Cycling Amigos - South America - Cycling and Exploring

EXPLORING: Back to Bolivia and the Death Train

2010-03-25T18:01:00.002+02:00

Whiz stop tour through the Pantanal

Now in Porto Murtinho, Brazil we needed to get to Carumbá where we would cross into Bolivia, and the way to get there was by bus and fortunately there was a bus that evening that would take us there over night. Having the bikes with us of course added a whole new dynamic but thank heavens we had Veronica with us because with her help we managed to get the bikes on for only a minimal extra charge. One of the most popular tourist destinations in Brazil is Bonita where you can swim in crystal clear lakes surrounded by tropical fish and enjoy some beautiful hikes through the Pantanal so Veronica and Marko had decided to stop off there along the way. Andy and I had considered going to Bonita too but as we were in Brazil all the tours were pricey and as it is a regulated area you cannot do anything there unless it is with a tour operator so we decided against it. In the middle of the night we had to change buses with a 3 hour lay over but then when the bus arrived there was no space for our bicycles so Veronica quickly jumped to our rescue and informed them that they better make a plan for us to take our bikes as we had already paid. Luckily Veronica's demands worked and the bus driver returned shortly with a bigger bus that had space for a our bikes, thank heavens for Veronica's Portuguese otherwise we may still be stuck in some random town in Brazil trying to say zzz this and zzz that.

Now on the second bus it was day break before we dropped off Veronica and Marko in Bonita, then from there the drive through the Panatanal was magnificent. The road was dirt all the way so pretty painful but slow enough to enjoy the scenery, every now and again crossing a single track precarious looking wooden bridge crossing crystal clear streams. Eventually, a few wild life spottings and a lot of hours later than promised we arrived in Carumbá. Once our bicycles were off loaded we made a bee-line for the border with Bolivia which was quite far out of town and by the time we got there there was already a huge queue. Again with a strike of luck while I was trying to work out what was going on a door opened up nearby us out of which an official popped and said we start queuing there too, to the ire of the other people that were already standing in the other queue. The Brazilian border had been closed for 4 hours and was now just reopening so I was a little apprehensive about the fact had just jumped the queue but we had technically not even left Paraguay yet and were now wanting to exit Brazil so I really didn't want to stand in really long queue only be turned away at the window. However, when we got to the immigrations window the guy didn't seem to care at all, once I had explained my story he just stamped us both into Brazil and then stamped us out again. Technically though we will never have left Paraguay!

We were now finally at the border with Quajirro, Bolivia but I was even more concerned about this border as I had no money on me to pay for the visa which South African's have to pay for to get into Bolivia, and I really didn't want to have to cycle all the way back to Corumbá to withdraw it. The people at immigration were incredibly friendly and were quite amazed when they looked at their list and saw that we were required to have a visa but nonetheless we had to have one. It cost $50 but this pales in comparison to the $150 the USA tourists have to pay so we just got on with worrying about how we were going to pay for it but this too was quickly put to rest when the lady said we could just go on 4 blocks into town where we would find an ATM. I was like hmm why am I bothering to get this stupid pricey visa if I can just wonder in and draw money and no one even bats an eyelid! I really was tempted to just get on my bike and cycle on without the visa but I didn't really want to get arrested and have to go crawling back to the very same South African embassy that had been so kind to us earlier on in our trip.

Now legally in Bolivia we made our way to the train station where we were to book tickets to Santa Cruza on the infamous 'Tren de la muerte' or Death Train. We were again in luck again and as we got there they opened up the ticket office however the train that could take our bikes too only left the next day so we would need to spend the night in Quijarro. We had seen a sign to the Hostels International hostel just back down the road so we decided to go check it out and as it turns out it is absolutely awesome! I ended up being thrilled that we had to spend a night there, it had a huge big blue swimming pool over looking the Pantanal with hammocks hanging everywhere. After checking in we went and looked for some lunch and found a road side stall selling delicious kebabs for only $1.20 each. I looked back in the guide book and it described Quijarro as no more than a 'grouping of shacks' and that one should rather stay in Carumbá. I was amazed that it could be talking about Quijarro because my experience was very much the opposite as it was a nice little town with ATMs, lots of little street vendors and at least one beautiful hostel 3 times cheaper and far more awesome than I'm sure you could find in Carumbá, what more could you ask for from a border town so again I was pleased I had ignored the stupid 'South America on a shoestring' or more aptly referred to 'South America on a golden lace' guide book.

Tren de la muerta

The next day we were off to Santa Cruz aboard the 'Tren de la muerte'. Now I was expecting a bun fight to get a seat and then even once secured it would be terribly uncomfortable but instead it was the total opposite, just before the train was due to depart just about every gringo in the region had gathered on the stairs of the train station including all our friends from the donkey boat, even Victoria and Marko who had already enjoyed a day in Bonita. The cargo guys were very professional, weighing our bikes and bags leaving us with tags and receipts while they loaded them into the cargo area for a small fee allowing us to board the train in peace of mind and luggage free. Aboard the train we found our seats quickly and with no hassle, no one was sitting in them and they were quite comfy indeed. It was going to be an over night train arriving at some hour in the morning so although the seats weren't quite lie-flat seats they were comfy enough. I was very excited for my premier train journey on the South American continent, even if it is dubbed the 'Tren de la muerte'.

Just when I thought things were perfect the man came through with the remote turning on all the tvs, hmm I thought to myself perhaps a movie. Oh no but first rather how about a local lady dancing through a field singing a really bad song with the same tune as every other song in Bolivia in the background? The last time I was in Bolivia this music had driven me mad whether it was on a bus or at a festival, yet somehow now understanding a few more of the words it just became hilarious and reminded me of the good times we had had. After the terrible music stopped a movie started and I soon dozed off to the swaying of the train. There are various reasons why the 'Tren de la muerte' got its dubious name and one of them includes that it often derailed in the 80's due to the uneven tracks causing it to sway from side to side which I can quite believe and the other because many workers died while constructing the line due to all the diseases carried by the mosquitoes which I can also believe.

Although at some hour in the middle of the night I did wake-up because I was literally being thrown from one side of my seat to the other, the guide book describes the journey as 'bone grinding to the point that you will want to throw yourself onto the track', which I find is quite an unnecessary exaggeration. The trains are on shocks and springs so if anything it is quite soothing even if you are being bounced from side to side and up and down in your seat, and then even that only lasts for 5 minutes at a time before you fall soundly back to sleep. Having had a great nights sleep and some beautiful scenery along the way we pulled into Santa Cruz. Our bags and bikes were quickly turfed out onto the platform where we could collect them but not without our trusty ticket stub! Andy and I quickly loaded up our bikes and off we headed to the Hostel International hostel we had booked in advance where we were again greeted by a beautiful blue swimming pool!

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is a very green, warm and topical city with lots to do in and around it but I wanted Andy to see the incredibly unique city of La Paz and at least Salar de Uyuni which I had seen when we were in Bolivia 6 months prior so I sent him off all on his lonesome. At first he was not too excited by the idea but he soon came round to it and off he went. I wanted to stay in Santa Cruz and practice some Spanish so I went about looking for a homestay and came across an incredibly generous and well connected lady by the name of Charis. Besides her ex-pat and professional translation services which she has built, and is ever building, a fantastic website about Bolivia, www.boliviabella.com, which I highly recommend a browse through.

Charis was the perfect friend to have made in Santa Cruz as not only was she able to organise for me to stay with Nena her friend but she also offered to store our bikes and our bags at her place while we gallivanted around the city and country. Charis herself is just so kind, fun and interesting to talk to, she was born in the US but had spent most of her life growing up in Bolivia, much of it in La Paz, and can thus obviously speak Spanish and English perfectly! Her adorable 6 year old son, Kristoffer, has too had the same privileged having now lived between Bolivia and the US. It is just too fascinating to watch them interact switching back and forth between Spanish and English making me just go green with envy! I ended up spending most of my time in Sant Cruza either with Nena and her family at the house and around the city or over at Charis's house having lunch, dinner and the most delicious cake ever which she home bakes herself!

Santa Cruz is made up of ring roads radiating outward with radial roads crossing them and as with all Bolivian cities it has a great, although rickety, minibus system getting you anywhere for under $0.20 and if you go exclusive and get a private taxi that will only cost you around $2! Nena's house is just outside the 4th anillo (ring road) where some of the roads turn to dust looking quite township like in parts however Nena's house was beautiful and perfectly kept, definitely one of the best houses in the neighbourhood. Laura her daughter had kindly vacated her room so I could stay there and it was perfect with a fan, a desk and everything! Nena's sister, husband, their 2 little kids and her 15 year old daughter all live at the house so there were always plenty of people to interact with and strictly no English! Edwardo and her niece, 7 and 2 respectively were just too cute to have around with Edwardo having no patience for my lack of understanding Spanish words looking at me as if to say wow this old dude really is a bit slow, always respectfully referring to me as Usted, which is the formal word for you in Spanish. Edwardo loved my laptop and even taught himself to play Chess! The previous time I was in Bolivia I had been less than enamoured with the food but this time round I have been pleasantly surprised especially by Nena's delicious dinners and lunches, and Charis' mouth watering home made cakes.

Dance-off

I had some great times in Santa Cruz including going to a butterfly sanctuary come water park with Nena but the most memorable of all was going to Nena's friends birthday party. The evening started off tame and early by South American standards, then at around 10pm we all sat down for a big dinner that consisted of more than just pieces of meat being handed around every half an hour as it tended to be the case in Argentina. Now in Bolivia we had rice mixed in with cheese, delicious salads and then of course there was some tasty meat that had been cooked on the open fire but in a big pan more like a stew than a grill.

After dinner the tables were hastily pushed aside and the music revved up but here people are not shy to get out onto the dance floor and no one is required to have polished off half a case of beer before joining in even with florescent lights showing up your every move. Of course the drinks too were flowing though all courtesy of the hosts which was very kind of them. I had been dragged onto the dance floor a number of times but I had not yet had my required quoter of beer to allow for that so I just sat by watching the Cumbá and Salsa dancing going before me. However, eventually the beer did get the better of me and off I was swept onto the dance floor and although everyone dances kind of in one big group everyone has partner so every now and again you can gab on and go into full on dance off! Other than Nena's boss who owned the local Irish pubs and another 2 blokes from Spain everyone was pretty much local so other than the few words I shared with Nena's boss there was no English spoken and everyone was on the dance floor. It turned out to be a great fun evening with me even receiving a few compliments about my attempted Cumbá and Salsa moves, someone queried as to whether I was sure I was not Latino and while I'm sure they were just humouring me it only inspired me to keep pulling the moves!

As the evening grew on, as with all Latino events I have attended I grew tired, but everyone else just seemed to go on and on. Eventually I sat down for a bit and a lady, probably close to twice my age, quickly came and pulled me to my feet saying no no if you do that the tiredness will get you, in a cool Spanish phrase which I now can't rememberer. So the dancing just went on, even when it started to rain on us I was like oh thanks heavens please just come pouring down then we can all have a rest but pah no this just inspired a full on water fight, bare in mind I was probably one of the youngest people there! It was all good fun and after abuelo or granddad had pulled out a few party tricks including balancing a bottle on his head while still pulling his dance moves it was finally time to go home. It was just on 4am, early by Latino standards, when 6 of us piled into a taxi and head off costing us a whopping $2 for the ride!

