Journey's End

Day 81-82: Lima, Peru. “We've made it!”, Karen shrieked excitedly with perhaps just a touch of relief in her voice. Using my bandanna to remove the layer of grime from the inside of the vehicle's window I starred out at the most welcome of signs: Bienvenidos a Lima - Welcome to Lima. It was fitting that our last major road journey should be so eventful: 9 up in an aged Toyota Corolla with a budding Peruvian Nigel Mansell at the wheel; half an inch of tyre rubber burned at through every corner – and perish the thought that anything dare step into the road; his first reaction was always to hit the horn rather than the brakes!

But Karen was right. We had made it. Not just from Lunahuaná in a battered combi, but from one side of South American to the other. An unbelievable, unforgettable and unrepeatable journey!

I'm not sure how Phileas Fogg managed to make it around the world in 80 days. In the same time, Karen and I had only managed a single continent; but what a journey we'd made of it. 7,000 miles of gruelling overland travel across 6 countries plus a further 4,000 miles of internal flights to get us to the places where the roads didn't go. From paddling in the South Atlantic and South Pacific oceans we had scaled the majestic Andes to heights of over 18,000 feet. We had trekked through rainforests, cloud forests and temperate forests, through barren tundra and across vast uninhabited deserts staying in 48 different locations. We had discovered modern cities, ancient cities and lost cities. In the north we made it to within 10 degrees of the Equator and in the south to within 10 degrees of the Antarctic Circle. We had burned to a crisp in the tropics, chilled to the bone in the High Andes and literally been blown off our feet in Southern Patagonia. But we had made it.

But despite the infinite list of incredible sights (I've taken well over 3,000 photographs so far. Friends and family - start working on your excuses now in preparation for when I ask that dreaded question, “Do you want to pop round and take a look at our holiday snaps!”) it's the people that really made the journey: The Brazilian tourists that seem to spread themselves across this entire continent, the Argentinian gaucho's, the bowler-hatted Bolivian ladies gathered in the local market square and of course the Peruvian kids, selling just about anything they can get their hands on!

But for now, Karen and I were not about reminiscing. We had one more city to explore before we set off on our long journey back to Steeple Morden: Lima, capital of the fastest growing economy in South America and summarised by Lonely Planet as “No place of beauty. A sprawling desert city clinging precariously to dusty cliffs, it spends much of the year marinated in a perpetual fog that turns the sky the colour of Styrofoam. It is loud, chaotic, and gritty; much of its architecture is bulky and grey”. Now maybe I'm getting a bit soft in my travelling old age but I can't help feeling these words are a little bit harsh! OK, so you probably wouldn't put Lima on your top 10 list of places to see before you die, but as a place to spend a couple of quality days relaxing with easy access to some of Peru's finest restaurants and bars, I can think of far worse places to be.

And with the melancholy of journey's end mixed with a couple of bottles of pretty enjoyable Peruvian red, the conversation inevitably shifted to 'The Next Trip'. India maybe? Nepal possibly? Tibet per chance? For now though, our immediate destination is our favourite place on earth: Back home to the beautiful village of Steeple Morden. Back home with Huffkin, Chuddleigh, our friends and our family.

See you all soon!

D&K

R&R

Day 77-80: Southern Coast, Peru. As the sun started to set below the far western horizon, the desert sands turned a fiery red. Jumping on to our boards, Karen and I hurled ourselves from the summit of the steep dune for one last run before dark. As fast as a polaris missile but with very little in the way of control, both of us miraculously made it to the bottom with no broken limbs. After the exertion of the last 3 months, this was just we needed: Sand boarding and a little bit of relaxation and recuperation.

And when it comes to chilling out, there is probably no better place to do it that Peru's laid back southern coast: From the tiny desert oasis of Huacachina surrounded by towering sand dunes, nestling next to a picturesque (if slightly smelly!) lagoon with graceful palm trees, exotic flowers and attractive antique buildings to the charming hamlet of Lunahuaná; gateway to one of Peru's best wine producing regions, this coast really does have it all. Hoping on and off buses, collectivos and moto-taxis as if we lived here, Karen and I made our way slowly northwards along the Carr Panamericana (Pan-American Highway) where the spectacular barren deserts and sand dunes gave way to fertile valleys, lush with tropical fruit and vineyards industrious with the autumn harvest.

