Trailing the Incas

Now I know I have been back in the UK for over a month, which is more than sufficient enough time to fill everyone in on what I have done, and bore people to tears with my stories...and I bet you breathed a sigh of relief that the blog was over. That you no longer had to read pages and pages of my trip then sound interested over skype/email...but weirdly I have had a couple of requests to finish my blog. Apologies to everyone else who did not request this. You can close the page and I will forgive you, and I promise I will not be disappointed if you never mention this every again.

So I reckon I should re-start where I left off.

The Inca Trail. Something I was quite nervous about....especially as I started making some lovely hacking, phlemy noises in the morning, and I was truely terrified about not only walking for 4 days but tackling it with what I guessed was a chest infection. So having armed myself with medicines, anti-biotics and some good old fashioned British courage (okay so in reality I panicked and cried before going...but I like to make myself sound brave!) off we went.

After oversleeping and running out of the hostel, we boarded the coach and got taken to km 82. The start of the Inca Trail. Having put on my backpack, and seeing all the other trekkers with their tiny daypacks, I started wishing that I had spent the money on an extra porter. Resigned to my fate of walking at the back of the group, we took pictures of our group of 16 then started walking.

The group was nice and mixed, Bill and Heather (Mum and Dad of the group) were 58 and 63 respectively, the 3 Aussies, the 2 Finnish, the 3 northern girls (who brought make up! Seriously. Who feels it is necessary to wear blusher on a 4 day trek? Girls from Burnley and Liverpool obviously! Okay rant over...), 2 other British girls and us 4.

But despite the chest infection, the backpack and the altitude, I found I was never quite at the back of the group...which, with my competitive streak, I was very pleased about. Despite that though I never quite made it to each rest point first or looking as calm, relaxed, fit and healthy as Bill and Heather, or as beautifully made up as the Northern girls...but I don't think that would have been achieved by anyone except maybe Kate Moss.

By the end of Day 1 we had all made friends and happily slept through the night (which sounds weird but at altitude its hard to sleep). It was an easy(ish) walk really, and it was really fun to sleep at 9pm.

Day 2 was the "hard day"...so in fear we all paid an extra £20 for a porter to carry our things, which gave my back the day off it needed, and so carrying my provisions in a Santa-style carrier bag over my shoulder, we tackled the highest part of the trek. At 4200 metres (13770 feet) Dead Womans pass is a mighty climb. Relentless and what felt like a million steps we got to the top before most...after Sheryl and I thought it was a great idea to try and race each other (cue coughing, spluttering and only running 6 ft and nearly collapsing because of the lack of oxygen at altitude! Brilliant!).

Day 3 was another easy(ish) day, and back to carrying my pack. We saw some lovely ruins. I think it was probably this point that I figured out I wasn't really fussed about the ruins...which is a pretty awful realisation when you are on the Inca Trail...looking at Inca ruins. I did, however, realise that I really really like walking - which was a massive suprise to me really. After looking at some ruins we decended through the cloud forest, which was stunning, and I saw my first ever real life in the wild hummingbird. Day 3 was also the great day where we reached the beautiful hot showers camp. It was awesome. I think it was a few pounds but the best few pounds I have ever spent. Absolutely brilliant.

So refreshed, washed and Inca Kola-ed up (as there is a bar at camp 3...sadly my antibiotics did let me get a beer) we slept...for what felt like 20 mins before we had to get up and wait and wait and wait for some entrance gate to open and then run to the Sun Gate. The sun came up, it was nice. It was our first glimpse of Machu Pichuu and if I am honest I was sad. Sad that my lovely long walk was over. But it was lovely and pretty, but I was pretty shattered, as was everyone else. So between our history lesson from our guide, and nodding off, I was proud that I have found a lovely new hobby...walking. Who'd have thought putting one foot in front of the other would be so fun!

Bolivia and beyond.

Ahhh, once again I have fallen behind on my postings, I am going to blame this, not on my massive amount of disorganisation, but rather on a lack of internet in Bolivia and Peru.

Moving on Bolivia I was really very sad to see that surly bunch go, leaving them behind on the shores of Copacabana, Lake Titicaca (the highest altitude lake in the world). But before heading over the boarder to my final South American country, I got to see what I decided was one of my top 10 sunsets, from the rooftop terrace of our hotel, looking out over the lake.

