
Grow from seed
Biodiversity to combat pests and disease
Hand watering
Free labour from volunteers
Pollycropping
Plant with moon

Future Ambitions
Self-sufficiency
A small permanent community
Reforestation
Edible forest garden (trees are all too small still)
Juice bar (for sale to passing horse riders and hikers)
Herbal medicine for use and sale
Preserves for use and sale
Honey and bees wax
Social Projects (Yves set aside the most firtile part of the the land he owns for a future project. He invisages that a women's refuge, a rehab clinic or something like that might be built and run by future residents.)
Internships (They hope to get people willing to stay for several months (rather than a few weeks) so they can take on more responsibility)
Free festivals (primarily just to get more shit for humanure)
Free permaculture design courses for Ecuadorians subsidised by pricey courses for westerners.

Challenges and Setbacks
Doing everything manually (screws up your back and takes longer but is free (especially with help of volunteers))
Poor soil
Unpredictable climate
Runoff
Mosquitos
Cultural separation (Jenn is having a hard time learning Spanish even after living here for 2 years as the volunteers mostly speak English)
Isolation
Social dynamics (During my stay there were a few moments of friction between Jenn and other volunteers. I think she would freely admit that at times she is not the easiest person to get along with. At one stage, when I was amidst a frustrating plumming dilema (I put the faucet on backwards) this included me, but when she made us both a vodka and freshly squeezed orange juice our differences where set aside.)
Transitory nature of community (It is hard for Jenn and Yves to invest much effort into getting to know people who will be gone in a few weeks.)
Exposure to wind, rain, sun.
Limited personal funds (Jen has a dwindling savings account and Yves is, more or less, broke).
Distance from medical assistance
Mistakes
No refrigeration
Animals (unpredictable)

Best things about living here
Healthy diet
Plenty of exersize
Beautiful setting
Meeting lots of interesting people
Closer connection to food/land/environment
Not wasteful
Learning/experimenting
Sunsets
Donations from people inspired by the project. Land, books, seeds, tools, clothes, animals.
Tranquility
No city bullshit, usually
Waterfall
No boss or 9 to 5. (7 to 7 instead!)
Stars
Animals

Gringo Biker

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 20:44:00 +0000

I am probably working away on a farm at the moment but I have written a few posts to keep regular readers amused...Next up, Gringo Biker.

Well, the name is a bit naff, but I wanted something that instantly explained what I was doing. Basically, my inspiration came from Heinz Stucke. This well-travelled cyclist has been on the road since 1962. He now travels from the licencing revenue of over 100,000 travel photos and from sales of his booklet discribing his travels.

Well, I decided to follow suit and bash out a little booklet of travel stories. I filchered most of them from previous posts on this blog. Then I copied them to word, ran a spell check, used Booklet Creator and made a front cover with one of Mike's photos of me. Then I printed off one master copy for 5 soles and had 30 copies photocopied for 30 soles. I sold each copy for 5 soles and had made back my investment in the first day by wandering around Miraflores in Lima and irritating anyone who looked like they might speak (and read) English.

It is my first dabble with entrepreneurialism and was fun. Especially seeing those 30 fresh copies roll hot of the press.

I am looking forward to making another one with a different set of stories and now I have learned a few important things about manufacturing.

-Photocopying is cheaper than printing.
-Print the master copy to highest standard possible.
-Spell check and read through for mistakes.
-Make sure the pages are in the right order.

And here are my sales tips...
-Grab a few copies in a plastic bag and look for white people.
-Someone on a bike is a safe bet.
-Always approach good-looking girls.
-People with rucksacks.
-People lingering at road crossings, cafe tables, queues and bus stations.
-Mention it over breakfast in a hostel.

A Chat With A Guide Called Eric

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 19:12:00 +0000

I am probably working away on a farm at the moment but I have written a few posts to keep regular readers amused...Firstly, back to the Huayhuash trek in Peru.

Halfway around the trek there are some hot springs where you can soak your aching legs. Dave and I got chatting to a trekking guide with one of the tour groups. He was sat in the hot bath drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. We had already been in and out, and eaten dinner, and sat, in all our warm clothes, on the edge.

To start with we had asked him about his job, whether he was interested in moutain climbing or prefered trekking. He told us that he was keen on climbing but has a knee injury and finds trekking easier.

The knee injury was from carrying a teacher downhill. She was accompanying a group of British children that he was guiding and started to show symptoms of oedema (a potentially life-threatening form of altitude sickness). He ran downhill for 4kms with her on his back. There was no phone reception of course but the group had a British Army emergency transponder with them. A message got through to London and from there to Huaraz. Anyway she survived and Eric got a sore knee.

I asked Eric about the standard of mountain rescue in general and he was, to say the least, disparaging. Helicopters are theoretically available but they have to come from Lima. They won't even take off before insurance details have been sorted out.

Eric didn't have much faith in Peru's government. The country has a wealth of mineral resources and is one of the world leaders in the production of stuff like arsenic, copper, lead, silver, tin and zinc. However, from Eric's point of view, there is no sign of this wealth benefiting the people. He thinks this is due to corruption in government. He sited the example of Alberto Fujimori, the president during the nineties. Fujimori was a university lecturer before being elected, with a modest income. He privatised many state-owned enterprises raising an estimated US$9 billion barely a fraction of which would ever benifit Peruvian people. Last year he was convicted of human rights abuses and corruption and has been sent to prison.

