THE TALE OF A TYRE

I would have preferred the tyre to tell this story. However, the tyre in question has now perished, and I'm the only other who knows the full epic. (If you have no interest in bicycle tyre performance, then you may choose to skip this post). Anyway, the story started in Australia where I was having a few tyre problems towards the end of the Outback crossing. Finally I found a set of decent Continentals in Adelaide, which Leana kindly bought for me. A thousand km's later in Melbourne I was somewhat disappointed to note that the rear Conti was already showing some wear, and I swapped the two around. After another two thousand k's in Puerto Montt, Chile, the orange puncture-proof layer was starting to show, and I dumped both tyres in the garage of the rickety hospedaje where I was staying. There I bought some sturdy Vietnamese tyres as well as a set of knobbly's - all in preparation of the bad road I was expecting to the South in Patagonia. After arriving back in that rickety hospedaje a month later, the knobbly's were finished and the fat Vietnamese were on their last legs. I reluctantly retrieved the better of the two Continentals from the garage where they were collecting dust, just in case I needed it as a spare on the way to Santiago. In Santiago I found 2 good-looking Kenda's, so I fitted one on the back wheel and kept the other as a spare (I also fitted the Continental to the front wheel, so it got a new life after 3 thousand km's). I was somewhat optimistically hoping to get across the Andes and Argentina to Buenos Ayres where I thought I should find some decent tyres. I was amazed that the Conti just kept going up the coast to Brazil, and by the time I reached Rio De Janeiro both the Kenda's had blown out the side-wall, and I had some Brazilian tyre on the back which kept getting punctured by truck-tyre debris. In the interior of Brazil I bought 3 fat Wanda King tyres (never heard of them before, and would rather not hear of them again). I'd become rather attached to the Continental on the front wheel, so I fitted one of the "Kings" to the back and kept the other 2 as spares (they each lasted just over 1000 km on the back wheel). In Lima the Continental went on the back, as I'd found some slim OK-ish tyre for the front. Everything seemed to be going well, but after Huaraz I hit the bad road via the spectacular Santa Rosa river canyon back to the coast. This was too much for the old Conti road tyre, and she waited patiently until I'd found a nice camp site before blowing through a cut in her side. At least that was a suitable spot as a last resting place for a tyre which had initially been treated shabbily, but had then performed it's duty. Also on that canyon road I met Jurgen from Germany cycling in the opposite direction (he'd apparently had his own share of tyre troubles). We swapped camera's and had some fun taking pic's of each other - in the process I failed to get a photo of him. On the second day of the Canyon road I met Australians Jules and Megan, who seemed to be going along just fine (both them and Jurgen had been cycling South since Alaska). I thought I'd also mention the two Belgians on their reclining bikes (Julian and Lori), who I'd met after they had already completed the bad section (with about 40 narrow dusty tunnels). Now I'm staying at the Casa De Cyclistas in Trujillo, and I still need to take a look to see if the owner (Lucho) perhaps has a decent tyre for me to carry on with. I'm still missing that old Conti, who in the end lasted for nearly 15 000 km, all with only one single puncture!