We were also terribly lucky to have a TV as this provided some 6 am entertainment, to watch the Royal Wedding! Beautiful - reinforcing you can take the girl out of England but not the England out of Girl (I followed that up by watching the Eurovision Song Contest in a Bar in Cuzco...but thats another tale altogether!)

Anyway, with reports that the border was closed we wondered (and I secretly hoped) that I may in fact be stuck in Bolivia for a good long time, but when we got there we were lucky and crossed the border with no trouble at all.

So into Puno, Peru. and after everyone had said it was a dump I was pleasantly suprised that it wasn´t that bad, and we had a lovely boat trip to the Islas Flotantes (floating islands). The islands are made of blocks of reeds, and 200 people live on 60 islands. It was very impressive. You can even stay overnight on them, and although we didn´t have time, we heard some people having a blast at island Karaoke.

That evening, after being served by a Johnny Depp Lookalike (brilliant!) and trying my first Inka Kola (think Irn Bru crossed with Coca Cola, but illuminous yellow) we went back to the hotel (thats  right...a posh hotel!) in preparation for our bus to Cusco the next morning, which....HAD A TOILET! Now I know this isn´t a big deal to anyone else...but the idea of peeing at the side of the road whilst local women stared at me like an alien had not filled me with joy and I was very chuffed that I would not have to repeat the experience. Good Old Peru!

The Amazon

The Amazon. I think the only way I can describe the whole trip is as "an experience". By that I don't mean in the way people use it to describe something they would like to explain as awful but politely use the term experience, I mean from strat to finish it was quite unlike anything else.

Having heard varying reports on the bus journeys taking up to 50 hours due to severe flooding, we decided to posh it up and fly to the lovely Amazonian town of Rurrenabaque. A number of travellers we had met had flown and said the plans was small...nothing could prepare me for just how small. As we walked out onto the Tarmac, we were met with what can only be described as a model aeroplane. Or a tin can. It was amazing. 19 seats, propellers on the wings and a roof which prevented me from standing up...meaning I near-crawled to my seat. From where I was sat I could see the flight deck and put of the front window of the plane. As we took off the plane rattled uncontrollably and by some fascinating feat of modern(ish) engineering it stayed in one piece. We flew past mountains which were higher than the flight path, and 35 minutes later we landed in a field.

So my first real look at the Amazon came after a short boat trip on a long boat, a hot and sticky 50 minute walk to the start of the zip lines, followed by 1,500 metres of cabling between trees, 50 metres in the air, suspended underneath by a harness! It was amazing! Absolutely awesome (and slightly nervewracking!)

My second Amazon experience came the following day when we set off on our 3 day trek in the jungle. After a three hour long boat journey up the river we got to our base camp-a small collection of huts in the jungle. It was noisy with insects, and despite all my Amazon preparation (yes, that's right...4 hours of programming for work and I felt I was an expert!) I was nervous as anything. It was twice as humid as town and there were more scary animals than I could possibly imagine (that's right...cockroaches and grasshoppers!).

After some delicious lunch, we did our first trek. For 3 hours we sweated our way through the forest, filling Heriberto the guide and his trusty machete. At this point Heri collected some Amazon medicine for my very swollen arm-as I was suffering with a mosquito bite allergy promising to "cure" me later. After some unsuccessfully animal spotting (a couple of spiders and lots of ants) we returned to camp for dinner...preparing for the night trek.

The whole idea of the night trek frightened me (and if about now you are realising what a wussbag I am...believe me it only gets worse) especially as we were looking for jaguars and tapirs, and although I smiled, I can admit right now that no part of me wanted to find a 200 kilo tapir in the woods. Luckily for me, we were unsuccessful, although I have discovered I am very talented in finding huge spiders, millipedes and other nameless bugs by torchlight - which is a talent I wish I didn't have. Using my trusty headtorch and holding Sheryl's hand eveytime I fell over my own feet fully reinforced that I am definately not as outdoorsy as I would like to think. Thankfully the painful night trek was over and we returned to our mosquito netted beds, where I lay quivering in fear that some mighty cockroach would come into my bed, or worse...I would have to get up and go to the toilet in the middle of the night, meaning navigating the pitch black camp to the loo block where there were undoubtedly all sorts of terrifying monsters (I was right-we found a bat in there the next day. The bat, incidentally appeared to be watching whilst I showered.) anyway, I survived till morning, and after pulling myself together realised I really liked being in the big wide wilderness.