So perhaps it is unsuprising that Eric considers politicians with a great deal of suspicion. The poverty gap is as bad as ever. Some people in the poorer areas of Cusco and Lima live on 2 or 3 soles a day. About 50 pence. Around 35% of the population live below the poverty line.

Peru has a thriving tourist industry. But, yet again, most of the money dissappears. In Cusco, most of the bars, restuarants and hotels in the centre are foreign owned. There are many government schemes to encourage foreign investment. Perurail, which runs the trains to Machu Picchu, which is visited by over 850 million people each year, is owned by a British company. Eric said that Inca trail guides and cooks are fairly well-paid but porters can expect 120 soles for 4 days. About 7 pounds a day. The entrance fee at MP goes directly to Lima as do the entrance fees to the various National Parks in the country. Getting money back from Lima to invest in the tourism industry is like getting blood out of a stone.

The Cordillera Huayhuash itself used to be a national park but the status was revoked. The area was used as a hideout by Shining Path untill that group was defeated in the early nineties. In 2002 two hikers were murdered in a robbery. Then, in 2004, another 4 hikers were shot whilst resisting an armed robbery, one died from blood-loss before rescue. The local police and government felt there was little they could do to police the area any better so instead they instigated a "protection money" system. As you pass by small communities on the trek you must pay between 10 and 35 soles, for which you get a receipt, in total you pay around 150 soles. The money goes toward "upkeep of the trail and to support local communities". This has made the area generally safe but infuriated the Israeli hikers we met.

This year the tourism industry was dealt an additional blow with the flooding in Cusco. At the hight of the floods this year Peru was loosing US$1 million a day due to cancelations. The train to MP was suspended and helicopters were sent to rescue about 2000 stranded tourists and locals. The repair bill has been estimated to be around US$300 million.

We finished our beers and went to bed. It was cold. We pitied those still enjoying the hot water because at some point they had to get out.

Piura to Vilcabamba: Into Ecuador

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 21:22:00 +0000

It was hot as I pedaled out of Piura and on towards the border. I made it to a little town called Las Lomas. In the morning I crossed the border into Ecuador.

And almost at once the hills began. The first night I camped next to a river and was attacked by insects the minute I unzipped the tent to make tea. Pegs don't work very well in sand so I had to use plastic bags filled with sand. Then I had a day of uphill, I ran out of water and very thirsty I came across a gas station and chanced it and drank litres of water out of the tap (so far it hasn't made me ill).

That night I reached a small village and asked if there was anywhere I could camp. I was pointed towards the church and camped on the concrete veranda.

The next day, fuelled by boiled eggs, I reached Loja. On my way into town I bumped into a French bloke on a motorised bicycle. A strange choice of transport I would say. Anyway he showed me a cheap hotel and we got some beers and drank them in a plaza. In the morning I headed down to Vilcabamba. It is hot here so quite refreshing when there is a rain shower. Found a campsite for $1 a night with a pool and camped under a lime tree.

Dave Patton: Couchsurfer, CAACer, Roadtripper and Backpacker extraordinaire!

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 21:17:00 +0000

After a few months on the road I discovered that a fellow CAACer was in hot pursuit. Dave, using buses, caught me up and he signed me up for a 9 day hike. He is a pretty nifty photographer and it is definately worth checking out his photos here.

1. We recently hiked the Huayhuash trek together. Where did you first hear about this trek?
At one of the weekly Wednesday night Edinburgh couchsurfing group pub meets, a Scottish CSer who´d visited S America highly recommended the hike, saying it was far superior to the Santa Cruz hike. She wasn´t wrong, in my opinion!

2. Which was your favourite day of the trek?
Day 3 - many stunning lakes and mountain vistas; difficult but very rewarding mountain pass with lots of surprises. At camp (Huayhuash village)... politely asking the locals who lived in a couple of mud brick houses for dinner to break the daily routine of spaghetti and pasta sauce. Result... wonderful cultural experience and insight into mountain life, and delicious homemade dinner and breakfast direct from the farm.

3. Why wash?
Huayhuash? Top hike in the world. Why wash? Bar some hot springs, it´s the longest I´ve gone without washing and shaving! The post hike shower has never felt so good.

4. You make good use of Couchsurfing on your trips. What have been your best
experiences?
I´ve had many great CSing experiences, such as Hawaian surfing and many road trips with the locals to places well off the tourist trail. But my favorite was probably my first, near Perth in Western Australia. My host lent me his bike and snorkel to visit Rottnest Island. He took me to one of his Aussie Rules football sessions so I could "give it a go". He welcomed me on a typical Aussie camping weekend with his pals in Margaret River, experiencing swags, fine wines and chocolate tasting. Plus a bedroom to myself in his family home and home cooking were delightful after months of hostels!

5. How many countries have you visited now? Which are your top 5?
46 I think, hope to make it to 100 one day! Top 5, tough question; I like to think of the top 5 places I´d most like to return to.

New Zealand - for people who love the great outdoors.
Thailand - beaches and tasty food at low prices.
Bolivia - adventure travel in a nutshell and very cheap.
South Africa - many natural delights and wild safari.
Italy - it almost has it all; great history, cities, coast, mountains, lakes and food.

(Check out how you are doing against the official list of countries here. I only manage a measly 28.)

