Brainzworld

Romancing the Stone

2009-06-03T06:47:00.000-07:00

Colombia

In a discussion whilst having a beer or two, Tamara and I had been trying to decide if our travels in South America could be classed as an adventure or not. It turned out that neither of us actually knew the precise definition of what an adventure was and after a little research on the web found the following: An adventure is an activity that comprises risky, dangerous or uncertain experiences. If this was so, our travels had been one big adventure and Colombia was to be no different.

Leaving Quito on the bus on route for the Colombian Border I felt a little sadness. I was leaving the Northern boundary of the once great Inca Empire. Since arriving in Northern Argentina many months previous I'd travelled the length of the Inca Empire through Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador. Now different cultures and lands lay ahead.

The ease of travel never ceased to amaze me in South America. The journey from Quito to Pasto, in Colombia, could not have been easier. A bus to the border town of Tulcan, taxi to the border post, passport formalities, swap some Dollars for Pesos, taxi drivers fighting over me for the fare, taxi to the bus station in Ipiales and a share taxi to Pasto. I could have walked straight over the border without anybody noticing, but being an illegal immigrant in Colombia or anywhere in South America is not advisable. 8 hours after leaving Quito and a stress free journey I was checked into my hotel in Pasto.

Like cities in Ecuador, Pasto had a modern feel but with not many tourists around people did seem to stair at me, maybe I was needing a haircut or something.

The Only Risk is Not Wanting to Leave

In Southern Columbia government troops fight guerrilla troops in what is in fact a low level civil war. 30% of Colombia is controlled by guerrillas of different political persuasions. The politics have long been lost with drugs and kidnapping being the big issues now. Colombia supplies 80% of the worlds cocaine. Non of this was obvious on the streets of Pasto where they were gearing up for Santa Semana, or Holy week, a major religious festival in South America.

With 17,198 murders and 486 kidnappings reported in 2007, I wondered why I was visiting this country. However the kidnapping figure for 2004 was 1440, so the country is surely getting safer and security is improving. Colombia is opening up to travellers but now is the time to visit before the masses arrive and the prices go up.

For a much fuller in site into the current situation in Colombia, including drugs, click on the Reuters link to the right.

The journey from Pasto to Popayan was through some beautiful South American scenery, mountains, forest, canyons and a tiny road that wound it's way through. This road is not advised at night but the danger is the road itself not from bandits or paramilitaries. Sitting back in the luxury air conditioned bus the scenery played like a movie through the window.

Having just recovered from my bad stomach in Ecuador my immune system must have been shot because arriving in Popayan I was full of the cold. This laid me out for a few days but I found the energy to see some of the Santa Semana celebrations. A sombre affair with a 2 hour procession through the town with hundreds of men, women, children, brass bands and strange religious statues. Thousands lined the streets.

Only Happy When It Rains

High on the list of dodgy capital cities is Bogota, I was woken there by the bus driver after everyone else had gotten off, 3 hours before I thought I'd arrive. Luckily my bag was still waiting for me on the pavement. In a taxi speeding though the deserted streets, early morning, the city appeared cold and bleak. Across from the hostel a man was asleep on the pavement, This was the trendy Candelaria district, safer but definitely not safe.

I met up with Tamara here again, and with her now suffering the same cold as me we decided we should head for warmer climes as soon as possible. Bogota was cold and wet. To add to the feel of unease it was the end of Santa Semana and the weekend, the streets were eerily quiet in the evening.

On Monday the streets were full of people again, the sun was shining but our health still poor, we visited the gold museum downtown. A fabulous collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts some from the 'Lost City' where we hoped to visit.

Our escape from Bogota was aided by a friendly policeman at the bus station, an 18 year old doing his national service. He accompanied us to buy our tickets and waited for us to board the bus telling us he was there for our safety. I think Tamara wanted to take him with her.

Our bus drivers for this 22 hour journey to Cartagena were Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum. Two very fat jolly men, laughing and joking, talking and texting on their phones whilst overtaking at night and buying all the food from the hawkers when the bus stopped. We had the front seats unfortunately. On South American buses it's best not to see what's going on on the road.

Here Comes The Sun

The city of Cartagena had become an objective of this trip soon after arriving in South America. The port city on the Caribbean coast with a lovely old town surrounded by impressive defensive walls. In 10 years time mass tourism may have spoilt this city. Go now. Beautiful old colonial buildings and squares, some really good bars including the Whisky Bar run by old black dudes playing cool tunes. I celebrated my birthday in Cartagena, top quality steak and Argentinian red wine.

Four hours from Cartagena was Taganga our next destination on the Caribbean coast, near the city of Santa Marta. A mini bus winds it's way through the shanty town at the edge of Santa Marta and over the hills to Taganga only 5km away. Another travellers' hang out, I'd seen nicer but it had a cool vibe on the street.

A Colombian Tourist brochure had on the cover 'Colombia, the only risk is not wanting to leave'. Seeing military police with machine guns walk in formation down a street near the centre of Santo Marta in the evening suggested there were bigger risks than this. Numerous army checkpoints along the roads.

Kids with Guns

We had sat and watched many people walk along the path that links Taganga with the nearby beach of Playa Grande and double checked with the hotel receptionist it was the right way to go. Setting off just after lunch time we walked along the rocky cliff path. Rounding a corner on the path we greeted a group of young lads. In a scene that I'd played out in my head many times one of them pulls out a gun, the rest had broken bottles. They took our bags which had our cameras and a small quantity of money but left us unharmed. This was a pretty scary experience, probably the scariest situation in my life so far. Abandoning plans for the beach we went to the police station to report the crime. It was a Sunday and the police were fairly unconcerned until we said it was armed robbery. We still had to go to Santa Marta the following day to get a report for insurance claims. The loss of another camera explaining the lack of photos on this blog, luckily for us they never found El Corazon.

More danger back at the hotel, a scorpion scurried across the bathroom floor. At least we could deal with that.

It took up all of the next day finding the right police station to go to, queuing and finally reporting what had happened to a very sympathetic Colombian police woman. She wasn't surprised, blaming it on Colombia's terrible social problems. Robbery at knife or gunpoint is an all to common occurrence for the people of Colombia. The waiting room had been full of people with some badly bruised and scarred women. This was not the way Tamara had planned to spend her birthday.

In indication of the poverty and unfair distribution of wealth could be seen on the main street of Santa Marta, the driver of a donkey and cart vying for space with cars and buses.

In the foot steps of Indy, to the The Lost City

The Lost City (Ciudad Perdida) had been known to the Indigenous people in the area long before it was discovered by grave robbers in 1975. They know it as Teyuna. The trip to the lost city was to be the last big adventure of mine and Tamara´s at the end of our South American travels. A 6 day trip into the jungle considered as moderately difficult. The British Foreign Office does not regard this trip as safe due to guerrilla activity in this area and because 8 foreign tourists were kidnapped at the Lost City in 2003. There were rumours that this was a publicity stunt by the guerrillas to highlight human rights abuses by the Colombian Government and the tourists had agreed to the kidnapping before hand. They were released 3 months later unharmed. The Lost City is located deep in the Jungle in the North of Columbia and was inhabited from 800 A.D. to 1600 A.D. It was never discovered by the Spanish Conquistadors and may have housed between 2000 and 8000 people.

Day 1 we get picked up from our hostel and taken to Santa Marta to meet the other members of our group. A mix of Argentinian, French, German, Basque Spanish, English and as usual, me the sole representative of Scotland.

We set off in the old Toyota Landcruiser converted into a bus with 3 rows of open seats, passing by Tayrona National park, finally to the turn off for the Lost City and an army checkpoint. The group list was passed over to a soldier and our names were called out, a bit like being back at school. All present we were let through and bumped our way along a little jungle track for nearly 2 hours. Now further inland we were missing the sea breeze, it was hot and humid, just like the jungle should be.

Sweating buckets on the small track, swimming in the river, climbing up then down we pass a group of friendly soldiers all too keen to pose with us for photos with their guns. We reached the first camp as darkness was falling, soon to be asleep in our hammocks.

Day 2 we awoke early in a beautiful setting. A small valley surrounded by jungle with a small river leading to a waterfall. We set off early for the next part of the trek, today passing Indigenous villages. We stop to visit one, I´m never really sure about this, it feels a bit like visiting a human zoo. I wonder what benefit the people get.

These people live very simple lives, living entirely off the land they have no need for money. The government had tried to set up a school here but nobody wanted to go so it closed down. In their world they have no need to read or write. They are tiny in physical size compared to us, wear white dresses and had long black hair. We saw them regularly along the trail. They looked at us in a slightly bemused way but we felt that they were somehow looking out for us along the trek. Our second night was in bunk beds in a shed just up from an army camp.

Day 3 we were up early again and set off along the treacherous path above the river. In the distance we could here gun shot. Fighting or target practice we didn´t know. The guide told us there were no guerrillas in the area but also that all the soldiers along the track were for our protection. Protection from what exactly we were not sure.

The track got progressively worse and wound it´s way along a river bed and across the river no less than 7 times until we reached the foot of the stairs to the lost city. Steep small and slippery with moss, there were 2000 of them to climb.

We walked through the city as the rain began to fall and the mist come in. After lunch we retired to our tent on the top floor of the shack to try to get warm. It felt as cold as a November afternoon in Aberdeen.

Day 4 had a more relaxed start with a tour around the city. Only the foundations remain, the buildings having been made out of wood. The area the grave robbers had been interested in was the ceremonial areas where many gold artifacts were buried. The ones missed by the grave robbers were stolen by dishonest archaeologists and anthropologists. Some are now displayed in the Gold Museum in Bogota. The site doesn't have the visual impact of say Machu Pichu or Angkor Wat, but it's definitely worth the effort to get there. An incredibly remote and idyllic setting in the jungle.

Having safely negotiated the slippery stairway down to the river we retraced our steps down the river valley. After the 2nd river crossing Tamara slipped and fell with a thud on the rocks and half in the river. There was a look of pain on her face. We helped her up and she found she could put no weight on her left leg. Her knee had been twisted. We reassured her it would all be okay but stuck in this remote jungle what would we do? There was an indigenous village across the river and a man was sent for the jungle ambulance. Mean while Tamara would have to be carried by the porters until the path was suitable for the mule. The porters were strong, I could hardly keep up when they were carrying her on their backs and the terrain was really demanding. There was a slight look of relief on Tamara´s face as she saw the mule arrive, it would make things a lot easier. We made it back to the camp as light was falling.

Day 5 we walked out of the jungle so Tamara could get to a doctor quicker. She still couldn't put any weight on her leg. Not the ideal way to finish the trek but at least we were both out in one piece. Where I had to continually look at where my feet were going Tamara could look at the scenery on the back of the horse. The trip had been great but the guide was an idiot. He confirmed this by getting drunk very quickly in the bus on the way back to Santa Marta and falling out with the driver and porters and generally annoying everybody.

Back in Taganga

With one week left until we both flew back home we took the opportunity to relax beside the beach. Tamara had no option with her twisted knee.

We checked into the best hotel on the beach ate, drank, sat back, relaxed and contemplated the previous 7 months of our travels in South America. An incredible time, an incredible adventure.

Returning to Bogota for our flights home we were both a little paranoid about being robbed again. Being careful using the banks and not carrying our passports. Yeah Colombia, not for the faint hearted!

The End

So that's end of Brainzworld for just now. Two years of epic travels through twenty countries across five continents. From snowboarding the Southern Alps and modern culture to ancient and lost civilisations, it's been a journey of discovery, learning and freedom. Two very good years of my life. But it's back to the world of working for me now. More adventures in the future.....? Damn right!!!

An Evolutionary Experience

2009-04-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

The Galapagos Isles

I'd been thinking about a trip to the Galapagos Isles for a while. By the time I reached Quito I'd had my arm twisted by Tamara and made the decision to go. With the current financial crisis, there were lots of last minute deals available and Dave from EOS Ecuador travel found us a cruise on the yacht Angelito I. We chose a five day cruise which would take us on a journey of discovery around the islands to the North.

Situated in the Pacific Ocean around 1,000 km from the the coast of Ecuador, the 19 islands of the Galapagos and the surrounding marine reserve have been called a unique ‘living museum and showcase of evolution’. With three ocean currents converging, the Galapagos are a ‘melting pot’ of marine species. Ongoing seismic and volcanic activity reflects the processes that formed the islands. These processes, together with the extreme isolation of the islands, led to the development of unusual animal life such as the land iguana, the giant tortoise and the many types of finch that inspired Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection following his visit in 1835.

The Galapagos Islands were declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1978. In June 2007 they were placed on UNESCO's List of World Heritage in Danger. This was due to the growing encroachment of invasive species, increasing human immigration, uncontrolled development of tourism, and the failure of various institutions and agencies to deal with these threats.

Invasive species are the greatest direct threat to the unique ecosystems of the Galapagos. People began introducing goats, pigs and cattle to the islands when they were first settled in the early 19th century. These, along with other domestic animals such as cats and dogs, have established wild populations and prey on, or compete aggressively with local species, driving some of them to extinction.

Today, a growing number of introduced plant and insect species, along with micro-organisms which cause disease, pose an increasing risk to Galapagos biodiversity, driving up the cost of managing them by eradication or permanent control. Increasing tourism and population growth in the Galapagos have been closely linked to the difficulty of keeping introduced species out of the islands.

Prince Charles and Camilla recently visited the islands to highlight the problems that exist there. A newspaper cartoon joked about his visit with the caption that no matter how many times he visits no action is taken.

Keeping the environment in mind we arrive early in the morning for the flight from Quito to the Galapagos, landing on the island of Baltra. With the US$100 park entrance fee paid our voyage of discovery would take us to the islands of Seymour Norte, Sombrero Chino, Bartolome, Genovesa, Santiago, Rabida and finally to Puerto Ayora on Santa Cruz.

A short cruise took us to Seymour Norte where we landed and took a walk around the island. The first thing that is immediately apparent is that the wildlife pays absolutely no attention to humans. They do not see humans as a threat. Unwittingly we had also arrived in the islands at one of the best times of the year, the mating season.

The blue footed boobies moved from foot to foot displaying their wings. The frigate birds puffed up their bright red throat pouch like a balloon and make mooing sounds to the females flying above. Meanwhile the sea lions laid on the beach paying no one any attention.

The next morning we board the landing craft before 8am for our visit to Sombrero Chino Island or China Hat. Crystal clear turquoise water with penguins on the lava crusted shore and sea lions on the beach.

Brightly coloured sally lightfoot crabs on the beach appeared to be quite shy and would scurry away quickly. Lava lizards and iguanas basked in the sunshine.

Without a cloud in the sky the temperatures were soaring, so it was back to the boat to get ready for some snorkeling. Warm clear water teaming with life, all sorts of colourful fish like Moorish Idols and Mexican Hogfish. An underwater camera might be a good idea but sometimes it's best not to look at everything through a lens.

Back on the boat it was time for lunch and then we were steaming for Bartolome Island. Frigate birds flew just above the boat's mast for much of the way.

From the beach to the south we could see black tipped reef sharks and on the beach tracks where turtles had climbed up to lay their eggs. Later when snorkeling on the north Beach we came very close to Galapagos sharks. Quite alarming to see in the water but not dangerous.

We climb up to the summit of an extinct volcano for a fantastic view over the island and the beaches.

After dinner the the crew raised the anchor and set sail for Genovesa Island, in the far North West of the archipelago. The rainy season runs from January to April which means calmer seas and warmer water, ideal for our needs. Rainy season? There wasn't a cloud in the sky but even so there was still a tint of green to the volcanic islands.

6am on he open top deck of the boat and Darwin Bay, Genovesa Island, the sun was just coming up on the tranquil surroundings.

It's always good to see boobies first thing in the morning and it was no exception with the Red Footed and Nazca varieties that were waiting for us near the beach where we landed.

As the day heated up we snorkeled again looking for Hammerhead sharks but unfortunately they were all hunting elsewhere. However snorkeling in the deep water next to the cliffs was an amazing experience.

Back on the island again later in the day, as the sun was going down, the Short- eared owl made an appearance. Coming out of it's nest in the lava to see what all the fuss was about.

The boat slipped out of Darwin Bay under cover of darkness on route for Santiago Island. A peaceful journey sitting out on deck looking at the sky with millions of stars in the darkness and the Milky Way visible from one horizon to the other.

Early mornings were a feature of this trip so it was no surprise to be on the beach at James Bay before my hearty breakfast had time to settle. Walking along the old lava flows that make up the shore line it was hard not to miss the marine iguanas sitting out in the sun warming up.

The snorkeling at James Bay was awesome, with sightings of a Manta Ray and schools of thousands of fish. Pelicans bobbing up and down in the water next to us. In flight they are pre-historic looking and with out too much imagination almost like a pterodactyl.

A brief stop at the Island of Rabida where we were luck to see a Galapagos Hawk and when snorkeling a sea lion swam past. Then another voyage across the ocean to to Santa Cruz Island.

The boat moored at Puerto Ayora, on the final night aboard, a sizable town of 2000 inhabitants. This meant beers ashore!

With sadness we left the boat for the last time to go ashore and visit the Charles Darwin Centre. Home to some Giant Tortoises and complete with a successful breeding program. Maybe 200,000 of these amazing creatures used to live in the Galapagos Islands having evolved into 14 sub-species. Now there are between 15,000 and 17,000. Sailors used to keep them for fresh meet on their boats, with them surviving for months being upturned on their backs.

11 subspecies survive now and this may soon be down to 10 if a mate for Lonesome George is not found. He is the last known tortoise of his sub-species and so far mating with other tortoises with a similar DNA has proved unsuccessful.

A break from the wildlife and a trip out of town to visit some lava tunnels. A series of tunnels 5 to 6 metres in diameter where lava once flowed from the volcano above. We visited this site independently and soon realized this was not where the tours would go. We signed in at the entrance and were given a key for the gate at the other end. The tunnels were pretty unusual and in numerous places the ceiling of the tunnel had collapsed with piles of rock blocking the path. We wondered just how often this happened and how many tourists have perished beneath the rocks...

Escaping unscathed, except for Tamara whose (all terrain) flip flop broke mid tunnel, we went to see more Tortoises at the El Chato Reserve. Walking through woodland seeing these mighty beasts in their natural habitat was one of the most memorable times of the trip. I had thought the reserve was enclosed but we get to the edge of the reserve and the tortoises were free to come and go. These were the only animals that didn't appear to like our presence. So not to alarm them it was good to keep a distance as they would make a hissing sound if we were too close. Evolution has taught them not to trust humans.

We made it to Turtle bay by late afternoon and swam in the sea and sat in the sun. The end of a trip of a life time (within the trip of a lifetime).

Adventures in Ecuador

2009-04-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

Having given up the title of lonesome hobo, I continued you my travels with Tamara, in Ecuador.
Vilcabamba

After the challenging journey from Peru into Ecuador it was nice to spend a few days in Vilcabamba to relax. Going hiking and mountain biking. A small town with a large ex-pat population of mainly North Americans who arrived after photos of Vilcabamaba were published in The New York Times in the 1970's.

It´s known for it´s population of old people with many supposedly living to well over 100 years. The steady climate, beautiful surroundings and the mineral content in the water are all thought to be the cause. A poster advertising Vilcabamba shows an old man smoking a cigarette, mountains in the distance with the caption 'health and life', seems at odds to this.