South American wildlife
I woke up only a couple of hours later to the sound of Linda the dog yelping at something, while I tried to turn over and ignore her it was just making my head pound so I had to go see what it was. A little fluffy white kitten had come into our yard and was being yelped at by Linda but as I walked up to it Linda began to maul it! I was horrified I was like I can't watch this dog eat a kitten so I tried shouting and smacking it but that seemed to have no effect. Linda has short hair so I could pull her off by her skin of her neck only for her to pull loose seconds later again attacking the kitten. Eventually I managed to hang onto her long enough to kick the mauled kitten into my room and close the door. With my heart now racing from the effects of adrenalin combined with alcohol I was feeling exhausted so I just collapsed back down on the bed with the poor kitten cowering underneath it.

Before I could recover and think what to do with the half eaten kitten Nena came to see what the fuss was about and took the kitten put it outside the gate only for it to return 15 minutes later. The stupid kitten had a death wish, now I was fuming because all I wanted to do was sleep and the stupid dog wouldn't shut up so I got up again and fortunately this time found a piece of hosepipe that I could use to get Linda's attention, wham on her bum yes the sting seemed to have worked and she very quickly returned to her kennel. On closer look the poor kitten was in shock but only had a few scratches and seemed to be ok. This time, in my underwear, I walked it far down the road putting it under tree to recover from where it would hopefully not come strolling back into the yard. I doubt the poor little kitten lasted very long in that neighbourhood but at least I didn't have to watch it get eaten alive.

Tamara comes to town
Andy had been feeling a bit ill when he got to Lap Paz, partially due to the altitude and partially due to the cold we both managed to pick up either at the hostel or on the train down (another reason to stay on the bikes and live in a tent). However, Andy was feeling much better now and was loving the jaw dropping uniqueness of La Paz while getting to grips with life on the gringo trail, which is to just pitch up at a hostel all on your own only to discover you're not the only one in that boat so before you know it you've got a new best friend and your touring the town together. Andy's next stop was Salar de Uyuni where he would be meeting Nick and Tamara to do a 3 day tour together while in the meanwhile Tamara had flown into Santa Cruz to spend a little time with me before heading off to meet meet them in Uyuni. It was great seeing Tamra and so crazy to hear about the horror stories and going on in Santiago during the recent Chilean earthquake, I'm mean really I think it only hits home when you speak to someone effected by it.

Getting from Santa Cruz to Uyuni by bus turned out to be a bit more of a mission than originally thought for Tamara. Although there were direct buses to Uyuni they took more than 24hrs to get there and Tamara was not keen to do that alone so instead she decided to break it up and head to Sucre first which was Nick s living and Andy had headed to few days prior so from there they could all travel to Uyuni together. As is common place in Bolivia the bus companies lied and Tamara's bus took way longer than promised forcing them all to miss their scheduled bus from Sucre to Uyuni, but then again what can you expect when you're only paying $6 for an all night bus ride down a really bumpy dirt road! This was just the begging of the delays so it was clear Andy was never going to make it back to Santa Cruz in time for us to make our way down to Tarija where we had planed to start our next cycle leg heading for Argentina so it was time to come up with plan B.

Plan B and Tarija

Plan B, Andy would have to give Tarija a skip and I would have to meet him in the border town of Villazón with the bikes, ready for our cycle trip down to Salta, Argetina! Nick had been raving about this section and claimed it was pretty much all down hill from Villazón so by skipping out the bit between Tarija and Villazón we would only be missing out on a very bad dirt raod and some uphill cycling. I would have loved to have done that stretch but in hind sight I don't think my ailing bike would have made it down a bad dirt road. Problem now was though how would I get all of Andy's stuff and 2 bikes to the other end of the country, well I soon discovered that there are courier buses going everywhere from Santa Cruz. It landed up only costing us $8 each to get our bikes and bags all the way to Villazón, why hadn't we done this before! Now with very little luggage to worry about I decided to treat myself to a little flight down to Tarija then go down from there by bus to meet the others in Villazón a few days later.

Tarija is a beautiful little city and I would say anyone visiting Bolivia with enough time should go there. It is cheaper than most other cities in Bolivia, is beautiful, clean and the local restaurants are great. It is pretty much at the same altitude as Johannesburg at 2100m above sea level so the climate is great and it is set in amongst beautiful mountains covered in some of the highest wine producing vineyards in the world, just the perfect place to sit back and enjoy the food and wine with a beautiful background. I decided to do what everyone should do when visiting Tarija and that is take a local wine tour. While the tour wasn't quite at as informative from a wine tasting perspective as those down in Cape Town, South Africa the scenery was beautiful and the surrounding areas packed with history. It too proved a great opportunity to practice my spoken Spanish as I was with in group of Kiwi's new to the continent and the guide knew few words of English so I had a great day playing translator translator while enjoying some rather sweet Bolivian wines.

Death Road
It was about time to meet Tamara, Nick and Andy in Villazón so off I headed to the bus station to catch my over night bus which turned out to be one of the scariest things I have done, coming a close tie to the bus trip down from the Cordillera Blanca in Peru. I had managed to select a front row seat on the top deck so I had the privilege of seeing every bit of 'scenery' along the way. As we headed out of town it was growing dark and the road almost immediately turned to dirt signaling things to come as we headed along the road which would take us up and along the mountains to Villazón. Although the bus ride was only 6hrs long it felt like a lifetime, the road was only a single track with traffic going in both directions so every time we came face to face with another truck or bus one of us had to precariously backup to a point wide enough for both of us to pass. However, the catch is that we were on a crumbling dirt road on a cliff edge with sharp hairpin bends every 500m. Just driving along the dirt road was hair raising enough as the back of the bus felt like it was going to slip off down the cliff every time we took a sharp corner. Eventually I convinced myself it was not worth worrying about unless I planned to get off and walk so I pulled my headband over my eyes and tried to go to sleep. This didn't work for long though because every now and again the bus would come to a screeching halt signaling that either we were too close to an edge or we were the ones that had lost a stare off and that we would then be reversing back up the death defying road. In either case I couldn't resist peaking out from under my head band to the sight of either a cliff face right in font of my eyes as we scraped around a corner or just an abyss of nothingness as the bus tried to edge ever closer to the edge causing my heart to start racing again readying me to grab the emergency hammer just in case I needed to make a hasty escape.

Villazón

The road was beautiful though and had I been on my bike or on foot I would have loved it but in a bus that barely fitted on the road it was hell, yet an experience nonetheless. In hindsight I should have caught the bus to Tarija and then flown from there to Villazón because the road down to Tarija from Santa Cruz is actually fine and tarred most of the way however this cannot be said for the road down to Villazón! We arrived in Villazón at 3am in the morning and I had thought that it was a good idea to get on the bus in a pair of shorts and t-shirt so I was by then absolutely freezing cold, especially given that we were now almost at 4000m above sea level! Villazón is a rather desolate border town so although there are hostels there they certainly don't have a concierge waiting to great passengers at 3am in the morning so after an hour of freezing to death in the street I eventually spotted a place with a light on and got myself a bed.

The rest of the crowd arrived down from Uyuni a few hours later that morning and it was so good to be reunited with Andy, Nick and Tamara again after being 'alone' for almost 2 weeks! We decided to spend that night there together before heading our separate ways, Nick and Tamara back up to Santa Cruz and Andy and I off to Argentina. Although there isn't much to do in Villazón we had a great fun just enjoying each other's company while enjoying cheap beer and good food just across the border in Argentina. I love the way South American borders work because it really is up to you as to whether you want to stroll into the immigration office so if you are only going to cross into another country for a couple of hours there's no need to hassle with the paper work you just cross on over.

Now with just 2 weeks before we flew home I was pretty excited about heading off on our final cycle leg from the border with Bolivia to beautiful Salta, Argentina!

FLOATING: Up the lazy Rio Paraguay!

2010-03-16T16:57:00.001+02:00

Keep reading I promise it gets more interesting.. and don't miss the video of Will smacking his head..

Decisions decisions

I had visited Bolivia 6 months prior but it is dirt cheap, relatively close to where we were and I was pretty keen to get Andy to check it out as it is probably the most unique place I have ever visited (besides my own fantastically unique country of course) so I was pretty keen to make it our next destination. I wanted to avoid going by bus at all costs and had Bolivia been any closer we would have cycled there but we now only had 5 weeks left and I wanted Andy to see Bolivia while I spent a week or 2 in one place doing some more advanced Spanish. In addition I wanted allow time for us to cycle down along cliff edges through the Andes from the border of Bolivia down to Salta, Argentina along a section of road many tourers had raved about so having to get a bus to Bolivia to save time was looking more and more likely. Nick had recently cycled the section from Salta up to Bolivia and had lots of good things to say about it so I was pretty set on doing at least that part of the trip making it our last cycle leg before heading back to Buenos Aires in time for our flight home at the end of March. Now desperate for an alternative to a bus I started looking through the guide book I had been carrying around on my bike for 10 months and rarely looked at where I noticed the less explored option of getting to and from Asunión, going by boat. Looking at the map I noticed the Rio Paraguay, a river, winds itself all way down from the Pantanal, up on the border with Bolivia, down to Asunción where we were currently located. I had heard a lot about this Pantanal so I flicked through the pages to the section about the Pantanal where I discover one can one can not only get to the Pantanal by boat from Asunción but also one can get from the Pantanal on the 'Tren de la muerta' or Death Train to Santa Cruz, Bolivia a city I had not yet visited. So, in theory we could get from Asunción to Santa Cruz, Bolivia by boat and train which was perfect!

Two problems though, one was where does one get their exit and entry stamps and two we were not sure if boats regularly go as far up the Rio Paraguay as Quijarro, Bolivia in the Pantanal where we needed to catch the train from. We went to the Montevideo Playa near Asunción port where most of these boats disembark from to inquire but all they could tell us was that the next boat to Vallemí stopping at Conception was the Cacique II and left on Wednesday at 7am, now almost 2 days away and another had already left on Saturday for Bahía Negra. Bahía Negra is the northern most Paraguayan port along the Rio Paraguay so I thought damn we had missed the boat we needed and would now have to wait almost a week for the next one. But then doing some more research I could not find a way to easily get from Bahía Negra in Paraguay to Quijarro in Bolivia where we would need to catch the train from. So we were left with one other option and that was to get the Cacique II to Vallemí then across to the Brazilian side and make our way up over land to Carumbá, Brazil which is just on the other side of the border from Quijarro, Bolivia. Looking at all the maps at my disposal the only Brazilian port on the Rio Paraguay with a road running from it to Carumbá was Porto Murtinho which is only just up river from Vallemí, Paraguay. Ok so we could on Wednesday go from Asunción to Vallemí arriving there 54hrs later, then we could catch a skiff to Porto Murtinho, Brazil where we could then take the road through the heart of the Brazilian Pantanal to Quijarro, Bolivia crossing the border at Carumbá. So after some more thought and discussion we figured it was the only boat option which gave us any hope of getting to Bolivia any time soon, plus we had heard that one can get their Paraguan exit stamp in Vallemí and an entry stamp to Brazilian in Porto Murtinho.

Extra travel info: Coming from Asunción up the Rio Paraguay the ports go as follows: Asunción, Paraguay; Conception, Paraguay; Vallemí, Praguay; Porto Murtinho, Brazil; Fuerte Olimpo, Paraguay; Bahía Negra, Paraguy; Puerto Suárez, Bolivia.