6. Can you recommend a book?
Nelson Mandela´s autobiography, to learn what the great man has to say.

7. What is the most inspiring travel tale you have heard?
I have probably been most inspired by an Australian fellow who hitch-hiked almost the length of Africa with another guy and girl. That was real adventure and getting off the beaten track, things that I strive for.

Trujillo to Piura: Rastas, Gorditos, and a Thirsty Supposedly Hydrogen Powered Calamity

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 22:32:00 +0000

One of the cool things about staying in the Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo is getting to meet other cyclists. I was lucky enough with the selection on offer. A pair of dreadlocked Argentinians and a trio of Columbians. Good practise for my Spanish. We cooked several meals together including several spicey rice dishes from the Columbians and a tradditional Arroz con Leche from the Rastas. Although, I still think rice pudding is a superior dish.

One evening we all set off the University. I hadn't really understood why we were going but it turned out that David, one of the Columbians, was going to give a talk to some uni students about Hydrogen.

Unusual choice of subject, I thought. Then, out of his bag, he produced a thing. The thing turned out to be for making hydrogen gas by electrolysis of water. Three hours of explanation in Spanish followed. The hard wooden stool I was sitting on didn't help.

A few days later, in a conversation about a dangerous section of the road ahead, I discovered that David had a car. Funny sort of cyclist to have a car. But he was acting as a support driver for a large expedition of cyclists. Over 30 Columbians who were spread out over the route, a circumnavigation of the continent. He offered to give the Argentinians and me a lift past the dangerous bit. Sure, why not?

That night I came back from looking around the town and saw it.

"What's that?"
"It's a car!"

I could see it was a car, but I thought to myself, that is a calamity.

It was also a fairly small calamity considering it was going to carry six people, 4 bikes and a small mountian of gear. And the Columbians had a lot of gear. In pre-dawn darkness we began the task of lashing all the kit on. I went back to check if I had left anything and noticed a small orange glow above me. Sebastian was sat on the top step smoking a joint.
"Desayuno," he whispered.

My bike was the last thing to be loaded on. A good choice as it wasn't crushed under a pile of other junk. A bad choice because all the ropes had been used up and I had to tie it on with a wet t-shirt. We finally all piled in. Easier said than done as the back door had been blocked up with lashed on bikes. We climbed through the windows negotiating the roll-bars with limbo-dancer agility. The back of the jeep was taken up by boxes of the Columbian's junk. The four of us were squashed together. As we lurched off it was obvious that Calamity was dangerously top-heavy. Everytime we hit a speed bump the four of us in the back were thrown around. There were no seats and not really enough room. Especially with Christian, Carlos' son. He is affectionately known as Gordito (the little fat one) and calls his dad Gordo. This is a very strange young man. Carlos is a stocky build but not really fat, at least not like his son. At twelve years old he has thighs that are bigger than mine. And it isn't down to cycling.

Calamity supposedly ran on hydrogen but in reality it ran on plain old petrol. Lots of it. David and Carlos had almost no money. So, at each petrol station we would all pile out and David would issue us with stacks of Columbian CD's and posters which we would try and sell to unsuspecting passers-by until we had made enough for the next tank-full. When we headed across the desert we filled up a large petrol canister which had to be squeezed in through the window, under the roll-bars, and gave us even less room. And it leaked.

As we pressed on, wind rattling through the hunk-of-junk, Gordito sang loudly and tunelessly. Or, if he felt so inclined, he would imitate the noise of the engine. This could keep him entertained for hours. If we were unlucky enough to be overtaken by a police car then he would be singing "nee-nah" for the next 15 minutes. Sebastian had had enough and told him to sing out of the window. I began to suspect that there might be something amiss with Gordito. Perhaps some sort of hyperactive problem.

Anyway, at this juncture, Andres took out his homemade pipe. I had seen him carve it out of the pip from a giant avocado a few days before. And started trying to light it in the windy squishy chaos. He wasn't having much success and threw each used match on the floor. Right next to the gasoline canister.

I have never been more pleased to leave a vehicle in my life and seriously hope it will be a long time before I get in another car. But I guess better than being robbed by bandits.

In Pirua we had a free bed in a fairly wierd place. A recreation facility for miners. There was a meeting going on to try to stop a new mine being built by a big company. But too much Spanish for me so I went and sat by the pool in the dark and listened to the radio. There was a free dinner too which was good. The Argentinians ate their fill and then went off to find a park somewhere to smoke. I went to bed. More exhausting than a day cycling.

A few peruvian recipes...

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 21:16:00 +0000

My favourite Peruvian dish is without a doubt Lomo Saltado. This hits the spot every time. It is kind of a beef stew with chips in it served with rice.

Ingredients:
Beef cut into strips
Oninon sliced into strips
Tomatoes cut into eighths.
Potatoes cut into chips and fried in hot oil
Yellow chili pepper sliced into thin strips
Chopped parsley
Balsamic vinegar
Soy sauce
Oil
Lemon juice
Salt
Pepper

Method:
1. Fry the strips of beef.
2. Add the onion and tomatoes for 2 minutes.
3. Add the rest of the ingredients.
4. Serve with rice.

Another classic from Peru is Ceviche. This is a delicious lunchtime snack made from raw fish marinated in lemon juice.

Ingredients:
Sea bass cut into chunks
Lemons (lots)
Onions
Chili
Garlic
Pepper
Salt
Coriander
Lettuce
Sweet potoato
Corn on the cob

Method:
1. Put fish in a bowl with crushed garlic and salt. Add lemon juice, finely sliced chili, pepper and chopped coriander. Leave for 10 minutes.
2. Slice oninons over the fish.
3. Serve with cooked corn, sweet potato and lettuce.

