The Galapagos Islands : Part II

Our Cruise around the Islands

I have my own theory of evolution, Darwin was adopted.
- Steven Wright

Okay, I said I was going to keep this short and to the point, but this is the Galapagos Islands. How can I write just a couple of paragraphs about the bloody GALAPAGOS ISLANDS? The answer to that one, obviously, is that I can't. So grab yourself a cup of coffee, settle in, and find out what occurred :

The Galapagos Islands are very young, in geological terms, at between 5 and 6 million years old, depending on which island you're standing on. Essentially a close knit bunch of volcanic sea mounts that eventually poked their noses above the sea after many hot and smoky sneezing fits, the only life to be found on the islands has come here from elsewhere. Birds have been amongst the most prodigious settlers, on account of their obvious flying skills, along with some insect species. All other plant and animal life has washed up on these shores by lucky accident (or unlucky if your other half is still sitting on the mainland waiting for you to come home with the shopping) or blown in on the winds. Such events favour small size and as such there were no significant predators on the islands until the introduced species already mentioned by Cara. Free from the concerns of turning into somebody's dinner, many of the little creatures settled in for an easy life and speciated off in all new weird and wonderful directions, fitting themselves in nicely to their new environment. Because of this, and protected by their relative isolation, the Galapagos Archipelago has an extensive list of species that you will find nowhere else on earth. Most of them seem to be called the Galapagos this or that, or Darwin's whotsit or thingy. Which leads us nicely on to Mr Darwin. Old Charlie, or young Charlie as he was then being just 25, swung by here in 1835 on the famous voyage of the Beagle. He collected specimens and made extensive observations of the flora and fauna. He did not however, as is commonly misrepresented, formulate his theory of evolution in the Galapagos. This came much later in life, although many examples of evolutionary adaptation he cited to support his theory stemmed from his experiences here and it is for this that Darwin will be forever associated with the Galapagos Islands (although one of his prime examples, the Galapagos finches, seems to have been completely overlooked by Darwin for some time and only used by him with hindsight after somebody else pointed out their significance after Origin of Species was published. This is, of course, a contentious issue amongst scientists and of absolutely no interest to everybody else. I only mention it here in a weak attempt to look informed). Being a huge fan of Mr Darwin's beautiful theory, I never like to pass up an opportunity to mention the creationists who would sneer at what I have so far written. Assuming that the very concept of evolution is nonsense, I can only guess that the fire and brimstone contingent believe the 250kg giant tortoises spontaneously generated here out of thin air complete with holes in their socks, to quote Bertrand Russell. This problem obviously goes away if we follow the fundamentalist christian doctrine that the world is only 6000 years old and really was created in just 7 days. If that's the case, then it was very considerate of our mischievous god to make the Galapagos fauna that little bit different so they could enjoy the barren, rocky landscape on which they found themselves that special Tuesday morning. Don't worry, I'm fully aware that none of this is of the least interest to you, but as this website also serves as a travel diary for me to look back on in years to come, I am occasionally allowed the odd ramble for my own indulgence.

Almost all of the islands have now been classified national park by the Ecuadorian government, and only 3% of the land mass is open to settlement and development. The waters off the islands are also designated marine parks and out of bounds to all but the smallest local fisheries. Despite this, illegal fishing boats regularly enter protected waters for the abundant fish stocks and to catch sharks. The sharks are hauled aboard, have their fins and tail sliced off, and then they are thrown back into the water to drown. The fins usually make their way to the far east to feed the shark fin soup trade. The land settlements are also experiencing difficulties as hundreds of Ecuadorians from the mainland regularly make their way here to build a better life for themselves and their families thanks to the burgeoning and profitable tourist trade. Ironically, the huge popularity of the islands with foreigners does not do a huge amount to boost the local economy. The vast majority of visitors climb off the aeroplane and are put straight onto a boat. After their trip, they climb back onto the same plane and take off for the mainland. The boat owners are mostly foreign or live in Quito and take their money off the islands immediately, and the US$100 park entry fee every tourist pays on arrival goes back to the government, with a small proportion funnelled back to pay for the national park authorities. The local communities are left with selling postcards and T-shirts to the boat passengers on their brief sojourns ashore and the income generated by the small percentage of people who stay on Santa Cruz or San Cristobal during their visit.

All visitors must stick to the marked tracks on the islands and be accompanied by a qualified guide. Whilst this genuinely protects the islands, it also severely restricts what you can or can't see. As such, it is only ever possible to see the briefest glimpse of what these islands have to offer. This doesn't stop what you can see being very impressive indeed, though. As Cara mentioned, the wildlife here is as fearless of humans as you will find anywhere, and the chance to sidle up beside snorting marine iguanas and 1 tonne bull sea lions is as good as any nature lover could ever hope for. Anyway, enough rambling nonsense. Back to our trip.

From Puerto Ayora, we needed to get back up to the airport as the boat would be sailing from Isla Baltra, a small island just to the north of Isla Santa Cruz and where the airport was located. We took a taxi up to the bus terminal, caught the bus to the northern tip of the island, hopped onto the small ferry to carry us across the narrow stretch of water to Baltra and onto the next bus to take us to the airport. There we met our guide for the week, a native islander called Adrian, who was to take us back to the boat. We hopped back onto the bus back down to the channel, where we discovered the boat had gone to refuel and wouldn't be back for an hour. The sun was blazing now and with no shade, we loaded our worldly goods back onto the bus and headed back to the airport. As soon as we exited the bus at the airport, we were harried onto another bus that would take us to the port on Baltra where the boat was now stationed. Once there, a dinghy came to collect us and we were finally on our home for the week, the Yate Amigo. This kind of half-arsed run-around is typical of the kind of organisation we have experienced in Ecuador and although tired, hot and grumpy, we were not too surprised. The boat was decent enough and typical of the standard you would find in the price category we could afford. Most importantly, the cabins were air-conditioned at night although any attempt to sleep in one during the day proved a bit uncomfortable. The rest of the passengers were already aboard having started their trip in Puerto Ayora the previous Friday. Everybody was very friendly and most people came over to introduce themselves. The boat left port and motored around the headland to a sheltered bay where the afternoon's first activity was snorkelling with a local sea lion population, amongst other things. We had an hour to kill before we had to leave, and I was a touch overexcited to be there. I could see some sea lions mucking about in the water near the boat so decided I was going to snorkel with them for a while before we had to go. I threw on my shorts, grabbed the mask, snorkel and fins and jumped in the water. It took a few minutes to swim over to them but once I was there the young sea lions all crowded around me to check me out. It is quite an incredible experience playing around in crystal clear water with a dozen young sea lions. They have no fear whatsoever and love to show off their swimming skills and let you know just how cumbersome we humans are in the water. Their favourite trick seems to be to swim straight at you and when they are just a few inches from your face, blow bubbles at you and turn away sharply, then hang upside down in the water a couple of feet away , staring at you to see how you react. My usual reaction was to laugh my backside off, which isn't always a good idea when you're trying to breath through a snorkel. This trip was turning out to be everything I had hoped and more, and we had barely even set off yet. After a while, the sea lions got bored with the docile lump they obviously took me to be and swam off to find other amusement. I headed back to the boat. As we weren't even supposed to be in the water here, nobody had put the ladder off the back of the platform so I had a difficult time trying to haul myself out of the water. The platform was a couple of feet off the surface so I grabbed the edge and tried to haul myself up, not very easy when the only exercise I'd had in the last few months was restricted to my beer arm. I managed to get up onto my elbows but when I planted my hands down and pushed up, one of my hands slipped off the edge of the platform and I fell heavily and caught my ribcage on the edge. Something made a nasty pinging noise and my chest fairly exploded in pain. I grabbed onto a rail and dragged the rest of my body onto the boat. For the first minute minute I just lay there, trying to catch my breath and cursing my own stupidity. Everytime I inhaled my chest hurt and it was a while before the pain subsided. Well done Mik, onboard the boat barely an hour on your trip of a lifetime and you may well have cracked a rib. Sterling start to the week. Just to add insult to injury, as I lay there I realised that it was almost a year to the day since I cracked a couple of other ribs by punching myself in the chest in a snowboarding accident. I was certainly my own worst enemy. It didn't really affect me too much on the rest of the trip and only really hurt when I laid down. I couldn't get comfortable in my bunk and every time I moved in my sleep, the pain woke me up. Needless to say I didn't get much sleep. What an idiot!