The low cost of living meant that we could ditch the usual backpacker's haunts and stay in some real hotels: You know the sort of thing – hotels that offer complimentary soap, monogrammed towels and maybe even a swimming pool. Luxury! Our best find by far was the remote Refugio de Santiago; a renovated colonial home a few kilometres west of Lunahuaná which represented the ultimate in relaxing hideaways. The rooms, rustic but elegant; the grounds a fragrant botanical garden providing an infinite source of inspiration for the excellent (if slightly eccentric!) Peruvian chef. Utterly passionate about his creations, he refused to let us leave his tranquil abode until we had sampled the very best of his countries gastronomy. Like fresh tuna juice (from the cactus, not the fish!), milkshake of lucumba, crayfish from the River Cañete and yes, you've guessed it, locally reared guinea pig. Prepared the traditional Peruvian way, this cuy didn't resemble the loser in a battle with a 7 ton Pickford's truck in the way that so many guinea pigs are presented in the tourist haunts. Cooked to perfection with smoked garlic and perfumed tiger milk, it had a delicious, delicate texture with a mild, gamy flavour reminiscent of the finest grouse or partridge.

So if your kids ever get bored of the family pet and you're wondering what to do, just tip me the wink and I'll rustle us up a great little dish. More red wine anyone?

And Breathe...

Day 75-76: Nazca, Peru. The plane dived hard to the starboard side, the note of the engine increasing in pitch as the revs increased on the little six seater Cessna. I did my best to hold on to my camera and to my breakfast as we switched direction yet again to get the best view of the amazing geoglyphs that stretched infinitely across the desert floor. “Beats dizzyness!”, Karen joked above the noise of the aircraft. She was right: Trading altitude sickness for motion sickness within a 24 hours period was not one of my better ideas!

After almost 5 weeks at high altitude, we finally decided to give our lungs a break and descend to the Peruvian desert floor where oxygen was considered to be a commodity rather than a luxury. Heading south-westerly from Cusco, we caught the overnight bus service to take us across the High Andes and down to the tropical coastal plateau. Whilst covering a distance of only 350 miles, this was unquestionably one of the most difficult bus journey's we had ever undertaken; 15 solid hours of mountain passes, ascents, descents and death defying hairpin bends before we left the gargantuan mountain range that has played such a huge part in our South American adventure.

Arriving on the western side of the Andes at the dead and alive hole of Nazca, you’d be forgiven for thinking that this desolate pampa would hold little of interest for anybody. And indeed this sun-bleached expanse of desert was largely ignored by the outside world until 1939, when North American scientist Paul Kosok flew across the desert and noticed a series of extensive lines and figures etched below, which he initially took to be an elaborate pre-Inca irrigation system. In fact, what he had stumbled across was one of ancient Peru’s most impressive and enigmatic achievements: The world-famous Nazca Lines, which as a teenager, I had been fascinated with ever since reading a copy of Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World.

Spread across an incredible 200 square miles of arid, rock-strewn plain, the Nazca Lines remain to this day one of the world’s great archaeological mysteries. Consisting of more than 800 straight lines, 300 geometric figures and some 70 spectacular animal and plant drawings including such entities as the hummingbird, the spider, the condor and the astronaut(!), the lines are almost imperceptible at ground level. It’s only when viewed from above that they form their striking network of enormous stylized figures and channels up to 300 feet across and so Karen and I just had to get up there to take a better look.

With little else to do in Nazca, finding a willing pilot with a light aircraft to charter is,well, as a easy as jumping out of a plane. Finding one that didn't want to empty the contents of our stomachs through their demonstration of aerobatic prowess in an attempt to get you the best possible view of the lines, much less so!!