THE PACIFIC DESERT COAST

So, I`ve reached the Pacific coast and the foggy/dusty big desert-city called Lima (population around 9 million). After my last report from Nazca I wafted North through the desert, camping a few times with a dry bush or so for shelter from the pm breeze. I made a turn in the first coastal town (the touristy Paracas), after giving Huaracina a miss (this sand-dune oasis was overrun with locals at the start of a fiesta long-weekend. Along the road going the other way I met 4 bearded Russian cyclists, and cyclist Chang from Taiwan (cooking his lunchtime noodles at a bus-stop - see pic). That lot obviously had as much info regarding Peruvian holidays as me, so nobody warned me about the booked-out accommodation (the dunes around Huaracina looked like piles of sugar infested by ants). Later I also met Hector from Columbia cycling in the opposite direction, with heavy bike and trailer! In Pisco it was good to meet up with Jack from San Francisco - he is voluneering in the earthquake rebuilding effort (Leana and I had met him just before leaving Rio De Janeiro, and now I re-connected with him for dinner and a drink, poor-man style of course). Things tend to repeat themselves as I travel, and this Pacific coastal region is quite similar to Egypt (a long way off!). Firstly the road along the desert coast since Nazca has been similar to the highway in Egypt along the Red Sea coast (a major difference has been the breeze in my favour here). At this time of year (winter/dry season) there is a continuous dusty fog, and I pack up a wet tent every morning after camping. In Lima, instead of going to the Gringo Backpacker district of Miraflores, I opted for the historic city centre of Lima (still plenty of Gringo`s). The city is not a High-rise affair, with mostly colonial-style "heavy" buildings around (only a few scattered modern towers). Even the Hostal where I have a tiny 3rd floor room off the open vined deck is a bit of a museum. The walls downstairs are adorned with heavy paintings and statues. One can find everything here, but I`m still searching for the promised hot shower. Another similarity with Egypt (and Cairo in particular), is the fog, and it is an easy place in which to get lost - "non-rectangular" street patterns. The gloomy sky and uncouth traffic didn`t make me feel particularly welcome as I made my way into the city, but I felt a bit better when a highway patrol car made a welcoming announcement and waved at me - this happened again a few k`s later (not the same car!). Since I've been here I bought new tyres for Old Saartjie (much needed), and tomorrow I`ll proceed North. Daily distances I`ve cycled have been as follows: Desert Camp 87 km; Guyadalupe 90 km; Paracas 60 km; Pisco 17 km; Cerro Azul 109 km; Lurin 100 km; and Lima 46 km. The total distance I`ve cycled in South America so far is 14 391 km. Total on this trip is 80 878 km.

THE NAZCA LINES

Yes, I'm in Nazca Peru, famous for the ancient lines in the desert. But first I had to get to Nazca from inland where I posted my previous report, and that is what this story is about. From the town of Abancay I first dropped down to 2000 m before gradually climbing up the Apurimac river gorge. Along the way I camped in some nice places, and I also stayed in very basic accommodation reminiscent of Ethiopia or India. Then I climbed steeply to a long plateau which varied in altitude from about 4200 metres to over 4500 m. There were some interesting geological features, as well as salt crystals formed by the mineral water dripping down the roadside embankment. In the late afternoon somewhere along the plateau I found Pampamarca village, where I spent the freezing night in an unhygienic mud-hut room at 4200 m. The following morning I was not at my best, I felt sluggish, and not in the mood for uphills. In the past couple of months I'd spent a lot of time at high altitude, so I was not too concerned about my health. However, immediately after leaving the village the road climbed again, much to my discomfort. Soon after checking my GPS at 4560 metres it hit me - ALTITUDE SICKNESS. The dull headache I'd had all morning turned nasty, I felt nauseous, weak, and shaky. The day turned into a miserable, drawn-out effort. For the next 50 km I somehow managed to drag myself along that desolate undulating plateau. The herds of llama along the way with their comical faces no longer interested me, and when scarce wild Vicuna's crossed my path just metres ahead I couldn´t even be bothered to take a picture. Fortunately, somewhere on the subsequent 45 km downhill to Puquio I miraculously recovered, and as a measure of comfort I booked into a nice room in the town. I walked around the bustling streets and bought all sorts of goodies at the markets for my dinner. Later, after a long hot shower I was sitting between clean sheets watching TV - and try as I might, I couldn't re-create the misery of the day in my mind, I was just too far removed! The following day I again climbed to a high plateau, where I camped for the night at over 4000 metres. Except for the cold, I felt strong and healthy (I had to keep my drinking water in the tent with me to prevent it from freezing). The following morning while I was packing my bike 2 Swiss cyclists arrived from the opposite direction, having taken 3 days to cycle the 100 km from Nazca. It took me only 3 and a half hours to reach Nazca (including taking lots of pic's and repairing a puncture). After a gradual descent along the plateau I suddenly dropped off the edge of the World! I descended the 3500 metres from desert mountain to coastal desert in a hair-raising winding dive of about 60 km. So, now I get back to Nazca, famous for it's ancient lines in the desert. I probably won't be seeing those lines, as I draw the line on extravagance before taking an airplane flight to see lines on the ground. When I leave this town I'll cycle past a viewing tower, but apparently even from there one has to use your imagination in order to make out the figures represented by the lines. On the bright side, I haven't been down at this altitude since Eastern Bolivia, and it feels as though I'm breathing pure Oxygen and bouncing around on springs! I'm not yet at the Pacific Ocean, as the road now runs parallel to the coast for a while, but I'll get there before my next report. Daily distances cycled since Abancay have been: Santa Rosa 72 km; Mt Stream Camp 85 km; Pampamarca 51 km; Puquio 108 km; Pampa Galeras Nat Pk 64 km; and Nazca 98 km. The total distance cycled in South America so far is 13 882 km, and the total distance I've cycled on this trip is 80 369 km.