We set off on our snorkelling trip proper, and although uncomfortable, I soon forgot about it as the sharks and rays swam around us and the sea lions dived into the water to embarrass us. Later that afternoon we had a land excursion onto one of the small islands off Santa Cruz. There we saw hundreds more sea lions up on land and in the water, land iguanas, marine iguanas, and all sorts of endemic birds, insects and plants you find nowhere else in the world.

We saw too much and did too many things in the next week for me to list them all here, so I'll just mention a few. On one occasion we were snorkelling in a very narrow channel between two enormous rocks that came straight out of the water on either side. As soon as we jumped into the water, we were immediately spotted a group of Galapagos sharks circling beneath us. We followed them through the channel for a while before they figured we were not breakfast and buggered off. We also had groups of large spotted eagle rays passing us, turtles and a few whitetip reef sharks to add to the fun. We visited several beautiful, white sandy beaches that were completely deserted except for us and the sea lions basking on the sand. We would splash about in the shallows and the sea lions would swim around us and show off their impressive aquabatics. There were colourful sally lightfoot crabs everywhere and marine iguanas would swim out of the sea and trundle past back to their burrows in the sand. We visited islands where blue-footed boobies would stare at us and do their amusing foot lifting dance and magnificent frigate birds that stretched out their wings and inflate the enormous, red throat sacs to show off to the ladies. On our fourth day, we were heading back to Puerto Ayora across a sea that was as still as a millpond, when the skipper of the boat shouted out we had dolphins up ahead. We all crowded to the front of the boat and watched while off in the distance, seemingly hundreds of dolphins made their way toward us. We could see some of them leaping out of the water and generally enjoying the dolphin life. As they reached the boat, groups of them broke off to ride our bough waves and as we stood on the deck of the boat, we were treated to watching dozens of dolphins surfing the waves. This lasted for about 20 minutes before the dolphins drifted off, one by one, to rejoin the group.

After dinner, we would grab a beer and go and sit on the back of the boat to see what wildlife would gather, attracted by our lighting. First, the small fish would come in, then we would see schools of rays drift by to check us out. Pretty soon, the sharks would arrive, and we often saw juvenile blacktip reef sharks chasing the small fish right out of the water. A few sealions would also come and join the fun, either chasing the fish or climbing into our dinghy to have a snooze or just play around with each other. On our final evening as we were sitting at the back of the boat, watching some Galapagos sharks and sealions chase the little guys all over the place, the skipper and another one of the crew hopped into the small launch with their snorkelling equipment and headed off into the darkness. We asked them if they were planning on snaffling a few lobsters for tea, but they said no, that would be illegal and they just fancied a moonlight dip and to watch a few fish. Of course! When they returned a few hours later, the skipper had an armful of urchin spines and they both looked knackered. The captain put a lit cigarette to his skin to try and tease the spines out. What did you see, we asked. Just a few sharks and rays, they said. No lobsters, then? Definitely no lobsters they assured us. After they went below deck, we pulled in the launch, lifted up the front hatch and there, wondering what the hell was going on, were 2 dozen fat lobsters, waiting for us tourists to bugger off to bed.

Everybody else had already been on the boat for 4 days when we joined, and after our first 4 days, they all disembarked and we were joined by a new group of people. On the whole, Cara and I were very lucky with the people we did the cruise with. There weren't any really annoying sorts or any big egos to deal with, and everybody was friendly and accommodating. Very fortunate considering we were all cooped up on a small boat for days on end. A few of the characters are worth a mention.
Franz was a 76 year old Austrian and had been travelling with his wife. Unfortunately she had left the boat the day we boarded due to ill health but Franz stayed aboard. We discovered why when we saw him getting chummy with the 4 German and Swiss girls who surrounded and fussed over him the rest of the trip. He was in heaven. Franz was a bit of a photographer and was always lagging behind on the shore trips to set up his equipment and take his shots. Apparently his photos were used in school textbooks back home in Austria and whenever he was told he couldn't do something he would say "but it is for ze children" until he got his own way. Pretty soon we discovered the only things Franz like photographing was all the young ladies on the boat, preferably while they were in their bikinis. But it was okay, because it was all for ze children. What sort of schoolbooks are these, Franz? Another good source of amusement was Paul, a psychologist from the states who had taken early retirement and was off seeing the world. Paul's catchphrase was "Get crazy in the funhouse or you'll be end up crazy in the madhouse" and he was a great laugh. After having the same breakfast for a week he resorted to throwing his bread out of the window and gulping his cereal straight out of the bowl, letting the milk dribble down his beard for effect. Another reason I liked Paul so much was that he is the spitting image of the actor Peter Falk. He even had the Columbo squint when he was talking to you. Other noteworthies were Seth, who did the best marine iguana impression known to man and Cheyne, an Australian guy who knew more about sharks than me and was thus idolised as the font of all wisdom.

Our routine on the boat was fairly laidback, with the exception of having to get up at 6.30 every morning. Breakfast was at 7am, followed by a shore visit, followed by an hour's snorkelling somewhere. Lunch was usually followed by a nap for most and a bit of reading by the remainder. In the late afternoon, we usually had a bit more snorkelling followed by another shore trip. All this was regulated by our guide clanging a big bell on deck to call us to attention. By the end of the week, I was salivating like one of Pavlov's dogs every time the bell rang. The food could best be described as "healthy" with lots of fish and fruit and other muck I wouldn't normally eat, but there was plenty of it so I wasn't too concerned. Our cabins were pretty cramped, and the only rule seemed to be that the largest people went into the smallest cabins. My bunk was too low to be able to sit up and lying down was too bloody painful, so I took to napping in the saloon propped up against the side of the boat. By the end of the week I was grateful for any sleep I could get. On our last day, we were ferried back to the airport where we missed our flight and had to sit around waiting for the next one, then back to the mainland.