Emerging from the plane, both looking a little green, Karen and I had gained a much better appreciation of the intriguing geometric shapes drawn by the Nazca people some 2,000 years ago (it definitely is an astronaut, you know!). But right now, we had a desire to be back in the High Andes where, despite the lack of oxygen, our internal organs tended to remain in exactly the same place that we had left them!

Lost & Found

Day 70-74: The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, Peru. 6.30am and the first vestiges of daylight were starting to create a dull glow in the eastern sky. Clouds covered the snow covered high Andean peaks that towered above us, mist swirled around the enveloping cloud forest. We were cold and tired. Despite the hour we had already been trekking the narrow, rocky path for well over an hour. But still we forged ahead: The stone staircase to Intipunku so steep it resembled a rock scramble rather than a hike. And then, through the twilight, we saw it: 1,000 feet below us in all its magnificent splendour. “We've found it!”, Karen exclaimed excitedly, seemingly forgetting the pain and exertion of the last 4 days. Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Inca's was ours...

From Cusco, there are two practical ways to reach South America's best know archaeological site: You can take an air-conditioned tourist train with full buffet service and reclining leather seats or you can undertake a gruelling four day hike across three notorious Andean mountain passes following exactly the same route that the Inca kings would have over done seven centuries previously. Have a guess which one Karen and I decided to do?

The Inca Trail, is South America's and one of the world's, most famous hikes. The ancient path laid by the Incas from the Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu winds its way up and down and around the mountains, reaching altitudes of over 14,000 feet. Not for the faint hearted, this truly is a challenging hike exacerbated by the oxygen starved high altitude, burning tropical sun and freezing Andean nights. For four whole days we would set off before sunrise and trek until sundown tackling the likes of Dead Women's Pass a 6,000 foot vertical ascent achieved from just a few miles of hiking and the Gringo Killer; 3,000, foot high stone steps that jarred the spine and pulverised the knees. As night fell we'd pitch up tent at altitudes approaching those close to the summit of Mont Blanc and sleep under canvas beneath the clear, cold Peruvian skies.

But despite the incredible physical exertion, this was a truly mystical, magical and unforgeable experience: Walking from one cliff-hugging pre-Columbian ruin to the next; the views of snowy mountain peaks, distant rivers and ranges, and cloud forests flush with tropical wildlife and colourful orchids.

And then there was our incredible trekking team. In order to preserve this centuries old trail to the Inca's foremost spiritual sanctuary discovered by Hiram Bingham back in 1911, only a small number of guided hikers are permitted to use these sacred paths every day. Accompanying Karen and me were Edgar, our trusty and knowledgeable Quenchua guide and two porters for every hiker on the trail to carry tents and provisions. And it was these guys that really did make the trail extra special. Whilst we struggled with the thin air and steep inclines, these stocky local farmers would run up and down the mountain passes with 25 kilo packs on their backs setting up our next camp site and cooking delicious meals for us with the most basic of ingredients. One night, as Karen and I were about to go to bed, completely exhausted from the days trekking, I saw all of them leaving the camp-site and heading off down the mountain. “There's a big game tonight: Peru are playing Chile”, Edgar explained. “They're just popping down to the village to watch it on TV”, he continued. Now normally this wouldn't seem that unusual to me. But on this particular night the village was 4,000 feet below us and it had taken Karen and me all afternoon to get from there to our camp-site. These guys were were doing the round trip as part of a average night out!! It's a shame Peru lost 3-1!

And whilst the Inca Trail is absolutely about the journey the ultimate destination, Machu Picchu, is sublime in itself: One of the New Seven Wonders of the World and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Built in 1450 and abandoned within a century this site was never known to the Spanish during their conquests and consequently, it is one of the only relatively intact Inca sites that remain anywhere in South America. With over 140 structures including temples, sanctuaries, parks, terraces and residences, Karen and I wandered the ruins in utter amazement for as long as our tired legs could carry us. A perfect and fitting end to the most magical trek we have ever embarked on.

The most strenuous thing that we have ever done? Most probably. The most rewarding? Most definitely!

So, if anyone back home is still interested in that little trip to Kilimanjaro; Karen and I are definitely in!