Although very near the equator the climate was pleasant due to an altitude of 1800m. The road north to Cuenca stuck to the mountains and some very familiar looking countryside. Regimented plots of pine trees and open moorland reminded me of Scotland, later the rolling countryside could have been the Yorkshire Dales.

Ecuador has suffered from serious deforestation. The High Andes area we travelled through had only 1 to 2% of original forest remaining. The rate of deforestation in other areas is estimated at 300,000 hectares per year or around 3%, which is one of the highest rates in the world. The Amazonian areas are threatened by pollution from oil exploration.

The oil industry has been allowed to operate not only in national parks and reserves, but also in indigenous territories (This is the same for mining). Texaco spilled over 18 billion gallons of oil in the Ecuadorian Amazon during the 20 years it operated there and is responsible for a multi billion dollar toxic cleanup bill that affected communities and indigenous people have had to pursue this in the US courts since the Ecuadorian government was not interested in resolving this issue.

Cuenca

Cuenca was the first big city we visited in Ecuador. UNESCO designated it a World Heritage Sight and it´s considered the cultural capital of Ecuador. It´s a great city to visit, very pretty, good museums, good museums and felt very safe. There was a level of sophistication in some of the bars that would not have been out of place in a Big European city, but with cheap prices.

Cuenca is the place to buy a 'Panama Hat'. Yes the origin of the Panama Hat is in Ecuador and Monticristi to be precise, however there were many hat makers in Cuenca. The hat was wrongly named after they were exported to Panama for the workers building the canal. They were liked for there hard wearing and durable qualities. The proper name is 'Sombrero de paja toquilla' in English Straw Hat, doesn´t sound so good.

The towns of Gualaceo, Chordeleg and Sig Sig are near to Cuenca and made a good day trip on Sunday when they have their markets. Very colourful and many indigenous people in traditional dress.

A Typical bus journey in Ecuador

The journey in question is from Cuenca to Baños, a short journey in South American terms, but requiring a change of bus in Riobamba.

In Ecuador, it´s not really necessary to book ahead for a bus ticket. Just turn up at the bus station and the bus companies will have somebody calling out destinations and in less than a minute a ticket will be in your hand.

Onto the bus, with luggage in the storage area beneath, get your seat quick because nobody pays much attention to seat numbers on the tickets. If a parent and kids have taken your seat it´s not really right to ask them to move. However it´s not unusual to be the only one on the bus as it leaves the bus station. The local people avoid paying the departure fee in the bus station and get on at the road outside.

The buses are a little different from home. There is a partition between the driver and conductor and the passengers. This leads to a generally stress free journey in that it´s much better not being able to see what is happening on the road ahead. The buses are the fastest vehicles on the road having to drive at seemingly breakneck speeds to keep to their schedules, overtaking everything in their way whether safe to do so or not. The conductor stows your luggage, sells tickets on the bus and yells out the destination to people on the street. On one bus the conductor only had one leg. He used a crutch as a false leg and jumped on and off the bus while it was moving and ran up and down the aisle collecting fares faster than I could have.

The bus stops regularity to pick people up and the aisle is often full of people standing. It´s not possible to go hungry on the bus as it´s always stopping to pick sellers of food and drink, all calling out their goods. The other non paying passenger is the salesman, often selling vitamin supplements and may be dressed to look like a doctor. He´ll get off a the edge of town then flags a bus down going the other way.

After an uneventful six hours we arrived at Riobamba. Before we reach the bus station the conductor tells us it´s time to get off. There are two bus stations in Riobamba, the bus wasn´t going to where we would get the bus to Baños. Had we sixth sense we´d have crossed the road and waited for the bus to Baños, however the conductor never thought to tell us this.

A taxi stopped and said it would cost $1 to take us to the bus station on the other side of town. That was cheap as it was quite a distance away. At the bus station we buy our tickets and waited in the bus office for half an hour until the bus left. The conductor of the bus was advertising the journey with the cry of Baños, Baños, Baños, Baños hardly distinguishable in his high pitched wail and only interrupted by a whistle when a pretty girl walked past.

The bus left at 4pm shortly after passing where we had been dropped off earlier and then past rolling countryside with patchwork quilt fields and old volcanoes. Beautiful countryside but nothing we hadn´t seen before. Baños, we´d been told, was in a spectacular setting. Rounding a corner our jaws dropped as Volcan Tungurahua comes into view towering above Baños at 5023m.

Safely across a bridge built to cross a man made gully to direct lava from the volcano above, we arrived in Baños.

Baños

Volcan Tungurahua burst back in to action in 1999 are a long period of rest. The 25,000 people of Baños were temporarily evacuated. Recent activity in December 2008 had covered the road from Riobamba with ash and it had only recently been reopened. Probably wise to check the volcano activity websites before hand, but sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Baños (meaning bath in English and pronounced banyos) unsurprisingly, with all the volcanic actively in the area, has numerous thermal bath houses. We got a taxi to a bath house just out side of town, beneath the volcano, we were the only tourists there sharing the waters with the friendly locals.

We walked in the hills below the volcano, along little paths, through forest, past fields and to a ridge opposite the volcano. We could only imagine what was happening in the cloud that shrouded it. All was quiet so there was time to stop for lunch.

Ecuador is described as having ´super biodiversity´we saw many beautiful butterflies, birds and during this walk a tarantula spider battling with a big fly on the path in front of us.

Off the Gringo Trail, again

Wandering off the gringo trail again, we find ourselves in Guaranda on route for Salinas. We didn´t spot any our backpackers or tourists in Guaranda. We did see a lot of locals stopping to stare at us though. I think we were an unusual sight. There´s not to much for the tourist but it was a fine city with buildings made from adobe brick (mud, shit straw and stone). all painted bright colours. Walking the streets we found our selves in a little shop full of old fashioned leather suitcases, moulds for making shoes, boxing cloves and an ancient, wrinkled bespectacled shop keeper. It was like walking into a time warp.

Tamara had suggested going to Salinas. It´s a very small town about an hour from Guaranda situated in rolling green countryside much like parts of England. I soon discovered Tamara´s reason for wanting to come here, there was a chocolate factory, a cheese factory and a few artisan shops. The chocolate and cheese were good!

Quilatoa Loop

The journey round the Quilatoa Loop starts and finishes in Latacunga, with 200km of bumpy roads and incredible scenery in between. From Latacunga the road winds it's way up to the Quilatoa crater at 3800m above sea level. We arrived at the crater in thick cloud and checked into one of the basic hostels. The important things here were plenty of blankets and a wood burning stove, it was very cold and damp.

The plan was to walk from the crater to the town of Chugchilan 14km away. This is described as one of the best one day walks in Ecuador. Armed with 2 differing descriptions of the walk but no map we were just a little apprehensive about setting off. We joined up with Rachel and Ricky, an English couple, so we would have 4 opinions on the right way to go.

The crater is huge, it takes 6 hours to walk round it and an hour to walk up from the lake within it. One set of instructions told us to walk round the crater to the 2nd sandy spot and turn left by the large rock, the other said to walk to the 3rd sandy spot and turn left by the stone cairn. We counted about 5 sandy spots before finding the cairn. Walking round with patchwork quilt fields to one side, the craggy crater edge and lake below.

The path wound it's way through fertile fields finally coming to gorge that separated us from our destination. Climbing down the little path we come to a small river with a log bridge. The path downstream had been taken out by a landslide so the log bridge it was. Climbing up to Chugchilan was hard work in the thin air.

As usual in many areas of South America the litter in scenic areas is a problem. This is not from gringos but caused by many South American tourists who seem to have no concept of littering. Sweet wrappers, 2 litre soft drink bottles, it makes no difference, dropped while walking or thrown out of the window of a bus. We try to make a difference and fill a carrier bag with litter but feared within a week it would be back to the same. Reaching the town of Chugchillan the problem got much worse. School children were walking home, litter all around. There are much worse problems in South America but surely an easy lesson for the children to be taught at school.

The next day we were up at 5am to get the bus to Saquisili. Part of this journey was on the school bus which soon overloaded with children. They climbed onto the roof when the bus was full. Saquisili was the last stop on the loop. We managed to time it right and arrive on a Thursday which was market day. There are several large markets in the town; livestock, food, including guinea pigs and floppy eared rabbits.

We buy some weavings from the market traders. There are not too many tourists that pass through this way and they were very appreciative of our purchases, one woman kissed the money, kissed Tamara and blessed us both.

Quito

We had read that Ecuador was experiencing a serious crime wave and that the government was trying to step up security with extra police. The areas we´d travelled through so far were mainly small or off the tourist trail. Quito we´d heard was dangerous and it wins hands down when it come to stories of robberies of fellow travelers. It was however a necessary stop on the way North and where we were to book our trip to the Galapagos Islands. (See separate blog)

Warnings that it is only safe to walk in the new town until 7pm and the old town until 10pm made me a little paranoid. Apart form the new town the city streets went deathly quiet after dark. Nobody walks anywhere but there are thousands of yellow taxi´s on the streets. We were lucky though and had no problems.

I fell sick with travellers belly after returning from the Galapagos Islands and spent a week recovering, managing to make it out to see a 1 or 2 museums when feeling a bit better.

The Equator lies 20km North of Quito. Mitad del Mundo or Middle of the World monument was built on the spot where Frenchman Charles-Marie de la Condamine determined to be the equator in 1736. There is also a crappy theme park there.

The actual equator, measured by GPS, is 200m away and is where the fun Inti-ñan Museum is situated. Here the following 'scientific facts' are demonstrated: you weigh less, it´s easier to balance things and water drains straight down the plug hole, the last being of most interest.

A sink of water is drained into a bucket beneath. The exercise is repeated and it can clearly be seen that water drains clockwise south of the equator and anticlockwise north of the equator.

I could have spent longer in Ecuador, but time was running short and Colombia was beckoning.

Off the Gringo Trail..... At last!!

2009-03-09T15:33:00.000-07:00

From the Pacific to the Amazon

With my friends Tamara and Annika the journey was to take us over the Andes mountains and into the jungle. First was an 11 hour bus trip over the mountains. Waking in the night being thrown from side to side in my seat and then being bumped up and down for what seemed like forever... in the dark, in bus with curtains drawn it´s all a mystery outside.

In the morning the bus pulled into the beautifully named Tingo Maria, in the foothills of the Andes, surrounded by jungle and pouring down with rain. The three of us managed to fit into a tiny moto taxi and go to the Hostal Roosevelt.

This hostal was so 'stylish' I was surprised how cheap it was. The room were painted orange and purple and the bed was surrounded by mirrors. Two girls left separately with no luggage when we were checking in... Their clients maybe still in the rooms...

North of Tingo Maria is the Rio Huallaga Valley, a major cocaine manufacturing area in Peru and maybe not the safest place to wander through with a backpack. West was the road to Pucallpa and the route we were to take. Our trusty guide book 'The Risky Planet' gave warning that armed robberies have occurred on many occasions along this route. A local told us that it happens but very occasionally.

The bus left Tingo Maria at 10am and then stopped again very quickly to change one of the tyres. 1 1/2 hours later we were going again. Descending through the jungle to meet a big jungle river. Construction crews were working to built new sections where the river had washed the road away. The power of this river in spate must have been incredible. Some way down stream from one of the washouts lay a massive right angled section of concrete probably 20 metres long.
The bus stopped to pick up a security guard with pump action shot gun. He made a speech on the bus and with my bad Spanish I translated roughly what he said: 'There are many robbers that make my job very dangerous. I get paid very little to save your lives. I´m very hungry and want chicken for my lunch. Please give me some money for my lunch'. The girls having slept through the speech were rudely awoken by a man with a gun demanding money! Maybe this was the frequent armed robbery that happens on this road?

Steep ravines, mighty river, rapids crashing over rocks, waterfalls cascading down vertical cliffs, lush green jungle, when there was nowhere the road could go the bus disappeared into unlit tunnels. Heading further inland the hills disappeared leaving the jungle to surround. The rain had stopped but had left the roads quite muddy. A big truck was stuck in the middle of the road causing a big traffic jam the other way. After waiting 30 minutes the bus driver decided there was maybe just room to get past, there was and shortly after the dirt road turns to the best tarmac road I´ve seen in all South America and a speedy arrival into Pucallpa. This journey from Lima had the potential to go badly wrong, we were very lucky to arrive with no delays.

Pucallpa is the end of the road in the jungle, onward travel is by boat. The boat is question was the Baylon I. A not too rusty cargo boat with the top two decks for hammocks. Feeling ill in the morning, was it good to be stuck on a boat for 5 days? The doctor at the pharmacy seemed to think I would live so we took our bags and supplies down to the dock and set up camp on the boat, and waited and waited and waited for 30 hours for the boat to leave. During this time the whole bottom deck and part of the next were loaded entirely by hand. Watching the dock workers work, it was easy to see how the Inca rulers were able to built amazing structures in such a short time.

At 6pm we set sale down the Rio Ucayali, lying in our gently rocking hammocks, together with 60 or 70 others on our deck. The days on the boat passed remarkably quickly. Relaxing and interesting and never boring. Breakfast, lunch and dinner provided, although pretty basic it was ideal for my suffering stomach.

There were even showers on the boat, although it was the same brown river water that was used to flush the toilets and came from the taps in the sinks. After 3 days and smelling badly, there was really no choice but to brave the showers. Brushing our teeth at the sinks, the local people looked at us strangely, wondering why we were using bottled water, they didn´t understand our delicate gringo bellies.

Jungle on each river bank with the occasional wooden house or small village. The boat acts as a bus service along the river, calling at village ports to drop goods and passengers. The small motor launch taking and picking passengers up from more remote spots.
Although it was the wet season there was little rain on this trip, but even so, the river was as full as it could get. The sunset over the river was really the highlight of the day.

After 5 days on the boat (4 days actual sailing) we arrived at the jungle city of Iquitos. This is the largest city in the world that cannot be reached by road. Made rich in the 1920´s from the rubber plantations there are many impressive buildings, even one designed by Gustave Eiffel of the towering fame. Hot and humid it has a slightly unusual feel to it, could be a setting for a William Burroughs novel.

The market at Belen, with alligators, turtles, snails and all sorts was something else, the floating town of Belen even more so. 50,000 people living in floating wooden houses that move up and down with the changing river levels. Churches, schools, shops and even a floating disco were all there.

The Long Journey to Ecuador

Annika took the boat down the river to Leticia in Columbia, Tamara and I were to travel to Ecuador.

Time was running short, another 4 days by boat to Yurimaguas was not an option. The crime was committed, the flight ticket was bought to Tarapoto. The 45 minute flight had blown our budgets but had saved us a lot of time.

Tarapoto was a surprise, a friendly and affluent appearing city. Our mototaxi driver took us out of the city the next morning to see a waterfall in the jungle. Mountains, jungle and waterfalls, a beautiful combination.

Leaving an hour late from Tarapoto at 1pm, the bus arrived 12 hours later into Jaen, 4 hours late. For the first part of the journey the bus was more often stopped than not. So it was 1am in Jaen and the mototaxi driver said we could get an onward bus at 3am. There wasn´t much point getting a hotel at this time of night so we agreed he could take us to the 'bus station'. 'Is this safe?' was the question I asked as we were dropped off at a deserted parking lot in an industrial estate on the edge of town..... A dodgy looking character in a hoody told us it would be 4.30am before a bus left so we got down to a serious game of cards and waited. At 2.30am a taxi turned up with a family followed by the ubiquitous Toyota Hiace minibus that would take us to San Ignacio. These little buses are not really designed for 6ft tall Scotsmen so as the sun came up in San Ignacio, sleep was one thing that had been missing.

Hustled quickly to our next transport and the typical share taxi, a trusty Toyota Corolla. 3 in the front, 4 in the back and another 2 hours of dirt roads. Driving through the town our driver shouts out to some one on the street 'GRINGOS' and laughed heartily. The border we were going to at La Bolsa is very remote and not much used by travelers, but that was the whole appeal.

After some breakfast and tracking down the immigration official to stamp our passports we were faced with the choice, cross the border and wait until 12.30pm for a truck to take us to Zumba in Ecuador, or take the offer from a Peruvian taxi driver, $5 each for the ride. There were 3 of us who couldn´t wait for the truck. Although the border disputes between Ecuador and Peru have been settled there was still an army checkpoint just over the border in Ecuador. Young soldiers with machine guns eying us edgily as we had our passports checked again. The taxi driver having the biggest problem assuring them of his intentions.

From Zumba it was another 6 1/2 hours by bus on a really rough jungle road. Construction crews were working at regular intervals to repair the damage from recent landslides. Beautiful jungle views, rivers and mountains. The journey so far had gone reasonably smoothly..... Tamara grabbed my arm as the bus swerved suddenly to miss another vehicle, bumped and came to a sudden halt..... everybody got off the but, woah that was a big drop beside the door as I mistake some vegetation for solid ground and nearly fall where the bus might have gone.
Fortunately this all happened on an uphill corner otherwise things could have been much worse. After 20 minutes the bus was back on the road and careering as madly as ever along the winding jungle road.

Standing beside the bus in Vilcabamba after 30 hours of travel, we talked of our relief to have arrived safely when suddenly there was an all mighty bang. One of the bus´s tyres had just exploded, showering the road with mud and rubber. By the plume of acrid black smoke coming from under the bus, the tyre must have over heated. That was quite enough excitement for one day!

Tales from the Gringo Trail (Part 3)

2009-02-10T18:08:00.000-08:00

Peru

Peru came as a shock after Bolivia. Half finished buildings and streets that looked like building sights. Peru is a very poor country. Moving on quickly from the border and passing through Puno, the journey to Arequipa was over high desolate, gray mountains.

Arriving in Arequipa I was slow getting off the bus and somebody was trying to take my bag from the luggage compartment below. I stopped them just in time... I´d seen photos of Arequipa before I arrived. Colonial buildings on the main square built from white silla volcanic stone, the volcano towering above the cathedral. The reality was low cloud obscuring the view, blocking the sun out and everything looked just a little dull.

The Saint Catalina Convent is one of the top sights in Arequipa. Built in 1579 and covering 5 acres, it is one of South America´s most important architectural and religious buildings. It was pretty cool.

Nazca

Arriving at 7am into Nazca, with my German friend Lena, the thermometer had been turned up just a bit and we headed to Grumpies Restaurant across the road from the bus station. Suitably named for our mood, after a night on the bus.

After a false start and the taxi driver taking us to a tour office that clearly wasn´t the airport terminal that he claimed it was, we made it to the actual airport and bought our tickets for the flight over the Nazca lines. The little 4 seater plane took off for what was to be a very bumpy flight.

The lines were actually much smaller than I had imagined, making it much more believable that they were made by man and not aliens as was thought by many in the mid twentieth century. An insult to the intelligence and ability of the ancient civilization that once lived here. The ancient people of Nazca lived in a time when the land was becoming drier. Their god lived in the enormous sand dune mountain that towers about the plains and controlled the water. The many symbols on the land it is now thought are symbols for Shamans and the lines points towards sources of water. An irrigation system built hundreds of years ago by the Nazca people still functions today and is used by present day farmers.

Later walking along the road in Nazca there was a collection of big old American cars that wouldn´t have looked out of place on a scene for 'Mad Max'. I look for my camera but it was not in my bag. Oh shit.... we retrace our steps to look where it my be but it´s not there. Photos backed up the night before, I was lucky not to lose them, I add it to the shoes and sock I have lost so far on my travels. But unfortunately no photos of the Nazca lines.... Later in a week of electronic 'catastrophes' my Ipod decided it´d had enough and crashed, wiping out all the music on it.