Many meals in Peru are served with a simple onion salad. Just sliced up with a herb (parsley or coriander) or some lettuce and then drenched in lime juice. I quite like it.

Also, a good snack often found sold on the street is Papa Rellena. This is mashed potato with some mince mixture, and olive and a bit of egg inside. Then fried.

Another street snack is Anticuchos. These are kebabs of beef hearts. When you ask for one you get a roast potato on the end of the skewer.

Card Games

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 21:48:00 +0000

In need of a new card game? Give these a go...
Egyptian Rat Screw
Sevens
Shithead
Slam
Spite and Malice
Peanuts
Casino
Cribage
Hearts
Knockout Whist
Big Two

Huaraz to Trujillo: Cañon del Pato

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 20:40:00 +0000

I left Huaraz. One day I would like to return and climb more of the peaks in the Cordillera Blanca. A fantastic place. I rolled out of town and soon was passing through Cañon del Pato. The canyon of ducks. I didn't see any ducks but there were several thousand tunnels, or so. The canyon is beautiful. At nightfall I ended up in a little town called Yuramarca. I stayed in a basic adobe hovel and had chicken and chips for dinner.

In the morning I continued downhill into a stiff headwind. Lunch and an asphalt road both arrived at Chuquicara and then the mountains receeded to be replaced by a wide flood plain. I met a pair of German motorbikers. I continued cycling into the darkness again and ended up in Santa. I found a resonably priced place with a TV and ensuite. The height of class. 3 quid a night. I had, you guessed it, chicken and chips for dinner and listened to a passable salsa band composed of school kids. Then I watched Beverly Hills Cop 2 in bed. In the morning I woke early enough to watch Germany give England a thrashing in the world cup. Then I headed off along the Panamericana. A pretty miserable ride into a headwind. I passed huge sand-dune mountains and a continuous stream of trucks passed me. Some traffic police stopped me to tell me to speed up as it was dangerous to enter Trujillo at night. I camped shortly after in what I think was a bamboo plantation.

Today was a short day to arrive in Trujillo and locate the "famous" (in the cycle-touring world at least) Casa de Ciclistas and meet the famous Lucho. Safely ensconced, I met the other cyclists staying there. A pair of dreadlocked Argentinians and a couple of older cyclists from Columbia in matching t-shirts. Cute. The Columbians had whipped up a bit of lunch. A spicy stew of rice, lentils, banana and avocado. Delicious and a nice welcome. Now I am off to have a look around the historic centre of the city.

Pisco

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 23:18:00 +0000

I watched the bad weather roll out across Huaraz for 5 days. In the back of my mind I pictured the growing hostal bill. One good thing was that I got to meet some lovely people. I managed to convince two of them to come on a mountaineering trip.

Convincee 1: Ashley Atkins
Nationality: Confused American or wannabe Canadian.
Age: 20
Hair: Blonde.
Special Talents: Good looking, had used crampons before, takes up less space in the tent than a man, good at cooking, knows some card games, owns a large rucksack.
Weakness: Bit slow.

Convincee 2: Sam Stephens
Nationality: Cornish, English.
Age:24
Hair: Curly tangled mop.
Special Talents: Banter, homebrew knowledge, tent making knowledge, boundless enthuaism.
Weakness: Not aclimatized, might have eaten something dodgy.

Our target was Pisco. Not to be confussed with the drink or the coastal town, this 5760m peak is a Cordillera Blanca classic. It was to be a DIY trip. No guides, no donkey, no cook, no idea what we were letting ourselves in for.

First stop: rental shop. Ricardo sorted us out with a photocopied A4 map and a bunch of rental equipment. Ice axes, crampons, harnesses, rope, snow pants, etc.

Then, supermercado, bed, bus, another bus, walk, and bed again. Only this time it is in base camp. We wern't able to afford the plush refuggio with its delightful toilets with seats, soft beds and tasty nosh. Instead we used a squat toilet, squeezed 3 people into a 2-man tent, and ate pasta and sauce.

Let's rewind. Three people in a tent, at best, suited to half that number. It required either tetris like organisation or spooning.

Day two. Not a lot to do today except play cards. Ashley taught us a game called Egyptian Rat Screw. Like climbing it required quick reflexes, good judgement, and a keen eye. I lacked any of these skills and went out very fast each time we played. After lunch, which Sam couldn't face, we crossed a luna-landscape of glacial moraines. Not easy as the path is hard to make out. We set up the tent and squeezed in. Alarm set for 11:45pm.

Day Three.We woke. I unzipped the flap and pulled in some oats, powdered milk and granola. We mixed it up with some icey water in a pan and ate. Sam had one spoonfull before unzipping his side of the tent and spraying vommit on my flysheet. We got out and got dressed for the occasion. Then, roped up, we got on the glacier. The first 20m were a steepish climb if you've never used an ice axe in anger before and Ashley slipped. Fortunately I had her on a body belay and I was brased in a bucket seat I had kicked into the snow. The going got easier.

Sam's condition was not good. We were taking very frequent rests. He hadn't eaten properly for 3 meals now. He tried some biscuits which he managed to keep down. At least for about 10 minutes when he threw up again. We continued. We got slower and slower. Sam was in a bad way leaving a trail of little orange sick stains in the snow behind us. Eventually he stopped, lay down on the snow. I asked him if he was ok and he said he was exhausted and had no energy. It was inevitable we had to turn back.