Precision Engineering

Day 67-69: Cusco & The Sacred Valley, Peru. “I can't even place a credit card between them”, I said to Karen in amazement, as we wandered around the peaceful ruins at Sacsaywamán just a couple of miles north of Cusco's main plaza. Two year previously, Karen and I had been fortunate enough to visit the Giza plateau where we had marvelled at the astonishing engineering skills of the ancient Egyptians in the construction of the Great Pyramids. Now, in the heart of South America, we were witnessing similar unbelievable craftsmanship; the legacy of the continents greatest pre-Columbian civilization. Huge 70 ton boulders, cut with laser precision and skilfully assembled without the need for mortar, to form great walls, temples and cities; dominating the land as far as the eye can see. For 700 years ago, the place where we were now standing was at the heart of the Inca Empire.

The 12 hour overnight bus from Arequipa had brought us northwards to the ancient city of Cuzco, our base for the next few days as we explored this fascinating city and the myriad of ancient archaeological sites that litter the 100 miles of the Sacred Inca Valley.

Cuzco itself effortlessly enchants, bombarding the senses with a swirl of art, religion, music, architecture, food, and fiestas – every possible manifestation of the syncretic Inca-Spanish culture that makes the Andes so fascinating: Ladies with llamas walk cobbled streets. Coca-chewing local honchos parade to church in ceremonial regalia for Mass in Quechua. Cuzco’s proud pagan past collides with solemn Catholic rituals in parades that stop traffic at the drop of a hat.

Despite it's obvious charm though, Cusco is one of the most relentless tourism-dominated towns on the face of the earth, sitting as it does just a stones throw from the Sacred Valley and a (relatively) short train journey to one of South America's main events: Machu Picchu. Walking through the Plaza de Armas we felt a little bit like walking ATM's! There's people here hawking massages, finger puppets, paintings, CDs and tattoos – if you want it (or even if you don't!) you can get it here!

Fortunately though, it was easy enough for us to escape the commercial madness, and become totally absorbed by the history and ambience of the lost Incan cities that lay just a short hike or bus ride from the centre of town. Magical, spiritual and mystical; even their very names like Pukapukara and Ollantaytambo, seem to have sprung from the gods imagination.

All that remains now is for me find enough room in my rucksack for the couple of mystical and magical acquisitions that I made whilst in Cusco like my alpaca wool tea-cosy and my Incan warrior snow storm. Classy eh?

Surprise, Surprise!

Day 64-66: Arequipa, Peru. For me, one of the best aspects of travelling is finding those little gems; away from the main tourist trail, that exude charm and charisma and provide a real insight into the country's history, culture and psyche. And Arequipa provided us with a perfect example. Prior to leaving the UK back in January, I hadn't even heard of Peru's second city. Lonely Planet, puts it on the 'B' list of things to do in Peru and we only made it this far in the search of a restaurant for Karen's birthday. But I'm so pleased we did. For Arequipa is Peru's forgotten jewel.

Rocked by volcanic eruptions and earthquakes nearly every century since the Spanish arrived in 1532, Arequipa doesn’t lack for drama. Locals sometimes say “When the moon separated from the earth, it forgot to take Arequipa”, waxing lyrical about the city’s grand colonial buildings, built from an off-white volcanic rock called sillar that dazzles in the sun. As a result, Arequipa has been baptised the Ciudad Blanca (white city). Its distinctive stonework graces the stately Plaza de Armas, along with countless beautiful colonial churches, monasteries and mansions scattered throughout the city. What makes this city so irresistible is the obvious relish with which its citizens enjoy all of the good things that life has to offer, especially the region’s spicy food, stylish shopping and night-life. The pulse of city life is upbeat. The streets are full of jostling vendors, bankers, artists, students and nuns – in short, a microcosm of modern Peru.

Arriving here with one objective, Karen and I stayed around for a few days to make the most of the city's superb restaurants (which has meant we still haven't had to stoop to eating guinea pig!), low cost of living and relative lack of tourists. In addition, the beauty of the surrounding countryside was to die for. Nestling in a fertile valley under the perfect cone-shaped volcano of El Misti, which rises majestically 19,000 feet behind the cathedral, flanked to the left by the higher and more ragged Chachani and to the right by the peak of Pichu Pichu.