We had a fantastic time on the islands, and I would say it was one of the best experiences, not just of this trip, but of my entire life. I definitely want to come back here again, and I would more than likely do it exactly the same way as we did it this visit.

Mik

The Galapagos Islands - Part I

Puerto Ayora, Isla Santa Cruz, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador

For those who aren't sure the Galapagos Islands are located in the Pacific Ocean, about 600 miles off the coast of Ecuador. Despite many attempts by other countries such as the US, Spain and the UK to gain ownership of the islands they remain part of Ecuador. The only way to get here (other than spending quite a while on a cargo boat) is by an expensive flight with a local airline from either Guayaquil or Quito.

We arrived in Puerto Ayora, Santa Cruz the main town on the islands after a short flight, a bus journey a boat ride and another bus journey. Puerto Ayora is where a lot of the boats cruising the islands depart from and where the travel agencies are based. As we were hoping to get ourselves a last minute deal we spent most of our first day going from agency to agency to see what was available. NOT A LOT! It turned out that it wasn't really low season and that there weren't a lot of lastminute deals around. Well we did get offered a couple, but by the time we had had a think about it, checked the boat out on the internet and gone back to book they were gone! We ended our day with very little on the table and just a little frustrated and worried. We could think of nothing worse than coming all this way and not being able to get on a boat, or having to pay 1000's of dollars to sit on a massive cruise liner with 88 elderly Americans. Anyways, as it was Valentines Day we treated ourselves to fantastic sushi overlooking the Pacific Ocean, on the Galapagos, not sure we will be able to beat that one anytime soon.

The following day having finally found a not too expensive (comparatively speaking, we still can't eat for the next 2 months!) tourist superior class boat we headed to the Darwin Research Centre, a very interesting place with some MASSIVE, and very old, tortoises being protected as they are now an endangered species. Many of the islands endemic species have come under threat as the inhabitants brought over introduced species (whether on purpose or not) such as goats and rats which in turn have damaged the environment. The rats would eat the tortoise eggs for example.

The most wonderful thing about the islands is just how close you get to the animals. They don't run away as soon as you get close and they are everywhere. Just on a walk from our hotel to the restaurant we saw pelicans, a sealion, crabs, lizards, and iguanas (those prehistoric looking reptiles). It became our evening routine to grab a beer from the supermarket and sit at the end of the pier to watch the sealions play, the pelicans feed, the crabs do what they do. We even saw rays and a sea snake. Amazing. And we hadn't even left the dock yet!

We decided to check out the local beach so headed to Tortuga (Turtle) Bay. It was a 45 min walk in the blistering sunshine and as we struggled along at 10.30am we realised that all the locals were coming back already. Yep only mad dogs and Englishmen! Still it meant we had the beach practically to ourselves, and what a stunner. It was totally unspoilt, not a café, shop or lilo in sight, just many marine iguanas (Galapagos is the only place you get iguanas that can swim), pelicans and little finches which would sit right on your hand.

Whilst I sat sunning myself Mik went off with his mask and snorkel. After 1 1/2 hours and no sign of him I did start to get a bit concerned especially as we had been advised that there were strong currents and I knew Mik would have gone out as far as possible if there was the chance of seeing sharks. Luckily it wasn't much longer before he returned so I didn't have to run up and down the beach like a nutter in a panic. Mik's excitement about what he had seen soon calmed me. He'd swum out for about 40mins to reach the end of the rock spit and his efforts had been rewarded. He saw his some white tip reef sharks, one apparently big enough to make him back off a bit (I was glad I hadn't been there!). He also saw a big turtle, a moray eel and a ray so was fairly chuffed. Until that is he realised that having swum the return 40 mins on his back meant he had burnt his nose, oh and his hands and the back of his calves whist chasing the sharks. Ho hum. As I wasn't quite ready to face sharks alone, and already had the start so some serious sunburn myself, I gave it a miss this time.

We left the beach around 2.30pm just as all the sensible people were returning, sniggering at our very obvious burnt bits! Protection factor 30 obviously wasn't going to cut it.

Then we went diving. We were both really excited about this as we were really hoping to see sharks, me for the first time. And boy did we see sharks. We did 2 dives that day and probably saw around 50 sharks, not that you can count them very easily! They were amazing. I had fully expected to freak out at the sight of one and was surprised just how calm they were and how totally not interested in us. We saw a lot of white tip reef sharks up to 7 feet long and loads of other cool stuff. The site called Gordon Rocks is famous for being home to a pack of hammerheads and we hoped we would get lucky and see some. A few minutes into the dive the guide gestured that we should all hold onto the side of a big pinacle to stop ourselves being dragged away by the strong currents. We did so, with much banging of tanks and fins, and sat and waited. Soon we heard the guide ring his underwater bell (something he liked to do a lot whenever he spotted anything interesting), and give us the international dive sign for hammerhead shark, which is to place a fist either side of your head. Sure enough there they were. About 10 of them sweeping past right in front of us. My first sighting of these bizarre looking sharks. They came quite close and were much bigger, around 9 to 10 feet long and much stockier in the body. But still they were just checking us out. We also saw turtles and big sealions, which despite looking so cumbersome on land, are so agile and flexible underwater and could turn on a penny. All in all an amazing day despite me spending all my time on the boat hanging off the back green with seasickness, a first for me, and not the best news for someone who was about to spend 8 days on a boat tour! In my daze of seasickness all thoughts of sunscreen had gone out of the window. Thus rather a lot of aftersun was needed on a very burnt back. You'd think I would know better hey!

After a day of rest (staying out of the sun!) we decided to dive the same sites again, on our way there the captain spotted a whale and we watched it for a while. Luckily I had taken a seasickness tablet this time and faired much better. The second days diving was also superb, we saw a massive marble ray sitting on the bottom and loads of free swimming spotted eagle and golden rays, the way they move is amazing to watch. We also saw lots more sharks, the hammerheads came even closer this time and kept coming back for another look. The last 20 minutes of our final dive were spent sitting watching about 60 whitetip reef sharks hovering in the current just an arms length away from us. I just managed to stop myself reaching out, they were sharks after all. It was like being in something you'd see on the Discovery Channel. Very lucky, even the dive guides were whooping with glee when we surfaced from that dive. Cheers Luis (dive guide extraordinaire at Sub Aqua). Whilst sharks are great to watch, at a safe distance, and add an air of excitement to a dive, I would have to say that turtles are still my favourite. I guess that's 'cos I'm a girl!