The Cacique II going to Vallemí left in 2 days time at 7am which would be too early for us to get from Luque to Montevideo Playa by bicycle so we asked Sergio if would could stay an extra night at his place and then Tuesday night we would stay in a cheap hostel near the port. I felt super bad to ask if we could stay an extra night as we were using his room and he was staying on a mattress in his mom's room (can't say I'd do that for a perfect stranger but perhaps now I would just don't think my parents want me sleeping on their floor) but Sergio is a pretty straight forward honest guy so we asked if he minded having us an extra night and we were in luck. We were thrilled to be spend another night there, not only did we now have some more time to sit and chat to Sergio and his mom while sipping tereré but we also got eat at the local, Don Corleone, which has great food including my favourite Lomitos packed with streak, veggies and egg enjoyed outdoors amongst the fairy light lit trees. The trip into Asunción the next day was quite pleasant most of the way as there is a cycle track running between Luque and Asunción however it was another hot day, really hot, confirmed by the billboard reading 41 degrees as we cycled into the centre so by the time we found a cheap little hostel right by the port call Hotel Oro (gold) we were drenched in sweat. There was however nothing oro (gold) about Hotel Oro besides its name but we did have air conditioning, a tv without an aerial, an en-suite bathroom and the port was just across the way all for around $7 each so we were chuffed with our find.

Cacique II to Vallemí

Early the next morning we stumble down to the Montevideo Playa on the port where I admittedly either expected to find that the boat was not there or that we would not be allowed on with our bikes but to my surprise, the boat was there, they were quite happy to take our bikes on board and to boot there was a queue of gringos eagerly awaiting its departure, I guess that's what happens we you mention something in the Lonely Planet! There seemed to be 2 passenger areas, one at the back with a whole lot of pew like wooden seats that looked like they would have been better placed in a church and the other a big orange raised area with no chairs near the front where a local lady had already lay her mattress. After sitting on one of the pews for a bout 10 seconds I began to wonder how I would survive 54hrs so I went in search of a better option. I figured we should grab a space in the orange area and worst case scenario we would be asked to move. Andy had bought a very cool lightweight hammock in Asunción for the trip so he hung his hammock over our bags while I blew up my travel mattress and set up a nice little nest next to them. The other gringos followed suit later discovering that there were more hammocks to rent so the area soon became a maze of hammocks, bags and bodies lying all over the place, quite festive indeed.

Most of the gringos had planned to get off at Concepción then head by bus across the rather bone breaking and boring Paraguayan Chaco up towards Bolivia however when I explained to them that I had decoded part of the Lonely Planet and worked out that one may be able to go via the Pantanal to Bolivia a few more decided to join us on the trip all the way up to Vallemí. The boat seemed to be pretty much split down the middle, locals sitting in the pews near the back of the boat and gringos littering the orange area near the the front, bar the one brave local who had made herself quite at home amongst the gringos. The brave local lady was clearly a regular as she had very quickly claimed her spot and brought on everything she needed including a roast chicken in a basket which she kindly plonked down next to my head giving off an aroma that was bound to make me queezy even when not bobbing around on a boat. She had also whipped out her hammock practically criss crossing Andy's and finally she haled someone from inside to bring her a pew from the back so she could alternate between hanging in her hammock and reading her book in the chair, and porque no (why not) I thought.

We set off up the river only half an hour later than planned which was pretty much ahead of schedule by South American standards. Within an hour the port and river side industry had turned to greenery and we had the Rio Paraguay pretty much to ourselves. As we made our way up the the river the scenery didn't change too much just going from big beautiful river lined by bushy greenery to thicker more Amazon tree like greenery with the odd rural village every here and there. It was exactly what I had hoped for, all I wanted to do was sit chill, read, catch up on some blogging and much need sleep with some beautiful scenery going by. I had lucked out too because I had a nice comfy spot protected from the chaos by our bags, with a nice comfy backrest and a plug to keep my laptop, music and headphones running 24/7. When travelling and on the bikes we would normally spend less than 24hrs in aplace before moving on and when on a bus with time to kill its usually useless because you either get car sick or you just to darned uncomfortable to think much but not now I was comfortable and had 56hrs in one place eve if that place was moving itself, felt super healthy and could roll over and have a nap with a light breeze blowing across me whenever I wanted.

About 33hrs after getting on the boat and a great nights sleep we arrived in Conepción. I had hoped that at Conepción the boat would empty out and we'd have it all to ourselves but instead we were greeted by a huge crowd of people waiting on the bank to bring on more cargo and passengers than I could ever have imagined. Within seconds of the boat docking it was chaos with people going all over the place, more tomatoes, bananas, onions, garlic, building material, you name it was coming on and in the passenger areas I was quite happy to see the line between gringos and locals had blurred very quickly. As more locals and regulars climbed on they began to crawl around under the hammocks grabbing every available space including any vacant hammocks. Now with the boat packed I still had my little nest now almost disappearing below all the cargo but I was comfy and happy which is a lot more than what I could say for many of the other passengers. Trying to get to the loo was very entertaining with one having to climb up and over hammocks, through legs, balancing along planks and then push their way though people standing around in the back passenger area, I thought to myself its getting dark and a far as I know Vallemí is 24hrs away so where on earth are all these people planning on sleeping. That night, after a beautiful sunset over western Paraguay, everyone just seemed to push a bag to the side and crawl up on the cold hard floor or just fall asleep in their pew seemingly unperturbed by their discomfort.

The next morning I woke early as the sun began to rise over the eastern Paraguay and everyone on the boat began to stir including the resident chicken that was now taking his morning stroll around the boat. Shortly after dawn we arrived in a little town which judging by the amount of cargo and people getting off at it it probably does not have any roads running in or out of it. Here there too were people on the bank waiting patiently for the boat but this time to greet the goods and people that the boat had come to deliver. This was a normal hour for me to be up but for the English guys still fast asleep in their hammocks it was a little bit early and they were not too pleased to be chased out of them so that the locals could get to some cargo stored below them. Once everyone and their cargo had clambered off we were left with a little more space to enjoy our final day on the boat but I think by now everyone was pretty much ready to get there even if the scenery was becoming evermore lush and tropical.

Having enjoyed 3 days and 2 nights, a number of little villages along the way and now our 3rd sunset we were due to arrive at our destination. We were promised at the start of the trip that we would be in Vallemí before nightfall on the 3rd day but it was now dark so I decided to get an update on the status. The boat was running late and we would only get into port after 10pm so we were offered to spend a night on the boat in the port for free if we liked. The boat was comfy and by now we were just about the only passengers left on the boat so we decided to stay and see if we could find a boat to go on with the next day. During the trip I had questioned a number of locals about going on further up the river than Vallemí and they had all confirmed that there is no way to get to Bolivia by boat and that besides other Paraguayan ports on the western bank like Bahía Negra which did not have access to Bolivia, Porto Murtinho of Brazil on the eastern bank just up from Vallemí was the only Brazilian port from which we would be able to get a bus to Qujarro of Bolivia via Carumbá, Brazil. Now pretty satisfied that we had gone as far up the Rio Paraguay as we could and still be able to get to Bolivia we cooked up some dinner up the front of the boat and then gathered our stuff in preparation for our landing at Vallemí where the rest of the cargo would get off loaded.

36hrs and half an hour later

After having enjoy our last night on the Cacique II we woke to the last of the cargo being removed so it was time to go in search of a way to get to Brazil. The first mission was to find an exit stamp from Paraguay then we would see how we could get to Brazil. OK so the fun begins, we can only get the exit stamp from Isla Margarita hmm so where is that we thought and began to question anyone and everyone. The answer we started coming up with was that Isla Margarita was 70km up river but on the other side of the Rio Paraguay, which I couldn't understand because I thought we were on the western bank and Brazil was just a little further up on the other side of the river so I wasn't sure how another Paraguayan port could exist any further up on the western bank. No one in the port could explain this mystery to me so we went off to the police station to get some more info and they too couldn't help us with a stamp but helped explained our situation. We were in fact on the eastern bank, the same side as Brazil, which explained how Isla Margarita of Paraguay could be 70km up river on the other side as the western bank is Paraguay all the way up to Bolivia. The border with Brazil was just 7km up the road from Vallemí with Porto Murtinho of Brazil just 60km up from there, so we he had been informed that we should even be able to get there by dirt road. Ok so that was fine but we still needed the exit stamp from Isla Margarita so where was that relatie to Porto Murtinho of Brazil? The police man was also confused by this dilema so he went off to ask his 'jefe' or boss. Returning better informed he explained that Isla Margarita opposite Porto Mortinho so if we could get to Porto Mortinho by land we could easily cross the river to Isla Margarita get our exit stamps, return to Porto Murtinho of Brazil and finally continue on our journey over land through the Brazilian Panatanal. Phew so finally we knew where we were and what we need to do.

We now had 2 options, go over land on this side of the the Rio Paraguay to Porto Mortinho then do a return trip to Isla Margarita to get our exit stamps or, get a boat to Isla Margarita to get our exit stamps and then head for Porto Murtinho across the river by skiff. After some enquiry we discovered the former would take 1 to 2hrs and the later would take 7 to 10hrs, so it was a no brainer right? Wrong, to confuse matters there is a river coming from the east running along the southern border of Brazil, the Rio Apá, joining the Rio Paraguay just further up river from Vallemí thus making the overland option a little more complicated. In the end the trip over land turned out to be a roués, because firstly it could not be done by car as the road was apparently badly flooded and for the first part of the fact finding mission everyone was saying that the bridge over the Rio Apá had been washed away. Then there was the option of taking a moto (motorbike), now this was not going to be cheap but apparently it only took 1 and half hours and they could take the bike across the Rio Apá in a little boat so that would be fine. The moto was not an option for Andy and I thaough as we had our bicycles with us and the others were a little concerned about their safety on a dirt road on a motorbike designed for the road, with no helmet, and while carrying a heavy backpack for such a long time. So we decided to stick together started the search for a boat up river whichever side it was willing to take us to.

An Italian couple, Marco and Veronica had planned to do the trip from Asunción to Porto Murtinho from the start also decoding the Lonely Planned understanding that it was possible but it reading it again, reading between the lines, I think you are supposed to take the boat from Asunción that leaves on a Saturday to Bahía Negra and then ask to get off at Isla Margarita, do the formalities then continue across to Porto Mortinho. Anyway, so there were 7 of us stuck in Vallemí and fortunately Veronica and Marco were leading the negotiations between boats as they had been living in Buenos Aires for a while and know the continental lingo. It was by now already getting on for noon and so we had already given up any hope of catching the bus that day from Porto Murtinho but we hoped to be there at least by the next morning. Andy I had our bikes so we could always have cycled but we were unsure of the route and we didn't want to leave the others stranded not knowing if they would ever make it out of Vallemí so we decided to stay and see if we would have any luck with a boat. There were no regular cargo boats going that day and the next one was over 3 days away so we had to see if one of the local guys would take us. The prices started off very high, as high as $45 each in a small speed boat but we had only paid $18 for the boat that took 3 days to get us to where we were so we weren't going to pay that. The next option was the man fixing his boat but that was going to be almost $40 and although it was an option it was not yet fixed and we kept being told to come back in half an hour. We kept asking around with no luck but we always had the boat that was being fixed as a last resort so we just had to wait around and keep asking around at the port and the bank side where we were sitting under a tree.