And then there's the canyons. In my ignorance, I always thought Arizona's mile deep Grand Canyon was the deepest in the world. But within a 100 miles north-westerly of Arequipa lie two canyons that put America's tourist icon to shame. Cañón del Colca plunges 10,500 feet through the earth's crust and the more remote Cañón del Cotahuasi tops this by another 500 feet, making it the deepest canyon in the world: Two miles deep; twice the depth of the Grand Canyon! Standing on the rim of this mighty canyon, watching the soaring condors floating by at close range below us – a truly unforgettable experience.

And in my capacity as Investigative Tourism Journalist, I even thought I'd try the local hospital to give every one back home the real low down of Arequipa! Suffering from severe chest pains for the last week, I thought I'd better get a check-up just in case my heart was on it's way out. But after a few minutes on a shiny new ECG machine and some considerate prodding by the local doctors they soon diagnosed that my heart was good for a few miles yet. It turns out that after weeks living at what the World Health Organisation classify as 'High Altitude' or 'Extreme Altitude' my lungs had been working so hard to extract what little oxygen exists in this thin mountain air that I had actually strained the muscles in my chest – hence the pain and breathing difficulties.

So, if you're in Peru and you're feeling a little under the weather, I recommend you make your way to Clínica Arequipa: A brand new facility with excellent English speaking medical professionals. In and out within the hour and a total cost for the consultation and ongoing medication of less than £25. I don't know, the lengths I'm prepared to go to to provide the latest in tourist information!

Birthday Wishes

Day 62-63: South Eastern Peru, Peru. “We made it!”, Karen shrieked with more than just a touch of relief in her voice. I felt like kissing the ground, but deciding on the slightly more cooler approach, simply nodded in agreement. We had crossed Peru's most dangerous mountain pass and lived to tell the tale. For more people are killed on this route and more buses go careering off the edge of the road into the plunging abyss below than on any other road anywhere in the country. And in a mountainous country with a network of poorly maintained roads, the Puno to Arequipa highway has an awful lot of competition vying for its infamous accolade!

We had followed the lake road north-westerly from Copacabana until we reached the little border town of Yuguyo. Here, passports duly stamped for exit from Bolivia and entry to Peru we had continued into the sixth and final country of our South American adventure. Small changes at first: The women still wearing their plaited hair under bowler hats, multiple layer skirts and their worldly possessions bundled on their backs. But in Peru, the colours a little more brighter and the ladies a little more smiley (the latter point may be something to do with the local trend to trim your front teeth with solid gold so that every time they laughed, I felt I was at the mercy of a cloned set of James Bond villains)!

Subtle changes in the Peruvian diet compared to Bolivia too: Llama gives way to alpaca, and Peru's meat staple the guinea pig makes an appearance; traditionally served as if it were the victim of some unfortunate road kill incident: Flat as a pancake, complete with head and all four paws splayed to the cardinal points. (A dish that so far we have managed to avoid, but as our journey takes us to more remote Peruvian outposts our pizza alternatives may be no more!)

And it was food that had brought us on our seven hour journey from Lake Titicaca in the east to Arequipa in the Peruvian central highlands. With Karen's birthday celebration we felt it was high time that we splashed out a bit and treated ourselves by way of a slap up meal at Zig Zag, said to be one of the countries finest restaurants. A romantic Alpine-Andean fusion haunt that delivers the gourmand goods in a sillar walled candlelit setting. Crayfish cocktail, volcanic stone cooked trilogy of meat (beef, lamb and the tenderest alpaca loin) and passion fruit meringue all washed down with a perfect Peruvian cabernet sauvignon and the biggest pisco sour you could ever imagine!!

...And after three months of living off budget food and just a couple of beers a night, this was positively heaven, even if we did have to crack open the indigestion tablets the next day!

Happy Birthday, Karen!