We stopped at 4 dives as it is not the cheapest place to dive and to be quite honest we didn't think it could get any better. We finished on a high, and went for a beer to celebrate!We had a last beer on the pier that evening and watched the sunset over Puerto Ayora and place we had really enjoyed. The next day we would start our cruise around the other islands. Life really doesn't get much better.

Cara

What the hell is going on with this ridiculous website?

The more observant amongst you, or at least the 3 of you who have visited this website before, may have noticed it has been a bit erratic recently. We completely ignore it for over a month, then with a flurry of activity we try and drag it kicking and screaming back up to the present. This is because we allowed ourselves to fall behind and now we are franticly trying to make up for lost time and get everything up at once.

It seems I have been waffling on about all sorts of irrelevant nonsense when I was supposed to be giving you the low down on where we are and what we're doing. Too many words saying too little too often. From now on, in a vague and half-hearted attempt to keep this site a little more up to date and make things a bit easier on ourselves, we shall be keeping things short and to the point. Where we are, what we're doing and other useful information to be arbitrarily decided by us. Sounds like fun doesn't it?

For the record, we are currently in the city of Guayaquil in Ecuador. It is 7.20pm on a Sunday evening and it is hammering down with rain outside (although it is still extremely hot). We arrived here last night after a nasty 27 hour bus journey and between getting off the bus and getting into a taxi we managed to acquire 25 mosquito bites. Mostly to Cara, obviously, as I smelled so bad after the journey that only the most foolhardy would come anywhere near me. Tomorrow we are going to try and fly out to the Galapagos Islands for our 'Trip of a lifetime' although it will probably cost us $37,483 and end in tears (although not necessarily ours). So prepare yourselves for some amazing photographs and tales of high adventure. Actually, don't. We're not doing that any more, are we! What you should prepare for is a short, bullet pointed list of our accomplishments to be accompanied with a few small photos.

But you see what my problem is? I only intended writing a couple of sentences to let you know what was happening and already it's turning into a small novel. I need help, I really do. Remember Mik, just where you are and what you're doing. Keep it short and relevant.

And another thing....................

Western Delights

Lima, Peru

...

When you have been travelling through less developed countries for a while and you arrive in a city which not only has proper glass fronted shops, department stores even, and fast food chains, one can get a little giddy! This is the state we found ourselves in upon arrival in Lima. We had arranged to meet up with Anna and Aleks the couple we met in Huacachina and together we hit the town. A few beers/glasses of Peruvian wine and a massive amount of very good mexican food later we thought it would be a good idea to try our hand at some karaokee! We picked a small place, less people to embarrass ourselves in front of, and chose our songs. It was a great fun, for us at least, many others seemed to leave! And I shall never forget how Mik totally immersed himself into a great rendition of the Beatles, I Saw Her Standing There.

Lima was the first place we had hit at sealevel for more than 6 weeks and it was great to see some coast again, and the Pacific Ocean. The nicest part of Lima, Miraflores - where we were staying, has beaches but the scum floating on the sea didn't make them very appealing. We did however treat ourselves to a drink in one of the posh cafes over looking the beach to watch the sunset.

The next few days passed in a daze of fast food, shopping centres and bowling alleys and we loved every minute of it! I even got to make my first clothing purchase since we came to South America - just what I need, more clothes!! That'll be both expansion zips on my rucksack now open then!!

Although tempted to hit the beaches of northern Peru we eventually decided to head straight to Guayaquil in Ecuador, the jumping off point for the Galapagos. We were both very excited about getting there, unfortunately it was going to mean a 25 hour bus journey!! And the buses in Peru aren't quite up to Argentinia standards!

The journey didn't start well as we had a 2 1/2 hour delay sat in the swealtering bus terminal. Bus wasn't the newest but it was OK however, dinner wasn't served til 11.30 because of the delay (they collect it enroute), the films were the worst ever (so I guess the fact they were in spanish was actually a blessing), the aircon didn't work, and there was a group of kids (OK so they were probably 22!) who wouldn't shut up, even at 3am!! Still, after a few hours sleep we only had another 10 hours to go!! Actually make that 12 - we were late arriving too!! And for our $55 only got an inedible sandwich and half a glass of coke the whole day. Won't be using them again. Ah no we won't we've left Peru and moved on to Ecuador, land of the Panama Hat. Go figure.

...

Cara

Following the Peruvian gringo trail

Arequipa, Nazca & Huacachina, Southern Peru

Arequipa

We stopped off in this pretty city enroute to Nazca. It was much lower in altitude and so much warmer, very welcome after 6 weeks of cold and wet. Unfortunately I was quite ill with aforementioned stomach bug and we therefore spent most of the 3 days we were there in our hotel room catching up on CSI on the TV. Me being ill obviously gave us the excuse to veg out! Mik kindly vegged out with me! We had a wander round town then caught a bus to Nazca.

That's me keeping it short!

Cara

Nazca

Finally getting to Nazca was a special moment for me. I've wanted to go there since reading about it in my dad's copy of "Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious world" at the age of nine. The Nazca Plain, just outside the small town of Nazca (what are the odds?) is world famous for the hundreds of lines, geometric shapes and animal figures etched into the dark earth across the plain. The markings, made over many centuries by the ancient Nazca tribes of the area, are of immense proportions with some lines stretching over 100 kilometres and giant birds with 130 metre wingspans to name but a few. What inspires such mystery about this place is that these figures can only really be discerned and appreciated from the air. So why did an ancient civilisation, with no ability to fly and thus appreciate their work, expend enormous resources over hundreds of years etching these figures into the desert floor? Well the answer, my friends, is that nobody has the faintest bloody idea. Theories are shipped in by the container load, but actual evidence is, unlike the lines themselves, a bit thin on the ground. One of the main reasons for this is that the Nazcans never developed a written language, so no permanent record of their endeavours exists to fill us in on the details. Well done chaps. You never learned to read or write but you have time to make 250 foot monkeys in the sand. Maybe you should have spent a bit more of your leisure time inventing an alphabet and a bit less playing in a sandpit. That way we would know what the hell you were playing at and dozy pillocks like Erik Von Daniken wouldn't have sold millions of books carping on about extraterrestrial landing sites. However, I digress (for a change!). The best way to see the lines, in fact the only way to really see them at all, is to take a short flight out over the desert and see them from the air.

It was a bit of a budget buster, but how could we not do it? Within minutes of climbing off our overnight bus into Nazca and checking into a hotel, we were chatting to one of the local tour companies to arrange a trip. The gentleman was very helpful and took us through the various options and gave us the prices. I jumped into my best haggling style, and regaled the chap with tales of how we would really love to take the flight over the lines, truly we would, but alas it was beyond our modest budget and unless he was able to move on his price in some way, we would on this occasion be unable to treat ourselves to his excellent offer. If we were able to afford it, we would undoubtedly book with him, as he was so friendly and helpful, but his inflexible approach precluded our ability to afford it, so there you go. Too bad, but that's the reality of it. The ball was now firmly in his court. How could he possibly not budge on his price? He refused to budge on his price. Not even a little bit? Not even a little bit. I moved over to the sidelines and tagged Cara. She immediately leapt into the ring and jumped into her best haggling style, which was to stare off into the middle distance and say nothing. She adopted an expression which suggested she couldn't remember if she may have left the gas on somewhere. In the face of such an onslaught, he immediately dropped his price. More, in fact, than we actually expected of him. The deal was struck and the paperwork completed.