THE GRINGO PEDALS PERU

PLEASE SEE PREVIOUS POST FOR MACCHU PICHU. In Africa I was a Mzungu, but in this region a foreigner is referred to as a Gringo. Since my last report "The Gringo" left Lake Titicaca into the cold breeze along the desolate Altiplano - at least for the first few days. Along the way I met up with Israeli´s Amit and Shohan, and I was mostly in their company until we reached Cuzco where their South American cycle ended. In the process we crossed the La Raya mountain pass at 4360 m, before descending to Cuzco at 3300 m over the next couple of days. Shortly after the pass there was a rustic hot-spring, and it was quite enjoyable to float in the warm pool while admiring the surrounding snowy peaks. Cuzco is a very touristy city which was initially the Inca capital before being conquered by the Spanish - which gives it a rather European colonial character (and there are perhaps more tourists than locals). I stayed at La Estrellita, a cheap hostal popular amongst cyclists - and there were a number of us in residence. Of course, the renowned Macchu Pichu Inca ruins is not far away from Cuzco, and I too was compelled to visit the site (SEE PRVIOUS POST REGARDING MY VISIT TO MACCHU PICHU). I was planning to return to Cuzco, but I found a small dirt-road shortcut which linked up with the route I was planning to cycle, so I gave a second visit to Cuzco a miss. At the end of that day I was checking out a camping spot in the twilight, when I discovered 2 cyclists already camping there - Austrian/Swiss couple Hannes and Annelies. We´ve stayed in the same places for the past couple of days, except for one day when I had 5 punctures and camped alone up in the mountains. There are big mountains to cross, and I´ve now dropped and climbed more than 2000 m at a time. There was an added amount of excitement coming down the 35 km zig-zag decent yesterday from 4000 m in the rain with hardly any brakes left. Now I´m in a room in a big local town called Abancay, taking the day off to do this "Internet Thing", which feels like a job at times (I hope someone still reads this). When I leave here tomorrow I´ll be on my own again, as my 2 companions will be taking a different route. Daily distances cycled since Puno have been:- Juliaca 44 km; Pucara 65 km; Santa Rosa 75 km; Sicuani 72 km; Urcos 99 km; Cuzco 49 km; Ollantaytambo 86 km; Limatambo Mt Camp 62 km; Rio Apurimac 57 km; Curawasi Mt Camp 39 km; and Abancay 53 km. The total distance cycled in South America so far is 13 404 km, and the total distance cycled on this journey is 79 891 km.