Risky Planet

Not wanting to spend any more time in Nazca it was time to take the night bus to Cusco. Our trusty guide book does not recommend night travel in Peru because the roads are dangerous and robberies can happen. To spice up things a little we choose the front seats on the two story bus. At night the roads are safer, in one way, the drivers can see the lights of other vehicles reflecting on corners. That's if they have lights that work.... It was an exciting ride watching the bus go through blind corners on the wrong side of the road, always missing oncoming traffic. Please note, for safety reasons, always take the aisle seat on the right hand side of the bus. This is statistically the safest place to sit and the wisest. Regular front page news stories of long distance buses in head on collisions.

Cucso

The naval of the earth according to the Incas. My opinion of Peru improved after a few days in Cusco. It´s a beautiful city with lots of colonial buildings and Churches, some build on Inca ruins. The Inca stone work in truly amazing, the blocks fitting together without gaps. Look at the photo of the 12 sided stone in the wall.

How did they do that? The Incas did not have a form of writing, so nothing was recorded and the Spanish Conquistadors had no interest but to destroy everything in there way and steal the rest to be shipped to Spain.

Cusco was a city I felt happy and safe in. The beautiful old area of San Blas, where I stayed, had security guards on the streets at night. The food was good and cheap and there was always somewhere playing live music that almost no tourists went to. One of the best bands I saw was called 'Autopista a la Luna' - Road to the moon. They played a fusion of Jazz and Andean music. Instead of a drum kit the drummer used a cajon, this is a wooden box with a hole in the back. The drummer sits on it and managed an amazing range of sounds. When you´re a travelling band with no transport a full drum kit is hardly practical. The bands were friendly, always wanting to know where we were from and telling us where they had played in Europe. It was easy to spend two weeks there, with the music, many interesting museums, Inca sites and of course a trip to Machu Picchu (in separate blog).

There are many Inca ruins near Cusco, but Saksaywaman is far by far the most impressive. High on a hill above Cusco, the huge stone blocks look impossible to move let alone be expertly carved to fit together without any gaps.

The Sacred Vallay is near to Cuscu and I visited the town of Ollantaytambo. Apart from impressive Inca ruins nearby, the town has been permanently inhabited since Inca times. The narrow streets are laid out in a grid, the lower sections made from huge Inca carved blocks. What really impressed me were the doorways of intricately fitted stone blocks having constantly been used for over 500 years.

Similar with Machupichu and nearby Pisac, the doorways are very high considering the Inca people were very small. I wish modern building were the same, it might prevent the bumps on my head.

With all the Inca ruins are the terracing on the mountain sides. Used for agriculture, to increase the available land and stabilise the ground. 500 years later they are still in good condition.

Lima

Big, dirty, scary, dangerous Lima. I had to see for myself. I booked into the Hostel España which was just off the main square. The initial feelings of paranoia quickly disappeared after walking though the main streets and finding it no different from any other big city. There were a few unusual sights; an armoured tank with machine gunner at each side of the presidential palace, many riot police and military on the streets and security guards with muzzled Doberman Pinschers. I don´t know which looked more scary.

Moving to another hostel in the safe suburb of Miraflores, was a bit of a culture shock. Miraflores felt like a modern North American city, with many shops, restaurants and a shopping complex built into the cliffs beside the Pacific Ocean. It was here that I met up with my friends, Tamara and Anika, and we planned our boat trip in the Amazon Basin.

Machu Picchu on a Shoe String

2009-01-29T12:22:00.000-08:00

The cheap way, the Scottish way and the German way to get to Machu Picchu. Forget the Inca trail, the alternative trails (too expensive and way too much effort), the train, my German friend Lena and I took the cheap trail.

Day 1

The bus left Cusco at 8.30am, a way more sociable time than the other options and at a cost of US$5 for the 5 hour journey, very cheap.The road wound it´s way over the mountains and over the Abra Malaga at 4315m above sea level. Dropping down the other side the bus stops and we watch a landslide in progress, cover the road with rocks and earth. With rocks still coming down the steep mountain side, people were clearing the road of debris and our bus sped though. The mountain scenery turned to jungle as the bus descended, screeching to a halt again this time to miss a petrol tanker going the other way, with a big sign on it´s roof ´DANGER INFLAMMABLE´

Arriving in Santa Maria we were surrounded by minibus touts trying to force us onto their overcrowded buses, with the threat of no more buses for 4 hours. However, after 5 hours on a bus it was time to relax and have lunch. Shortly after we were on our way again in a beat up old Toyota estate car, driver and passenger in the front, Lena and I on the back seat and a family of 4 in the boot. The old car struggled up the steep mountain road, not dissimilar to some ski field roads in New Zealand except for the 1000m vertical drop at the side. 2 hours later and US$3 poorer we arrived at Santa Teresa. The small town is surrounded by green mountains and beside the raging torrent of the Rio Urabamba, fueled by the wet season rains. The river would be our guide to Machu Picchu.

Day 2

Crossing the mighty river by suspension bridge we walked up stream past a crew of workers trying to stabilise the mountainside beside the track.

A man blows his whistle and the workers stop to allow us to pass safely. The valley sides steepened and the and the track followed the river as it crashed over huge rocks causing impressive rapids.

We had a feeling of Independence and freedom traveling through this remote land with no map and only the river as our guide to take us to our journeys end. We rejoiced in our freedom as the rain began to fall, sheltering under giant banana leaves until it stopped.

A river cascaded out from the side of a mountain high above us, it´s source a mystery. We imagined a beautiful high plateau with pristine jungle undiscovered by man. In contrast, nearby was the hydro electric station where the path ended and we would walk along a disused railway track beside the river. Disused, yeah right! Not long after a train was thundering towards us horns blaring (thanks Lonely Planet). There was no rest for the river, it was still a torrent of rapids, now surrounded by dense jungle and even higher tree covered mountains.

The railway crossed the river by a dodgy looking bridge. We stand and contemplate which route to take, the foot path with rusty loose metal plating, or on the railway sleepers, with the river in view below. We take the first option. At this point we were still not expecting to see a train coming. We thought how 'funny' it would have been if we´d walked almost all the way across on the sleepers only to have to run back when the train came....

Walking along the tracks cut into the mountainside and the river below us we spot Inca terracing on the mountainside opposite. We felt like explorers of old as we realize this is our first sight of the Lost City of the Incas, Machu Picchu. With Wainu Picchu towering above the ruins and we are in awe of the scenery and full of anticipation for the next days hike to get there.

With Machu Picchu in view we knew it was not far to Aguas Calientes, our bed for the night. Chewing coca leaves along the way had eased our 5 1/2 hour passage though the jungle but left us with a fearsome appetite.

Holding out for cheap accommodation we walk to the furthest point in town to the Inti Wasi Hostel which for $5 a night fitted the bill perfectly.

Ouch, we bought our our entrance tickets, $40 each.

Day 3

Awake at 3.30am for the hike up to the ruins, but the rain was beating off the roof of the hostel and we thought better of it.

Instead we went to the Manuel Chavez Ballon Museum and learnt about the history and the discovery of Machu Picchu and had some time to read up on the history of the Incas. Yes I don´t waste all my time drinking beer and chasing girls, and since when was that a waste of time anyway.

Day 4

In the spirit of all things free, we decided to walk up to Machu Picchu and save the $7 that the bus ride would have cost. Setting off in the pitch black at 4am there was just some light rain to keep us company and a few other people doing the same thing. Climbing 450m along steep stepped paths we arrived at sunrise at the the top, 1 1/2 hours later. Although we couldn't´t see the sunrise as it was chucking it down with rain. We were there early to get 2 of the 400 (free) tickets which allow you to climb Wainu Picchu, but more of that later.

After thawing and drying out as the day warmed up I took a little walk around the ruins, up to the gate keepers house to get the classic M.P. photo. We were lucky the cloud cleared a little and there was a little blue sky. It´s a truly amazing setting in the mountains.

Risky Planet

The vertical sides of Wainu Picchu kind of make it look impossible to climb. Several warnings about being in good health, not suffering from vertigo, that the paths are scary but not dangerous and some of the paths will make the heart beat race of normal people did not put us off. We set off undeterred. Lena wanted to go to the Temple of the Moon, half way down the North face of the mountain, so we branched of the main path and found the first ladder to climb down, no problem. The narrow path wound it´s way down and round the mountain. The ruins of the Temple of the Moon I thought were nothing special but the setting in the jungle on the mountain side was really cool.

We guessed the unmarked path leading up the mountain would take us to the summit of Wainu Picchu. It did but not without some heart stopping moments. The Inca built paths are built on the side of steep slopes with dizzying drops to the side. At one point we were faced with a ladder climb up a vertical cliff followed by an narrow Inca stairway carved out of solid rock with only a wire rope to hold on to. Scary but not dangerous, yeah right, one slip or wrong foot would have lead to a fall into the jungle below and certain death. It was a long way back, we had no choice but to carry on. It would be impossible to be in that situation at home with so many safety regulations and for that reason I love travelling so much. I heard stories of people having fallen off Wainu Picchu and it taking months to find the bodies in the jungle. Respect to the Incas, they probably ran up these mountains without a second thought and definitely had no wire ropes to hold on to. The view at the top of the ruins of Machu Picchu was worth the climb but the route down looked pretty terrifying. It´s easy walking down the stairs in your house, but when these stairs are narrow, far too small for your feet, slippery from the rain and you can see the bottom of the valley at least 500m right below you it makes things just a little tricky. Did I once used to suffer from vertigo?

Stairs handled we were soon back to Machu Picchu. With only 1/2 litre of water and a handful of coca leaves between the two of us we´d been hopelessly unprepared for what turned out to be a 3 1/2 hour hike, but fortunately it all worked out fine.

Walking round the ruins late in the day most of the tour groups had departed. I got chance to feel the peace and silence that prevailed over the site for nearly 400 hundred years from when it was abandoned to being rediscovered in 1911. The Inca people who built this site were incredibly skilled, the stone work is amazing.

I left the site at 4.30pm feeling that I could spend another day there, there were still areas I had not seen. I think I tapped into some mystical Inca energy because after all that hiking I still walked back to Aguas Calientes instead of taking the bus (or was that mystical Scottish tightness).

Machu Picchu gets the number 2 spot in the 7 Wonders of Brainworld, with The Temples of Angkor in Cambodia still in first place. I´ll definitely visit Machu Picchu again and maybe do the Inca Trail.

Day 5

Retracing my steps along the railway line to the hydro electric station I made the mistake of taking one of the 'direct' mini buses to Cusco for $13. It ended up taking longer than if I´d taken the public buses. To add to that the driver was clearly insane, finding the smoothest part of the dirt road to drive on regardless if it was on the wrong side of the road, on a blind corner, and not slowing down for pedestrians, animals, towns or anything. Maybe this was just the Peruvian way of driving. Then there was the dead tourist on the road having just been run over by a truck going the other way. This road is used by the jungle mountain bike tours to Machu Picchu. More dangerous than than Death road in Bolivia I think. The poor tourist had not even got as far as seeing Machu Picchu, I still didn´t know if I´d get to tell the story. After 12 hours journey from Aguas Calientes, I arrived safely in Cusco.

Tales from the Gringo Trail (Part 2)

2009-01-17T14:04:00.000-08:00

Bolivia

Leaving the bus terminal I bumped into a Mexican traveler, Roberto, and we walked to the border crossing. Later I discover he is a TV celebrity in Mexico, a kind of Mexican Steve Urwin. The crossing from La Quiaca in Argentina to Villazon in Bolivia was quick and easy. The immigration offices are less than 30 metres apart and arriving at lunch time gave me plenty of time to cross and then buy a train ticket to Tupiza.

Villazon was like any border town I've been to. Narrow streets lines with currency changers and many clothes shops. At 3600 metres altitude the air was a bit thin and a few coca leaves were needed to stave of the tiredness.

Great Train Journeys of the World

The clean and modern train departed from Villazon on time at 3.30 in the afternoon. The first part of the journey was through desert like scenery and scrub. The tracks were very uneven and progress was very slow. Dropping 500m metres we were suddenly in a different world. Towering, eroded red mountains, lush green vegetation and the river next to the railway running red from the iron deposits. In the railway carriage the TV screen was showing the latest 'Mummy' film which was completely at odds with the splendor of the scenery outside. An incredible but short journey of only 3 hours with the train arriving in Tupiza on time. The train continued to Uyuni and Oruro but at night and at an altitude of over 3000 metres this is maybe not so enjoyable.

The Land That Time Forgot

After almost a year and a half of travel I´ve already used all the words I can to describe scenery and landscapes. I´ll have to use them all again but now with ten times the meaning for the landscapes in Bolivia. They are really that amazing(x10). An incredible surprise!

From Tupiza it was a 4 day jeep trip to Uyuni to see the Salar de Uyuni. The worlds largest salt flats. With my three new friends, Roberto, Carly and Judy, we had hired a jeep with driver and cook for the trip.

Departing from Tupiza early the next day the old Toyota Landcruiser struggled up the steep mountain road out of Tupiza, battery terminal coming off making the jeep suddenly stop and finally over heating at the top. No problem our driver was a top class mechanic, using muddy water from a puddle for coolant he had it all sorted while we took photos of the scenery. For some reason we all had complete faith in our driver and jeep for this 4 day journey to the back of beyond. Our drivers skills were again shown fixing a puncture, using an axe the on the wheel's split rims.

The journey took us up to the snow line and down past small towns and nearby mines, herds of llamas. Passing colourful lakes and rainbow coloured mountains I would not have been surprised to see hunter gatherers chasing long extinct animals.

Travelling through this alien landscape I arrived at Lagoona Colarada. If this was an alien landscape, the flamingos were the perfect alien birds. The bright pink birds feeding from the red lake, red and yellow mountains behind, if I´d have seen this as a photo I´d have thought the colours had been changed on it.

Before we reaching the salt flats we cross the railway that links Bolivia to Chile the coast. Bolivia lost the War of the Pacific against Chile and as a result has no coast line. The Chileans built the railway from the coast to Bolivia as a consolation to allow trade to the sea. Bolivia still disputes this loss of land. The Bolivian Navy is now restricted to patrolling the waters of Lake Titicaca.

Millions of years ago when South America was flat, Atlantic Ocean reached far into the continent. With the action of the earths plates and the formation of the Andes part of the sea was enclosed by mountains and lifted up to a height of 3500m. The water evaporated and Salir de Uyuni was formed. The largest salt flats in the world. Climbing on the rocks at the edge of the salt flats it was amazing to find the rock were in fact coral from the sea that was once here. On top of the coral was lava from the many surrounding volcanoes.

We were up 5am to drive out onto the salt flats and see the sunrise. With the cold temperatures and white everywhere outside it felt like we were driving through snow.

Bad bus trips of the world

The bus journey from Uyuni to Potosi was entirely on 'dirt roads' and sometimes using convenient dry river beds, a roller coaster of a trip through the mountains. Along the side of the bus was written 'Comfort Security and Elegance'. This I found highly amusing on this 20 year old bus with luggage on the roof, no leg room and the aisle filled with people standing for most of the six hour journey.

Potosi

Bolivia was full of surprises, Potosi at 4060 metres above sea level is the world's highest city, I was expecting a drab and bleak city. I was greeted by a city of elegance, colour and vibrancy. Once the richest city in South America in Spanish colonial times, created from the nearby silver mines in the mountain that towers over Potosi, Cerro Rico.

The mines financed the Spanish Empire for over 200 years. The mountain has the name 'The mountain that eats men alive'. Maybe as many as 8 million people have lost their lives in the mines in Potosi, mostly indigenous people and African slaves who were forced to work for 20 hours a day in appalling conditions. People work in the mines today, still in medieval conditions. The mines are full of toxic dust and silicosis is a major problem, once the miners contract this illness they only live a few years more. The American film 'The Devils Miner' made in 2005 shows the life of a 14 year old boy working in the mines, watch it and you´ll see what I saw here. I took a trip into the mines and was horrified with the conditions. Walking through unlit tunnels climbing ladders into a tiny enclosed space, I watched a miner hammering at the rock to create a hole for a stick of dynamite. I was almost suffocating from the lack of air and the dusty atmosphere. I was told by the guide that this miner would work here for 10 hours he and was already dying from silicosis. The miners chew on coca leaves which helps them deal with the conditions. Below ground they pay homage to the god 'El Tio'.

The Spanish mine owners created this god to scare the indigenous workers. They give alcohol, cigarettes and coca leaves as an offering to El Tio in return for his protection. We took gifts for the miners and their children. The families live beside the mines so they can stop their equipment from being stolen.

The Cerro Rico was once 1000ft higher and it is now forbidden to remove material from the summit, so the city´s landmark doesn´t disappear forever. Last year 15,000 miners were working in the mines but now there are only 5,000 due to falling mineral prices and as a result mining is no longer the main industry in Potosi. A far cry from the colonial days.

Later when visiting the Casa de la Moneda (The Royal Mint museum) it is very ironic that after years of Bolivia producing coins for Spain, Spain now produces some of the coins for Bolivia. Inside the museum, the giant wooden machinery used to produce the strips of silver for the coins was perfectly preserved by the high altitude. When the mules which powered the machines died, they used slaves from Africa instead.

Risky Planet

Sucre had been the scene of recent riots and fighting. On the streets there was no evidence of this and the city had returned to normal. Country people fighting with town´s people fighting with the police. A complicated situation that I can´t begin to explain. Bolivia is a divided country on many levels, geographically, politically and ethnically. The majority are indigenous people, who are poor and live in the highlands. The rich minority live in the lowlands that include the mineral rich areas of Santa Cruz and Tarija and are of Spanish desent. El Presedente Evo Morales (the first indigenous president) was discussing redistribution of wealth from the lowlands to help the large population of poor people in the highlands. This sparked a revolt in the lowlands with rioting and talk of the separation. A referendum was announced and the country was at peace.

Travelling through the highlands of the country he has almost complete support, every building has Evo painted on the side of it and a big tick.

Sucre is the Judicial Capital of Bolivia and has many fine buildings all white washed. It´s a fantastic city and not at all what I expected to find in Bolivia!

Happy that Sucre was a safe place, for the time being, I decided to make it my home for Christmas and New Year. I would also be away from the back packer hoards in the bigger towns. I contacted the Fox Language Academy and enrolled for more Spanish lessons and also volunteered as a classroom assistant to help teach English to under privileged people. The school is non profit making and the money I paid for Spanish lessons helped to pay for under privileged people people to learn English.

I spent Christmas Eve at the house of the School's director with his family and friends eating traditional food. Christmas Eve is a sober affair in Bolivia, New Year's eve is when they party. My Spanish teacher had asked me if I wanted a lesson on Christmas day, I was a bit surprised but agreed when she told me her husband was unemployed and she needed money to by her children presents.

The out stretched hand begging for money was an all too common sight in Sucre. The poor people go to the main square on Christmas morning hoping to be given food or anything. A few of us at the hostel grouped together to buy some food to give out there.

On New Year´s eve there was a big celebration in the square with music organised fireworks and more concerning, everybody elses fireworks. It was 200 hundred years since the start of the revolution against the Spanish colonialists.

La Paz

Arriving to La Paz by bus is one of the most amazing way to arrive to the city. Driving along the edge of the high plateau the whole of La Paz can be seen in the valley below. It´s almost like flying into the city. It´s an incredible city, very busy with chaotic street markets everywhere. Culturally interesting with very high quality museums and art galleries.