Down happened a bit quicker with the only real problem being the steep section. Here Sam managed to negociate the hard part, with a progressively dimming head-torch, only to bag himself in the eye with his ice-axe. Poor guy. Ashley and Sam scampered off back to bed. I turned around and, in the breaking dawn, headed up to the top alone.

After passing our turn-around point I headed up several snowy slopes, all walking but with progressively more dangerous outcomes if you slipped. Fantastic snow formations, crevases and icicles.

Further up the snow became more powdery and the trail more blown out. It was very windy. I climbed a seemingly never-ending slope right beside a 3000m drop. Then the slope eased and I just plodded upwards. Very little air up there and I had to breathe hard and walk slow. Eventually I reached another steep section and the summit. My third mountain above 5000m and in the most adventurous style yet.

Dorothee Fleck Interview

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 14:26:00 +0000

Dorothee is one of a number of RTW cyclists I have met. We bumped into each other briefly in La Serena and then again in La Paz. She's nearing the end of her trip after over two years on the road.

You have nearly cycled all the way around the world. Which countries have been the best for you? Which countries that you have missed this time would you like to visit?
There are around 200 countries on this Earth, so far I covered only a fifth. Even if there are some countries I don't want to cycle in, there are still a lot missing. But first of all all the "-stan" Countries and Iran, and all the African countries (I cycled only in Madagascar). Hopefully I still can cycle when I am 90 years ald to cover all of them.

Can you recommend a book? What is it about?
No, not really. There are so many good books. Perhaps I can recommend you a very good book, after I have written mine :-), it will be about my trip around the world of course, about all the fantastic people I met.

It is a shame I missed making a recording of your flute playing but can you tell me which is your favourite piece to play and if you have a favourite piece to listen to on the road...
If I have a good piano player: Franz Schubert: Die Schoene Muellerin Variations, Cesar Franck Sonate, When I am alone, JSB Bach Solo Suites, and Philip Emanuel Bach Solo Sonata.
On the road on my bike, I don't listen to music, I prefer to listen to the birds, the water in the rivers, the leaves in the wind. What I don't like are barking dogs and whistling men.

What is the best thing for you about travelling by bike?
Everything! You should know about it, I could write a whole book about it, perhaps I will.

When and where will be your next cycle tour be?
At first I have to finish this one, but I think after two years it's time to take off again for a longer time. Hopefully I can visit then the "-stan" countries and Iran.

If you could make an international law to make the world a better place what would it be?
Actually the world is a very nice place, if there wouldn't be just a few people who are destroying it. There are a lot of laws already which are ignored.
But if I could introduce something, which makes it easier to see the world, I would introduce a World Wide Visa for cyclists.

What is the best bit of equipment you carry?
Lucky me I have some good bits of equipments, of course my solid bike, my tent which keeps me dry, my stove for my essential coffee in the morning... I hope they hold out the last months

best of luck with the rest of your trip...
Thanks same to you

Hiking Huayhuash

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 21:21:00 +0000

Donkey Daydreaming

Sometimes I wonder what donkeys are thinking. It's hard to tell. I was sitting by the side of the track on the Cordillera Huayhuash trek with Dave. We had just eaten our sandwiches and were sat enjoying the view. Towering peaks with elegant flutings of snow that, seemingly defying physics, cling to the near vertical slopes.

Up the track behind us came a line of donkeys and a Peruvian on a horse. The donkeys are used to carry all the equipment for the many tour groups that are continuously hiking around this trail. They didn't seem to have much enthusiam as they walked past. Thier backs were loaded up with tents, rucksacks, gas canisters, wooden crates, guitars, fold up seats and mountains of food. The tour group, some way behind, are left with nice light packs. The big donkey eyes gave away nothing on their expressionless faces.

The trek, which takes between eight to fourteen days, was recently voted the second most-beautiful trek in the world by National Geographic. It is located South of the Cordillera Blanca. Huaraz, the Peruvian equivalent of Chamonix, is a good place to base your stay in the region.

In some ways Dave and I had at least some idea how the donkeys felt. We didn't have the nice light packs and we didn't arrive in the camps with our food prepared and our tents errected. Instead we lugged ten days of food up each pass in heavy packs. We had an affinity to our four-legged friends. We had cleared the supermarket in Huaraz out of spaggheti and, on alternate nights, we looked forward to adding a tin of tuna.
Getting a good square meal...

One afternoon we arrived in the little village called Huayhuash. Well, village is a grand word for two adobe shacks and a dozen tents. We took off our rucksacks and rested against some rocks. The donkeys were being unloaded and, as far as we could tell, seemed to be enjoying it. Some of them ran about but most just munched grass.

'It would be very convinient if humans could eat grass wouldn't it?'
'I expect it would get boring after a while,' replied Dave, humouring me.
'Yes. Like pasta.'

We decided to try asking at one of the houses if we could buy dinner. Not only was the pasta diet getting tedious but we had quite limited amounts of both food and fuel. Happily, the farmer, in a rustic wide-brimmed hat, agreed and told us to come back at seven that night. When we arrived, the single room of the house was filled with smoke. It poured out of an adobe built wood stove which was being stoked with dried grass. We took our places on a bench with a sheepskin. The nicely laid table was lit with a candle in an old tin can. As the smoke cleared, we saw that a few women in tradditional dress were sat in the corner beside a wall. Alfondo, the farmer, brought us big bowls of soup. Big chunks of potato floated in the broth. Dave explained in basic spanish that his father was a potato farmer in Northern Ireland and he loves potatoes. Alfondo brought us another plate full. After making short work of the main course, rice and chicken, we wished the family good night. On our way out we were invited for breakfast the next morning.