MARCHING TO MACCHU PICHU

Afer leaving Lake Titicaca and the Andes Altiplano, the road led me to the touristy city of Cuzco. This city was the centre of the Inca Empire before the Spanish conquered it and erected their own colonial city on the Inca foundations. The Spanish used rocks from Inca structures to build huge cathedrals, and there is one around every corner. Some of the steep narrow streets in the city are still lined with Inca-built stone walls, and there are some ruin-sites around the area. However, possibly the biggest tourist attraction in South-America is Macchu Pichu, the ruins of an Inca citadel high up on a remote mountain - and re-discovered exactly 100 years ago. It seemed to me that it would be a disgrace to be in the area and not pay a visit to THE PLACE. However, we are now talking about "Richman" tourist territory, and I´m hardly in that class. The only access is by train (fancy trains run the 110 km route all the way from Cuzco, and cheaper trains run the 40-odd k´s from the end of the road - although none of them are cheap). There is also, of course, the Inca Trail and various other costly ways of getting to Macchu Pichu. After consultation with various other economically challenged people, I decided to do the "Poor-Man´s" Inca trail. I cycled from Cuzco to the end of the road at Ollantaytambo where I left my bike (Old Saartjie) in the hostal where I spent that night. The following day I packed a backpack and walked along the railway line to the touristy town of Aguas Calientes down in the valley, where the railway terminates and all the tourists must pass through. I was under the impression that the walk would be twenty-something km, but it turned out to be at least 40 k´s. Initially I enjoyed walking through the villages, and there were even a few Inca ruins along the way (free, and no other people). BUT WHAT WAS I THINKING!? For more than 4 years I have hardly been on my feet! After 10 hours I hobbled into the terminal train station, having struggled along the tricky line for an hour in the dark - dodging trains and trying not to disappear down the eroded embankment into the raging river. In the station the platform guard demanded to see my ticket (if I was feeling any stronger I may be languishing in a Peruvian prison right now). First thing the next morning I went to enquire about a return train ticket, as I hadn´t been in such self-imposed physical distress since my ultra-marathon days. While I was standing at the ticket counter debating the dilemma, the big blister under my foot burst, making for an easy decision. The train ticket costed the equivalent of 6 days accommodation, and I had to stay for another 2 days for the next available seat. At least that gave me a day to sit with my feet up before I climbed the stone stairs up the mountain to Macchu Pichu early the following morning. The entry ticket to the site was also quite costly (the whole thing seemed to be a big tourist trap). Anyway, once through the entrance gate I felt a sense of anticipation, and it was quite exhilirating to round a corner and catch a glimpse of the famous ruins through the early-morning cloudy mist. At that stage there seemed to be an eery dignity about the place, and there were not many people there yet. The site was bigger than I´d expected, and I wandered around amongst the ruins for a couple of hours until the sky had cleared enough for a photo of the citadel from the high terraces. However, by that time the trains had been rolling into the staion down below, the busses had been snaking up the mountainside, and the crowds had been pouring in. There were traffic jams, marshalls were blowing whistles to regulate crowd flow, and the atmosphere was that of a football match. I regained my composure in the forest on my way back down the stone stairs. I felt an intense longing for Old Saartjie and the rest of my worn-out belongings. After the train trip the following morning I was pleased to find everything just as I´d left it, and I spent the rest of the peaceful day doing laundry and re-packing my bags.

HIGH TIDE

Lake Titicaca, which straddles the Bolivia/Peru border, is the world`s largest high-altitude lake (also referred to as the highest navigable lake). The lake located towards the NW end of the Andes high plains, and is at an altitude of over 3800 m above sea level. After the climb out of La Paz city back up to the Altiplano, I made it to the lake shores by evening. Since then I`ve cycled more than 200 km along the lake, taking one of the many suspect-looking ferries over a channel along the way. There are a couple of decent hills along the way, taking the road up as high as 4300 metres (good views of the Andes peaks in the background). On the first day along the lake shore I didn`t make much headway, taking photo`s but there was also some festival going on in a number of the lakeside villages. The festival involved a slow parade in the street, with elaborately dressed groups of women and men doing "Square Dancing", and followed by a brass band as they slowly moved along. I knew there were some big hills after the ferry crossing, and as I was already struggling to breathe I stayed over in San Pedro village where the ferry dropped me off. The local population around the lake shore consists mainly of smallish-built indigenous people (see the size of the door in my room - and I´m by no means a giant, to say the least!). My last stop-over in Bolivia was a relaxing couple of days at the lakeside "resort" town of Copacabana, with it´s Moorish-style cathedral. After an effortless border crossing into Peru, I´ve cycled along the seemingly colder Western shores of Lake Titicaca up to the interesting touristy town of Puno. It´s supposed to be the dry (winter)season here, but on my approach to Puno I cycled through some freezing cold sleet, and it´s been raining on and off for the 2 days that I´ve been here. Puno is the favourite place for tourists to visit some of the interesting lake islands (such as the floating grass islands), and the small harbour area is crammed with tourist craft. As I´ve mentioned it is rather cold here, even the moto-taxi`s are covered. I also bought a local knitted cap which makes me look a bit silly, but it keeps my ears warm and has a double layer - handy if it starts to look a bit grimy I can just turn it inside-out! I suppose I can´t hang around here forever, so even if it rains tomorrow I´ll head towards Cuzco and the famous Inca-ruin region. Distances cycled since La Paz haven´t been phenomenal, but at this altitude one is held back by a limited oxygen supply. Those distances are:- Huarina 78 km; San Pedro 40 km; Copacabana 41 km; Juli (Peru) 63 km; and Puno 84 km. Total distance in South America so far is 12 703 km. Total distance cycled on this trip is 79 190 km.