While we sat there waiting patiently for our proverbial ship to come in, not really being able to go off and use the time constructively because we were still living in the hope that we were miraculously going to need to hop on a boat and head off, we saw a little green boat come in. As the little green boat got closer we saw it had a cargo full of meat rather brutally strewn across the boat and a donkey cart had backed up near it ready to pick up the load. I'm used to seeing meat transported in sterilised refrigerated trucks and usually in tasty cuts of meat or at very least bleed dry clean cuts of meat, not here no need for that all that admin. It looked like an animal had been killed, ripped apart and then just flung piece by piece into and onto this boat heads, hoofs, skins and all with blood dripping from everywhere including the men that were now off loading it. It made us quite ill just looking at it but it wasn't long before a local guy spotted this tasty cargo just fresh off the boat and rushed down to grab himself a head with tongue still hanging from its jaws with a healthy supply of blood dripping from it, stopping nearby to fill up with petrol leaving behind a pool of blood that no one at the station seemed too bothered by. Veronica continued all day trying different boats and kept checking with the boat being fixed but it was always going to be just another 30 minutes. Around lunch time Veronica received some relatively positive news that a public boat that runs up and down the river was on its way up, should be there at 3pm and would cost a fraction of what we had been quoted so we all gathered in the port with our hopes again on up high. Now all watching the horizon eagerly trying to spot the public boat time slowly slipped by until eventually by 4pm came and went so we gave up hope when more news came in, the public boat was at the port just down river and would be coming around the corner any minute, perhaps just half an hour more.

Eventually a boat did arrive but it wasn't the boat we were hoping for, it was the boat that goes up to Bahía Negra and was on its way back down to Asunción. I spotted some gringos on it and I felt like I should wave and scream don't get off you'll never leave here but even more so I wanted to know where they had bordered the boat, perhaps Porto Murtinho perhaps Bahía Negra but then how had they got to Bahía Negra in the first place?! There was a blond little boy and his friend selling pieces of bread on the port and we had gotten chatting to them, interestingly they could speak Guaraní and Spanish but were far more inquisitive about the world than their fellow village people who seemed to know nothing of the world beyond Vallemí. The blond spotted my Spanish English dictionary and started skimming it for English words to practice saying, the first one he picked was entertaining because as he said it everyone just looked at one another and said nothing. So the little boy tried again getting a similar response now looking at me with a very confused look on his face confused he said 'gatito?' ah yes baby cat hmmm we don't use the English world for that much any more. How he had randomly manage to select that word of all words in the dictionary I don't know but he accepted this explanation so now with us all in hysterics he continued on learning as many words in English beginning with 'P' as he could.

Having now spent an entire day sitting at the port in Vallemí finding the smallest things to entertain ourselves, Andy and I figured if there was nothing concrete on the cards soon we would go buy some food and then attempt to cycle there, staying the night in the bushes along the way. However, of course as Murphy would have it as soon as we started to make a move some news came in, the boat with the meat strewn all over it, now known as the donkey boat, could take us there for around $30 each, another red boat could take us at 2am for the same price and then a port official had taken pity on us and had told Veronica that we could spend the night at the port offices and then go with a friend of his at 6am the next morning also for $30 each. Ok so we had a place to sleep and we figured we'd take the 6am boat as it was offered by someone looking vaguely official.

Semi satisfied that we may actually get out of Vallemí within a week we could relax by the port offices which were actually quite pleasant as they had a bathroom with shower we could use, some pillars for us to hang our hammocks on and I could pitch my tent on the small patch of grass out front looking somewhat like a holiday resort when seen through the lens of a camera. Also while we were sitting there a Brazilian came and told us he had seen us waiting around and could get someone to drive down from Porto Mortinho the next morning to collect us because he believed that the road was fine and that the bridge had been fixed plus it would take 1 and a half hours only costing us $10 each. This was a very appealing offer but that would mean waiting until 9am the next day for this lift that may never come and then we would have missed the opportunity to take any of the boats so we thanked him and said we'd stick with the 6am boat. Another piece of info we had received while sitting there was that the offices in Isla Margarita where we were supposed to get our exit stamps would be closed on until Tuesday as Monday was a public holiday, but it was only Saturday and we could not wait so we just parked that in the back of our minds and decided we'd worry about that when we get there.

I had had an ok nights sleep in the tent while Will and Andy managed to get cold hanging in the hammocks swaying in the wind, quite a feat in these parts, given that one is normally lying in a pool of their own sweat even when lying directly under a fan. It was now just before 6am so we were eagerly awaiting the man that would finally get us the hell out of Vallemí. Just half an hour and he'd be there we were told and he was, then just half an hour and he would be done loading his boat and would come and talk to us and he did, he no was longer going up river instead he was now going to Asunción. Ok right no point in getting annoyed but either I was going to be heading off on one of the either other boats by 8am or Andy and I were going to get on our bikes and get the hell out of there. So, Marko and I headed off back to the bank where the donkey boat, red boat and expensive boat that was being fixed were docked but it was a Sunday and nobody was about so fine I thought this is small town someone must have the mobile numbers of their owner so I marched off to the only place open, the petrol station and asked after the boat owners. Apparently the owners did not live close by but apparently the donkey boat's owner was asleep in his donkey boat so off we went. As we approached the smell got stronger but nothing was putting me off getting to that boat and I could now see the owner sleeping on the floor, 'Señor, señor!' we called as we tried to wake him up, we want to go Isla Margarita would you please take us? The owner quickly hopped up saying 'si, en media hora si (yip in half an hour)'.

The Donkey Boat

After some faffing and calling of his boat mate we were ready to set off on the donkey boat called Alex. We were all so happy to finally be on our way that we had become somewhat hysterical laughing as the bikes were piled on top and we were shuffled onto the benches that had been cover in raw meat the previous day all ready for our 10hrs journey aboard the donkey boat. As the owner pulled the string a number of times to start the engine it seemed to chug for a bit then stop, then he tried again all the while putting his crack which was now proudly on display in Henry's face, but there was no dampening of anyone's spirits here especially when the engine roared into action raising cheers from some now very relieved gringos. After the excitement of having set off settled we realised we had 10hrs of sitting perched on a wooden bench with an engine running at full throttle just centimetres away so loud that no one could communicate. Although we did soon realise we could clamber up on top of the roof and out onto the front of the boat and then once everyone was strewn across the boat the owner indicated to Andy and I that there were 2 hammocks we could lower. Hanging in my hammock reading my book enjoying the the scenery as the banks began to draw closer and while starting to wind our way through the water lilies and side water ways I was quite chuffed that we were having a little adventure but secretly worrying about whether or not the Brazilians would let us in without a Paraguayan exit stamp. To kill a bit of time we played the most time consuming game in the world, Monopoly, using sign language but it was the card game version and unfortunately it didn't really take nearly take as long as the board game version so we were done in what felt like minutes, now isn't that ironic?

It was had now been almost 9 hours since we had left Vallemí and I was beginning to grow amazed that the noisy engine had made it this far when suddenly it began to below smoke form all sides. The skipper jumped to the back and cut the fuel which caused the boat to then slowly start floating back down the river. No one knew what to do, cry or laugh so we just laughed and then all admitted that we didn't really believe the that this little boat could even last as long as it had in the firsts place. The skipper jumped about a bit pouring oil in here and there making sure it was well lubricated and well cooled before for trying to start it up again. Everyone was almost beginning to enjoy a bit of relief from the constant thud of the engine when suddenly the engine roared back into action which signalled the end of the conversations that had started up, sending everyone back to what they had been doing.

Not too long after that we saw what looked like a port but no one dared suggest it was the one we were trying to get to, it was a bit earlier than had been said so we all just convinced ourselves that it could not possibly be the one we had so longed to get to because nothing in South America runs on time let a lone a head of time, surely the donkey boat wasn't going to be the first? But then as we pulled up to the shore it was confirmed, it was Isla Margarita then Marko and Veronica almost immediately hopped off running into the officials office to see if they could convince them to give us exit stamps from Paraguay before they closed but apparently the person in charge of that had gone off with the stamp on a 2 month holiday. No one seemed too phased about the need for an exit stamp and just directed us to head across to Brazil sans exit stamp. Ok so we convinced the skippers to take us across the river to Porto Murtinho, Brazil but they were a little nervous to do so as apparently they did not have permission so we had to pay them for the trip before we got there. As soon as we hit the opposite shore we had to jump off with all our belongings allowing them to flee back to Vallemí. Now in Porto Murtinho we felt quite sorry for a our skippers aboard the donkey boat as they would now have to return but this time through the night.

The port authorities in Porto Murtinho didn't seemed phased by the fact that we didn't have Paraguayan exit stamps either, in fact they didn't even have entry stamps for us and just told us to continue on and when we saw a federal police station we must ask them for an entry stamp. This explained why we came across so many South American travellers that didn't even hold passports! There we were running around like headless chickens trying to comply with all the legal requirements when the officials themselves didn't seem to care whether or not we had entry and exit stamps! We would spend the next few days making our way to Santa Cruz, Bolivia but for now we were just glad to be back on dry land even if it was full of people that I once again did not understand. Zzzzz this and zzz that, Portuguese, a very strange language especially when you can kind of understand it but now really.

All the pics can be seen here.

CYCLING: The hermanos return to Paraguay!

2010-03-15T03:08:00.002+02:00

Km10184 to Km10198: Good-bye Amigo

It was a Sunday morning and as with most countries in South America everything had ground to a halt, even buses run far less regularly than on a Saturday to match the plummet in passenger demand. It was Mark's last day with us and we had spoken of having one last delicious pastry together at the local restaurant come bakery as we had been to when passing through Foz do Iguaçu a few days prior where we had already enjoyed great meals by weight and lemon pie to rival the best I have had anywhere in the world. Having packed Mark's bike up for the long bus trip back to Sao Paulo and then on to South Africa the bikes had to stay at the hostel while we went off to enjoy our last meal together. To add to the mood it was a sombre morning overcast and grey as we strolled up and over the tree lined hilly deserted streets of Foz hoping I read the sign correctly and that this would be the one unique business in town that was open on a Sunday.

We had originally planned to spend the morning viewing the Iguazu Falls but this time from the Brazilian side however all the guidebooks and pictures seemed to suggest that the views from Brazil could not beat those from Parque Nacional Iguazú in Argentina so we decided to leave it be. There was no point hacking all they way there to see the same thing we had seen the day before but only from a little further away just because that's what tourists do. So with cravings satisfied we had a little time to relax before Mark would be on his way back to Sao Paulo. Later that afternoon we walked Mark and his box full of bike to the local bus stop when suddenly the bus snuck up on us and we could barely get Mark, his box full of bike and his bags on fast enough before the bus raced off leaving us hardly any time to say god-bye; just a thanks for the best 10 months ever, see you in 6 weeks and a wave and that was it. My cycling amigo was now on a 15hr bus heading back in the direction of home, something we had spoken of but as a distant thought and now suddenly as if unprepared for, it was a reality. Thankfully though I had Andy with me now and we were preparing to set off on our own little 6 week adventure.

Now just the cycling hermanos (brothers) we needed to reshuffle our stuff to accommodate the few things Mark had left for us and then head back to the far cheaper yet more edgy Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. When we passed through Cuidad del Este a few days prior it had been complete chaos so I was now a little apprehensive about heading back there. It was overcast and a little cooler than usual so we decided to head off in the early afternoon even though we only had about 14km to go. When we arrived at immigration we were amazed that there were hardly any cars crossing into Ciudad del Este. We practically had the whole bridge to ourselves and when we got to the other side all the chaos we had experienced on the Thursday prior was gone. No one was haggling anyone and the streets had been cleaned, it was a Sunday and the carnival was going on in Rio de Janeiro so there was not a soul about.