The following day we trekked again, and once again were unsuccessful in finding anything larger than a jungle pig- which were great! They made some fabulous noises...as when they are startled they clatter their teeth together to communicate, which always resulted in an outbreak of giggles.

Then that afternoon, we got crafty and made forest items (I can't say anymore as some of your pressies will be ruined!) it was at this time that one of the guides made some weird jokes about being alone in the forest with 4 women and having a machete ( needless to say I didn't find that very funny- Bolivian humour is weird at the best of times.) - Stephen King eat your
heart out my next horror story is ready and waiting!

After a fairly sleepless night, thanks to being accosted by a terrifying grasshopper and plagued with an overacting imagination, we did one more trek. This time we saw more jungle pigs, but we also drank water from a plant called uña de gato (cats fingernails) and then found a vine and swung like Tarzan-as well as doing some pole move in the Amazon courtesy of said vine!

Another day in Rurrenabaque, and a tempting offer to stay and volunteer teaching English in an indigenous community in the basin - which I reluctantly declined, and we prepared for the tin can plane back to La Paz.

After a lot of turbulence, and a rather green looking Sheryl and Amanda crawled off the plane, (and me recovering from the fear that the plane in fact would not make it in one piece) we were back in the altitude sickness inducing city of La Paz, at a dizzying nearly 4 kms above sea level. So a few days hear then off to Lake Titicaca. And I only have another 3 maim stops until my South America time draws to an end...now there is a strange thought!

An advert for Alpaca

Bolivia is a fantastically characteristic place. What it lacks in fast service, smiles, customer service, roads, Internet, reliable transport and supermarkets, it makes up for in sheer charm and crazy contrasts.

So we have made it back to La Paz, after a trip to the Amazon (which I will post about separately) in more or less one piece...with a few added bites, a swollen arm (it would appear I am allergic to mosquito bites!). Today was the day I have been waiting for. 10 weeks of travelling and finally it has arrived - SHOPPING DAY! We hit the markets of La Paz hard...knowing full well this could be my only opportunity to go nuts and buy loads of pressies for myself and loved ones (as it's possibly the only place I can afford it!) so after traipsing around the witches market, dreaming for buying gorgeous bags, wool for my darling sister to keep her occupied and in business until the end of time, or tiny beautifully handcrafted guitars, and avoiding the llama foetuses of various shape and size (and no I am not kidding!) I settled on some smaller token items.

But just to complete that picture I am currently sat in my hostel looking like an advert for alpaca...well almost. I am only wearing a dress, a jumper and leg warners...decorated with the mandatory llama-I decided against the trousers, I thought that they may be overkill!

Santiago to the Desert

So we arrived in Santiago for the music festival Lollapalooza, which was amazing. Highlights included meeting David Arquette and his friend, now forever known as "famous Mike". We do not know who famous Mike is, but having shown the photo we had with him to a group of Americans, they were very in awe of the fact we had our picture taken with him! Good old famous Mike. Musical highlights were (for me) Empire of the Sun, Fatboy Slim, 30 Seconds to Mars and Kanye West. And despite a near riot getting our tickets in the first place (including a 3 hour wait, the military police of Chile and a riot van) we emerged unscathed and danced for two solid days.

Santiago is much like Buenos Aires. And Madrid. And infact most other cities...it was nice but nothing special, and after a few days rest, an adventure on an indoor climbing wall (thank you Lucille and Sheryl) and sadly no pole dancing...we got on a 28 hour bus journey, full of very interesting miners to San Pedro de Atacama in the Atacama desert, bordering Bolivia.

San Pedro is lovely. A tiny town, full of travellers and tourists, all hoping for a glimpse of sand dunes and other worldly volcanoes. They are in for a treat. Every morning I leave my hostel and can see a volcano (inactive I may add) and give Bolivia a wave...know I will be there tomorrow.