The Coca Museum was very informative about the indigenous peoples use of the coca leaves. The leaves act as a mild stimulant, allow you to work longer and stave off hunger. They are also nutritious and help the effects of altitude and are not addictive. The indigenous people have used the leaves for thousands of years and it is part of their culture. I personally found a cup of coca leaf tea in the morning most enjoyable. The USA is trying to eradicate all coca plants in South America because of their use in the manufacture of Cocaine. Evo Morales (an ex coca plant farmer himself) has expelled the US Drug Enforcement Agency from Bolivia with the reasoning that the cocaine abuse is a problem of the USA not Bolivia.

Each afternoon there were demonstrations along the main street. Camposinos (country people) marching with shirts off, flying the multicoloured indigenous flag and letting off homemade fire crackers. It sounded like a war zone and the police were out in force with riot shields. A sinister squad of police motorcyclists prowled the streets with the pillion holding a rubber bullet gun with a fearsome stack of ammunition on the waist. We´re told to avoid political demonstrations in case they turn nasty but this was irresistible to watch.

The World´s Most Dangerous Road

Quite a claim. Built by Paraguayan prisoners of war in the 1930's it was once the only road between La Paz and Coroico. Ironically the Paraguayan´s are still managing to kill Bolivians long after the war was over. Before the road was 'closed' to traffic an average of 100 people were killed every year. I had seen photos of the road with trucks passing each other and massive drop offs at the side of the road. A new road has been built now and the road is 'almost´only used for down hill mountain biking. 64km long with a vertical drop of 3345m.

Not recommended in January and February due to the rainy season and resultant landslides, but what the hell, it couldn´t be that bad and there was no way I was going to miss this opportunity. Kitted out with super cool down hill mountain bike, with massive suspension travel, disc brakes, tyres that wouldn´t have looked out of place on a motorbike and a full face crash helmet the 'Downhill Madness' was to commence. 24KM on tarmac loosing 1000m then 4km up and down. These beasts were not designed for going up hill, undeterred 4 of us cycle the section, the rest go in the minibus. We reach the 'death road' itself, a dirt road with no crash barriers, many crosses mark where people have died. Exciting stuff.

The Corners of Death being the most exciting with the road cut into near vertical cliff with 100´s of meters of drop to the jungle below. Waterfalls cascaded over the road. All very safe though, we only meet one jeep going the other way. Without traffic it´s now pretty safe, the guide kept the speed down and I found the bikes weren´t geared for flat out speed, but I guess the consequences of crashing could have been fatal. The scenery was amazing, the experience of cycling though the mountains of Bolivia was unmissable and riding a Rockymountain DH bike worth $3500 was awesome.

On route to Peru was Lake Titicaca and the Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun) important in Inca mythology as the birth place of the sun. A tranquil island to spend a day or two and it´s incredibly beautiful. A fitting end to five weeks of travel in Bolivia where I found the people friendly and welcoming and the country was generally safe to travel in, but maybe I´d been lucky again.

Since leaving Bolivia I learned that Evo Morales has won the referendum to change the constitution in favour of the majority, the indigenous people. In Sucre I witnessed the NO campaign with posters likening Evo Morales to other South American dictators such as Pinochet and Hugo Chavez. He may not be perfect but having seen the poverty at first hand in Bolivia I cannot argue against his reasoning to help the poor majority. I hope and wish for peace and prosperity in this beautiful country.

Tales from the Gringo Trail (Part 1)

2008-11-23T16:40:00.000-08:00

Chile con carne

Ten hours after leaving the relative safety of Auckland I landed in Santiago in Chile. Another continent and the start of a new adventure.

I was not too impressed with Santiago. Some parts of the centre of Santiago resembled a concrete jungle, the main square being an exception. The drab gray buildings along the narrow streets block out the sunlight. The years of Pinochet and his repression are still evident. Compared to other capital cities I´ve been to it was a little disappointing. Where the architecture was not impressive, the street art / graffiti most certainly was, especially in the Bellavista area. Many buildings were covered with amazing colourful artwork and there were some interesting museums.

The Chileans are big drinkers and Bellavista was the place to see this too. The street bars full of people from 6pm until the wee small hours. Except for the the Saturday night I was there, when all the bars closed at midnight because of an election the next day. No drinking on election day and it´s illegal not to vote.

I visited the Museum of International Solidarity, it was in memory of Salvador Allende Gossans, the president of whose government was overthrown in a coup in 1973 by General Pinochet, with help from the USA. He supposedly committed suicide. There are many art works with anti US sentiments. The art works were hidden during the Pinochet years.

I love Valpo

Two hours on the bus and I was in Valparaiso, a once rich port city on the Pacific coast until the Panama Canal was opened. Now a decaying but atmospheric city that is slowly being restored. It is a UNESCO heritage sight and is built over a number of hills which have ancient elevators (ascensors) to save you having to climb up. Most of the city´s buildings were destroyed by an earthquake in 1862. The shells of some of these buildings still stand near the port.

Brightly coloured houses and buildings next to crumbling slums. It's best not to stray too far from the busy streets, there's always a presence of danger lurking in the shadows. The streets are brightened by some amazing street art / graffiti. The girl's tee shirt said 'I love Valpo', the heart was crossed out and she was missing her hand bag, maybe she'd been unlucky and had it snatched.

Valparaiso is the home of Chilean Armada (Navy). A retired Captain of the Royal Navy, Lord Cochrane, arrived in Chile in 1818 and became head of the Chilean fleet with the rank of Admiral. Under his command the Chilean Armada defeated the Spanish Armada which led to an independent Chile.

Not really knowing where I was going next, I find I can get a bus from Valparaiso to Mendoza in Argentina. An amazing bus journey over the Andes. The mountains were incredible . Aconcagau could be seen form the bus in all it´s glory towering above us at 6962 metres high.

Don´t cry for me......

Crossing into Argentina was an easy process with no hold ups. At customs we all had to get off the bus, but instead of our bags being checked a cup was passed round for tips for the customs officials.

I arrived in Mendoza and the contrast with Valparaiso could not be greater. The tree lined streets felt safe and the atmosphere was relaxed. It is literally an oasis in the desert, I was told it only rains 3 or 4 times a year. It rained 5 times during my stay! The city was destroyed by an earthquake in 1861 and completely rebuilt with a wide streets and a main square, Plaza Indepencia and four smaller squares, Plazas Italy, Spain, Chile and San Martin. If another earthquake struck the people would be safe in these areas. The beautiful San Martin Park was great for walking in and the park gates were even made in Scotland.

The Italian influence in Mendoza is very obvious with the people dressing with style and many expensive shops. If it wasn´t for the amount of ancient cars on the roads it would be easy to mistake it for a city in Europe.

As well as Jesus, the trees are the savior in Mendoza. No one would live there without them. It´s possible to walk in shade through most of the city. With temperatures in the mid 30´s this was a welcome relief. Between the pavements and roads are a system of aqua ducts that provide water for the trees. The trees also help absorb some of the pollution that belch from the ancient cars that choke the streets. With a 50% import tax on imported goods even the oldest most wrecked car is still worth something.

I was soon getting into the local way of life; taking mate (a herb drink) and siestas, eating far too much steak at the many asados (BBQ´s) and drinking the local wine. I enrolled with a school to learn Spanish and end up staying for 3 weeks. I was lucky that I met a girl, Mariana, who could help me with my Spanish in return for helping her with her English. It´s difficult socialise with local people when travelling so it was great going out with her and her friends. She was from Buenos Aries but had moved to Mendoza to escape the rat race.

My first long bus journey took me to Tucuman. Maybe you would think that 15 hours in a bus was unbearable but the seats recline, there´s plenty of room and food and drinks are served. They are very luxurious compared with the buses back home.

Tucuman was in the middle of a heat wave when I arrived The streets were deserted, everybody taking their siesta, this was really the only option. The next day the local paper reported the temperature as 39 deg C, with the highest energy demands in the country ever. Strange seeing Christmas decorations in the summer.

Don´t mention the war...

I arrived in Cafayate in mid afternoon, that meant siesta time and everything was closed. I got invited to sit with three old men outside a cafe. They told me they like Scottish people but not the English because of the war over the Falklands. I nod in agreement and say how bad it was, not wanting to add that there were Scottish troops fighting on the front lines.... Peoples' confusion over which countries actually makes up the UK is usually to my advantage. They were all poets and gave me some of their poetry books. Later they invite me to a recital and we share wine bread and cheese. They wanted nothing in return but the next time I´m in Cafayate I have to bring some poetry from Scotland for them.

The town was really nice. A large central square full of trees surrounded by colonial style building and a pretty church. The countryside is full of vineyards the town produces some good wines. A morning was spent visiting some of the Bodegas (wine cellars) to taste the wine. The Torrontes was particularly good.

Nearby was an area called Quebrada de las Conches. The road winds it´s way through amazing coloured mountains, red and green from iron and copper deposits. Strangely eroded mountains and enormous ravines where mighty rivers once flowed and cauldrons where waterfalls once cascaded.

Salta is home of the Archaeological museum of the high Mountains. This houses 3 Inca mummies which were found on Volcan Llullaillaco in 1999. They were perfectly preserved by the high altitude and freezing temperatures. Only one is on display in the museum at a time. The little boy,with his head resting on his knees, looked like he would wake from his sleep at any time. Salta was a great place to stay for a few days. It was vibrant city and had beautiful buildings, churches.

Two nights in Tilcara to let me acclimatize to the altitude, now 2500m. Adobe buildings, dirt roads and many indigenous people. I´d left the modern Argentina behind.

Many artists and musicians have made this their home and I was lucky to be able to go to an evening of folk music, with guitar, accordion and singing. High on a hill above the town was the remains of and ancient city, Pulkara de Tilcara, dating from 1500BC. More impressive were the huge cacti growing through the remains.

I sat high up on the hill watching lightening hit the mountains on each side of the valley. Better get to safety, the riders on the storm were coming.

Between Tilcara and Humahuaca the road passed a little sign letting the passengers on the ancient bus know that they had crossed the Tropic of Capricorn. On one side of the bus amazing mountains coloured red and yellow from iron and sulphur deposits, on the other side the Rio Grande and old railway tracks, at times suspended in air where bridges had been washed away. Only the ghosts of long forgotten trains follow these tracks now. My time in Argentina was nearly over but not before a stop in Humahuaca, another town of adobe buildings, cobbled streets and 3000m above sea level. Finally a short two hour bus journey to the border with Bolivia at La Quiaca. The scenery was changing, the towns were changing, the influence of Bolivia becoming apparent. A little taste of things to come.

Reaching the border at lunch time was no problem with only a short queue of people. There were hundreds of Bolivians crossing the border with huge amounts of goods but they didn't seem to need to have any documents checked. I was full of excitement and anticipation with the thought of traveling in Bolivia, crossing into the unknown, new people and a different culture.

Argentina is the 8th largest country in the world after India. Visiting the cities, it's easy to think that it's a modern and developed country. The run down areas and slums on the edge of the cities say otherwise. The country is slowly recovering from the financial crash in 2001 but with inflation at 25% and wages not increasing, it's tough for ordinary people to get by. With many natural resources including minerals and fertile land, and only 40 million people a full recovery is a possibility. Unfortunately the gap between the rich and poor is getting bigger and 25% of the population live in poverty.
On a positive note, it´s an amazing country to visit, with incredible landscapes and welcoming, friendly people. I plan to return to Argentina and visit Buenos Aries at the end of this trip.

Turn on, tune in, drop out

2008-08-23T19:39:00.000-07:00

Train Spotting

Choose life, choose a career, choose a job, choose a flat screen TV...... Life is what you make it. For the last year my life has been a kaleidoscope of changing cultures, different people, amazing cities and landscapes . I chose to carry on my adventure around the world.

The prospect of returning to Scotland and resuming my previous life was not a path I was willing to take. Continuing my life 'off the grid' was way more exciting. Careers and job offers were of less importance, reality yeah that's a scary prospect, or has my escape from reality in fact become reality? Regardless, I'm going to carry on for now until my luck or money runs out. After a brief visit back home to Aberdeen my journey was to take me back to New Zealand for the winter and then onto South America.

The decision had been made in early March to return to New Zealand, with my season pass and air ticket bought. It felt like returning to a second home. Revisiting familiar haunts like Methven and Mount Hutt. Later Queenstown.

The Winter Season

Snowboarding, women and drinking. Not always in that order but dependent on mood, circumstance and the ever unpredictable New Zealand weather. It's a fine balance and hopefully not too much of a compromise. The wind blows, the mountain closes, snow falls heavily and the access roads are closed. Frustration and boredom, never far away, just as well snowboarding is not my only passion in life. On a good day, a car full of friends, good music, full of excitement and anticipation, racing up the ski field road. On the mountain, powder snow and bluebird sky's, seeking out the best lines and untracked snow. The weather closes in or the light goes flat, it's time to sit around and drink coffee. When the mountain is shut it's time to relax or party, play pool in the pub or get drunk and chase the snow bunnies. With hard work and some luck it all works out well.

I spent most of the season in Methven, staying at the Mt Hutt Bunkhouse again. I knew I would be amongst familiar faces there, with many friends returning from previous years. Trips were made south to Queenstown and Wanaka, but for me it was Mt Hutt, Porters and the club fields where the action was at.

Old Timer, yeah right....

I walked into the common room of the hostel in Queenstown, blimey they're getting younger, or am I just getting old? Yeah, you can keep your comments to yourselves please. My behavior disguises my age, I'm told. Plenty of time to grow up, just don't grow old.

I met my fellow old timer and long time friend JD at Queenstown airport. I had a week to take him to some of the ski fields and show him how wonderful New Zealand is. The Remarkables, Coronet Peak, Treble Cone, Ohau and later Mount Hutt. After a shaky start with the weather we find powder snow and blue sky at Treble Cone and Ohau, but not without the inevitable hiking to get there. Awesome runs and the comment 'this is the stuff of snowboard DVD's' reminds me why I love snowboarding here so much. It had been over 2 years since we had last met and it was great to catch up and find out the gossip and drink whisky. It was inevitable we'd end up doing a bungy jump and this was done at the Kawarau Bridge, the original bungy. Alas JD's (snowboarding) fun was cut short by the arrival of his girlfriend Sam.

It was a winter of reunions with Ianzie, another old timer and biker friend from Aberdeen, visiting Wanaka with his girlfriend for a week of skiing.

Mt Hutt

Towering high above the patchwork quilt fields of the Canterbury Plains, Mount Hutt gives incredible views across to the Pacific Ocean and behind of the Southern Alps. We grumble about the closed days here, but when it's a powder day it rocks.

There is some challenging terrain at Mt Hutt but to escape the crowds a trip out the back towards North Peak is required, not forgetting to leave our intentions with ski patrol. Out there we were on our own, we hoped. Thankfully my good friend Hamish was leading the way, a veteran of at least 8 seasons at Mt Hutt. We ride down from the ski field boundary, then hike for 30 minutes. Out of nowhere a group of telemark skiers appeared and stole our fresh tracks. We needed to get our breath back first but there was a massive snow field in front of us with plenty of room for everybody, on the perfect spring snow. We set off in complete silence on the mountain, no wind and blue bird skies it was an amazing place to be.

The season's not complete without the Mt Hutt Peak to Pub race. A 2km snowboard, a 17km mountain bike ride down the skifiled access road and a 10km run to the Blue Pub in Methven. Junko, Giles and I entered the mixed teams race and came 10th out of 20 teams which was pretty good considering we did almost no training. I did the mountain bike section which was very exhilarating if not a little dangerous. The access road has some fearsome drop offs. A friend ended the race in a ditch with cuts and bruises and one of the main sponsors, Big Al, had to be air lifted to Christchurch hospital with a broken neck! Even so, there was still a great atmosphere after the race at the Blue pub.

Give me a job now, please!

My third season of snowboarding in New Zealand without working. I think I qualify with an outstanding A++ as a certified ski bum. It was time for this to change. I enrolled in a course to become a snow board instructor. Four days of assessment, instruction, late nights studying and a teaching assessment on the final day. This was bloody hard work but really good fun and very rewarding. I even passed! So my riding has improved, I learned lots and now I'm an unemployed snow board instructor, where will it all end?

The Clubbies

It has taken me the best part of 3 winter seasons but I have now discovered the true nature of winter sports in New Zealand. The club fields are like nothing I've ever been to before. Difficult to get to, hard work when you're there, but very few people, a great atmosphere and definitely the best terrain. A spirit of adventure and a fair amount of determination are required to enjoy them to the full. We all agreed the days at the clubbies were amongst the best of the winter. Damn it, I need another season here.....

Trip to Mount Olympus Ski field

The Playground of the Gods..... their words not mine. This was surely going to be something very special. A 65km drive from Methven, more than half of this on dirt roads, the adventure started way before we reached the ski field. Turning off from Ryton Road onto the single track access road, we were surrounded by towering snow capped mountains and rugged tussock moorland. This was wilderness to rival anywhere else I'd seen in NZ. The road wound its way along the gorge high above on the mountain side. Passing an oncoming car, with only inches to spare on one side and a several hundred feet drop on the other my concentration was dialed in. On this type of road I've usually been at the mercy of some local lunatic bus driver. Today my passengers Toby and Lewis were at the mercy of my driving.

Approaching the ski field we reached the 'bottom hut', where we radioed our intentions to the ski field of our arrival. This was to ensure there was no downward traffic on the very steep and narrow final section to the car park. Snow chains fitted the car ground it's way up the bumpy and rutted road which was hardly suitable for the 2 wheel drive car we were in.

Apart from the flash 4x4's in the car park the scene that greeted us could have been from the 1950's. An old fashioned rope tow up the mountain. Yeah these are scary!!! Wearing a harness with a nut cracker device attached, first grab the rope and once traveling at the same speed as the rope attach nut cracker to rope and hold on. It may be old but it's rapid transit up the mountain. Sounds easy? I'd take a chairlift any time. When riding the tow the nut cracker passes over the pulley wheels with a resounding metallic clunk. With my fingers only inches away I disliked it every time.

This mountain is not for the faint hearted, there is no grooming and no pistes. The whole area is there to be shredded. To give some idea of the terrain one area is called 'Little Alaska'. Another run is called 'International Wife Swappers'. The club members must have some good parties in the club house. Shame I'm not married.

Unlike the commercial ski fields I've been to, the lifts here didn't shut at 4pm. When we asked the closing time, the answer was when the last person has had enough. This and the relaxed and friendly nature of the handful of people that were there made it a super enjoyable day. Amazing terrain, great snow and wonderful views, it had been all I'd expected and more. Snow boarding at it's best.

Trip to Temple Basin Ski field

Transworld Snow Boarding magazine were quoted as saying 'If I had to stay in one area, on one mountain to snowboard for the rest of my life, it would be Temple Basin. It's that good!' FHM magazine voted Temple Basin as the greatest adventure escape worldwide and said it's arguably has the hottest snowboarding terrain in the Southern Hemisphere

This was one ski field I had to get to, so when some of my Japanese friends, Toby, Kazu Shiba and Teru, said they were planning a trip I jumped at the opportunity to go. It was my no means easy to get there. After a 2 hour drive to Arthur's Pass we were faced with a 50 minute hike up the mountain to get to the ski area. Fortunately there was a goods lift to carry all our gear up.

The skies were clear, the snow was good and the rope tows and nut crackers were were becoming easier to use. Along the walking track to the second tow and then more hiking to the ridge above. This was pretty scary, walking along the narrow ridge to get some fresh lines in the snow. The terrain was steep and really hard work, long traverses to reach challenging chutes. Again no grooming, this was all 'off piste' and with fewer than 10 people on the mountain it had a real wilderness feel.