We had decided to spend two nights there so that we could spend the next day exploring the electronics markets as I still had the $50 my parents had sent over so I was looking for something cool to spend it on. We found a nice little hotel, Santo Domngo, near the shopping area that had a crumbling sign just like in the movies but the room was great and breakfast was included so now satisfied we had a home for two nights we headed out for dinner. I had forgotten it was Valentine's Day so I was a bit confused when the restaurant we picked had had balloons and streamers everywhere, I first enquired with the waiter if there was a private function on that night and he said no so I was like then why all the balloons to which he just laughed and responded saying its 'El Dia de los Enamorados'! Only once we sat down and I saw the two chocolate on the table with the tag 'Feliz Dia de los Enamorados' or 'Happy day of the lovers' did I click that was Valentine's Day, so Andy and I enjoyed a very romantic dinner for two making sure to enjoy the free chocolates at the end.

The next day we went to explore the huge expanse of electronic stores where they had pretty much anything you were looking for with some of it looking more genuine than others. The one thing you could be sure of though is that you could bargain the price own on anything, nothing was priced and everything got quoted in US dollars so every transaction was pretty painful. I don't really like having to haggle down prices and we were carrying local currency which only complicated the calculations even further but I had spotted a pair of bluetooth wireless headphones which would bring to an end my woes of fighting with earphone cables on the bike and Andy had discovered he could buy a new microphone, LCD screen and Nokia tool set to fix his ailing phone at home so the haggling began. We went from store to store trying to get the prices down but by now it had started to rain heavily with the roads becoming rivers and roof edges dumping down bucket loads of water making getting about even that more challenging. I hadn't seen rain that heavy not even on the bikes, it was like the heavens had just opened making the roads impossible to cross without getting a shoe full of red muddy water. Although now drenched eventually we both got our stuff at great prices with me getting my headphones for slap on $50, now this may seem pricey for a set of headphones but they sounded great, worked seamlessly with my phone and appeared to be a good replica if not the originals of a pair of Nokia headphones that sell on-line for a minimum of $170. Andy managed to find all he was looking for for a out $20 so if he can now fix his phone using his purchases it'll be for a fraction of the $200 price tag Nokia has put on fixing it for him.

Km10198 to Km10252: The Guaraní family

The next day it was still pouring with rain and we would heading back towards the intersection where we had come from a few days prior where the road split left to Encarnación and carried on straight to Asunción. An intersection which we remembered as being covered in red sand thanks to a lot of heavy truck traffic coming on and off the roads and guessed now would be covered in red mud. There was a difference in level between the hard shoulder and the actual road so now with all the mud, as predicted, this change in level became very difficult to cross. Every time we wanted to avoid the bumps that had been placed on the hard shoulder to prevent trucks and taxis from using it as a second lane we had to go back up onto the road and round but now with it being muddy our tyres became very slippery making it very likely we could trip over on the change in level falling on to the highway. Having passed the busy split in the road our bikes were caked in mud and just as I was thinking to warn Andy about the slippery edge he moved onto the main rod to avoid a truck stopped on the hard shoulder and came crashing down into the road. Luckily he had checked for cars before going so none came when he was lying sprawled across the highway, seeing this chaos going on in front of me and I got quite fright resulting in me giving him quite a flee in the ear for not being more careful which he did not really seem to appreciate. Fortunately, Andy did not received much more from the fall than a graze on the knee, skewed handle bars that could easily be straightened and a very muddy pair of socks he had strapped to the back of his bike that morning to dry after so diligently having cleaned them the night before. Not long after the fall we found a nice little road side stall with some tables and chairs out of the rain where we could buy a drink and make our sandwiches allowing Andy to recover little more from the shock of his fall.

That evening we were just going to camp by a petrol station on the side of the road when we saw a road leading off to what looked like a few houses and fields which we hoped would be a bit quieter than next to the highway. While exploring the area we saw a lady in her garden and asked her if we could camp on the piece of ground across the way but she refused to talk to us and just ran inside to call her husband. Their property looked quite well kept with a beautiful green lawn, well kept flower beds and tidy little wooden home. The husband soon came out to chat to us and asked what we were looking for so we explained that all we needed was a little grass to set up our tents on for the night and we would be gone early in the morning. He wanted to invite us in to camp in their garden but his wife was not having any of it, he came out and said you could stay here but my wife is afraid but please do come in and have some tereré with me. I thought this a bit odd but we figured why not and went in for a drink.

Toni was his name and Spanish was actually his second language with Guaraní being his first. It was great getting to sit and chat to a local and get the low down on the social classes, immigrants and his impression of their national government. Toni's son about 10 yeas old was far more inquisitive than his mother and came out or a chat, he was attending a Spanish school but spoke Guaraní with his family at home. We notice quite a large number of German settlements or rather exclusive security colonies of German's so I was quite keen to know what this was all about. His impression was that they all came over from Germany after retirement with friends and builds big houses all together starting little German colonies installing large satalight dishes so that they could get German TV. Naturally he felt that they didn't want to integrate into society at all, they just kept to themselves. Personally I'm still not too sure what I think about this natural human trait we seem to have of grouping together with people we feel we can associate better with. Personally I enjoy exploring other cultures and love the variety of it but maybe that's not everyone's cup of tea. South Africa is a perfect example how separation can only deteriorate into hatred and misunderstanding of other cultures resulting in one culture or race oppressing or thinking they are more superior than another. Then on the other hand we can't go forcing people to hang out with different people against their will. I guess in a multicultural society like South Africa you can try prevent misunderstandings by educating and integrating children from a young age but when it comes to immigration I guess its a problem all countries around the world are grappling with.

Having now chatted for a while with Toni he was more than happy for us to stay but his wife still hadn't bothered to come out and meet us so he went in to tell her we would be camping on the lawn. But there was a compromise, and she had asked us if we minded leaving a passport with them for the night to give his wife piece of mind that we would not be running off with her flowers in the middle of the night. I thought it quite ridiculous but if I couldn't trust him with my passport why should he trust us sleeping on his property so I happily obliged and we went about setting up camp. They had a big Rottweiler chained to a tree which the let loose in the garden at night which I as a little concerned about at first but as it turned out the dog seemed to be more worried by us than we were by him. Every time I or Andy turned over in the night the dog got spooked and started another chorus of barking across the neighbourhood. The whole area just seemed to be on edge, I mean this family had a fence with barbed wire on top and a huge dog really seemed overkill to me given that some properties barely had a fence. Yet just about everyone had a dog that enjoyed barking so needless to say we did not get too much sleep that night, so I was the sun rose we were quite keen to just get my passport back and get going so that's exactly what we did.

Km10252 to Km10320: Things get tedious

Today the weather seemed to be drier but I think we were feeling a little drained from the lack of sleep and persistent heat. We were practically falling asleep on the bike and were ready for lunch when we started spotting public picnic areas on the side of the road however most of them seemed to be occupied and while I'm sure they wouldn't have minded us joining them I wasn't in the mood to rack my brain for Spanish words. Suddenly I spotted one unoccupied and it was perfect, it was under a nice big tree giving us plenty of shade and not only did it have benches for us to sit on (and lay on) but a nice big stump to cook our lunch on. Not long after lunch though we were accompanied by an elderly yet completely drunk man who I could barely understand, 2 things I did understand was the gesture to take a sip from his hip flask the other was the usual accompanied plea for money. Now while I was quit happy to give him some food and send him on his way I was not about to provide him with some cash to refill his whisky bottle no matter how much of it he was willing to share with us. I felt sorry for the old man but all I wanted to do was sleep and wasn't about to curl up and put my head on his lap so I was quite relieved when he finally decided to stroll off. We had a good sleep under that tree that day thankfully so as we wouldn't be getting much sleep that night either.

That evening we came across a petrol station with a lovely patch of grass alongside their outdoor restaurant where the chief attendant had invited us to sleep but mentioned that it may get noisy there so perhaps we should sleep on the floor in the workshop. As appealing as the the workshop floor sounded the grass looked good so off we went to set up our tent. Later we were invited back to use the shower round the back but the power didn't work so it would be cold and I would need my headlamp. I was dying for a shower now as we had cycled for 2 days in the heat without having showed or swam once so off I ran to investigate the shower. The door would barley open but then it wouldn't close further than it opened yet that was the least of my worries, someone had used the shower floor as a toilet and had left not only their excrement but also some toilet paper just finish it off nicely. I was trying not to throw up but I figured I'd step around it, block my nose, have quick shower and get the hell out of there. I think this qualified as my worse shower in South America while others had been colder and some had literally electrocuted me this one just made me feel dirtier than before I had gone in and that was quite a feat! Needless to say after relaying this spine chilling story Andy did not have a shower that night.

Although I was gagging from the memory of the smell I was clean and quite excited to hop into bed. I slept well until about 2am when a car pulled up next to our tents with 2 huge speaks hanging out the back, and I'm talking can't close the boot huge! This fool decided the petrol station outside of town was a cool place to show off his sound system to his friend and their girlfriends and they seemed impressed it. Now while a big fancy sound system could be considered cool by some this one was just so loud that if he drove past a saw mill people would stop and ask what was that so no one within a kilometre radius could hear themselves think let alone talk to anyone else, so this whole group all just stood outside the car staring at each other as snippet after snippet of bad cover versions spewed out of the car speakers. I tried to ignore it, estimating in my head how long a battery could last while turning out that many amps of sound but it lasted longer than any of my estimates so they must have kept the engine running. Andy opened his tent up and stared at them which probably just gave them even more pleasure and while I was tempted to get up and stick my bicycle pump through one of their speakers I chose the option that would not get me and my tent damaged and that was to dig my trusty earplugs out and go back to sleep, even if I was at risk of getting an ear infection after having cracked them open on the first night in Rio de Janeiro 10 months prior thanks to a snoring room mate.

Km10320 to Km10425: The perfect paradise

The next I was tired again and the landscape was pretty boring. We didn't find a very exciting lunch spot either so was beginning to feel like I had enough of this and wondered how I had ever got that far. About the most exciting thing I saw all day was the veterinaria (vet) and the carniceria (butcher) that shared the same premisses and the turn off to Nueva Londres (New London) which I was tempted to explore but by now we were just keen to get to Asunción. Then that afternoon we passed a sign saying we had entered the Cordillera (mountain range) province, hmm I thought to myself mountains I really don't want any mountains! But we were quite pleasantly surprised they were more like hills and provided for some of the most beautiful scenery I had seen in Paraguay yet.

We had not needed to cycle that far that day but were going to go as far as we could manage in a day as we just wanted to get to Asunicón however when we cycled up into a beautiful little village our plans rapidly changed. The traffic seemed to slow and the village reminded me of the villages in the lakes district in the UK, green, hilly, with little stone walls and beautiful old buildings. Andy and I both looked at each other and were like should we look for a hostel here? We both thought it had looked so cool that we were willing to stop early and spend a bit of time there. We both needed a good wash so we started asking around for hostels and were told there we only 2 hotels and no hostels in town and the one was just ahead on the left. We pulled up outside the hotel and saw sign above it pointing across the road saying balneario or bathing area . I could not see a balneario across the road so asked a man sitting at an outdoor bar nearby where this balneario was and he explained that the sign used to be on the other wall pointing down the hill. He said the balneario was beautiful and we could camp there if we wanted. Andy and I figured we only wanted to stay in a hotel to get clean but if we could stay at balneario that would cover the off so off we went to inspect our potential camping spot.