I have absolutely no idea how Cara does this. Over the years, various employers have spent thousands of pounds training me in the art of negotiation, and nothing I can muster will ever come close to the persuasive guile conveyed in Cara's blank, silent stare just over your right shoulder. Another good example of this was the time we were wandering through Chinatown in Singapore and Cara spotted a bracelet she fancied. She asked the seller how much and the lady answered 25 Singaporean dollars. Cara just held the bracelet in her hand and affected her meanest blank stare, all the time saying nothing. You could see the jewellery seller just buckle and fold under the barrage of silence. "20 dollars" she said, immediately followed by "okay lady, special price for you 15 dollars." Cara shifted her expression slightly from "Is the gas on?" to "Have I got clean socks for tomorrow?" and the effect was immediate. "Okay, okay, just 10 dollars" came the new offer. In the end Cara didn't buy the bracelet and as we walked away I heard a small, defeated voice say "Maybe you'd give me 8 dollars?" I almost fell down a manhole I was laughing that hard. When we get home Cara should write a book called "How to stare your way to the top". I also have a book coming out soon if anybody is interested. It's called "How to live in the sun for months on end without getting the slightest bit of colour on your pasty, white skin". If anybody should want a copy of my 6 page Magnum Opus, please deposit £15 in my bank account and I'll forward you a copy as soon as it's printed.

Now, where were we? Oh yes, the Nazca Lines. We spent the afternoon in the local museum, which had some excellent displays and information about the ancient civilisation. We read all about the most popular theories regarding the lines but the essential point was no, we don't have a clue what they're for. Thanks for the update! First thing the next morning we were picked up from our hotel and ferried out to the small airport for our flight. Before we set off we were treated to a 50 minute BBC documentary about the lines which concluded that they also didn't have the foggiest idea why someone would scrape a dead straight line across miles of barren desert. Next thing, we were strapped into our little four-seater Cessna and off we went. The pilot was excellent and talked to us through the headsets as we flew over the plain, pointing out the different lines, shapes and animal figures. He would bank sharply as we flew over each figure so I could get photos of them, then turn around and bank over to the other side so Cara could get a good look also. The markings themselves were created by removing the surface rocks from the desert floor and piling them up at the side of the wide tracks, revealing the paler sand beneath. The whole area has had no significant rainfall since the last ice-age and the lines are remarkably well preserved. We could see them clearly below us as we flew around. Kick some rocks to one side and many centuries later, yahoos like me can still see them. Pretty amazing stuff. Even Cara was impressed and she'd never even heard of Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World. The flight lasted about 40 minutes but seemed much shorter. It was an excellent experience and the yet another fulfilment of a lifelong dream to add to our already extensive list. Many thanks to my mum & dad for footing the bill for that one with some of the dollars they gave us as a leaving gift. After that we were escorted back to our hotel, where we quickly packed our bags and jumped on the next bus out of town.

That's me not keeping it very short.

Mik

Huacachina

Peru has a desert - who knew? It also has an oasis in the desert called Huacachina. It's really quite mad as you feel like you are near the beach due to the amount of sand around, but are in fact surrounded by the massive sand dunes of the desert. Then there is the lake around which all the hotels and restaurants are clustered. It's not a big place and it had a really chilled atmosphere. Which was just what we needed. We stayed in a place with a pool and spent some time just lazing around there, or in nearby hammocks. It was a sociable place and evenings were spent eating BBQ and trying the local pisco sours. A drink made from pisco, a spirit made from locally grown grapes mixed with lots of lime juice, ice, sugar and an egg white. Sound a bit wierd. Well I took quite a liking to them until I saw the amount of sugar that went in. Guess I hadn't really thought about how the froth was very meringue-like !!!

Tried my fisrt typical peruvian dish of ceviche which consists of raw fish and seafood marinated in lemon juice, served with herbs, a touch of chili and marinade. Delicious and a very welcome change from the stodge we had been used to. Met a lovely couple, Aleks and Anna, from Holland and the US respectively, and had a brill time hanging out with them - this entailed sampling the local wine (drinkable after the first glass), and more saltado, a dish of chicken or beef fried in a spicy sauce together with onions, tomatoes, and loads of chips - guess who's favourite that was?!

Our last day was spent being slightly more active. We set off in a dune buggy and drove around the sand dunes at high speed, it was great fun. The dunes stretched as far as you could see and some must have been over 100m high, so the drop offs were quite scary! We also tried our hand at sandboarding. Now, having attempted snowboarding before I thought I would at least be able to slide a little way down the dunes, but no! It's completely different and I was useless, Mik did far better and had to wait a while for me at the bottom of each run, if you can call a mass of sand that.

We eventualy dragged ourselves away and onto another local bus.....!

Cara

How to get lost on your way to Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu, Peru

"And if we tell you the name of the game, boy, we call it riding the Gravy Train."
Pink Floyd

Our plan, as elaborately outlined to us by the lady who owned our hostel, was to take a shared taxi up to a place called Maras, take a 3 hour trek through the countryside to the Salinas salt pans, catch a bus to Ollantaytambo where we could get the train to Aguas Calientes, the jumping off point for Machu Picchu. We would spend the night there and be up the mountain before most people realised what day it was. As I say, that was the plan.

We walked to downtown Cusco where the share taxis headed over to Maras and stocked up with crisps and pastries on the way. As luck would have it, a car was about to leave and we could get all the way there for just 2 Soles each. The downside was we had to ride in the boot of the car as all the other seats were taken (it was an estate car, you'll be glad to hear). An hour of bumping around in the back and trying to eat the snacks we'd brought and we were there, covered in crumbs and nursing sore backs. The taxis drop you on the main road 2km from the town so we then had to take another car into town at the exorbitant rate of 1 sole each. The tiny pueblo of Maras consists of a main plaza, 6 buildings, 2 donkeys and a snack stand. 4 of the buildings seem to exist for the sole purpose of giving the plaza it's four sides. Another building houses the gruff looking police and the final building was for some unfathomable reason a toilet block. The 2 donkeys seem to exist for the sole purpose of staring at me and housing the resident flea population. We bought some drinks from the stall, stared back at the donkeys and made a dash for the public loos to set us up for our arduous 3 hour walk. Big mistake. Catching a whiff of the place before going in, my hair tried to crawl back into my head and my nostrils jumped off my face and tried to hide under my left armpit. I took a big lungful of air and headed in, desperate to be in and out on one breath. The only cubicle inside was half full of a thick, brown liquid, not too dissimilar to old oxtail soup. I pulled the chain and the bowl filled up with water, although this achieved nothing more than stirring up the contents and releasing a stream of noxious gas. Just before my eyeballs rolled back in their sockets, I swear I saw a small tentacle thrash about the bowl before settling back down to the bottom. By this point I was running out of air and turning purple. I dry retched a few times and relieved myself quickly before passing out. On the way out of the building I was forced to take another lungful of air and almost passed out again. Cara, wise sage that she is, decided to give it a miss. Of course, all this has nothing whatsoever to do with Machu Picchu but it will be seared into my memory for all eternity so I thought you should suffer with me.