Alfondo's mother was full of life in the morning and dancing to Quechua music playing from a small radio that hung off a rusty nail. She served us fresh homemade cheese with crusty bread which was washed down with warm milk. All from the cattle that grazed just outside in the massive valley. Once we had eaten our fill, Alfondo showed us the cheese-making equipment. Very basic stuff.

'This could be Ireland a hunded years ago,' said Dave.

Touching the Saftey Pins

Most of the campsites along the route have a squat toilet. These vary in design and quality but smell equallly revolting. Some are made with a few bits of timber and turf. Others have a solid block of concrete with a hole in the middle. Some are nicely built little things, others just a bit of tin with no door or roof. In one toilet the hole in the concrete was rather small and, in full squat, I had to do a little crab-shuffle to drop the bombs on target. They drop into an enormous void.

Joe Simpson, the acident-prone mountaineer and writer, was probably thinking of a different kind of void when he named his famous book Touching the Void. The mountain where he and his rope-cutting partner, Simon Yates, got into so much mischiff can be seen from Paso San Antonio.

We stayed an hour on the top of the pass admiring the view. Sulía Grande, the cravase strewn glacier, the lake at the bottom. I went through the story from the book in my head trying to spot where the events occured.

The track down the other side of the pass was steep scree. Dave set off at a Kamakazee pace and I did my best to keep up. Then, perhaps inspired by Mr Simpson, Dave lost his footing and fell onto a rock with a yell of pain. He's broken a leg, I thought, and started to think how I would pull off an epic rescue. I felt in my pocket to check I had my penknife.

The graze ran the length of his shin interspersed with dull blue bruising but otherwise he was fine. His trousers were ripped at the knee. Savlon and saftey pins from Dave's first-aid kit sorted him out. Although, he did look like he had stolen his trousers from a seventies punk rocker.

We lost the track a little and followed directly down the valley which became a gorge. We teetered down loose black sand, and hopped between boulders. I saw Dave standing at the top of an overhanging waterfall. There was no way past. Fortunately we had no rope, so there would be no need for the penknife. Dave found a slippery grass ledge and cautiously made his way down past the waterfall. He said it was ok. Oh great. Now I have to do it too.

In the valley, we were able to hide our rucksacks behind some boulders. Then, unladen, we headed up to the lake for a superb view of the glacier and Sulía Grande.

A Donkey's Dream

At the end of our trek we followed a narrow path into Llamac to wait for a bus back to Huaraz. We stood off the path to let some pack-donkeys past. I wondered if they had the same sense of satisfaction getting to the end of the walk. Did they have the same memories of indescribable beauty in their heads, somewhere inbetween those oversized ears. Probably not. They were probably going to be glad to have more grass to eat and less stuff on their backs. So, when I think about it, I am glad I am not a donkey.

Mike Hayes Interview

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 00:22:00 +0000

I met mike just outside of a town called Ayaviri as I was heading from Lago Titicaca towards Cusco. We cycled together up to Cusco and for a jaunt around the sacred valley. He started his trip 4 months before in Puerto Montt and he flew home from Cusco this time. Check out his blog and his photography site.

1. Can you quickly describe your cycle tours, your bike and your philosophy. Don't go on and on!!! ha ha
Oh heck, philosophy is something I don't think about... just like riding and experiencing the 'places & people in between' that you don't get to see any other way. There needs to be mountains though... "as for describe my tours without going on and on".. ya ok, short and concise then I've bike toured in India, Ladakh, Kashmir, Pakistan, China, Morocco, Colombia, Ecuador, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Croatia, Bosnia, Spain, France... raced in a bunch of countries and travelled a whole bunch of other countries too. short enough?I like journeys that represent something of a challenge...
Oops, forgot my bike,... for wild and woolly stuff I have a Mk1 Thorn Nomad now in it's 7th year and showing a nice patina of wear :-) for lighter road tours I have a Salsa Casseroll built up with some classic components... The Nomad appeared on my blog in 2007 here (minus marathon tyres) and my Casseroll is here.

2. Can you recommend a good kayak trip in Cornwall, please.
The whole of cornwall is good, if looking for a good day out though then launch at Sennen, paddle around Lands End to Porthgwarra or Porthcurno, and return - perhaps with a detour out to the Longships reef is good.. lots of caves and rock arches to explore if not too rough, tidal races to play in, seals, dolphins and in summer enormous (8m) basking sharks to see

3. What is the your favourite phrase in Spanish?
Es la lucha... it's the fight.. used in same way as english folk use c'est la vie/that's life

4. Do you have a cycle touring tip?
no... wait, yes actually I do... stick a rolled up copy of your passport inside your handlebars, that way if bike is nicked and recovered it's easy to prove ownership. Inside your bars is also a handy place to keep spare spokes.

5. Can you recommend a book? What is it about?
hey what is this.. Radio 4? but seeing as you asked yes I think I can....it's called The Art of Looking Sideways, it's like a posh scrapbook about turning ideas upside down, looking at the world differently... something I like doing :-) It's not a book to read all at once, heck it's 4 inches thick, but rather one to pick up and open at a random page when you need some inspiration or have an idle moment.