We bounced down the hill on a little cobblestone road eventually being surrounded by lush green bushes opening up onto a little wooden bridge crossing a beautiful little stream. The wooden bridge was a little precarious but seemed to be fine to cross so we crossed it trying not to get our tyres stuck between the struts. On the other side there was a magnificent soft white sandy beach. I could not believe my eyes, just hours before I was growing bored and weary but this brought it all back to me this is why we were travelling by bicycle and while it might take some time to get between places when you get there it is like you've arrived in heaven. We lent our bikes up again a tree, wiped off our kit and jumped into the stream it was as if we were petrified somebody was going to appear and just take it all away it was like it was just too good to be true! After a good swim and good wash we decided check out the town before returning setting up camp. In town we found a very cool bar on the street selling empanadas and beer, what more do you really need. It was just so special sitting there on the pavement watching life go by while answering all the questions of the inquisitive passers by, they couldn't work out what we were doing there but we couldn't work out why they lived so close to Asunción yet we were one of the few tourist they had ever seen.

That evening we returned to sleep on the beach next to the river making a camp fire just because we could, it just seemed wrong not to. The camp fire did not last long because it was already over 30 degrees without it and we wanted to go to bed early. No one ever did bother us that night and we never did work out what the name was of this mystery town was but what I do know is that my experience in Paraguay would never have been as rich had we not stumbled upon it.

Km10425 to Km10475: Municipal Beach on Lago Ypacarai

We left late the next day so that we could enjoy the morning bathing by the river but even then it did not take us long before we were close to Asunción. Just before leaving Ciudad del Este I had sent out a couple of CouchSurfing requests hoping to find a local to stay with in Aunción and a few days prior we had some luck and had received a response from one Sergio Ruíz. Sergio had mentioned that he did not live in Asunción centre but lived a in little town on its outskirts called Luque, however he was happy to have us and we were quite happy to stay with him for a couple of days especially since he mentioned that he worked in the centre so we could go into town with him anyway. Sergio was now only expecting us the next day so when we came over a hill and saw a huge lake in the distance we decided we would try stay there before progressing on the next day. Once we got to the bottom of the hill we came into a little town and we started asking around if there was anywhere we could camp, possibly even near a river.

We were directed to a place 5km off the main road, apparently it was free and had a place where we could swim so we decided to pursuit it. About 5km down the road in the direction they had sent us I could see a lake in the distance but felt we were now really going too far out of our way as for every kilometre we cycled down this road we would have to cycle back the next day. Soon I saw some men drink on the side of the road and asked them if they knew of this place and they all confirmed that it was coming up on the right. I did not want to go on another 20min to have to ask again so I asked them how long it would take in just about very mode of transport and they seemed to be able confirm by bike it was in fact only 5min away, so somewhat convinced we went on. Soon we came to a turn off that said Playa Municpal (Municipal Beach), wow I thought they were actually correct! We went in a low and behold there the lake was with another beautiful sandy beach. We were not supposed to camp there but the groundsman invited us to camp the night and he assured us it would be safe as he clears the place out and locks the gates not long after dark. I mean really a free camp site on the lake is fantastic but to have it all to ourselves was just too unbelievable.

We spotted that they had some water bikes so we just had to add them to our collection of cycling adventures. After playing on water bikes for a bit growing bored and tired very quickly it was dinner time and fortunately they had a little shop there so we could stock up on some essentials which at this stage included a 2l bottle of coke each. Not long after we had started preparing dinner some laddies came over to checkout what the gringos were up to. They were very friendly and took quite a liking to Andy begging him for a kiss then dragging him up for a photo shoot which just had me in stitches. They had him bending over and doing all sorts of things that made him blush quite profusely, this was all just too entertaining. Thankfully for him it wasn't long before they had to vacate the premisses along with the other visitors but first thing the next morning they were back, clearly Andy had made quite an impression!

Km10475 to Km10500: Lucky to be in Luque

Now being at the municipal beach at least 5km off the main highway we did not know where we were relative to Luque so had to ask around and got the perfect answer, no need to go back to the highway just continue straight on down the road and you will pass Areguá, which is mentioned in the guide books for its clay crafts, and then you will come to Luque. We were thrilled not only were we staying with a CouchSurfer but because he just happened to live in Luque we had already cut 5km off that day's cycle, it does not cease to amaze me how things just keep panning out. Now with plenty of time as we only had about 25km to cover and with Sergio only finishing work at around 6pm we woke up at our leisure and enjoy a good fry up on the beach before setting off. The back road to Luque was a quite unpleasant compared to the main highway into Asunción as it didn't have a hard shoulder however we weren't on it for long so it was fine. Luque is quite a nice little town only just isolated from the city by the enormous local sports and recreation grounds on the outskirts of Asunción. It also has the honour of being home to the Confedeation del Fútbal of SouthAmerica, which is quite significant on continent that prides itself so much on its football.

After cycling around Luque for a bit getting a good feel for it was time to finally meet Sergio at the Luque central church, a well kept and beautiful centre piece to the city. Sergio had a appropriately come to meet us on his bicycle. Now this was a first, most CouchSurfers come meet us in their car and then expect us to follow them back to their house 5km away going at 60km getting annoyed when we don't keep up after having already cycled 100km that day. Meeting Sergio was an absolute pleasure, he is so friendly and invited into his home as if it were ours. Segio lives with his incredibly kind Mom and ageing tiny dog, Vicky, in a very tidy home which has aptly had about 50% of it dedicated to the outdoor braai area. This region is on average hot and in summer sizzling with 40 degree temperatures and near swimming pool humidity. Having visited friends in Dallas, Texas over summer where the climate can be similar I became accustomed to their lifestyle and just figured that when you lived in a hot place you insulate the house and keep the air conditioning running 24/7 but nope not here in Paraguay. Even with 90% of their electricity being generated by pollution free hydroelectric plant this is not common practice. Yes they have air conditioners in their bedrooms but the rest of the house is designed to just let the airflow through and then most of the day is spent on your veranda, if you are lucky enough one, or more commonly the street corner where you enjoy sipping on ice cold tereré with your neighbours.

We spent the next few days exploring Luque and Asunción going into town with Sergio while he went to work teaching English at the American Institute of English. Asunción is a cool little city but as Segio describes it as not big enough to have everything but too big to be a village. I enjoyed the architecture and the craft shops selling tereré cups made from cow horns and hand made hammocks amongst other things. The other thing I really enjoy about this city is the little roadside empanada bars where you can just plonk down for five minutes on a bar stool and enjoy a cool drink and a couple of empanadas for next to nothing and then move on. There are also a few cool bars around as in any city with quite a thriving night life. The city itself is quite divided though with wealthy and poorer areas a bit like a little Johannesburg however I didn't ever see any of the poverty that you can see on the outskirts of Johannesburg. Sergio however did say that they exist, in fact somewhere between the river, the port and the presidential and parliamentary buildings of all places but I didn't ever see any of it any of it yet had been advised by many not to stroll anywhere up past the port, which itself was quite edge.

Next we needed to decide how we're going to get from Asunción up into Bolivia but we still had a few days to work that out while we just chilled sipping tereré with Sergio, his mom and the little dog called Vick in a the very chilled little town of Luque.

All the pics from Paraguay can be seen here.

The LOVE APPEAL

2010-03-05T20:39:00.004+02:00

Why LOVE Trust?

Education is a critical tool in breaking the cycle of poverty and although much is being done by the South African government and other non-profit organisations to alleviate poverty time is of the essence for the most vulnerable. LOVE Trust specifically focuses on the most vulnerable, trying to reach as many vulnerable children as their limited resources allow.

LOVE Trust (http://www.lovetrust.co.za):

has a mission to serve and create opportunities for vulnerable children (any child that is impoverished and/or orphaned);
aims to serve the communities these children live in by providing quality education, starting at preschool level and building up to primary and secondary schooling;
through the school's presence in communities, develop relationships with the families of the children, looking at ways in which to meet basic needs;
plans to open a new school every two years, later hoping to serve and create opportunities across the entire southern African region; and
is a registered non-profit organization (NPO); a Public Benefit Organisation (PBO); and is also registered as a BEE Trust. Donations are tax deductible.

LOVE Trust is particularly close to our hearts as our family and close friends are personally involved with the Trust. They have seen what a difference this trust has already made in the lives of these children, as is demonstrated by the successful opening of their first school, Nokuphila School, at the start of 2010 in Tembisa, serving 45 preschool children. LOVE Trust needs your help in one or more of these 3 ways:

Raise the profile of LOVE Trust: We aim to use any publicity attracted by our cycle adventure to get people talking about LOVE Trust. You too can assist by spreading the word about Love Trust.
Donations (once off or monthly): the more funds the Trust can raise the
faster they can develop and serve a greater number of vulnerable children, ultimately uplifting communities across southern Africa.
Volunteers: All enquiries to Andrew Pitt. Volunteers are to bear in mind that you need to be totally self-sufficient and the work you do should be meeting a real need and add real value to the community you are assisting.

Donations can be made here (http://www.lovetrust.c o.za/donate.aspx).

International credit cards are accepted;
Please include the word 'Amigo' next to your name so that the origin can be tracked; and
All donations, no matter how small, are appreciated - thank you for your generosity.

CYCLING for LOVE: Iguazu Falls!

2010-03-04T13:39:00.000+02:00

Thank you to everyone who has assisted us by making donations, offering to help in some way and spreading the word about the Love Trust! This is the final blog in the series of Cycling for Love blogs detailing our trip from Punta del Diablo in Uruguay cycling up 1500km to Iguazu Falls in Argentina culminating on Valentine's Day just before Mark made his way back to South Africa, please enjoy!

Km26 to Km0: 3 countries in 6 hours!
Today, for Mark and I the original cycling amigos, would be our last big stretch together and although it was only about 25km from Ciudad del Este, Paraguay through Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil and into Puerto Iguazú, Argentinina we still had the section back up the dirt road of the Refugio and back into Ciudad del Este to cycle which added on at least another 30km to our trip, not to mention the 2 bridges and 2 border crossing we need to pass along the way. Today was also the final part of the final leg together doing it for love in support of Love Trust!

We headed off early so that we could get into Ciuad del Este in time for our midmorning snack and do a little shopping. Ciudad del Este is known for its grey and replica cheap electronic goods so although Andy and I would be coming back through the city in a few days time Mark wanted to stop and get a few goods before heading home. Being back on the bikes that morning having now fixed all of Andy's punctures was a huge relief because there is so much less hassle involved when we are not having to try catch lifts and wait or buses all over the place, we can just get on our bikes and go wherever and whenever we want! A couple of punctures pale in comparison with waiting for bus that are long, delayed or just never pitches up. With the wind behind us we had soon passed through Hariendas and were back in Ciudad del Este in no time. The area near the border with Brazil is madness because it is one of the few border bridges you can cross by foot resulting in many Brazilians walking over, getting a good deal on electronic goods and then crossing back over the bridge. The madness on the road leading up the bridge made us all a little nervous so we quickly made our way to the immigration office forgetting about our midmorning snack. The staff at immigration were incredibly friendly and helpful and were quite happy for Andy and I to wait there in safety while Mark ran off to find himself a new Casio watch.