We set off down the trail through some magnificent countryside and enjoyed the experience thoroughly. That was until, after an hour and a half of walking, we came upon a couple of small girls who were working the fields with their father. Where are you going, they asked. To the saltpan, we replied. Well you've bollocksed that one right up, they said (I'm paraphrasing but that was the gist of it). How so, we asked. 'Cos you're on completely the wrong path. You should have taken the right fork about one hour back. There's nothing this way for miles and even then it's nothing. You dozy gringo halfwits have been walking the wrong way for ages, and now you're going to have to walk all the way back to where you started. They actually said something indecipherable in Spanish, but from their elaborate mimes and hand gestures I assumed this was their message. At this point, the old farmer (he was probably 26) came over to see why his kids were laughing their arses off. We tried to explain to him where we wanted to go and he also said we were idiots. He walked with us down a narrow track and pointed to a deep gully running through the floor of the valley we were in. You want to be on the other side of that gully, we think he said. Take yourselves through these fields and across that gully and you'll be fine, we also think he said. We thanked him and set off through somebody's maize field.

After further 15 minutes we reached the edge of the gully where a family of farmers were having their lunch. What are you doing in our maize field, they asked. We're trying to get to the saltpans, we said. Well you've bollocksed that one right up, haven't you, they said. For full details of how this conversation transpired, see previous paragraph. They also kindly offered instructions of how we could get back on track. We set off again through another field, down a steep bank, across a stream, up the other bank, down a path then up a steep hill. At the top we heard a noise that sounded like "arbroogletropflunbunghandle". We looked back and saw one of the farmers in the distance, waving his arms in the air and jumping up and down. "What was that?" we shouted. "arbroogletropflunbunghandle" he repeated. "Si, si, gracias" we responded, which is the textbook response for anything we don't understand. He wasn't impressed and kept up his jumping and waving. We waved back and set off down the path into the steep sided canyon. After a further 20 minutes we came across some more young girls tending goats of the slopes of the hill. Where are you going, they asked. To the saltpans, we said. Well you've bollocksed that one right up haven't you, they said. You know the rest of the conversation. The farmer had meant for us to keep going until we reached another canyon, and down this were the fabled saltpans. Unfortunately, thanks to his complete inability to speak fluent English, we were once again lost. There was no way we were headed back on ourselves again, so we kept going down the path, heading for the road that would take us to Ollantaytambo. We never did see the salinas, but the valley was incredibly beautiful and we were treated to some great sights. At the end of the canyon, the ground dropped straight down several hundred metres and getting to the bottom was a novel experience, but we finally made it to the road. From there we eventually hailed down a minibus and got ourselves to Ollantaytambo train station.

Once there, the ticket office kindly informed us that the evening train was fully booked. So was the next evening's train. We'd bollocksed that one right up, hadn't we? There was another train that night with plenty of space, but it was for locals only and foreigners were not permitted to buy the $5 tickets for it. Our only option was to take the first train at 6am the following morning and stay overnight here. Take it or leave it. Cara and I were a bit hacked off but there was nothing we could do but get the tickets for the next morning. The ticket seller put his hand in my pocket and helped himself to $74 for the 2 one-way, 90 minute train tickets. This, sadly, pretty much encapsulates the situation for any foreigner trying to see Machu Picchu these days. The only way to get there is on the tourist train and the prices for foreigners are exorbitant. But this was not the end of it.

We found ourselves a cheap hotel for the night. At 6am, bright and breezy, we loaded ourselves onto the Perurail gravy train and headed to Aguas Calientes. Once there, we walked into the town centre to get our entry tickets for the ruins, which now have to be purchased in advance before going up the mountain. The vendor helped himself to $46 from my stash. We climbed onto the bus to take us up the mountain. I felt a hand in my pocket and I was relieved of another $12. 20 minutes later and we were finally at the entrance to Machu Picchu.

We handed over our tickets and made our way inside. It was still reasonably early and the trainloads of people coming from Cusco had not yet arrived. We quickly headed up to a place where we could see the whole of the Machu Picchu site. The weather, however, had decided that was not a good plan and the entire site was clouded over. We sat down and waited for the clouds to clear. Instead or clearing, it started raining. We both put on our splendid plastic ponchos and continued to wait. After a while nothing happened, so we waited a bit longer. Nothing continued to happen, but in a slightly less exciting way. It did finally clear up and we had our first glimpse of the ruins. And pretty impressive they are too. The buildings themselves are nothing spectacular and not much different from many other Inca ruins dotted throughout Peru. What does make them different is the location, perched atop an extremely steep sided mountain, hundreds of metres up from the valley below. I was also surprised to discover Machu Picchu itself is not that high at 2600 metres above sea level. We had travelled here from Cusco which was at 3100 metres and not on the top of any mountain. Whilst this made Machu Picchu much warmer than we were used to, it also made it much more humid. The rain hadn't helped. I peeled off a few layers and wiped the sweat from my rather fetching and sophisticated beard. After a few hours it started raining again and we took shelter inside a small hut and plundered the stash of biscuits we had daringly smuggled into the ruins.

We spent the next 5 hours wandering around and taking 7,824 photos. When we left, we decided to walk down the mountainside rather than shell out a bunch of dollars for another short bus ride. We made it down to the bottom of the mountain just fine, but as we reached the bottom the heavens really opened and out came the ponchos again. The twenty minute walk back to town wasn't the most pleasant and by the time we reached it we were both absolutely drenched. To cap it all, my sunglasses took a dive out of my bag while we were crossing a bridge and hurried off down the choked river, off to give optical comfort to some fortunate goat herder downstream. Perhaps we should have taken the bus after all.

Back in town we bought train tickets back to Urubamba, which was not where we wanted to go but meant we had been able to spend an extra few hours in the ruins and also saved us about $20. The people in the ticket office came around the counter, flipped me upside down and shook out my pockets. They left me with loose change and half a packet of Clorets, which I thought considerate. On the train, our carriage was almost empty so I switched seats to one with extra legroom as soon as all the passengers were on board. No sooner had I done this than a surly Perurail employee with all the social skills of a whelk walked over and asked why I wasn't in my allotted seat. I said this one had better legroom and wasn't already taken. She said yes, it was taken and I had to move back to my original seat. I said that of all the empty seats around me, this seat, the one I wanted, was occupied. She said yes. Several other staff came over to lend her moral support and loom over me. As it turned out, those seats were reserved. Reserved for her and her colleagues so that after spending 5 minutes dishing out tepid coke to the people on the train, they could put their feet up for the remainder of the journey. Being discourteous, lazy, self-centred tossers, I can only assume they were trained by British Rail, and what fine training it must have been, too. It is consoling to know that rail companies insist on offering a consistent standard of service no matter where you are in the world. 2 hours later we were in Urubamba where we took a taxi back to Cusco. The taxi cost just a couple of dollars and the driver was very friendly and chatty the whole way, proving that taxi drivers are not so consistent the world over.