Today we are off to the Valle de la Luna. I would love to explain more what this is...but I don´t really know. Tomorrow we are off on a three day trek to Bolivia via hot springs, geysers, flamingo lakes and salt flats.

San Pedro has more stars than I have seen, maybe because it is so remote. It also has a great little football pitch where Sheryl and I played head-torch nighttime football with a bag of rubbish. This is an activity I highly recommend - and certainly not in the guidebooks.

Middle Earth...or Torres del Paine as it is more commonly known.

3 days in Torres del Paine, was definately not enough, sadly, and is on my list of things I would like to return to and do properly, at some stage in my life.

Torres resembles Middle Earth, of the famed Lord of the Rings trilogy - steep, dark granite cliff edges, lined with grass lands, forested areas and coupled with the famous Torres themselves on one end and a glaciar on the other.

We took a catamaran across the bluest (and probably coldest) lagoon I have ever seen, landing at the other end of Laguna Amarga. We then set off, at a hell of pace completing 11 km in 3.5 hours (including a stop for lunch on a log!). Feeling like a hobbit, dwarfed by the landscape, and in awe of the snow covered mountains on one side, we came around the headland and came face to face with Lago Grey, and its famous glaciar. The only way I can describe it, is that it looks like a tsunami, frozen in midair.

The following morning, after staying in the cosy Refugio Grey, and enjoying the lovely hot chocolates on offer, we set off at 8.30 am (and for those of you who know me know that this is in fact a weird phenomenon in itself...as usually anything before 9am is almost impossible!) back towards the catamaran and across the lake. We then caught a shuttle bus over to Torres Central - a rather posh hostel in the park, over looked by the Torres del Paine mountains.

The following day was in fact our last day in the park and although we had planned a short trek, returning to camp to get the 2.30pm bus back to Puerto Natales, I had already decided that as I was there I would complete the longer trek and get the late bus back to our hostel. The long trek was a massive 18 km in total, up to the mirador (lookout) bringing me in front of the Torres. Sheryl was brave (or stupid) enough to do this with me. And after an arduous few hours (I lost count somewhere between the boulders we had to climb, and the burnt trees - which I will come back to shortly), we eventually made it to the top...reward with a sign telling us it was the end of the trail. After kissing and cuddling the sign we sat and ate some sandwiches (with Peter the Wingless duck of course), and then practically skipped back to camp very proud of ourselves.

Interestingly, and very sadly, a massive 10 percent of Torres del Paine was burnt down in 2005 (I think) by a careless traveller and a camping stove. This destruction can still be seen as you walk through the park, with massive burnt trees lying on the ground, surrounded by young trees pushing their way through next to them.

The End of the World.

In 24 hours we travelled nearly 1500 miles by taxi, foot, coach (through no less than 28 hairpin bends just past the Chilean border) and aeroplane, moving from a place where there are 300 days of sunshine a year, to a place renowned for its excessive wind and cold. I was beginning to think we were all slighty mad for attempting this following 5 weeks of bikinis, shorts and at worst...a jumper and a waterproof. And all this before we have even headed into the National Park of Torres del Paine.

After arriving in Punta Arenas, which is the most southerly place I have ever been...and the end of the world (okay slight artistic license use there...Ushuaia is actually the end of the world but Punta Arenas is pretty close). And all the Northerners reading this blog will be pleased that I can report it is grim down South! Cold, windy and the front actually looks slightly like Morecambe...amazing clouds aplenty!

The houses are unlike anything I have ever seen and well worth a mention. A mix of wood, corregated iron and sheets of metal stuck together somehow and defying the force of the weather, and all painted different colours give the place an even more otherworldly feel.

After realising we were infact in the wrong place (add this to the list of places we try to find but never do....) we realised we should make the trip to Puerto Natales, from there we would make the trip to Torres del Paine. The bus journey was a treat...nothing for miles and miles, as far as the eye could see, except the odd Emu, llama, sheep and wind battered trees. The bus would stop occasionally, at a lodge in the middle of no where and sometimes someone would get on, but overall just miles and miles of nothingness.

So off on my trek tomorrow, and I am excited, nervous and wondering if maybe doing all this with just 12 kilos of clothing and no hiking boots was maybe a silly idea...I will let you know in 3 days!