It wasn't long before Mark returned with a grin on his face as he had managed to find himself an old school Casio watch with calculator and all! Chuffed with our success that morning we headed off across in the chaos that was the bridge. We opted to cycle along the foot path as the hundreds of motor bikes flying back and forth weaving through the traffic seemed to pose a bit of a danger. Halfway across the bridge the ego of the army officials got the better of them and they decided to order us off the pavement, freak'n idiots I mean really we weren't bothering anyone slowly cycling along the side walk but ok fine. So we smiled and nodded politely then I stuck out my hand stopped all the traffic flowing across the bridge and proceed to slowly cycle on now side by side blocking all traffic from flowing into Brazil, but fine if that's how the idiotic officials would prefer it then that's what we were going to do. It seems that if any Paraguayan puts on an government official shirt of any sort they become an absolute fool and are unable to use their own brain, but take off that shirt and they're lovely people.

We were now in Foz do Iguauz, Brazil and we were starving so we quickly made our way to the centre of town to get some much needed lunch. Foz do Iguaçu is not as expensive as the other parts of Brazil we had experienced, surprising though as it is a very popular tourist destination. Mark also needed to source himself a bike box while we were passing through as he would be leaving from this town by bus in a couple of days time and it would be a Sunday, so he just wanted to make sure he was going to be able to get a bike box when we returned. It wasn't long before he found a place willing to keep a box for him but he would need to return early on Saturday to collect it, that was fine though because we had planned to return Saturday to spend that night in Brazil getting Mark ready for his long trip home.

After a delicious lunch and a whole lot of lemon pie we headed off for Puerto Iguazú, Argentina. As we were heading out of town we spotted two other tourers which is always great as there are so many stories to tell and it is such a rare occurrence. In 10 months this was only our 3rd lot of long distance tourers we had encountered. They were Julien and Vladana Darras from France and Eastern Europe respectively. They had started their trip down in the south of Patagonia and had now made their way all the way up Argentina and had spent the previous day in Puerto Iguazú where we were now heading. They were a very cool couple loving a challenge, carrying their bikes across rivers and muddy roads in parts of their trip achieving only 4km of 'cycling' the one day due to bad terrain! You can follow their crazy journey at www.vladaju.fr where Vladana seems to have a lot more energy and talent than I as she herself writes and translates their blog into at least 3 different languages! Having swapped a few stories concurring that the route 14 of Argentina, which we had both had the displeasure of cycling along, was one of the worlds roads to cycle on.

By the time we reached immigration we had spent less than 5 hours in Brazil making me wonder if they weren't soon going to tell us we had crossed the border too many times, fortunately a long as you have space in your passport that is not possible. We had not booked accommodation in Puerto Iguazú so as we arrived there we went in search of the local camp site. The local camp site turned out to be almost as pricey as a cheap hostel as you not only have to pay per person but also per tent and with us each having our own tent it did not work out very cheap so we went on to the Hostel International to see if we could perhaps camp there for cheaper. When we arrived at the Hostel International's Hotel-Inn we immediately felt a little out of place as it was heaving with gringos all freshly spruced up and lying round the pool trying desperately to rid themselves of the give away gringo pale skin. Smelling somewhat like a boar I strolled over to reception where I very quickly discovered we could not camp but we could get a dorm room with air con for a reasonable price so after some umming and ahhing we decided to stay.

The room was great and once we were clean it was good to interact with some gringos again. The hostel had an awesome huge swimming pool serviced by a 24hr bar so it was now time to relax. The next morning we would be cycling over to the Parque Nacional Iguazú where we would finally get to see the Iguazú Falls so we were all very excited. Just lazing there in the pool I thought back on the day and couldn't believe it was that very same day we had started all the way back at the Itaupú Refugio and that we still had the whole evening ahead of us to enjoy. It is amazing how times flies, we had been travelling for almost 10 months and when we think back we have done so much, we'd cross 7 countries and covered over 10,150km of road by bicycle yet it seemed like it was only yesterday that we were making our way across to Montañita, Ecuador. And now, our adventure was nearly over.

Km10164 to Km10174: Iguazu Falls!
The hostel provided a good breakfast so all we needed to do was pack ourselves some lunch and head off on our bicycles towards the falls. We discovered that the route 12 leading to the falls from both the south and the north is no safer than the route 14 so we were quite relieved we had decided to take the slightly longer route through Paraguay and up their far friendly route 6 thus avoiding a long section of route 12 up to the falls. The Parque Nacional Iguazú runs all along the sides of the road towards the park entrance providing breathtaking and beautiful scenery as we risked our lives cycling along it. Finally, about 15km down the road we were at the entrance to the Parque Ncional Iguazú! Preoccupied about whether or not we would be able to store our bikes safely for the day, we made our way in but soon our minds were put to rest by the very friendly staff who provided us with a nice safe place to lock them up just inside the gates assuring us that they would be safe. The park is brilliant with fantastic well maintained pathways, good signage and even a train to ferry us around which was all included in the entrance fee. I had been a little bit sceptical about how it could take a reported whole day to see the falls but with all these paths and trains there's plenty to do there which could even take a slower walker 2 days to enjoy!

After taking a make believe helicopter tour over the model of the Iguazu Falls at the visitors centre we decided to take the train to the furtherest point the Garganta del Diablo or Devil's Throat, then make our way slowly back. The train ride to the aptly named Garganta del Diablo was beautiful and entertaining in itself with butterflies and birds decorating the trees and bush all round you. From the Garganta del Diablo station we needed to walk all along a long walk way over the water flowing towards the falls in order to get us to where the water flows over the falls on the western side of the falls. Along the way met Sharon and Jerry, an energetic and friendly retired couple from Oregon, USA who we had earlier helped translate some Spanish instructions for. It was so refreshing meeting the couple who also aren't into the typical tourist packages consequently after sharing our contact details and a bit of info about South Africa we've hopefully convinced them to come visit us in Africa on their next great adventure where they can then see Africa's greatest falls, Victoria Falls.

As the walkway wound its way through the bushes jutting out of the water here and there we finally began to see the mist created by the mighty flow of the Iguazú Falls. Getting to the viewing platform we were all just awestruck by the pure magnificence of this beautiful falls created by the power of nature, watching it flow over the edge of the cliff which we were standing on plummeting 70 metres down into the Gargant del Diablo spraying back up 70 metres into the air, covering us in a fine spray! We stood there enjoying the power and fine spray cooling us down under the hot sun before taking a few photos to celebrate our arrival at the Falls after over 10150km of cycling, now signifying the end to our journey. Then a day before Valentine's Day we hoped that we had helped spread the message of love and brought some attention to the Love Trust too!

The Circuits
There were 2 other circuits that we still needed to explore, the lower and higher. Essentially the Gargant del Diablo is the more narrow and most powerful western part of the falls so we then still needed to explore and view the rest of the falls from the other 2 circuits.

The Circuito Inferior or Lower Circuit provided a beautiful holistic view of the whole falls including the Garganta del Diablo where at one of many viewing platforms we helped a blind man and his friend take some pictures with the falls behind them. When the blind man first asked us to take the picture we thought well why does he want a picture when he's not going to be able to look at it then we thought hang on a minute but actually why would he come to the falls is he can't see it in the first place? This only helped to highlight the power of the falls and what a privileged it was to be there. We always need to keep reminding ourselves while travelling that we can always see these places on-line in pictures so the real experience is being there to feel, hear and smell the place. Perhaps the blind man is only missing out on what everyone else gets to see on-line but was still getting the very same new experience, and perhaps even more heightened, that all visitors come from all around the world to get when they come to experience the power, the energy and the resulting beauty of the Iguazu Falls.

The Circuito Superior or Higher Circuit provided a great view back down on the eastern part of the falls with walkways suspended over magnificent cliff edges and smaller tributary water falls cascading down into the same valley. All in all the Parque Ncional Iguazú was magnificent and I couldn't have asked for more. It was the perfect place to end the perfect adventure, and given all the build up it did very well not to disappoint!

Returning to Luxury

We had planned to spend another night at the hostel on the outskirts of Puerto Iguazú but while we were at the falls our good friend from Chile, Tamara, had managed to arrange us a free nights stay at the luxurious 4 star St. George Hotel in the centre of the Puerto Iguazú village. She could only get room for 2 so Andy would be spending a night alone at the hostel but given all the young lasses running around I don't think he was complaining. The hotel was awesome allowing us to have a double bed each to ourselves without having to be woken by late night dormitory movements and blaring music. Although we would be heading back to Brazil the next day and Mark would then be making his way home, Andy and I would still be on the road for another 6 weeks so staying there too gave me a great opportunity to soak some of the red mud out of me and then my clothes in the first bath I had seen in ages!

Km10174 to Km10184: Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil

Mark had to head back to Brazil early the next day in order to get his bike box form the shop before it closed so after a great hotel buffet breakfast he was on his way. I waited for Andy who had been staying at the hostel and had overslept missing breakfast so was now starving but that was not a problem because we would soon be meeting up with Mark back at our favourite Foz do Iguaçu restaurant. Mark had had a bit of fun getting the bike box from the bike shop to the restaurant along with his bike and all his bags but by the time we got there he had managed it.

After yet another great meal it it was time to find a hostel for the night, Mark's last night with us in South America. Cycling around for a bit we found this cool hostel called Bambu with a swimming pool but what was even cooler was that the touring couple, Julien and Vladana, had also stumbled upon Bambu after we had bumped into each other a few days prior and were now staying there. They recommended we stayed there too even though they were moving on, although it was probably the most expensive hostel we had stayed in in South America it had a great swimming pool we could enjoy and it had plenty of place to get organised before Mark left so it was all worth it. The Rio de Janeiro Carnival was being celebrated in Rio that weekend too so in good spirit the hostel was holding its own little carnival and had some great drink specials on, which of course we joined in on marking the end for Mark of what has been a super fantastic adventure!

All pics can be seen here.

CYCLING for LOVE: Paraguay, hot and dusty

2010-03-02T04:37:00.003+02:00

Phew lots to catch up on but while floating up the lazy Rio Paraguay for 82 hours I had plenty of time to catch up so I will be posting few posts over the next week or so...

Km332 to Km300: Hello Paraguay!
First thing in the morning we headed for Paraguay and it wasn't long before we were in the Argentinian border town of Posadas making our way to the border. After getting our now second exit stamp from Argentina we were filled with excitement to be entering our 7th and last South American country. We reached the rather wide Rio Paraná which runs all the way down the eastern border of Paraguay starting somewhere up in Brazil, flowing over the Itaipú dam forming a confluence with the Rio Iguazú which flows from the Iguazu Falls. This confluence also forms the border between the 3 countries and cities including Foz do Iguaçu of Brazil in the northeast, Puerto Iguazu of Argentina in the southeast and Ciudad del Este of Paraguay in the west.

We now needed to cross this healthily flowing river but bicycles and pedestrians are not allow to cross this bridge so we were instructed to either go on the bus or hitch a lift. Very diligently we had all already spent every Argentinian Peso we had so the bus was not an option leaving us to start scouting for a lift. People are nervous enough at borders as it is without 3 rough looking gringos approaching them and asking them if they can chuck their bikes on the back of their bakkie, so we weren't having much luck finding a lift. Eventually the customs officials took pity on us and took it upon themselves to start asking passing bakkies if they would lend us a hand and as usual the rich with huge empty 4x4s refused and the working class man with a load of cement already weighing his bakkie down happily obliged with a smile. There wasn't space for all 3 of us so I went with Andy balanced on top of the bags of cement holding on for dear life. The bridge felt so long, at least 2 or so kilometres and this guy seemed to be a in a hell of a hurry with his bakkie swerving from side to side under the weight of the cement. I was very relieved to arrive in Paraguay and hope off the back with my bike and body in-tacked. Mark soon came along on a different bakkie thanks to another kind working class man. Again we were thrilled to be South African because we were welcomed to the country with wide open arms and no fee for to enter, a luxury Americans, Canadians and Europeans haven't been granted.