So there you go. Visiting Machu Picchu was the fulfilment of a lifelong ambition for me. On the whole, however, it turned out to be a bit of an anticlimax. Somewhat akin to getting trapped in a lift with a bikini-clad Cameron Diaz and discovering all she wants to do is talk to you about 18th century loom building methods. Terrific scenery but you were hoping for so much more!

Mik

Cuzco

Cuzco, Peru

Arriving in Cuzco was great, a beautiful city with big main plaza complete with cathedral and many churches. The prices however weren't as welcoming. Having come from Bolivia I guess we were used to everything being relatively cheap, Peru however was turning out to be a bit of a shock on that front. We had a recommendation for a hostel which was lovely but at $25 a night was one of the most expensive places we have stayed. It was however run by a very friendly and helpful French lady who gave loads of info and our alternative way to Machu Picchu, which Mik will tell you about in the next installment.

Many people had told us how lovely the city was and that it was a place you could stay for a while. The central plaza and churches, cobbled streets and atmosphere certainly make it a great place to hang out - should the sun shine! Unfortunately for us the rain fell fairly consistantly while we were there. We were well aware that we were heading into this part of South America in rainy season, we just didn't realise what this meant here. Due to the high altitude which we have been at since we entered Bolivia when it rains it is also cold, especially at night. And of course the hostels we stay in don't have heating! Which means you can't go back to your room to warm up either. We took solace in a few cubra libras (fancy name for rum and coke), the local tipple.

e spent the day on Sunday in a small town just outside Cuzco called Pisac. It is well known for it's market which we wandered round for a while after watching the local Quechua people, in colourful traditional dress, call everyone to church using conch shells. There were loads of brightly coloured pochos and alpaca jumpers to be had, and although I managed to resist one of those I did quite fancy a nice alpaca blanket. Shame I had no room in my bag! In another area of the market they had a big kiln and were selling bread rolls, pies and .... guinea pigs, on sticks! Yep it's the local delicacy here, although we haven't quite been tempted to try one yet as they come whole, sticky out teeth and all!! The poor live ones must have known where they were headed.......

Later we headed up to see the Inca ruins located high above the village. We got a bit lost in the process and I ended up falling over in the mud at a particularly tricky bit and my language wasn't pleasant. I assumed no one around could understand me, until an American lady pointed out that maybe we hadn't chosen the easiest route. Oops!

In order to see these ruins we had to buy the 'Tourist Ticket' for the city. This entitles you to free entry to other sites of interest around Cuzco as well as museums. Apparently it also used to include the many churches and cathedral, but not anymore! In Keeping with the Spirit of the catholic church, the local archbishop decided he wasn't getting a big enough cut of the action and withdrew from the scheme to charge separately for visiting the Churches and cathedral. It also used to cost $10, now it costs $20! We did try to get our money's worth out of the ticket though by going to some of the museums included, unfortunately they were crap!

Cuzco a tourist trap - whatever gives you that idea. It was a real shame as it all left a bit of a sour taste in our mouths, but as we have figured out already the Peruvian government and people aren't interested in the long-term and keeping people coming in future, but purely in getting the money here and now. I guess they figure that as long as Machu Picchu is still standing people will come. Maybe they will, maybe they won't only time and feedback on the Lonely Planet website will tell!

The last day for me wasn't much fun as I was feeling the effects of a shepherds pie I'd had the day before. I knew the whole 'homecooked to an special Irish recipe' was a mistake. Should have gone for the guinea pig! I wasn't therefore looking forward to our overnight bus journey to Arequipa. God bless immodium.

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Guinea pig lovers and vegetarians look away now.

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Cara

Hairy Bus Journey No.37

Puno to Cusco, Southern Peru

We chose to overnight in Puno and get the early morning bus the next day so we would arrive in Cusco at a reasonable hour and get ourselves sorted and bedded down without having to rush around. At the bus station the previous day we checked out the bus company, bought our tickets and picked the best seats on the bus. Cara wanted the two seats at the front so we could see the views on the way, but after our difficulties in Bariloche I wanted the two seats immediately behind the stairs as they always seemed the most comfortable. On the bus in the morning, I quickly realised that I had made the worst choice. My seat was the crappiest on the bus. Lousy legroom, broken recliner and in the firing line of every yahoo who climbed up the stairs.

As the bus left Puno, the driver seemed to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I'm not too familiar with the street layout of this particular town but I'm guessing this is what happened as an overhead power cable we hadn't quite cleared almost ripped off the ventilation hatch that was right above my head. It managed to cling on by it's fingernails but it wouldn't close for the rest of the journey. Let's hope it doesn't rain, eh ?

As every one of the buses 126 occupants tried to squeeze past each other, they took it in turns to sit in my lap to let people through. When they weren't trying to sit on me, they were smacking me across the back of the head with their luggage. That was almost as unpleasant as having the ticket inspector's crotch 2 inches from my nose for ten minutes. After about 45 minutes of driving, we made our first pitstop and another 437 people climbed on the bus. They had plenty of time to get comfortable though, as the bus broke down at this point and we sat there for an hour while a very small man with a very big hammer climbed underneath the bus went about his business of whacking the crap out of it until it started again. Just to prove his level of commitment, he continued to whack the crap out of the undercarriage even after the bus set off again, and he had to be pulled out kicking and screaming by a colleague moments before he was smeared across an upcoming speedbump. Several local vendors climbed onboard to flog lunch to the passengers and they politely formed an orderly queue, each taking it in turn to smack me around the head with whatever they were carrying. I can reliably inform you that a bucket of sweetcorn hurts approximately twice as much as a sack of breadrolls with cheese on top, although neither hurts anywhere near as much as a crate of coca-cola smacking you in the temple. Finally, after about half an hour after setting off agin, it all settled down and I could read my book without a large Peruvian lady sticking her arse in my face. I almost felt like dozing off but fortunately for me a large suitcase jumped off the overhead rack at this point and smacked me in the stomach. Just to add insult to injury, it was a bright pink Barbie case with wheels that catch you in places you don't like to be caught, and I'm not talking about Burnely!