At the end of a great day Toby and Kazu were showing off with their tricks on the kicker in front of the lodge to every one's great amusement when they got it wrong.

After a comfortable night in the mountain lodge we were greeted by cloud and rain the next morning. It was snowing higher up but after a few runs we were all shattered from the difficult conditions so retired to the lodge for lunch before the hike back down the mountain.

So the magazines were right and if I needed only one reason to move to New Zealand it would be so I could snow board at Temple Basin....

Trip to Craigieburn Valley Ski Area

I was nervous about going to this ski field. The area is for adventurous and advanced snow boarders and skiers. To ride the rope tows 'goofy foot' it is recommended you are of advanced level snow boarding. There are even triple black diamond runs here marked as suicidal! Even the access road was hair raising. A single track road cut into the mountain side with a shear drop of several hundred metres to the side.

It was going to be a hard day for me, trying to keep up with my two ski instructor friends Giles and Shiba. The icy and sloping up track of the rope tows didn't make things easy but I was soon up to the summit and we were soon heading down the less suicidal chutes, across a beautiful snow field, passed the closed signs and down to the access road. Ski Patrol are never amused when closed signs are ignored and I should know the snow responsibility code by now, but here they said 'cool you made it down, just be careful on the snow covered creek, it's beginning to break up'.

A big hike up to Hamilton Peak in the bright spring sun and then the run down Hamilton Face. The top was in the shadow of the sun and was sheet ice and steep, this fortunately turned to perfect spring snow very quickly and we all had grins from ear to ear at the bottom.

Craigieburn and Broken River Ski field together form the largest off piste area in New Zealand. Another great day was spent exploring Broken River.

End of another Season

The snow boarding was awesome, the drinking and partying were in moderation, sometimes, and the women, well that's another story altogether.

So where will it all end? I don't know, I plan my life around snowboarding, when can I do another season... I think passion has become obsession!

The winter crew (not all in the photo and in no particular order): Hame Dawg & Junko, Tim & Kazuha, Giles (Mr Bunkhouse), Shiba, Toby, Kazu, Mitsu, Kalvin, Andy, Mel, Iyo, Iyumi, Yukiko, Lisa, Kaulu, Yoshimi, Aiko, Antje, Sarah & Ellie in QT and probably a few others.... See you all next year!

Around the World

2008-06-03T19:15:00.000-07:00

Flying in from Mexico City to Vancouver I was re-entering the so called 'developed world'. After a grilling by the most unpleasant and abrasive immigration official of the trip so far, I was let in. I'm told the United States are putting pressure on Canada to tighten up their border security, I think there was their something missed out about being polite?

Vancouver has the title of being the most desirable city to live in, in the world. We'll see.
For me, as a budget traveller, it was desirable as there were many pizza shops offering slices for $1. These I am told are for the large population of homeless people that occupy the streets next to the down town area. They are drug addicts, the mentally ill and people down on their luck. It's quite an unexpected and sometimes shocking sight. Vancouver is the only city in Canada where it is possible to sleep on the streets all year round with out freezing to death. These poor people come from all over Canada for this reason. A few blocks east of downtown there are queues of people out side the pharmacies where they get their methadone prescriptions. Groups of ghost like people gather outside supervised injection sights. Walking through the area in daylight I felt in no danger, at night I was not so sure.

There is an interesting recycling system in Vancouver. No recycling bins are to be found on the streets. The homeless people are seen pushing shopping trolleys full of cans and bottles collected from bins, they take them to recycling centres and are given a small amount of money in return. A good idea maybe but hardly an ideal situation in this modern city. Will all this change before the 2010 Winter Olympic games?

If I'm painting a grim picture of the city the rest of Vancouver is most certainly not. It's just the contrast of rich and poor is very obvious. With the pretty harbour front, the huge trees in Stanley Park and the snow covered mountains beyond North Vancouver it is a very attractive city. The people of Vancouver that I spoke to claimed it's way superior to Toronto, I'd keep an open mind on that.

The road from Vancouver to the ski resort town of Whistler is called the Sea to Sky Highway. It does just that. I checked into my lodge accommodation in Whistler. Being right at the end of the winter season it had a kind of eerie quiet feeling about it, reminding me of the movie 'The Shining'. It wasn't Johnie I had to look out for though, it was the black bears that had just come out of hibernation and were wandering around looking for things to eat. Walking up the road to the lodge, armed with two shopping bags full of food, car drivers stopped to warn me of a bear on the road just ahead of me.

The two days of snowboarding I managed on Blackcomb Mountain were good fun. It was the end of May and warm and sunny making the snow quite soft and avalanches very likely. The best terrain was off limits for this reason. The downhill mountain bike season was well on it's way, it was a strange sight seeing skiers and snowboarders next to the bikers at the apres ski bars at the bottom of the mountain. Think I'd be happy living here with all this going on!

The silver train snaked it's way out of the suburbs of Vancouver on it's long journey across the continent. This was the last long overland journey of my trip round the world and would take me across Canada through the Rockies, the Prairies, the Canadian Shield of Ontario and on to Toronto. A distance of nearly 4500Km and 3 days on the train.

The train is made up of the original 1950's carriages with domed observation cars allowing amazing panoramic views. It was a little bit of luxury at the end of my travels. The train had 24 carriages making it more than a 1/2 mile long. Good for taking a stroll after the generous portions of food served in the restaurant car.

Past the towering Mount Robson (3900m), through endless pine forest, the occasional bear or moose at he side of the track. A day through the Rockies, a day of the flat expanse of the prairies, a day of the trees and lakes of Ontario. Passing through Kamloops, Jasper, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Sioux Lookout, Parry Sound. Eventually the Toronto skyline came into view dominated by the brightly lit CN tower. A very enjoyable and relaxing journey with top quality food and good company.

I've been to Toronto a few times now and there's always good reason to go back, my Aunt Sheena, Peter and my cousins Fiona, Gayle, Kerry and Lynn and now recent new arrival to the family, Rosalyn.

It has been said that Toronto is like New York but run by the Swiss. I think it has a bit more New York in it now and it's none the worse for it. It's a vibrant, cosmopolitan and very ethnically diverse. I liked it lots but there are no mountains nearby so the jury's out on whether it beats Vancouver. Wait a minute of course it beats Vancouver, I have family to stay with in Toronto and cousins to hang out with and to drink too many 'martinis' with.

Staying with my cousin Gayle at her house at Georgian bay on Lake Huron, trips to the museums and galleries of Toronto. Eating out at many good restaurants and maybe a drink or three at night.

Toronto Island is situated in Lake Ontario, a short ferry trip away from down town. It's the best place to view the city skyline particularly the CN Tower and the Sky Dome, now called the Rogers Centre, very imaginatively renamed after it's latest owner. It's a great place to come to on a sunny day with beaches and swimming, if the lake is not too polluted, and even a nudist beach. My cousins took me there for the day and trusted me to steer the quadracycle we hired to see the island. Wooded tracks and old wooden cottages and yachts and boats of the rich and wealthy.

After two weeks of being looked after exceptionally well, I was sad to leave Toronto, not just saying goodbye to everyone there but it was the end of this trip. The last journey to make my trip around the world complete. So no Daft Punk had got in my way, my trip had been a success beyond my imagination and left me with a good feeling about the world and all the people I had met. It is quite incredible that I have traveled through 14 countries in just over a year and not even had my bag searched once. Oh yeah, I forgot it did get searched once, when I first left Aberdeen!

My confidence grew as the trip progressed. Feeling more and more comfortable with my travels until it felt like second nature. The fear I'd experienced before I left and before I'd entered some of the countries I'd been to had been unfounded. Maybe the world is not as dangerous a place as it's made out to be (or maybe I've just been lucky). I have found that humanity persists where ever I have gone. People going about their daily lives as we do at home, in peace. There are not thieves ready to rob you at every street corner. Being aware of your surroundings is always a good idea though. Even as a backpacker I'm seen a a rich western tourist by the people of the poorer countries I have visited and this would make me an obvious target for scams and overcharging, but this is all part of the travel experience. I'm glad I didn't pay too much attention to the British Foreign Office warnings on travel to certain areas I've been to, I don't think I'd have left home if I had.

There is a lot of bad news and negativity generated by the press and our governments about the world. The British press sensationalizes the threat of terrorism and recent terrorist acts.
The British government, I believe, is responsible for creating a state of paranoia within the country to pass more and more draconian laws to control the population.

Get out there and see the world, if you can, and make your own mind up.... Watch this space for more adventures from around the world.

A Fistful of Travellers' Cheques

2008-04-27T14:58:00.000-07:00

This was no comic strip, this was real life, this was Mexico City. The plane swooped out of the sky as dawn broke over the metropolis below. What was I doing here? The city with the reputation for robberies, kidnap and murder. Worse still, pollution, dirt and noise.

Everybody told me to spend 2 days maximum here and get the hell out of the place.... In their rush had they forgotten to look at the surroundings? This is a city of amazing cultural and architectural wonders.

The Spanish destroyed the ancient Aztec city of Tenochtitlan and created in it's place a colonial gem in North America. A city to rival any in Europe. Yes some may disagree with this, the city is a sprawling mass, but the historic centre I found was really special. There was a large police presence on the streets. On the way from the airport I saw a unit of police men, with machine guns, wearing balaclavas and dark glasses to protect their identities. It was not unusual to see convoys of heavily arm police racing through the streets.

I pinched myself, where was I? Was I dreaming? No I wasn't in Egypt, I really was in Mexico and I was looking at the fantastic pyramids of Teotihuacan.

Journey to Oaxaca

1st class bus travel is very comfortable in Mexico, the bus stations like airport terminals. Looking out the window I watched the desert like scenery go by, many cacti and mighty snow capped mountains in the distance. I wanted to be on the road on a Harley Davidson chopper, I was dreaming of Easy Rider.

In 2006 the square in Oaxaca was held siege by rebels. Now restored to all it's glory it's where all the locals gather and it's a great place to people watch. I hang out with rough guide photographer, Tim, for the day. We discuss world affairs whilst walking around the town, chilling out and drinking coffee. I hoped some of his talent might rub off on me.

On a bus journey from Oaxaca, a busker sings and plays his guitar. Later bumping along a dusty dirt road in a beat up pick-up with Mexican music playing on the stereo, looking out the window seeing dry arid land with agave plantations, mescal distilleries and men with oxes ploughing fields. This was my definitive Mexican experience.

Next stop, San Cristobel de la Casas, another Spanish colonial town, many indigenous villages nearby. The city was held by the rebel Zapatistas in 1994 for just 30 hours, no tourists were harmed. The government has improved the situation but there was also the presence of large military base is nearby.

I was less impressed with the Mayan temples at Palenque. It's not that the Mayan people weren't incredibly talented (they were), it's just there's not much evidence of their work left there. A lot has been removed to museums and what is left is big of piles of stones. Don't go to the Temples of Angkor in Cambodia first and Palenque would no doubt be amazing.

Journey to Guatemala

Okay, to put it mildly I was quite nervous about the Mexican/Guatemalan border crossing. I'd heard too many stories about customs searching bags and taking bribes. The nice air conditioned bus took me to the border at Cuidad Cuauhtemoc. I was the only tourist on the bus, I like it that way. I give my exit card to the passport official, he throws it back at me and stamps my passport. It costs $45 if you loose this card, he didn't even want it. I jumped in the share taxi for the 4km ride to the Guatemalan side, feeling decidedly nervous. I've done a lot of border crossing now but they are never relaxing places. So there I was at La Mesilla, Guatemala, get out of the taxi. Where was passport control? A little office where the woman said 'Guatemala', 'si' I said, my passport was stamped and that was it. No bribes, no hassle, I walked outside soldiers milling around nobody was paying me any attention so I ducked under the barrier free to go on my way.

A tourist shuttle bus driver offers me a ride to Panajachel for $20. That's 4 nights accommodation I thought, I politely decline. I walk through the town to the bus terminal to get the chicken bus. These are old brightly painted United States school buses, they are so cool, so colourful, cheap and lots of fun to ride in. Luckily no chickens in the ones I traveled in. They cost about US$2-3 per hour of travel depending if you get local or tourist (gringo) rates. Loud Latin American music playing, stunning scenery, I'm filled with enthusiasm for my travels. First impressions were good, I wanted to see more of Central America.

I stayed in San Pedro de la Laguna, on the shores of Lake Atitlan, a boat ride from Panajachel. A stunning setting surrounded by coffee plantations and towering volcanoes. The Spanish Cooperative School provided my Spanish lessons and Miguel & Maria were my hosts at my home stay. Both highly recommended. An amazing experience to live with local people in the town. Most of the town's people are indigenous of Mayan descent and wear brightly coloured traditional dress. Walking through the town at night, steep cobbled streets, dim lighting, people sitting outside their houses, it took on a timeless feel.

Due to a broken tooth I had to go to Antigua to find a dentist. It was no hardship to be in Antigua. It is an incredible old Spanish colonial city. It was the capital of Guatemala until a series of earthquakes destroyed the city. A few churches and the Cathedral have been restored, many others are in ruins, huge chunks of masonry still lay where they fell. Although very touristy it's possibly one of the nicest cities I've visited. The roof top garden at the hostel was a good place to relax with my fellow travellers that included an original 1960's hippy, an artist from Italy, some english speaking Guatemalans and lots of hot chicas.

Trip to Volcan Pakaya

This has to be the scariest and most dangerous thing I have done on my travels so far. Pakaya is a 1 1/2 hours drive from Antigua. It is an active volcano. I stood less than two meters from where lava was erupting from the ground. The heat was incredible, imagine standing beside an open furnace or at the gates of hell. What if the lava flow changed course, what if it suddenly erupted beneath me?

Walking on newly solidified lava, unstable and cracking, sharp and jagged. Red hot lava inches below my feet, smell of melting rubber from peoples shoes.

Every 20 minutes a huge rumble came from the volcano sending smoke and steam billowing upwards. Was I to be a human sacrifice to the volcano?

History

I had found myself in yet another country that the US has meddled with in the name of anti-communism. In 1954 the country had a democratically elected president and was almost getting on it's feet. The socialist government wanted to buy unused land from US company United Fruit. This caused alarm to the US Government. The US government also suspected that Guatemala had communist ties and so the CIA staged a military coup to oust the Socialist President Arbenz. The coup was widely condemned by the international press and the United Nations. The coup was followed by four decades of civil war with maybe as many as 250,000 people killed and 1 million made homeless. During this time the USA supported the Guatemalan military financially and with training, and a huge amount of human rights violations took place. After the coup, the CIA was assigned to gather evidence to back up their claim. Nothing was found to suggest Guatemala had ties to the Soviet Union.

If Mexico was dangerous(?), how do I describe Guatemala. Security guards with shotguns at shops, banks and ATM's. Delivery drivers would have a security guard with shot gun pointing out of the window. A newspaper reported 1217 murders in Guatemala City during the previous 100 days (the human cost of drugs). I heard many second hand stories of people being robbed. Please note: I never felt in any danger during my stay there.

All appears good on the surface, scratch it and a different story comes out. My friend Leon (not his real name but it fits perfectly) is ex-military he tells me that after the peace accords were signed in 1996, the army was reduced to 1/3 of it's original size. That left a large amount of guns on the streets and soldiers, who weren't really suited to the life of a security guard, to join gangs and the drug cartels in Mexico. He's a good guy though and works as a tour guide now. He carried a gun though and is really not the sort of person to mess with. Further stories were offered about shootings in the streets. I had no reason to disbelieve.

The beach was calling, so with some friends from the hostel, I went to Montericco. A little beach resort on the Pacific coast made up of black volcanic sand. It's a really sleepy place with a lazy tropical feel. Many palm trees and the houses and hotels all had thatched roofs. It was fun to play in the surf but the waves were too big and the currents too stong to swim safely.

Teeth fixed up, thanks to the Clinica de la Cruz dental surgery, I headed to the airport for my flight to Mexico city. I left with a yearning to return there and also to see the rest of Central America.....

And for the children

I fly into Mexico city for a night before my flight to Vancouver. Saturday night, surely something was going on in the city. I arrived to find a huge stage set up in the Zocolo (the main square). There was to be a free concert to promote a new initiative to aid Latin America's millions of poor, malnourished and undereducated children. Ricky Martin and many other Latin American acts performed. Shakira headed a twin concert in Buenos Aires. This is new for Latin America where previously if pop stars spoke out on poverty and social issues they put their lives at risk. 120,000 people crowded into the square, it was a nice ending to my brief visit to Latin America.

Adventures in Indochina Part 2

2008-04-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd made a huge mistake coming to Vietnam after peaceful chilled out Laos. Hanoi was crazy busy noisy madness. The city is over run with scooters (motos), worse still at rush hour times, causing gridlock. Very few cars on the road. I stood at the side of the road for ages trying to pick my moment to cross. Forget the green cross code. Look for scooters going the right way along the road and then the rest which are going the wrong way and just as fast. I'm amazed I never got run over. Traffic lights seemed advisory only with scooters going full pelt though red lights horns blaring.

The quickest and easiest way to get around was by moto. The riders line the pavements and even have a helmet for you. I learned quickly to not just agree the price before but write it on a piece of paper so there was no confusion later. It was a total buzz being in the thick of it cutting through oncoming traffic. I was lucky not to be in an accident, some people I spoke to were less fortunate.

Except for the scooters, the city is caught in a time warp. Imagine 1950's street markets and shop houses selling just about anything you wanted. It has a hard edged feel which only a communist regime could give. The people are not so friendly, verging on aggressive when they want your money, nobody smiles. Never the less an amazing place to visit, after a couple of days I'd acclimatised. Yeah it was cold too. The History Museum and the Revolutionary Museum gave a good if biased story of the countries turbulent past, especially about the French colonialists, American imperialists and puppet governments and troops. Through out the past the Vietnamese have fiercely defended their country. Expelling Genghis Khan and the Mongols, the Chinese the French. Did the USA seriously think they could win a war here. When you see pictures of the Vietnamese woman working in the paddy fields planting rice while cradling her baby and with an AK 47 over her shoulder you kind of realize this is one tough nation of people.

Their toughness has certainly not diminished when it comes to rip offs, overcharging and scams. Wow, worse than when I was in China, got to be on your guard all the time and when dealing with anyone involved in tourism trust no one. It was hard work at times, it seems they want as much money they can get with scant regard of anything else. However, the people I met who weren't involved in tourism seemed nice and friendly.

Uncle Ho's (Prisidant Ho Chi Minh) body is preserved in the huge Mausoleum in the city. It's a major tourist attraction if slightly gruesome sight. The remains of a B-52 bomber shot down during the war are in a small lake nearby.

The overnight train journey to Hue (pronounced whey) I share the compartment wit ha group of railway engineers. We share our food and beers and have a good time. I meet a tour group on this train that I seem to follow south for a while.

I liked Hue, not many of my fellow travellers did. Much quieter than Hanoi I even pluck up the courage to hire a bicycle for an afternoon. The rules of the road are don't look behind or to the side and give way only to vehicles in front of you. It's pretty scary but seemed to work.

The people seemed friendlier with even the odd smile here and there. The surrounding area was nice with temples and amazing mausoleums for the old emperors. The citadel in the old town had been heavily bombed in the war, many local people had lost their lives. Only some old American military equipment their now as a reminder and the heavily damaged citadel of course.