6. You are a bit of a nifty photographer...Can you give me advice on taking a good shot on tour...What was the best photo of your trip this time
Ah thank you very much :-) advice, oh that's difficult, I tend to shoot on instinct but perhaps one good piece of advice is always to pay attention to the edges of your viewfinder.. so many photos get trashed by random 'things' appearing at the edges that distract from the point of the picture itself. Don't listen to all the bollocks people say about a photo telling a story, it doesn't have to... a picture can be completely abstract with no subject or point at all beyond colour or pattern. It helps as well before you pick up your camera to think about what you were about to photograph... look with your eyes before picking up the camera... I'm not articulating very well but that's best I can explain, you have to be receptive to seeing a picture before the camera gets in the way... and don't be a slave to the camera, you don't have to take a picture of everything :-)

Very difficult to pick a best photo from this trip, one of my favourites tho is this one... it's in Cafayate and I like it because it's just perfect (for me) instinctive street photography.. it's simple, graphic, captures a moment in time and manages to give a feel for the places well. I'm a 'lazy' photographer in that I don't pre-plan or premeditate or anything. I just go for a walk with my camera and see what catches my eye or what situations I react to.

If I have a favourite photo of all time I think it's this one... tribesmen on the Pakistan/Afghan border in 2000.

7. What is the best thing for you about travelling by bike?
Oh that's easy... absolute, unbounded freedom (and extreme coolness... haha)

8. you could make an international law to make the world a better place what would it be?
Yep, that would be to make greed and selfishness a criminal offence punishable by community service... or something. Shit, I sound like Miss World...

9. What is the best bit of equipment you carry?
My Rab sleeping bag... oh, and a big knife :-)

AMA work in Lima

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 01:50:00 +0000

I've not posted much about my ride over the mountains from Cusco to Lima. It was terrific and took in some superb scenery and some lovely remote villages and several great campspots in the hills and beside rivers in picturesque valleys. I was just too busy enjoying it. Sorry.

Now, I make no appologies that this will be an unusually long post for me. And possibly rather serious at times. If that's not your bag...shame on you!!

In Lima, I've been lucky enough to meet up with Judith Godfrey who is the wife of Bishop H. William Godfrey, or "Bishop Bill". I got in touch with her through the Mother's Union to visit some of the outreach projects in Lima.

So, we hopped in Judith's 4x4 and set off through the crazy Lima traffic. It is especially bad at the moment because of road works associated with a new train line being built on concrete stilts. I have discovered on my bike that the traffic was pretty bad to start with. Traffic lights make it worse and traffic policemen just cause gridlock.

We made our way out through the poorer areas of town skirting a hill. Judith pointed out the yellow concrete staircases built between the houses. These are the brainchild of Luis Lossio, the Mayor of Lima. Judith had good words to say about this politician who seems to have a very practical approach. The staircases replace treacherous dirt roads. Other projects by the Mayor include using old cargo containers as makeshift hospitals in the shanty towns.

We turned off onto a dirt road and into a steep valley. Here the houses are all shacks. As the shanty town has been pushed further back it has crept higher and higher up the slope. Shacks are perched at incredible angles. We parked beside a huge ramshackle graveyard. Not a solemn attractive municipal cemetry but a area of brown sandy ground where people go to bury their dead. In their hundreds.

Here, Lima is expanding. People arrive and claim a plot of land and put up a shack. This often happens at night and with quite a few people from the same area. Sometimes these people have come from other areas in Peru but sometimes from overcrowded areas of Lima. Almost immediately they have to defend, perhaps with violence, their claim from other people who claim to own it. The Police and even the Army might get involved. If they get to stay they are perched in a shack on a mountainside. To begin with they have no services. No road, water, sewerage, electricity or fuel. The first service to arrive is electricity. This is because they steal it. They set up a cable on some bamboo poles and some lucky chap shinnies up an electricity pole and connects it. For water a truck from the water company comes by and fills up blue water barrels. These then have to be transported up slippery muddy tracks to the hillside shacks. Sewerage is a hole dug in the ground.

Imagine living in such conditions.

Now imagine bringing up children there.

Now imagine that one of your children has a disability. Whilst travelling through Bolivia and Peru I have seen disabled or mentaly ill people being treated in a way that to me seemed apalling. It is considered a stigma. Judith told me about a family who locked a man away on a roof terrace and he had no contact with anyone other than someone bringing him food each day. Out of sight out of mind.

We visited the Shalom centre. This is a small school and theraphy centre for disabled children. The building it is housed in at the moment is rented. There is a small physiotherapy room, a room for language therapy and a room for ocupational therapy. The mothers sit in on the therapies. It is important to teach them that it is nothing to be ashamed of to have a disabled child. They are given encouragement that they will be able to cope. Pat, who runs the centre, has found a new building that she has bought and hopes to move to. We took a look. It is much bigger but has no proper roof yet. Also, as it turns out, the foundations are not too good. So there is no room to expand with an extra floor as had been planned. But, when it is finished, it will certainly be an improvement. As we walked in there was a woman Judith knew sitting on the floor sewing. She had about six factory made children's jumpers. They needed finishing off by hand. For each one she will earn about half a sol. So, she might earn about 75p.