THE ALTIPLANO

It would be a big mistake to imagine that the Andes Altiplano (High Plains)was comparable to a table top onto which one could climb. In reality the plains are protected by big mountain passes over which one has to grind in the lean air. From an altitude of 2 500 metres at Cochabamba I climbed over 4 distinct high passes, descending again after each pass before climbing even higher over the next. The highest point on the road was at 4 500 metres before descending to the Altiplano at around 4 000 metres. There is no accommodation in these mountains, and I camped a couple of times at high altitude. On the second night after leaving Cochabamba I was camping on a ledge at 4 000 metres (I was hidden from the road, but some of the local tribal people spotted me from a path high above - no problem, as they waved and greeted me politely in Spanish). Those mountains are very desolate, and one of the few animals which can survive there are llama´s - the farmers herd the llama´s on the steep slopes with the use of ¨sheep-dogs¨. As I often do in the absence of any fixed object, I propped the bike up out of the dust and locked it to my tent for the night. At that altitude it became quite cold in the night, so I dressed appropriately and crawled down into the sleeping bag. During the night Old Saartjie blew over onto the tent, and with bike theft in mind I tried to jump into action with pepper spray and fish knife at the ready. However, with all that protection against the cold I got myself into such a tangle that I was fortunate not to cause myself any grevious bodily harm! (I wonder about that incident, as the bike was leaning away from the tent and there was only a light breeze). Later at the miserable dusty Altiplano junction town of Caracolle I stayed in an appropriately miserable room - the door could not even be closed properly from outside. During the night I had to trot to the equally miserable filthy downstairs toilet on regular occasions due to a stomach problem, and one of my fellow "inmates" stole my old, dirty, broken 2Oceans Marathon T-shirt from where it was hanging close to the door. Things get stolen for re-sale and not personal use, and the Nike sponsors logo on the sleeve must have been a deciding factor. However, upon closer examination the thief was unhappy with his catch, because I later recovered the stolen shirt from the hook behind the toilet door. Due to the thin air at altitude I often went into Oxygen Debt, and had to stop to hyperventilate until my head cleared and some strength returned to my legs. I reached Calamarca village early in the day on my way to La Paz, but I was so exhausted that I decided to see if they had any accommodation. Upon enquiry at the roadside I was informed that there was indeed a hotel up the hill at the plaza, opposite the historic cathedral (they even told me how much a room would cost). Well, when I got up there I found no such accommodation, and a ¨Man Of the Cloth¨(the Padre of the Cathedral complex) allowed me to camp out in one of the empty school-rooms. I was pleased about that as there was a fairly strong icy wind blowing on the plains - there was even a toilet in the back yard, with lots of guinea pigs charging about (I imagine the Padre knabs a fat one every week for his Sunday lunch). And then it was the final stretch to La Paz, at 3 600 metres the highest capital city around. At first I didn´t think much of the place, as I had to battle it out with taxi´s and busses through the dusty and dirty outlying El Alto. But when I did spot the city, it was an absolutely amazing sight. There was no prior warning, suddenly the earth fell away in front of me and there lay this spectacular city with the centre on the deep valley floor and buildings hugging the impossibly steep valley walls- with Mt Illimani in the background. Later, looking for cheap accommodation up and down the steep cobbled streets of the backpacker area, I was directed to a touring cyclists haven (Casa De Cyclistas), where at one point there were eight bicycles clogging the small place. It was also great to swap stories with the other cyclists, and just to have a normal conversation again for the first time since I left Leana in Rio De Janeiro 2 months ago. La Paz is a good place to acclimatise as it is situated at a slightly lower altitude than the surrounding area, and I´ve been here for a few days already. So, tomorrow I´ll move on again. Daily distances cycled since Cochabamba have been:- Parotan Camp 69 km; Pongo Camp 40 km; Caracolle 90 km; Patacamaya 91 km; Calamarca 46 km; and La Paz 65 km. Total in South America is 12 397 km, and total cycled since the start of this jouney is 78 884 km.