The train journey from Hue to Da Nang is one of the best. Along the coast, tracks clifftop, high above the crashing ocean. Here you can see the evidence of bombing, small areas of trees and vast areas of scrub land only just recovering now.

Hung over and tired I arrived in Da Nang. It was the nearest stop to Hoi An where I really wanted to go to. In the train station I meet Chienn. He offers me a moto ride to Hoi An for $4. I'm immediately suspicious and yes this was a sweetener for a bike trip into the central highlands he wanted to sell me. The Easy Riders they call them selves. Ride pillion for a few days and see the real Vietnam. He seemed okay (big mistake Neil, remember trust no one!!!!!) and agree to a 3 day tour starting in a couple of days. Got to get yourself out there to get the experiences.

Zipping along the road to Hoi An watching the waves crashing onto China Beach. Wartime US troops came here for their r+r. There was a big airbase here, some of the hangers have survived although not for much longer, the developers have arrived to build hotels in their place. I thought I heard the thud thud thud of helicopters overhead, it certainly wasn't from the exhaust of the little Honda Dream, Whoops Apocalypse (now).

Hoi An was good. It seemed the further south I went the friendlier the people became. The town is old and slightly decaying, many old french style shop houses. About 200 taylor's in town. I should have got a suit made, but for what reason..... The Cham temples at nearby My Son were amazing. A UNESCO heritage site. Not in so good condition though as the Viet Cong holed up here during the war and one or two bombs were dropped to flush them out. A memorable sight in the rain, the jungle surrounded temples and mist covered mountains behind.

So any way may bike tour. From Hoi An into the Central Highlands and along Ho Chi Minh trail to Kahm Duc and Kom Tun. The Ho Chi Minh trail was used as a supply line by the North during the war and was the scene of much fighting and bombing. For most of the way I wished I'd just hired a scooter myself but it was still good to see the places I did.

Even my guide was trying to rip me off along the way. He was a lying toe rag as well. He'd claimed the train I'd wanted was full because people were returning home after Tet (Vietnamese New Year). Now I'm not stupid, some may disagree, but that was a month before I say. He just wanted to get back early and get me on an earlier train. Let just say we didn't part on good terms. And yes what a train..... cockroach infested and even saw a rat run across the floor of the compartment. He'd also lied about when the train arrived, but I was aware of this before I got on the train. It would arrive at 2am and not 6am like he said. Arriving in a small town at 2am was pushing it a bit I thought. Now who to trust.... A woman in my compartment with small child tells me: yes no problem sleep in the station, it's really safe (?), or there's a station car that will take you to the next town for 3 dollars and not to worry. I wasn't worrying but jumped the train at 12.30am at Nha Trang hedging my bets on a bigger city. As luck would have it there there was a moto rider waiting at the station to take me to a guest house that was still open.

Nha Trang was cool, and everything is relative. This was the first modern feeling city I'd been in for a long time. A very long palm tree lined beach, attractive fishing village at the river mouth with brightly painted blue fishing boats and old Cham temples on the hill behind. Seedy too, hookers and thieves, I survived but my friend got pick pocketed by two 'taxi' girls.

I go to Dalat, big mistake. What can I say, the North and South agreed not to bomb the town during the war. I really don't know why not, they could have destroyed what was there and started again. Dreary concrete jungle masquerading as an attractive hill station. I leave the next day bumping into my Scots journalist friends Paul and Maureen on the bus to Ho Chi Minh City, I'll call it Saigon if you don't mind.

Saigon almost manages the developed city feel but not just quite. It's really how I thought Bangkok would be. Fast, hectic, seedy and a feeling that danger was just round the corner. The back packer area was on the go 24/7. Bar tables on the pavements, street bars with little plastic seats so you can watch the world go buy. Yeah this was hooker central. The scooter park seemed to be controlled by the pimps, phones to ears, with a steady flow of girls coming and going.

The Museum of War Relics provided an unbiased (for Vietnam) view on the war. Amongst the many photos were one of a family desperately trying to cross a river fear in their eyes another of a GI holding the remains of another with only the head and shoulders remaining. Many photos of the results of spraying chemical defoliants including Agent Orange on the land and people. Horribly scarred people and children being born with terrible deformities. 2 jars contain aborted hideously deformed foetuses. 77 million litres of chemical defoliants were used during the war. Whoever thought this kind of warfare was acceptable had surely lost their senses. The museum brings awareness of land mines not just in Vietnam but in Cambodia and Laos as well. The clearing work continues as do the casualties and deaths. The museum is a sobering place and what was achieved by this war? 3 million dead and the Communists still rule the country.

Continuing on the war note we go on a trip to the Cu Chi tunnels. A network of tunnels used by the Viet Cong to live in and fight from. One has been opened up to twice the size and it is possible to crawl along it for 100m going through several levels. It was still really small and I was dripping with sweat when I came out the other end. There were some horrible looking man traps, huge bomb craters and an old bombed out US tank. I get to fire a Kalashnikov AK-47 assault rifle. This was very cool indeed, really had to take this chance in a life time. Don't get to do that sort of thing in the nanny state of the UK. The gun must have been really old because it kept jamming, but it was an quite an experience, even for a pacifist like myself.

Across the border to Cambodia. I remember scenes on the television, when I was a child, of emaciated figures walking across the dry planes. I was here now and it was easy to visualise this. The country has only really been safe to travel in for the last few years, the Khmer Rouge bandits having completely surrendered. I was amazed at how developed Phnom Penh was, although poverty was all too evident, with many beggars, amputees and some horrifically deformed people. When Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge marched into town on 17th April 1975 the population was about 2 million. When the Vietnamese came to rescue the country, in 1979, it was less than 25,000. There are now around 1 million people living there again.

I visited the The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum which was once a school. The Khmer Rouge turned it into the Security Prison 21 (S-21). Out of the maybe 17,000 people that passed through the prison only 12 survived. A place of torture, interrogation and extermination, it's a truly harrowing place to visit, with many photos of the victims, blood still on some of the walls and the torture equipment. The Vietnamese soldiers found the prison by the smell of the rotting corpses.

In the afternoon a short tuk tuk ride out of the city to visit the Killing Fields. A pleasant journey now compared with being taken from S-21 for execution. A memorial there is filled with the skulls of 8,000 of the 17,000 people who were executed there. Some of the mass graves have been excavated, there is a vast area where bodies still lay. It's a strangely peaceful area now however when I look at my photos of the mass graves it makes me feel sick. Communism gone horribly wrong, maybe as many as 3 million killed.

It's not all horror though the Royal Palace is quite amazing, the history museum reminded me of something out of an Indiana Jones movie, filled with incredible Pre-Angkor and Angkor period stone carvings. My guest house was beside the lake in the city with a deck to watch the sun go down while having a beer.

There's many Irish bars around the world but Scottish bars are almost non-existent. We're way to cool to need a Scottish theme bar. The Mosquito Bar in Phnom Pehn run by a Scots man was cool. There must have been 7 of us Scots there, the biggest group of Scots I'd been in since I'd left home. Paul, Maureen & Sean all from Glasgow who I'd met at various times though SE Asia were there. The night turned to whisky, I missed the boat in the morning. Oops.

So it was the bus for me to Seim Reap and the Temples of Angkor. I spent three days looking around the many temples in scorching temperatures of 40 deg C. They are incredible and leave a lasting impression. Two weeks later, I'm still dreaming of them at night. I could go on and on but I'll just show some photos instead. The stone carvings of the women were my favourite though.

Alas I had just 8 days in Cambodia, hardly time to do the country justice but I had to get back to Bangkok. I could have taken the tourist bus from Seim Reap to Bangkok. I take the bus to the Thai border. It was only 145 Km but took almost 6 hours. It's the worst road in the world. Due to be completed (again) in 2009 (maybe). Allegedly something about the airlines not wanting the road completed so they can encourage people to fly.

A night in the border town of Aranyaprathet and I take the early train to Bangkok. This has to be the worst journey of my trip so far. 3rd class, cramped, hard seat, so busy people standing in the aisle, hot, windows open farmers burning off last years crops in the fields, soot in the carriage. It was fun for an hour, after 3 unbearable, after 6 I was so happy being in the air conditioned taxi to my guesthouse. It was my choice of transport and I got to travel how the locals do. I didn't see any other travellers doing this route....

So my journey round SE Asia was finished, I'd managed to do everything I'd set out to do and more. It was an incredible experience, I've seen so much, learnt so much and met many friendly people both local and travelers. I didn't want to leave.

Adventures in Indochina, Part 1

2008-03-01T00:58:00.000-08:00

Huayxai was my first glimpse of Laos. A huge difference from Thailand just over the river. My hotel was amazing with TV and en suite bathroom, all for about $6. The town was less appealing, except for the temple on the hill with a grand stair case, it seemed very poor with not even a bar on the main street.

The next day I was on the slow boat down the Mekong river, a two day trip to city of Louang Prabang. Packed with about 80 other backpackers it was not as romantic as it sounds. The mighty Mekong River starts its life in China and flows out to the sea in the south of Vietnam. Through Laos its way through though jungle, with dangerous rocks and rapids along the way. Being the dry season the river was low and the banks were planted with vegetables by the locals who were also fishing with nets from tiny boats.

The boat stopped at Pakbeng for the night. Very basic, the electricity generator was switched off by 10.30pm and candles handed out. Misty Mekong morning, cloud hanging in the trees the boat chugs off with it's passengers dreaming of ancient temples and mystic lands. Yeah and maybe a BeerLao or two. Possibly the best beer in the world, somebody needs to get an export licence for that.

I was amazed when the boat arrived at Louang Prabang. It really is a city in the jungle. Gold guilt temples and palm trees all around. Yeah and half the western tourist world. The secret has got out that this is THE place to visit in SE Asia. Never mind it's a fantastic city, I say no more.

So Indochina, what's that I thought? The Union of Indochina comprised of Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam and was created by the French (colonialists) in something like the 1870's. Laos is the most heavily bombed country in the world per capita. A secret war waged by the USA during the Vietnam war. Now independent - The Laos Democratic Republic, ruled by a dictatorship is peaceful now. It is amazing how happy, gentle and laid back the people of Laos are, always smiling, no matter how poor some of their lives looked. That's my perception from the western world. I even got invited to eat with the the family that owned the guest house I stayed in, very nice people.

I decided to head North by boat to Nong Khiaw, a small town up the Nam Ou river. The Mekong trip had been a lazy river journey, this was full blown adventure. Shooting up rapids with rocks only inches from the side of the boat, than slowing right down the boatman avoiding the shallows.

The temperature dropped, I found my woolly hat and gloves in my bag, and put all my clothes on. It may only have been 12 Deg C but after tropical weather it felt 'baltic'.

Arriving in Nong Khiaw, the air was damp and cold, groups of people huddled round small fires in the street to keep warm. China was having it's coldest winter in 50 years. I was right next door. My plan had been to go in a loop over the mountains and down to Vang Viang. In the back of an open truck, I thought I'd save that for another time. The next day before noon walking along the street I get invited into a house where a party was going on. Traditional Laos food and Lao Lao rice wine was a plenty, I supplied the Beerlao. My new friends and I drink for the rest of the day to the sound of ghastly Thai pop music. Their friend had died 1 month ago in a motorcycle accident. They mourn for one month then party for a few days. The friends bother who survived the accident was there with the scars to show. Laos is not a country to get ill in, with only very basic health care. If you get ill, you die.

Vang Viang, set amongst Karst limestone mountains and lush green paddy fields. No it's horrible don't come to Laos, leave it all for me!!!! Seriously though this is a nice place to chill out go trekking and explore the many caves. Make sure you have a good torch or two sweet Dutch girls to rescue you when your torch fails 400m into the cave. This is Laos there's no lights in the caves. And no running water except in the guest houses. Many local people going to wash in the river.

Watching the sun set over the Mekong river looking across to the bright lights of Thailand, drinking Beerlao all in an late afternoons work in Vientiane, the capitol of Laos. The low rise city had a relaxed feel to it, I liked it a lot. Their crazy town planing, they built a copy of the Arc de Triomphe and a road like the Champs-Elysee's. The arc was built from concrete the US had given them to built an airport. The Arc was never finished and a sign inside describes it as a concrete monster. It really is!

Vientiane to Hanoi.

I had a few options for this journey, take local transport, take the direct tourist bus or fly. In the true spirit of traveling the first option was really the only one. The route I was to take crossed from Laos to Vietnam at Nam Phou border high up in the mountains at the Kaew Nua Pass. Described in my guidebook as a difficult border to cross I new this would be a bit of an adventure. I mentioned my plans to fellow travelers I met in Laos but nobody was keen to join me on this trip. I had no problem going by myself I now had a good idea of how things work in SE Asia. I had to test my theory that wherever you are in SE Asia somebody will want to provide you with transport, accommodation or food.

I woke early, 5.30am, pulled on my clothes and made it outside to the dark streets. The Tuk tuk driver looked happy at a run to the bus station, 10km out of town. We agreed a 'reasonable' price. The bus journey to the border town Lak Xao took roughly 7 hours along remarkably good roads. The bus was probably 40 years old but rumbled along at an alarmingly quick pace. I was expecting chickens and goats on the bus but only a few sacks of rice in the aisle. Amazing scenery along the way, jungle and karst limestone mountains, very sparsely populated. There were 3 other westerners on the bus, they all got off along the way.

Lak Xao had that frontier border town feel. Rough around the edges. I appeared to be the only westerner in town which turned out to my benefit . Eating lunch in the 'Only One' Restaurant, I got speaking to the owner and she asked if I could help out in the English school later that afternoon. The school had two Laos teachers and they are always very keen to have a native English speaker to help the kids with their pronunciation. The kids were aged 5 to 16 and were very happy to have a Scots man teach them. I must say it was quite a stressful experience but rewarding at the same time, I'd never done anything like that before. Later that day a coach tour arrived in town. How lucky was I, they were all girls on it.

Day 2, this would be the day I'd test my theory. This would be the day to test my resolve and worthiness as a traveler.

Early start 8.30am, walk along the road and pick-up style taxi stops, the price agreed and I was on my way to the border 35km from Lak Xao. I shared the taxi with two old wrinkled women who never stopped yapping and supplies for shops and homes along the way. With frequent stops it was over an hour to the border. the landscape became wilder along with the weather. At the border it was raining and the visibility was down to about 30ft. Stamped out of Laos I walked for 10 minutes through no mans land to the Vietnamese side. A dollar please said the immigration man. Pardon me I said. He repeated himself, I paid him and got my passport back.

I walked into Vietnam, onward transport from the border? My guidebook said it would be sparse, it was nonexistent. I walk further down the road expecting to see a car park with taxis and buses, but there was nothing. Slightly further I find a restaurant beside the road. I needed to get to Vinh City but not that badly that I was going to pay $50. He pointed at the weather and shrugged his shoulders I knew I could get a bus from Trung Tram 35km away, he said $20 to there and was not open to bargaining. There was much hilarity amongst his friends as I handed over the $20 bill. Yes as it happens I take pleasure in distributing wealth and joy where ever I go, the bunch of low life.....

So I was on my way again down the winding road shrouded by dense jungle, the weather clearing as we got lower. Lush green trees, paddy fields and very basic villages and then Trung Tram. Hello, where you go? Vinh City I replied and they point me to the battered old red bus along the road. Another rip off, he wasn't interested in the offer of Marlboro Reds to offset the fare either. $10 for a 60km bus journey. Bus fare, there's nothing fair about that. Yeah, $3 would have been about right. From the grim streets of Trung Tram past the gray landscape of paddy fields, piles of rubbish and end of the world towns to Vinh City. Vinh City, sin city, long streets of deep seated urban decay. Vinh City was not the kind of place to spend much (any) time. Still a very depressed area due to the American war and being just North of the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ). I was making good time though, it was only 1pm. The train to Hanoi left at 3pm, my ass was on the seat in the carriage before I knew it and it was time for an afternoon nap. I try not to arrive late at night in cities, no worries my new 'friend' takes me to his hotel from the station on his scooter though the crazy traffic of the streets of Hanoi.

With a little help from my friends

2008-02-16T06:34:00.000-08:00

Bangkok didn't disappoint! Hectic, mad, busy what can I say. The crazy river traffic, the bustling backpacker ghetto of Khosan Road, the tuk tuks (in photo), Chinatown so busy packed full of markets selling everything from cigarette lighters that give you an electric shock to AK47 air rifles and full police riot gear. It's a crazy place, where else can you meet an elephant walking down the street. Did I mention the lady boys, ha ha. Easy to spot for a dedicated lover of the female form like me, but I'm sure there's a lot of men out there whose eye is not so keen after a Singha beer or ten.

My friends were arriving from Scotland. I was to meet them in Ko Samet. An island not too far from Bangkok. Eight months had passed since we'd last met, with faint promises that we'd meet up somewhere on my travels. Incredibly this happened. Walking along the beach there was Maff, then Jase, Gayle and Claire with Jolly appearing later from the sea pulling off a James Bond like movie scene, OK maybe not so sure about that, he he.

We chill in Ko Samet, drink beer, lie in the sun go snorkeling and then head to Kanchanaburi with a brief stop in Bangkok on the way. Bangkok may have a seedy reputation, lets just say we observed some of this and it's reputation is intact.

Kanchanaburi, the 'Death Railway' and the Bridge over the river Kwae. A peaceful area now, not so in the past. A visit to the war cemeteries was a moving experience. I was surprised at the feeling of grief I experienced seeing all the graves of the soldiers who died so young, to give us all the freedom we have. Only packs of angry stray dogs break the peace at night now.

I didn't know how things quite would be but there were no worries. I'd been traveling on a shoe string budget and my friends were on holiday for two weeks. I was happy that they were to experience my way of traveling, taking buses and trains and staying in budget accommodation (sorry Maff). The night train from Bangkok to Chang Mai has to be one of the best journeys so far. Leaving at 10pm and arriving at 1pm the next day there was plenty of scenery to see in the morning. The carriage doors open sitting on the foot plates, wind in my hair, train slowly winding though forested hilly countryside, is a memory I'll not forget in a hurry .

Traveling for so long, nearly 9 months, constantly meeting new people, making new friends every day or week than moving on again, always having to put me across is tiring! It had taken it's toll. At last with my friends I can just speak and be myself for they know who I am. Two weeks of this and I was feeling more like me again. My previously flagging enthusiasm had returned and I was excited to be on my travels again. I booked my flight across the Pacific Ocean to Vancouver. I book my flight to Mexico. I have so much to look forward to.

Chaing Mai was a lot more relaxed than Bangkok. Many temples some amazing especially the ruined Wat Chedi Luang. Some good nights out, watching Thai boxing, drinking and enjoying the friendly atmosphere of the city.

It was goodbye to my friends and on with my travels to Laos. Crossing into Laos from Chang Khong in Thailand felt like a proper border. Get stamped out of Thailand then the ferry boat across the Mekong River to the Laos immigration. My visa secured, the fee paid and I enter the town of Houoxsie. Immediately I get the feeling of traveling I've not experienced since I was in China. The feeling of entering the unknown.