Sewing, knitting, shoe-making and needlecraft are taught in a group in the back room of the Santa Maria church. These are skills that can be used to make things to sell. I wondered how these skills have not been passed on mother-to-daughter. Judith explained that life in the shanty towns has disturbed the way these skills would normally have been taught. I won't pretend that I have much interest in knitting groups in general...but the importance of these projects can't be understated.

The Arpilleras project is interesting. Arpilleras are not easily described (but I will try!). They are a form of three dimensional mixture of tapestry and collage. Basically, little pieces of material are sown into little people, trees, animals etc. and they are then all sown onto a background to make a scene. Often these are biblical scenes such as The Good Shepard or Noah's Ark. Each arpillera is made individualy without a pattern. There are no two alike. The technique is used to make decorative pannels, bags, glasses cases, purses and that kind of thing. They are works of art.

The Association of Anglican Women (AMA), which is Peru's version of the MU, supports this project. In an upstairs room of a small church, called "Jesus of Nazareth", a group of women meet up to sew the arpilleras. An AMA member who previously worked on a similar scheme in Africa has helped by introducing a level of quality control. The meeting means the women can share ideas. The project has an interesting financial model. Many of the arpilleras are sold in the USA, yet the women are paid for their work at a good Peruvian rate. In the States they are sold at double. The difference in put in a fund. The women who make the arpilleras can use the money in the fund for operations, education, house extensions, or similar life-altering reasons.

In more advanced areas of shanty town proper roads are built. The roads are built by the local people and will often resemble the roads from the areas they come from. For example if they are from the mountains they bring their horrid cobbles. In one of the more established areas the water company has built a water tank. This means a better quality of water at a better price. Eventually, all these areas will improve but I wonder how long the city can keep expanding in this crazy way.

AMA works alongside the Anglican Church's NGO in Peru. The Anglican Church has little political clout in Peru but its social projects are noticably valuable. They have their work cut out. Children projects attract money quite well. As do "novelties" such as a project to teach the rearing of ducks for food or sale. Ducks are more disease resistant than hens and some breeds require very little water. Other projects, the bread and butter, are less glamorous. There is no end in sight for the work that can be done. That needs to be done. Just a shortage of money to acheive it.

I could not possibly visit all the projects. There are projects to teach bakery, jewellery making, gardening (to cultivate small plots for food), work in prisons, health centres, children's homes and there are plenty of areas beside Lima that could use this kind of help.

In 2007 there was an earthquake on the central coast of Peru. Emergency projects established in towns south of Lima have remained their ever since. There are many other places where the same could happen.

Another day I visited a school called San Mateo with a volunteer from Manchester called Mike. Lima has a state school system but the standard is very low. There are also private schools, to a good standard, but they are very expensive. Anglican schools such as San Mateo offer affordable education at a good standard. In particular they place importance in dance, music, art and sport which are neglected in the state schools. San Mateo is in NE Lima is quite a marginalised area.

The day I visited the school with Mike there was certainly a good deal of dancing as the children practised for a big celebration dance the next day. One of the dances, from the jungle I was told, included the boys pretending to be tigers and then doing something rather suggestive with swords whilst girating thier hips...All the dance practise happened in the small patio area which was also used for sport and for lunch. The school has the normal classrooms as well as a small computer room with a jumble of different makes and ages, a library with too many books in English (mostly too advanced for the kids) from well meaning donations, and a nursery with tiny children sleeping and one, the entire day I was there, crying for his mummy.

Seeing a school for a day really only gave me the briefest look. Although small and basic the children seem to be getting a good normal schooling. Mike is certainly a helpful chap and no doubt his time at the school will be of great value to the pupils.

Websites

Anglican Church in Peru
San Mateo School
AMA blog

I'm in Huaraz just now for a bit of trekking in the mountains...I will fill you in soon.

Please consider supporting people, like my Mum, who give up their time to help others by donating to the Mother's Union.

Doggy Defence

noreply@blogger.com (Peter Hubbard) — Wed, 26 May 2010 23:47:00 +0000

Iritatingly, a dog has bitten a hole in one of my rear panniers. I have had to fix it up with the last of my duct tape, but it won't be so watertight now. It could have been worse. The delightful hound could have bitten my leg. So. Now I feel I need a weapon against "man's best friend". But which? This has been a favourite topic amoung cyclists so here are the options I've heard.

1. Squirt dog with water from your water bottle.

2. Hit it with pump, length of bamboo, truncheon, or bit of metal. (I'm keeping my eyes peeled for something suitable.)

3. Whip it with a horse whip or an old inner-tube.

4. Hit it with a machete (I know two cyclists who carry these). Perhaps more effective at getting the owner to control it, fearing the crazed gringo waving a machete around.

5. Shoot it with an air-gun, or a gun that fires plastic ball bearings (or an Uzi for all I care!!)

6. Mace it.

7. Zap it with a cattle-prod or a tazer.

8. Buy a Dog Dazer. A battery powered devise that emits a high-pitched sound that they don't like.

9. Throw rocks. I do this already. It's what the locals do so quite a good strategy. Sadly I don't have anywhere very good to store the stones and there isn't always time to pick some up.

10. Use physcology. Shout at it (suprisingly effective, especially if you use Spanish). For example "a tu casa!" Aim straight for it (dogs only attack from behind). Get off the bike (then it will recognise you as a human rather than a bike).

11. Ride the adrenaline rush and try and out run it. Not always possible.

Do you know something that works better?