Cycle Touring

I want to ride my bicycle

It had always been on my mind to go cycle touring. I just really needed to go and do it, but firstly I had to buy a bike. I already had the idea for a cycle tour, to cycle the length of the Outer Hebrides.

After two years of working in Angola on a 4 week on four week off rotation I was ready for a change of job, but found it hard looking for work when I was at home on leave and was too busy to look when I was in Angola.

I was afraid to quit my job and sit at home doing nothing whilst I looked for work. In the winter time I could go snowboarding but what would I do with my time in the summer? Two days later I'd decided I should resign from my job and become a cycle tourist. With a 10 week notice period that would give me plenty of time to prepare, I'd didn't even have a touring bike nor any of the gear that would be required.

I settled on a bike from Paul Hewitt Cycles in Leyland. A traditional touring bike made from Reynolds steel tubing, with drop handle bars. I even got to choose the colour and was fitted up for the bike in the shop. It was a standard frame size but the components would be suited to me. Delivery was 4 to 5 weeks which would take up my last trip in Angola.

If this was a midlife crisis, it was a slightly less conventional one, I could have bought a sports car or motorbike. I'd recently sold my motorbike after years of it sitting unused. My travels had shown me that I'd been happiest on the road with my possessions in a backpack. Adding a bicycle into the equation could only add to the experience. I would be travelling in my own country over roads I'd already travelled so maybe less adventurous than my previous travels, but I'd never experienced them travelling at 10 miles an hour.

I read lots on cycle touring, peoples experiences of travels and the gear they used. Having faith in your gear is important so top quality Tubus racks and Ortlieb waterproof panniers were ordered. Definitely not the cheap option!

The excitement was building when I returned from Angola. When would the bike be ready...? Eventually the call came, the bike was ready. I would collect it from the shop, spending that amount of money to have it delivered didn't seem right. Roy at the bike shop was happier that I would collect it even though it involved a 650 mile round trip in the car.

It was pouring with rain when I collected the bike but I still took it for a ride along the street. It felt good, I felt like a kid on Christmas day. The quality of the bike was amazing with a deep shine to the metallic blue paint work, I knew it would never look this good again!!

I'd not owned a road bike since I was a teenager, mountain biking has been my thing since then which kept me reasonably fit . I needed to do some serious miles in preparation for the big cycle as there was only 3 weeks to go until the 1st July, the start of the Outer Hebrides cycle tour.

After a couple of longer cycles along Deeside I needed to try out the panniers and tent. Aberdeen to Braemar would be a suitable route, around 52 miles from my home. The longest unloaded cycle I had previously done was only 45 miles.

It took 6 1/2 hours to cycle to Braemar. I could drive the same distance in about an hour, but the combination of back roads, tracks and the disused Deeside railway line made it a great trip. One day National Cycle Route 195 will be complete from Aberdeen to Ballater, but for now using sections of the South Deeside Road keeps you away from the traffic. The sun shone on both days with many fantastic views especially Lochnagar towering above Deeside when passing by Ballater. On the return route towards the end I cycled over Corsedardar hill to Feughside to add a climb into the route and also for a piece of delicious carrot cake at Fizean Tearoom with a view across to Clachnaben. Yes indeed times have changed...where's the chilled bottle of beer? I'd have to wait until later for that.

I was encouraged by the success of the Braemar cycle, over 100 miles in two days and the bike had excelled.  I've travelled up and down Deeside many times but now I had a new perspective of the countryside having passed through at an average speed of just 10 mph.  With only five days to go until the Tour de Outer Hebrides, I was more confident of my abilities and looking forward to the trip. Now I just needed to pack my panniers....

Romancing the Stone

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

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

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!!

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!