A Passage to Bangkok

2008-01-23T01:33:00.001-08:00

Yeah back to reality, the alarm was going off, time to get up and get the flight to Singapore. 'I'm sorry you can't board the flight' is a common thing to hear on those terrible airport reality TV shows. When it has Mr Munro added to the end it's really not good. I needed an onward flight to land in Singapore to keep immigration happy. I didn't have one. Sack the travel agent.... hold on I am the travel agent. Didn't do enough research into entry requirements when I bought the ticket. To get on the plane I had to buy a ticket back to my country of residence!!! Ridiculous but no way round it. So I bought a fully refundable ticket to the UK with the intention of canceling it in Singapore. At a cost of 1700 pounds this in hind sight was rather a large gamble. Anyway it was the right thing to do, my credit card account was eventually credited a month later without me actually having to pay anything.

With all that behind me I thought I'd better stay a few days in Singapore to see the sights. A gentle introduction into Asia. Many Chinese temples, Hindu shrines and mosques. An interesting place, even an area of primary rain forest surrounded by the city. One of two places on earth where this occurs, the other is in Brazil. It rained quite a lot too. It was the rainy season.

With trepidation, I set off on the bus from Singapore to Melaka in Malaysia. With memories of entering Singapore still fresh in my memory, to say I was a little nervous crossing into Malaysia would have been an understatement. Again still not satisfying entry requirements with that

pesky onward flight, but this time no problem. When traveling overland all the checks are not made.

Melaka was a really nice town. A relaxed and chilled out atmosphere prevailed. It is steeped in European history with the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British all having ruled here.

Some trivia: A scene from the film Entrapment, starring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta Jones was filmed on the river in Melaka.

Malaysia, I discovered, is a multicultural society, on one street in Melaka there is a Buddhist Temple, a Hindu temple and a Mosque. The street is nick named 'Harmony Street'. They must be more tolerant than me, I wasn't amused at being awoken at 5am with the call to prayer from the mosque next door to my hostel. The country takes pride in religious tolerance and ensures integration of the people by pursuing a 3 month national service for all 18 year olds. Military training takes only a small proportion of the time. The emphasis is on team based activities of mixed groups of Chinese, Indian and Malay to forge friendship between the religions. Malaysia isn't without problems but surely this would be an excellent path for Britain to follow.

Kuala Lumpur (KL) was the next stop up the peninsular. A city of contrasts, a city dominated by the Twin Petronas Towers. These are an incredible sight. Clad with stainless steel and glass and at night illuminated, they look like something out of a science fiction movie. The light radiates from them lighting up the sky. One night, just a little lost, walking along an unlit street with old wooden houses all around, the towers can be seen beyond. Walking down a street, crumbling two story 19th century Chinese town houses either side, the cities super modern mono rail flashes by high above the street. KL is a super modern city with towering building, huge shopping malls and again a booming economy (for how long....) but there is a an obvious gap between the rich and the poor.

Christmas day was spent in KL. Noodle soup and Tiger beer for Christmas dinner. Later in a local bar not far from where I was staying in Chow Kit, we had the pleasure of drinking with Malaysian guitar legend Osman Ghani. Long after the bar was closed we were still drinking and listening to his music sitting at the tables outside. Even the local vagrants stopped to see what was going on before carrying on there way, going though the rubbish bins for their late night snack.

The Cameron highlands were a welcome relief to the extreme heat and humidity of KL. Reached by a treacherous winding jungle road the high plateau of the Cameron highlands is home to tea plantation, fruit and veg growers and of course the the tourist resorts. Cream tea anyone, roaring log fire and tartan table cloths in the restaurant. All very strange in Asia. A popular area for hiking, through the jungle to the surrounding peaks. The area is unmapped and armed only with a 'not to scale' tourist map with corrections by the hostel owner, I was just a little apprehensive about going hiking. But I'm here to tell the tale so I must have done OK. Many people go missing, sometimes days before they are found. Bangkok based entrepreneur and silk tycoon, Jim Thomson, was never seen again after a pre-dinner stroll through the jungle there.

New Year was spent in Georgetown, Penang. An island of the west coast of Malaysia. An almost sober New Year's eve as well, you'd never believe it. Big open air concert with fire works but as this is a Muslim county no alcohol for sale at the concert. Georgetown had a seedy port town feel to it, hookers on the street and washed up characters in the bars. Again a big British influence here with some impressive colonial buildings. I even found a 'Downing Street' there.

Another border crossing, this time into Thailand. No problems here. First stop Hat Yai, described in Lonely Planet as 'a dodgy town'. Oh yeah, British foreign office advice for this area is essential travel only. It was essential that I made it to Thailand as far as I was concerned. The word on the street was that overland travel between Malaysia and Thailand was pretty safe now, but there have been bombs going off in this area in the past. British foreign office is quite alarmist in their advice on travel. Better taken with a pinch of salt I have found.

For the first time in my trip, I had no plans for the weeks leading up to my friends arrival in Bangkok at the end of January. This was a refreshing feeling, I think a refreshing time was also needed after traveling all this time. Traveling alone can become tiring at times, always making the effort, always having to think where next. Just to put the feet up now and again is nice. Traveling, with a girl I met on the bus to Georgetown, I found myself at Hat Ton Sai.

A beach, only accessible by boat, near Krabi town. Surrounded by towering limestone cliffs and palm trees along the beach front. It had an island feel about it. The peace only shattered by the constant drone of the 'long tail' boats. It's a mecca for rock climbers there and it was no surprise I found myself on a 3 day intensive rock climbing course.

Pretty full on but no way near as full on as the crazy dudes that base jumped from the top of the cliffs each day. Many lazy days on the beach, some boozy times, met a couple of people from my 1st trip to New Zealand. A definite paradise, spent almost two weeks there. Get there fast though, the bamboo bungalows are cheap just now but the developers will move in fast, I'm sure.

Island hopping to Ko Lanta and then to Ko Phi Phi. Almost fully rebuilt after the Tsunami of 2004, Ko Phi Phi Don is a beautiful Island, and fun at night. We take an early morning boat to Ko Phi Phi Leh and Maya Beach, where scenes from The Beach are shot. Snorkeling in the crystal clear water a remarkable thing happened. I was surrounded by a school of fish that circled round me just at arms length. Thousands of fish everywhere I looked.

And so to the final leg of this part of my journey. I'd taken the bus all the way from Singapore to Krabi town. I needed to travel by train again. The train to Bangkok. This was an important part of my travels. So I was 'on the train to Bangkok aboard the Thailand express'.... I listened to these lyrics, by Canadian rock group Rush, when I was a teenager. It was never in my wildest dreams that I would actually be on the Thailand express one day!! Thailand was a far off mysterious land. I took great pleasure listening to the song on the train.

Bangkok is a city I've heard so much about from people I have met on my travels. I hoped I would not be disappointed.

A date with Kylie

2007-12-08T17:53:00.000-08:00

Yes Australia. I get asked why I came to Australia. Still not sure. Do I need a reason? Maybe because I was in the area or so I have walked on every continent on the earth except Antarctica, or to take stock before the real adventure starts in SE Asia, or maybe the real reason was I was secretly hoping I would meet Kylie, we'd hit it off, get married and settle down in a little house by the sea.

So my route was from Sydney to Cairns by bus. At just short of 3000km this was a big distance in 4 weeks. The East coast of Australia is tourist central, maybe not my cup of tea. I'd have to try a little harder to find the good stuff. But it was definitely there to be found as I was to discover.

I arrived in Sydney and headed to the hostel in Kingscross. In the red light district but fairly tame. Kingscross had a bad reputation a few years ago for wild party's. Damn it, should have been there. Still, the smell of marijuana wafts though the hostel gardens most of the day and night.

Sydney's okay, big new city with opera house and big bridge behind it. Go to nearby Bondi beach on a Sunday afternoon, predictably very busy. Loose the hordes by walking along the cliffs to Coogee beach, more chilled out. The Coogee beach hotel has a big open terrace and we sit and drink beer soaking up the Australian culture.

Overnight on the bus to Byron bay. Let me say the similarity with Byron Square in Aberdeen ends with the name. This is a super cool surfer town / hippy hang out and just a little touristy. The town was established by Californian surfer dudes avoiding the Vietnam war. It's all low rise buildings and local people voted in the Green party to keep the big developers from coming in. The Arts Factory is one of the coolest places I've stayed in. Live in a tee pee, it's cool. Big lizards and spiders outside, I take a didgeridoo lesson and one night we go to a beach party. Big fire, and unlike the beach parties at home with the banging sound systems we were greeted by the sounds of the didgeridoo, bongo drums an amazing fire show by some Japanese dudes. All very cool and chilled out.

Near Byron Bay is a little town called Nimbin. Wasn't really on the map until the legendary Aquarius festival of the early seventies. From then on it became Australia's Amsterdam. Smoking and dealing of marijuana is tolerated by the police. Now I can't say I condone this behavior, but when in Rome..... It's a bit odd though because there are no canals or shops selling diamonds? The coffee shops were good though. That day I was lucky enough to see two snakes and and koala in a tree and no I hadn't been eating the hallucinogenic mushrooms they also sell. They grow on the cow pats. Mmme fine!!

Before I arrived in Australia I'd thought I'd spend a fair bit of time on the Gold Coast. I'm so glad I didn't. Concrete jungle. I stay one night at Coolangatta at the southern point. After Byron Bay it's pretty disappointing. Up the coast the high rise buildings of Surfers Paradise stand like giant black chess peaces ready to advance at the nod of the developers head. Not my paradise and goes to show all that glitters is not gold.

Can't say much about Brisbane other than the Castlemaine XXXX brewery is there and it's an interesting tour and tasting of the beer after. The old joke is that they couldn't spell beer and hence the XXXX name. There was however a XXXXX beer and also XXX so maybe I believe them. Not sure if I gave a XXXX though. Brisbane is known as Bris-vegas.... Really not sure about that. Although the hostel was surrounded by a pub, a strip club and a church. Got it all sorted there.

At Byron Bay I'd won a 3 day Safari to Fraser Island. I was well pleased! Me and ten new friends in a big old Land Cruiser 4x4 camping and living it up on the largest sand island in the world. Complete with rain forest, dune lakes and those pesky dingoes for company. The beach stretches for 90km up the coast, we drive the whole way past a wrecked cruise liner, towering sand cliffs to Indian Head. We climb to the top and drink a beer. Possibly the most amazing view I've had to enjoy a beer with. We sit at the very edge of a 100 foot cliff surrounded by shark infested waters. The south pacific crashes onto the beaches either side with an alarming ferocity. The dingoes are pretty cool. There know it's their island and they are the boss round here. They sneak up so quietly, and all of a sudden they are right next to you trying to steal your bag.

Somewhere on the bus up the coast I cross back over the Tropic of Capricorn. It feels like someone has turned the thermostat up several notches.

I arrived at my final destination and Cairns. I go to Cape Tribulation. One of the few places where rain forest comes right down to the beach. Yeah yeah does that in New Zealand as well. It was a really beautiful place though. I think I found a little paradise there, the beach house I stayed in was so nice. A proper holiday from my traveling before the adventures of SE Asia begin. Trekking through the jungle to find a swimming hole. So good to cool off in the cool fresh river water. It's crocodile country here so no swimming in the sea.

A trip to the Great Barrier Reef was a must. Cool old pearl lugger sailing boat, snorkeling and seeing so many brightly coloured fish and coral. A definite high light of the trip. So far it had proved easier Finding Nimo than finding the elusive Kylie....

It was his last day in Cairns and he was walking along the boardwalk to the Marina. He sat on a bench and looked at all the amazing yachts, thinking to himself - if he hadn't spent all his money on fast women, bikes and drink he too could have had one of these. Sitting day dreaming he hears a familiar voice call out - Hey stranger come have a drink on my boat. He needed no further persuasion. The slender blond haired girl welcomed him aboard and they sat down to drink the newly opened bottle of Dom Perignon. She told him she was setting sail for Tahiti in the evening and she would like him to join her because his lovin' was all she could think about. He had a flight to catch the next day to Singapore, but to hell with it. If he didn't go he knew he just wouldn't get her out of his head.

Merry Christmas everybody, from Tahiti!!!!

North Island NZ

2007-11-20T21:24:00.001-08:00

I arrived in the North Island expecting an anti-climax after the incredible time I had spent in the South Island . Surely I couldn't expect the high of traveling to continue forever? I needn't have worried, it was full steam ahead on the Brainzworld Express.

Wellington was the first city I had been to in three months. It was time to party! I checked into the Maple Leaf lodge which was like an old 1960's student house caught in a time warp. My new friends there were similarly not working and some pretty drunken nights resulted. We were all still drinking in the morning when everyone else was just getting up. Somethings never change! Wellington was my favourite city in NZ. It has character and is very cosmopolitan. Yeah and it's got some pretty cool pubs and clubs. A city I could definitely live in.

Another visit to Lower Hutt to catch up with my relatives and meet some more of the family. Feeling rested and having been well looked after, it was time to head North. Taupo was my first stop. Within 30 minutes of arrival I was heading towards the airfield to do a tandem sky dive. Feeling very confident with my previous (sky) dive I enjoyed the 20 minute flight to 15,000ft, with amazing views over Lake Taupo, the volcanic Mount Ruapehu and across to the Pacific Ocean. The sky dive was amazing, I want to go solo next time!!

The next day I was up at 5.30am to catch the bus to do the Tongariro Crossing. A one day walk through craters of an active volcano and past Mt Ngauruhoe (Mt Doom in Lord of the Rings). It was mid October and still winter conditions, it snowed for most of the way and was very cold. I thought I'd left the winter behind. This was in contrast to the ground which was warm. Digging stones up whose undersides were way too hot to touch. Sulphurous steam belching from the mountainside. It's wasn't just my egg sarnies smelling bad. Unfortunately the views were not great with the low clouds.

I had done crossing with a French skier who had also been in Queenstown during the winter. We decided we must get one more day on the mountain and that mountain had to be a volcano. It was the last day of the season at Turoa Skifield on Mount Ruapehu. Another early start and after a 2 hour drive we were greeted with bluebird sky and some very icy pistes. The snow softened up nicely and a great day was had. I'd love to do a season there, the terrain was amazing and it is possible to hike to the rim of the crater. During an eruption there, just 2 months ago, a hiker lost their leg after a huge rock landed on him. Brings a whole new meaning to the (snowboard) term 'death cookie'.

The earths crust is very thin in New Zealand and there are numerous thermal areas, the best of which is at Wai-o-tapu. It's on the front cover of the 'Rough Guide' so it must be good. Lots of multi coloured bubbling pools and a sickening smell of Sulphur.

Snowboarder dude turns surfer dude, after a 4 day surfing course at Raglan. Stood up the first time. My instructor said my balance is good because I can snowboard. Having now seen the beaches at Bondi and Byron Bay in Australia, these were some pretty serious waves I had been in. The force of the current across the beach was incredible, one moment the water would be at knee level the next over my head. Quite intimidating for the likes of me. Waves more scary than avalanches, not sure about that one. Raglan was a cool little surfer's town, the hostel I stayed in was deep in the bush and very laid back.

So in one week I'd been sky diving, snowboarding and surfing. That rates as a top week in my blog. So far this trip has really focused on me and my pursuit of pleasure. This, I consider, I have pretty much excelled at. Time to give something back to the world in thanks. I think I should do some voluntary work in the less developed countries I will be traveling though.

My time in New Zealand was nearly over and I had to sell my car in Auckland. Checked into the Uenuku Lodge, and got my car sold in a day. Four months of trouble free motoring for less than 400 quid, should have parked it up for my next visit, yeah come on Toyota some sponsorship wouldn't go a miss! Even made a small profit on the car! With that task complete it was time to kick back, put my feet up and relax. After all it had been a tough couple of weeks. Okay lets get this straight, drink beer and have a crazy time with the cool crowd of people that were staying there. After a hard weekend of drinking we were all sitting out in the sun on the Sunday afternoon drinking beer and waiting for the food to cook on the BBQ. Nice!!

I had 3 days until my flight so I hired a car and headed to Northland. I wanted to see the giant Kauri trees before I left. Walking through the forest past some big trees, Te Matua Ngahere the 'Father of the Forest ' comes into view. The trunk is 16.4m across, it's incredible. Close by is Tane Matua, the Lord of the Forest which is over 2000 years old. In this company I felt very young.

Cape Reinga is the most Northerly point of New Zealand. This is the point where the currents of the Pacific Ocean meet the swells of the Tasman Sea, the sea is like a cauldron of crashing waves. It's a very sacred Mauri place, it's where the spirits leave to go to another world.

My time to go to another country. Come back soon for the next installment 'A date with Kylie'.

On the road in New Zealand

2007-10-15T21:19:00.000-07:00

The last month in Queenstown was so much fun. There were road trips to Ohau, Treble Cone and Cardrona skifields with the Deco crowd. Deco Backpackers was definitely the place to stay, I met so many cool people and had lots of fun and crazy times.

Spring had arrived though, the snow was melting fast and it was time to be moving on. A sad farewell to Queenstown, again. I hope it is not long until my next visit.

Back up to Methven for a few days to catch up with my friends at the Mt Hutt Bunkhouse. Two bluebird sky days with great snow conditions followed, oh yeah and some party times too... not fit to be written about here. I was lucky that the South Face chutes had reopened. Probably the best area of Mt Hutt skifield.

I later discovered this was a double black diamond run. I am well stoked with my progress on the mountain this season, having been confidently riding these very steep slopes in good and not so good conditions. Another sad farewell to Methven and the Bunkhouse crowd.

So I was on the road again, over Arthur's Pass to the West Coast. A fantastic drive through the mountain pass with fresh snow down to the road and bluebird skies again.

Such amazing scenery, the road winds it's way down through the mountains to Greymouth where the Tasman Sea relentlessly smashes onto the pebble beach, and the sun was setting on the horizon.

I had to meet my friend Till in Motueka, so we could walk the Abel Tasman Track. So the next day I was on the move again. I arrived at 4pm and neither of us had the right gear for a 5 day expedition. With my friends German efficiency, we had everything sorted by 7pm, and were in the water taxi at Marahau by 9am the next day for the trip up the coast to Toteranui. I later discover on his last trek he got lost in a forest at night with no torch....... The track is one of the Great walks in New Zealand but not too long at 51km. Loaded up with tent, sleeping bag, stove and food for 5 days this was another story.

Without having done a season of snowboarding and hiking every day up the mountain, I think I'd have struggled with this track however as it turned out we made good time every day. The coastal track crosses golden beaches with emerald seas and then up over the hills covered with lush green forest and towering fern trees.

It had a real South Pacific island feel, a real South Pacific island adventure with only a little bit of imagination required. The only time constraint were the tides, we could only cross the river estuaries at low tide. Four days of sunshine, one of rain and an amazing thunder storm. At night listening to huge gusts of wind as they traveled through the trees and then almost flattening the tent as they past. The camp sites and beaches were deserted with it 'being out of season'. This gave it an extra wilderness feel to this already amazing area. A great success, the food even lasted the 5 days!

After a day to recover I headed to Takaka and Golden Bay. This is an incredibly beautiful and isolated area. Snow capped mountains, peaceful rural farmland and desolate windswept beaches. The only road in is over Takaka hill. At 800m this would be called a mountain in Scotland, and it's a treacherous road of hairpin bends winding it's way from sea level to the top and then down again, to get there.

Golden bay was the first anchorage and landing point of the Dutch sea fairer Abel Tasman, in 1742, after an incredible journey around the south of Australia. The calm and tranquil Pohara beach, the constant sand storm at Wharariki beach, the shear cliffs at Farewell point, and the endless sands of Farewell spit. After 3 months of travel in New Zealand I am still amazed at the diversity of the landscapes within the South Island.