Just as I was getting my breath back, the bus ground to a halt once more, although this time not for a reason of it's own making. The road ahead was completely blocked by various objects, namely large boulders, broken glass, burning tyres and an unruly mob! There was some sort of ad-hoc political demonstration in progress and they would like to make their feelings known to all the road users, if this was alright with us. The crowd congregated at the head of the column of stopped traffic and made various chants and shouts about their discontent with their mayor. I wanted to tell them, if they didn't like their mayor they could have mine, but I don't think they would have appreciated having to pay £8 a day just to drive across town. After more wasted time, much sabre rattling and some effective diplomacy from the coach and truck drivers, the crowd agreed to let us through, although after all that heated political debate they really couldn't be bothered to clear the road of debris. Our coach was forced to drive off the road onto a nearby dirt track and through the small town up ahead. Now bearing in mind this town was not used to traffic much larger than your average donkey, the streets were not best suited to a large coach with 563 people onboard. 200 yards in, the bus stopped once more as it stuck in the mud trying to make a hairpin turn through somebody's front garden. The driver reversed up and tried again. Still no joy. He tried again, and again. Still nothing. All the men on the coach jumped off and we tried to push the bloody thing around the corner but it was still no use. Finally, the driver reversed his way back down a few streets and found an alternative route through the village. Unfortunately, he forgot all the men from the bus were still back up the hill and we were treated to waves from our loved ones as the bus sped off without us. After about quarter of a mile, somebody must have said something to him, because he kindly stopped and waited for us to catch up. Back on the main road, the driver stopped again and let another 27 people on. This time I was only hit round the head with an eighteen month old infant.

If some of you are a little confused as to how many people were now on this bus, let me briefly explain how transport works in this region. I will use our recent boat trip on Lake Titicaca as an example. Let's say you have two boats. Each boat has a capacity of 50 people. You have 60 people booked on an excursion, what do you do? Easy, pack them onto one boat. Okay, let's say you have 80 people booked, what do you do now? Easy again, pack them onto the same one boat. Make some of them sit on the floor and the rest go on the roof even if it's raining. They're either gringos or Argentinian students so who gives a shit? Now a really tricky one, you have 100 people. They can't possibly all go on one small boat, no matter how tightly you herd them in. What do you do? Well, apparently what you do for 100 people is get both boats, each with a capacity of 50, pack 80 people onto the first boat as per normal and put the remaining 20 on the second boat. You see, it's obvious when you think about it.
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Back on the Love Bus, we had stopped again to let on a young lady with a very large basket wrapped in a blanket. At first I assumed she was just selling cakes or corn as usual, but when she set down the basket right in front of me, opened it up and I saw a leg sticking out of it, I realised it wasn't going to be that simple. She spent the next 10 miles hacking into some animal carcass with a huge cleaver and dishing out bags of meat to everyone on the bus. I was tempted to try some, but after 15 minutes with blobs of fat and bone splinters whizzing past my head, I decided against it. After taking a peak in the basket, I could see what looked like a scaly, webbed foot with feathers, fur and horns. I can only assume it was from a species hitherto unknown to science. I wanted to keep one of the bones for research but an old dear behind me ate it with a loud crunch. Shortly after, it started raining on me through the broken hatch. We finally arrived at our chosen destination, three hours late but still in one piece.
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Mik

In search of sun on Lake Titi....tee hee!

Lake Titicaca, Bolivia & Peru

After two very wet and cold days in La Paz we were really looking forward to gettting to Copacabana, a small town on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, that famous name which got giggles in every geography class. Lake Titicaca is in fact the highest navigable lake in the world and straddles the border between Bolivia and Peru. The lake itself is massive, can't quite remember the impressive area it covers just now, but it looks like the sea stretching out in front of you. We drove for ages along it's banks and even had to get across part of it by boat. We got out of the minibus and got onto to a little boat which whisked us across. The minibus however took a while longer on it's own boat. It was quite nervewracking to watch as all our luggage was balanced on top!

We had heard from those who had been that we should watch out for the strong sun around the lake, and so as our 3 hour minibus journey passed we were getting more and more excited. YES! The sun was shining as we arrived. Finally! We checked into a hotel, I changed into my vest and headed straight out into the sun. It must have been a good 50 mins before the clouds came over and the rain fell. And that was the end of sunbathing for while!

The main reason for coming to the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca is beacuse you can visit the islands from here. So off we set on our day tour to Isla Del Sol (Island of the sun where according to Inca legend the sun was born) in the pouring rain! Too many of us were piled onto a small boat, waterproofs, umbrellas and all and off we went - at snails pace. Whether this was due to them having overloaded the boat or because our 2 quid for the trip hadn't bought us seats on the best boat we will never know. Two painfully long hours later we finally arrived at the northern end of the island and headed off to walk the length of it. Apart from a detour to investigate the Inca ruins and sacred rock we walked solidly for 3 1/2 hours. Not because we are hardcore but because we weren't entirely sure how long it would take and didn't fancy missing the boat back to the mainland. Although we had started the beautiful walk in raincoats it wasn't long before the island lived up to it's name and the sun shone through. The lake is so massive that it felt like being on an island in the sea with beautiful bays and nothing else much around. You couldn't see the mainland in any direction. Not many others did the walk but we did bump into a few local kids either trying to sell sweets or posing with llamas and baby goats. For a few pence they would pose for a photo, unfortunately this girl obviously thought she looked best straight faced!! We made the boat with time to spare, and yes it took another long two hours to chug back to the mainland!

One day whilst having a wander round the town's main plaza we noticed a bit of a comotion outside the cathedral. We walked over to find that people were poring beer over the front of a van. This apparently was part of the blessing ceremony carried out on many cars every day. Looked like an excuse to have a beer, decorate your car with flowers and generally have a bit of a party to us. There was a whole queue of cars!

That evening having just eaten a delicious meal we emerged from the restaurant to see a couple checking out the menu. They asked us if we had had a good meal. We said yes and mentioned that the stew was particularly good. They looked at each other, thanked us, then added "But where are you from?" As we had spoken in English I think they knew already but we said England and laughed as we realised they may not consider our recommendation the best. Although we though they were Dutch so are not sure they would have know much better! Anyways they went into the and, I like to think, had a great meal and decided that maybe the English do know something about food afterall.

Aside from this and a climb up a hill for views across the lake at sunset we didn't do much else as Mik came down with 'manflu' and was hence bedbound. I'm sure we would have stayed a while longer had the weather been better as it was a very laidback town but after 3 days of mostly cold and rain, we headed off to Peru leaving the gnome hat wearing, hippie Argentines to it.

We then headed to the Peruvian side of the lake as we wanted to see the floating islands near a town called Puno. This was a far more touristy place and so we visited the islands, stayed one night and left. The islands themselves were unique. They are made from many layers of reeds taken from the lake itself and they are inhabited by descendents of the Uros people. These indiginous people wanted to separate themselves from the aggressive Incas and even today several hundred people live on the islands. Whilst a little commercialized it was still great to visit them and see the people living in the middle of the lake, and woozers what a sunset on our way home. Oh and one story we heard made us laugh. Apparently if the families on the islands fall out they simply separate some of the land and let them float away! That's one way to deal with noisy neighbours!

Cara

Our thoughts on Bolivia's historic capital

La Paz, Bolivia

Shithole !

The End

Mik