Driving back over Takaka Hill I take the diversion for Harwoods hole. An 11km gravel road leads to the edge of the forest and to the path onwards. This mature beech forest reminded me so much of Lord of the Rings. It had a primeval, almost enchanted feel, I really expected to see little hobbits watching me from behind the trees. The hole itself is 50m wide by 176m deep, down to the cave system below. Carefully does it scrambling on the rocks to look down, there's no guard rail.

After a brief visit to Nelson, my time in the South Island was nearly over. I realised what a chilled out life I had been leading, it was two weeks since I had been in a bar! That was remedied by a chance meeting in Nelson with a friend from Aberdeen. Then along the winding road to Picton to take the ferry to Wellington and the North Island.

Queenstown News

2007-09-09T02:23:00.000-07:00

Arrived in Queenstown nearly five weeks ago and very quickly fell ill with probably the worst cold I've ever had. My subconscious experiment in to how long it takes to reach burn out had come to an end. Just short of three months. My body said no more. Chilled times with much more snow boarding followed, as well as moving back to Deco Backpackers. There's a good crowd there, partying at the weekends and taking the snowboarding / skiing seriously during the week. It's been a poor season snow wise. That was until last week. POWDER DAY at the Remarkables!!!!! It's these days that are unforgettable and so much fun. 25cm of light fluffy powder snow, It's the sort of day you take a sickie, cancel the wedding, forget about everything else and become an obsessed single minded powder hound. On the first lift up after ski patrol had given the all safe. Fanging down the mountain, wide fast floating turns in the snow, hit rock, go tumbling get up go again and again, hiking the ridges later to get more freshies. Awesome, epic day it's what it's all about. So quiet, not so many people this late in the season.

The next day we hike higher to get fresh tracks again. 45 minute hike to one of the peaks, at times so steep having to use my snowboard to dig in and pull myself up. What a killer climb, 10 minutes to recover at the top and look down on the ski field and take in the incredible views. Three minutes later at the bottom it's all over we stand and contemplate what we have just achieved.

Then the last of the night skiing at Coronet Peak. Everyone is up on the mountain giving it maximum, all the nutters were out, probably the most dangerous evening of riding yet.

Yeah but what's been happening away from the mountain I hear you ask.

Went to Doubtful sound. It's south of Milford Sound, where I visited last year, in Fiordland and much more remote. First a 45 minutes boat trip across Lake Manapouri, allegedly NZ's most scenic lake, a 30 minute drive on gravel roads though lush green rain forest with a fresh dusting of snow on the mountains and down to Deep Cove.

The landscape could be a film set for Jurassic Park. The rain was coming down in sheets, it rains on two out of every three days. I'd have been disappointed if it had been sunny!?! There's only one person that lives at Deep Cove, the hostel manager. A Hermits life for sure. Captain Cook name the fiord, he was doubtful he could sail out again as the mountains were so steep and high and would prevent the wind from filling his sails.

I'm loving Queenstown again. I don't want the winter to end. Party times, chilled times out in the garden at the hostel, meeting so many cool and happy people. Meeting friends from last year. I really don't want to leave.... Being here for the second time I thought would be enough, trouble is I can't get enough!!! Another season here next year, who knows.

Queenstown by day

2007-08-24T02:23:00.000-07:00

A good day at the Remarkables Ski Field, beside Queenstown. Pick up Italian dude hitch hiking to the mountain and we go ride the mountain.

After a quick warm up run we head for the homeward run, a lift accessed off piste black run. Early in the morning snow too hard and too many bumps made it hard work. The shuttle bus picks us up at the access road and we head back up the chairlift and go hiking. Fifteen minutes of hiking gets us to the top of the ridge and we have the choice of three black runs; Elevator, Escalator or the Alta Chutes. I liked the sign at the start of the hike warning 'MOST DIFFICULT'. The Elevator run looked too steep and narrow so we headed along the ridge to the top of the Alta Chutes. Wide, steep, wind blown powder snow and the slope to ourselves means big grins all the way down. The snowboarding addiction means we were back on the chairlift and hiking back up to the ridge again for more. We stand at the top of the ridge, the Elevator before us, and both agree it doesn't look too bad and really had to be done.

A group of four other snowboarding dudes looking at the run, disagree and wish us luck. Oh yeah it was steep and narrow, only just managing to get turns in before the rocky sides of the chute, surface avalanches of snow racing down the mountain overtaking my almost out of control riding. Our grins from ear to ear at the bottom were testament to the fun we were having but we both agree it was a bit too steep for comfort. It was in fact the steepest run within the patrolled area of the Ski field. Ten minutes of walking through deep snow beside the frozen Lake Alta, surrounded by high peaks, and we were strapped in and off again. Sweet as!

New Zealand - Winter

2007-08-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

Arrive in Auckland, cold and raining. Depart two days later in the new Neil mobile, a 1992 Toyota station wagon, 2 litre, 16v babe magnet, ha ha. Purchased at an open air car market from a Iranian gentleman who insisted he wasn't an unregistered car dealer. He gave me his cell phone number and said if the engine blew up he would give me my money back. Nice chap. For NZ$1150 it was a good price but it's a pretty tired old car, straight line it'll pull well over 160 Km/H (on private roads of course) but slowly does it through the corners because the suspension is well shot.

Through the rain and down to Wellington to visit my relatives Doris and Ted, who had very kindly cleared and snowboard gear through NZ customs and took delivery. It was very nice to be looked after and fed having been living in hostels for six weeks. Two early morning swims with Doris showed how unfit I was after travelling across Europe and Asia. Not good preparation for a season of snow boarding.

Onwards to the south island on the ferry and the first sight of snow on the mountains.

I'd only planned a brief visit to Methven and Mount Hutt snowfield, four weeks later I finally managed to leave. No feeling of urgency on my travels. There was a good crowd at the Mount Hutt Bunkhouse, with some friends there from a previous visit. Even though it was lacking in snow some pretty good days were had on the mountain, with some pretty boozy nights in Methven and the Bunkhouse. We'd all be out the back late at night doing our snow dances. You can try it too, patting the dog with one hand, screwing in the light bulb with the other. Seemed to work with a dump of 24cm we were almost first to the top of the mountain for fresh tracks down. Riding most days with my buddies, oh so cute Japanese girls, German dudes and Hamish who at 53 rides for longer and harder (oo-er) than any of the rest of us. Remember age is just a number in your head.

Frank Zappa wrote a song called 'Don't eat the yellow snow'. That morning at Mount Dobson I was more concerned about the green snow under my car. 15km along a gravel road the car park was at a height 1720m, the highest in New Zealand. I wasn't reckoning that my breakdown cover would get me out of this one. Oh well, it wasn't as if I was driving through one of the most remote parts of NZ. Looked like the seal on the expansion tank cap had gone, no major worries. The day soon got worse on the mountain with snow falling heavily. Loaded up with water I continued my journey south, past Lake Tekapo and then Lake Pukaki. The snow was falling to road level now. The lake was a fantastic sky blue iridescent colour in complete contrast to the gray sky and brown landscape. The light was fast disappearing and the snow getting heavier until the car was skidding across the road. Time for the snow chains maybe, but the then the lights of mount Cook Village came into view. A good 5 inches of snow lay on the ground by the morning. An amazing winter wonderland in this extremely remote alpine area. The weather began to clear by lunch time I so walked up the valley to the Kea point. Strewn across the valley was the debris of a retreating glacier, the ice blue on the mountain side.
Mount Cook was obscured by clouds. Impressive were the sound of avalanches and rock falls from the mountains.

Back past Lake Pukaki, even more brilliant blue in the sunshine, and onto Ohau Lodge beside Lake Ohau (pronounced oh-how). My budget blown for the week I enjoy a beer in the out door spa pool with a view of the lake and mountains beyond. A really cool place to stay.

Ohau ski field is in my top two ski fields in the south island. One chairlift, 50-60 people on the mountain, great terrain and some good untracked snow well into the day. Hike to the ridge above the chairlift, climb, strap in and ride down the next ridge, more hiking, boots sinking up to the knees in the snow until the second peak is reached. Six of us had made the hike, we were rewarded with a steep untracked powder slope. 50 minutes from taking the chairlift I was back down. Who needs to spend money on heli-snowboarding when it's as good as this.

Feeling pretty stoked after my day at Ohau, I headed south to Wanaka. It was an easy decision to go to Treble Cone Ski field the next day. My other top NZ ski field. A concerned bystander asks if I know about the puddle of coolant beneath my car, I nod and she says 'I thought so'. The ski was blue the snow soft, the views of Mount Aspiring and Lake Wanaka below amazing, the trails; Shooter, Bullet and Side Winder giving so much fun, winding natural half pipes down the mountain side, the untracked powder after hiking to the summit, riding the best I've ever done in my life, my super new Ride DH snowboard, yeah man, life is good.

From Aberdeen to Aberdeen

2007-06-29T02:29:00.000-07:00

Neil and Piera do the Trans Siberian Express

Moscow

Moscow, I liked!! Not the real Russia but very impressive at Red Square with the Kremlin St Basil's Church and Lenin's Tomb, I have seen on TV so often. Safe feeling in central Moscow, many young people on the streets, and no police harassment that I'd been warned of.

Trans Siberian Express

Across Russia, 4 nights on the train from Moscow to Irkutsk. But wait 4 nights on the train and only crossed half of Russia. The world is indeed very large. The global village is by air travel only. Nothing to do but sit and look out the window and drink beer. Not many chances to do this and not feel guilty that I should be doing something else. There was nothing else to do.

Endless landscape of birch forest, fields, wooden houses and Ladas .

Stopped at many stations, old steam locomotives lovingly restored, wagons loaded with rusting Soviet tanks lay forgotten at the side.

Keeping track of time was not easy, the train ran on Moscow time, local time as the train crosses the continent. In one day the train crossed two time zones. Less time to drink, we found ourselves at 4am and still drinking. 8% proof beer and mistakenly 8% proof orange juice from the station shop. The shop assistant had tried to discourage me from this, ha ha ha.

Irkutsk

Siberia meets Europe. Decaying wooden built houses next to decaying concrete. There is an air of wealth and redevelopment here. There are oil fields nearby.

A short bus ride away is Lake Baikal. A big lake! The deepest in the world with crystal clear water. It's cold in the morning when we arrive at Listvnyenka and hardly a soul to be seen. It was Sunday and the day trippers from Irkutsk soon arrived in their droves. The lake front full of people but not an ice cream in sight just fish. The local speciality is smoked omul fish eaten on a stick. A strange sight but very fine tasting.

Border Town

Arrive at border town between Russia and Mongolia. Rusting Lada at the side of the road with smashed wind screen. Syringes lie broken in the dirt road. Signs that all is not well with this town, but not so different from any European inner city scene. Somewhere to pass through quickly, not the 9 hours it took to cross this border.

Seemed like a comedy border crossing. Our carriage was checked by visa people, passport people and then customs people. Each time the compartment was checked. The officials, incredibly hot Russian woman in uniform. Then the carriage was boarded by 4 soldiers with face masks carrying batons posted at each door of the carriage. They motioned for us not to look out of the windows. Across no mans land, bombed out personnel carriers, lookout towers on the hills, how paranoid are the Russians. Looked like a mortar pipe pointing out of an old shed? How long is the Russian / Mongolian Border? 1000's of miles, surely not manned all the way with soldiers and Alsatian dogs. All we could see on the train were Mongolian people exporting beer out of Russia. Yeah, the Russian beer was good!

Trans Mongolian

We stop at Ulan Baatar, Mongolia's Capital. The main square named after the Axe hero Suhkbaatar. His statue faces the brand new front of the parliament building where a giant statue of Chinggis Khan sits in all his glory .

Mongolia is a vast country. We travel west on our tour and stay with nomad families and visit the old capital Kahrkorum. Our driver Jack is great and is also our tour guide and friend. The little yellow Hyundai bumped along the dirt roads and never started before the fifth attempt. Not somewhere to break down, further in the journey we pass only one or two cars in 3 hours. The vastness of this country is hard to comprehend. Herds of goats, sheep, horses and later camels. Ger tents sit uncomfortably beside their owners satellite dishes.

Mutton, mutton and more mutton was hard to digest, at least it was the wrong season for the fermented mares milk, and not a goat's testicle in sight.

Returning to Ulan Bataar we pass the entire field of the Peking to Paris classic car rally. A reinactment of the 1903 original. It was some sight to see these old cars, including Rolls Royces and Aston Martins, being driven hard on the dirt roads.

And onto Beijing crossing the Gobi Desert.

Border Town

The entire train is taken into a giant railway shed, jacked up and the bogies removed and replaced with new bogies the correct width for the Chinese rails. Five hours pass and then we are in China.

Past the Great Wall and onto Beijing

Beijing

Temples, temples and more temples. a good sense of imagination is required to get the most from the historic areas of Beijing. All the old temples have been restored (actually rebuilt) and really appear to be like new. The smog is pretty bad. Can't See Tiananmen Square from The Forbidden city and they are right next door to each other.

We arrived on 4th June which is the anniversary of the 1989 masacre. No demonstrations this year but lots of under cover police, I'm sure.

The Hostel we stayed in was in the 'Hutong' area, an original part of Beijing that has not been flattened and rebuilt in preparation for the Olympics next year. This area was full of winding streets with markets and had a really good feel to it. Struggling to deal with the heat, it had snowed the last night in Ulan Baatar, now it was 39 Deg C.

Authentic fake clothing in the shops. It's hard bartering for goods when you should pay a tenth of the original asking price. There is no word for 'no' in the Chinese language, and that makes it's harder. Still, good T-shirts for 2 quid is not bad.

As tourists we felt like walking dollar signs, fair game to be ripped off at every opportunity. Please just give me the price of the goods or service.

The Great wall. Really is this a great wall or not? Never kept anyone out, especially the Mongolians and Chinnis Khan. Great picture to have on the Chinese Visa though. Incredible sight the wall winding it's way across the mountains. How lucky we were to see the wall with no tourists, our group the only people there, having sweated our way up hill then up and down along the ruined path in the heat of Chinese summer and the smog.

Piera heads home, I continued my journey south by train.

Xian

Further south than Bejing but much cooler Xian is at the start of the old Silk road and the city nearest to the Terracotta Army. The smog hangs thick in the air just 100ft up from the pavement. The taste of burnt oil and coal is in your mouth.

I meet some Kiwi's at the hostel and at night we all go to the Water Show beside the Wild Goose Pagoda. A thousand fountains shoot upwards coloured by lights and in time to music. The square is full of Chinese people, our group the only Westerners there.

Back at the South gate of the city wall, lit along the top with red Chinese Lanterns, a large crowd has gathered. Musicians play, choirs sing and a processional dance with the women dressed in pretty silk dresses holding fans and tinsel parasols. Again we are the only westerners there. This is for the benefit of the Chinese tourists. The domestic tourist market is huge. A foreign holiday is all but a dream for the majority of the population. All looking so happy and almost in defiance of the Capitalist symbols of Gucci and Chloe and the towering HSBC bank that stand across from this scene.

From Xian to Guilin by Train

The train leaves early evening and it's soon dark. Long sleep, the first city the next day is Wohan, One of the 3 'furnace' cities in central china, the train crosses the mighty Yanzi river here. From the pleasant air conditioned carriage all is fine, the smog and heat not so outside. The train heads south passing by industrial cities and then more rural landscapes and finally immaculate paddy field lush green from the summer rains. The train now travelling much slower in this undeveloped area. Ever changing though, new motorways lie waiting for traffic, new rail tracks being laid and stations being built in expectation of the commuter rush. I venture to the restaurant car for my lunch. It's early in the day and I wanted water with my food. The answer was no from the waiter. I was to drink beer only, no hardship I suppose. I was the centre of attention in the restaurant car, the chop sticks I was given were impossibly short for my big hands and all eyes were on me to fail. Ha! Tucking into my meal they all go back to their business.

Yangshau and the Li River

This for me was the highlight of my trip to China. Famous for the Krast Mountains and the view on the 20 Yuan note. Most unusual limestone hills covered in lush green vegetation. Met up with some really cool people in Gulin, Nikki, Gavin & Lucie, Rob, Jim. We all met up in Yangshau and went for a cruise on the river, cycling, to mud baths deep in a cave and generally had a good carry on with maybe a beer or two thrown in for good measure. All right, lots of beers. The only way to deal with the heat and humidity was to drink cold beer.

Up at 7.30am for a Kung Fu lesson from our friend / guide and Kung Fu master, Terry. Far too early in the morning, down beside the river, mist still hanging in the hills. Learned some moves and kicked some ass! I think not. Feeling sick with the heat I slope off an hour and a half later for a shower and some breakfast.

Train to Shengzen

My first experience of the hard sleeper. 6 beds per berth in an open carriage. Much cheaper but hardly secure. I'm the only westerner on the carriage, it's not long before I'm invited to join some Chinese people and they are really interested to see my photos from home. They share their food with me and were very friendly. They are in awe that I am an Engineer! I play it down but later discover that engineers are held in very high esteem in China. My new friends make sure I know where I'm going to get my bus to get the ferry to Hong Kong.

From a shaky start in Beijing to leaving now three weeks later, I'm am left with a really warm feeling for the Chinese people, and their country. I hope it is not long until my return.

Hong Kong

The ferry from Port Shekou in China to Hong Kong takes an hour and it was well worth the extra traveling time to arrive by water and not by train. Past immense container ships in the bay then the towering high rise buildings on Hong Kong Island come in to view.
The ferry docks in Kowloon. I walk through the streets weighed down by my backpack, the heat and humidity slowing me down. The contrast with China was immense. The wealth immediately apparent.

I book into my hostel in the Mirador Mansions. Whoever named this building obviously had a sense of humour. This building would be condemned in Scotland. It's part residential, part business, part cheapskate hostels. The lifts creek, it's like constant rain outside with the drips from a thousand air con units. Once it would have been gleaming white, now badly discoloured. My room in the hostel is like a windowless cell..... Bathroom so small sit side ways on the toilet, shower above, nice... I'm told later, I've earned a travellers medal of honour for staying there.

Out side on the street the wears of the world are for sale; hookers, a shiny new Rolex, hashish or maybe a bespoke suit. Many African and Indian people, a big change after China.

I like Like Hong Kong, the view across to Hong Kong island from Kowloon I rate as a man made wonder of the world. The buildings all lit up, the light show and the fireworks display. At night a travellers hang out, sit there drinking beer from the 7 / 11. HK was expensive after China. The bar prices were up to 20 times the price they were in China. Three of us out drinking in Ned Kelly's Last Retreat, sit down by an English business man and strike up a conversation, but this is no joke, I think he took sympathy on us and when he left he threw down HK$200 for our bill. We didn't even know his name. Random act of kindness. Very much believe in kharma.

My last day in Hong Kong and I'd not made it to the other side of the island and to Aberdeen. The rain was coming down in sheets as I sail across on the Star Ferry and then under the mountain on the bus to Aberdeen. Home from home.... I waste no time and take a tour of the harbour, past many fishing boats junks and sampons. The fisherman's homes are on their boats. A thriving fishing port and a fancy marina too.

So Part I of my journey is complete. I have travelled from Aberdeen Scotland to Aberdeen Hong Kong, covering more than 10,000KM by train from Moscow and crossing the continent of Asia from it's land border with Europe to the South China Sea at Hong Kong. As I left Asia I had only just got used to the climate and my stomach used to the food after two weeks of quick dashes to the toilet!

That night I flew to Auckland, New Zealand. In 10 hours I'd covered the same distance it had taken me to travel in the last five weeks.