Wow we were now in Paraguay just 300km from our destination, Iguazu Falls! Paraguay didn't look or feel any more dangerous than any of the other countries we had been to. It is quite strange but every country you go to their local population will tell you the next country's more dangerous than theirs, the Paraguayan guy that gave Mark a lift across the bridge to Paraguay said that Paraguay is 'muy tranquillo' or very safe but in Bolivia you must 'ojo' of beware! It must just be a fear of the unknown because most of the people you meet haven't travel out of their own country they just receive the bad news about their neighbours. After being let down at the last minute by a local couch surfer in Encarnación we decided to go in search of a hostel but in the 38 degree heat and with the Encarnación Carnival 2010 on that weekend the only air conditioned option we were left with was a slightly pricier hotel yet it was worth it because we had a nice room, good air conditioning, a balcony and our own bathroom for 3 days so we sucked it up and paid up. We would now be spending almost 4 days in Encarnación meeting a different local couch surfer, good friends with Rosana another couch surfer we had stayed with in Uruguay, celebrating my last Birthday in my 20's and then we would be enjoying the Encarnación Carnival 2010 on our last night before heading off up the Route 6 to Cuidad del Este!

Hello 29!

Having had our first good nights sleep in a while thanks to Mr Air Conditioner I awoke refreshed and very excited because it was my birthday! My parents had sent something over with Andy for me so just like a child again I was so excited to open it up but quite unlike a child it was not the gift I was excited for but the kind worlds inked to me from the other side of the globe. Andy had given me the card when he arrived with strict instructions not to open it until my birthday so I had put it away safely especially for this day. I was not expecting any other gifts but when I returned from having an early morning pee Mark and Andy had covered my bed with lots of little gifts. Mark had bought all sorts of cool South American stuff for me along the way and Andy had brought over a Monopoly card game from South Africa making it one very cool 29th Birthday! Once I had opened up all my gifts and now drown in gift wrap and sweets it was time to read the few kind words from home, as I opened the card I got an even bigger surprise when I saw a couple of Jacksons staring at me from inside the envelope! My parents had not only sent over some kind words but some very handy US dollars which I have put a way for a treat further down the road.

Having had a great morning it was time to meet our couch surfing friend, we would not be staying with her but we had planned to go out with her for my dinner. Jazmin came and collected us from our hotel after work and took us back to her families house which is on the lower end of town. By lower I literally mean lower as in altitude, a dam wall had been built on the nearby river Paraná which would soon result in the entire low lying area of Encarnación being immersed under water so the relative altitude of your house is quite significant in this city. Jazmin's household, as with many others had been compensated for the need to move house to a higher lying area but apparently it really is taking sometime to get the families out with many others basically just squatting in the area hoping to get compensation. A week prior to us arriving there many houses had been flooded due to unexpected rains but many believe it is just a ruse and that the government has actually closed the sluice gates and is using the high rainfall and resulting rising water as excuse to scare people out of the area. It is a very interesting site to see what with houses being part demolished and roads rerouted in anticipation of the rising water, its odd to think that where you are standing will one day be a ghost town under water.

Jazmin's family is very warm and friendly as with all couch surfing families and interesting to chat to but soon it was time to head off for my birthday dinner. Jazmin and her work colleague took us to their local Japanese restaurant, there are a lot of Japanese immigrants in Paraguay so this was a very authentic looking and smelling Japanese restaurant. For the first time in ages, in fact since Montañita, Ecuador we would be eating sushi and I was just too exited! The food was all just so reasonably priced and they even included 2 litres of free beer to get the festivities started so needlessness to say we had a great dinner only to return a few days later for more!

Carnival in Encarnación 2010

Jazmin managed to organise us some tickets to the Encarnación Carnival 2010 the following night so off we all went with her and some work colleagues. We had a great night cheering from the side lines and sharing in some banter with her friends but I'll let the pictures do the talking when it comes to the parade itself! Now while I really enjoyed the evening most of the time it is just floats and they move by very slowly so I think one evening is all I would be able to enjoy of a carnival and am quite relieved we decided not to race up to Rio de Janeiro in time or the carnival of all carnivals. I believe there you can get more involved with the festivities but I'm pretty sure you still spend a lot of time just watching float after float going slowly by, a lesson I should have learnt when in Dublin for the St. Patrick's Day parade. Now that I have the pictures and the videos let's hope I can finally tell myself, been there done that no need to do it again.

Km300 to Km270: Jesuit ruins

It was now time to start moving up the Rio Panará towards Ciudad del Este and ultimately Iguazu Falls. We had seen that there are some old Jesuit Reduction ruins about 30km out of Encarnación where we could camp so we decided that we would head off in the afternoon and camp there that night. The Jesuit Reductions were a particular version of the general Catholic strategy used in the 17th and 18th centuries of building reductions, in order to Christianise the indigenous populations of the Americas more efficiently. The Jesuits set up a settlements all over this region hence the name of the nearby provinces of Misiones in both Argentina and Paraguay where the Indians were expected to adopt Christianity but not European culture and under the Jesuit leadership of the Indians they achieved a high degree of autonomy from the Spanish. The resistance by the Jesuits to slave raids, as well as their high degree of autonomy and economic success, are given as contributing factors for the expulsion of the Jesuits from the Americas in 1767 by the Spanish leaving only their ruins.

With temperatures still floating somewhere around the late 30's we arrived at the Trinidad Jesuit ruins just in time to grab a few photos before night fall after which they would be having the nightly light show. Mark and I have not really been into touristy things on this trip and we soon realised why. The magnificent ancient ruins being light up by night with eerie music playing in the background was awe inspiring but unfortunately it had to be ruined by a slow tour guide feeding you piles of useless boring information I could google if I wanted to known it. As if hearing the useless information once was not enough a French bloke felt it necessary to take it upon himself to translate everything over the top of the guide into French for his travelling companions making it even more difficult to hear the guides Spanish so I very quickly grew bored and began to understand the English's disdain for French arrogance. Having now stood and stared at about the 10th wall in an hour listening to the guide talking about another architect who had come there to build it we decided to make a quick get away. It was getting late, we hadn't set up camp and we were completely starving so we sneaked off into the dark and back to our bikes.

The spot where we could camp was perfect with great green grass and it was flat so after dinner, with it now going on for midnight, we excitedly headed to bed only to shortly be disturbed by a mix of 70s and 80s music blaring from the nearby hotel club/bar. Between the heat and the disco going on what felt like 2 metres away we did not sleep much that night.

Km270 to Km180: Environment awareness spreads faster than health and safety

Most of the next day as just spent going up and down hills enjoying the surrounding vegetation. Paraguay apparently is renown for its butterfly and resulting bird life which was becoming more and more evident. Every time you stopped your bike and lent it up against something a different beautiful butterfly would come floating down using it a as a landing pad. I remember as a child many butterflies in the summer in Johannesburg but as the years have gone by either I'm spending less time in the garden enjoying the elements or they have all but disappeared from our beautiful and green city. Perhaps my next door neighbours and good family friends persistent instructions to leave the poor insects alone had a lot more merit than I realised at the time.

That day while we were sitting at a local petrol station a child pulled up on a scooter, the child could not have been more than 10 years old and wasn't carrying a helmet let alone a drivers licence. He had come to the station to buy, hopefully, his Dad a bottle of beer but had been very environmental conscious and brought along an empty bottle along for deposit. As the child pulled off with the now full bottle of beer clasped between his legs I began to wonder if we had not become so obsessed with health and safety that we have actually already limited our physical freedoms quite beyond what we makes our lives more pleasant . All the towns we had been in we had seen people whizzing around on scooters of all ages, mainly without helmets, and it made me think what a freedom this little scooter has given these people and they don't seem too bothered by the seemingly huge safety risk they poses. No sitting around waiting for buses or getting the huge car out of the garage only to then have to find space to park it, one needs only jump on a scooter and off you go. Perhaps that's why I love my bicycle so much because its a good compromise between the freedoms and the safety risks and to boot it's good for environment and saves a load of cash on petrol too!

That night we just dashed down a little road into a very thick looking tropical forest where we hoped not to bothered for the night. It was quite a spooky forest and between the whistling of wind through the trees and the flashing fireflies I don't think Andy or Mark got too much sleep, neither of them looked bright eyed and bushy tailed come day break.

Km180 to Km75: Red dust

Andy and Mark were quite sleepy tired the next day so when we got to our lunch stop they both passed out in their chairs outside the café. It had been quite a scorcher that day and I was sure it must have been up in the forties and too boot it hadn't rained in the region for a while now so the red clayey sand had become a fine red dust under the passing truck wheels. As the afternoon grew on a strong wind heading in our direction began to brew to the point where the outdoor furniture had to be taken inside in order to stop it from being picked up and blown away. I decided this was a cue for us to get back on the bikes and get as far as we could with the wind behind us so up the 2 sleepy heads got and off we went.

The wind carried us a healthy distance up the road coming to a petrol station not too many kilometres from the t-junction where we would head right up to Ciuda del Este, it is at that intersection Andrew and I would have to return to a few days later in order to continue on straight to Asunción. The petrol station we had stopped at was perfect and the staff and owner were so friendly. They offered us a nice soft piece of grass round the back where we could camp then showed us to the bathrooms where they even had a hot shower we could use. En route it has started to rain heavily which we didn't actually mind as it would hopefully bring the temperature down all the while clean the bikes of all the red dust, which of course it didn't. The red dust on the bikes just turned to a red clayey mud caking everything so the shower was an absolute blessing meaning we could clean ourselves and our bikes off properly before hoping into our tents, I shudder to imaging what my tent would have looked like had we not found that petrol station. Andy too was quite happy to see it was a hot shower and not a cold one, but personally I can't see how anyone can go anywhere near the hot tape when it is over 35 degrees in the night!

Km75 to Km26: The 36hr fiasco
Being clean for a change and the cooler night allowed for a good nights sleep so we were now more than ready to make our way to Cuidad del Este just across the border from Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil but first we had decided to visit the Itaupú dam and related Tati Yupi Refugio. Reading up on the Refugio or nature sanctuary we had decided to take on the extra 30km north of Ciudad del Este need to get to the Refugio allowing us to spend 2 nights there enjoying the facilities so proudly advertised, and while staying there pay a visit the Itaipú dam and hydroelectric plant.

To reach the Reugio before it closed at 5pm we had to cover 75km in good time but Andrew's tyres were not having any of it. By the time we reached the t-junction 25km down the road Andy had already had 2 punctures one in the front and one in the back just for good measure. Any ideas that we could economise by having breakfast while repairing the punctures were shuttered when we discovered that one we only had one patch to cover 2 punctures and two we had lost our delicious brown bread somewhere along the way. So now starting to grow hungry we fixed the first puncture using our last patch and the other with the green tyre slime Andy had brought over with him from South Africa that we could put in the other tyre which we hoped would block the puncture from the inside. Once that was done thoughts turned back to our stomachs, being in Paraguay we soon managed to spot some empanadas on sale so we scoffed some of those and off we headed.

Now 30km out of Cuidad del Este the fiasco continued, first the back tyre went down again but of course we now had no patches left so we had to scrounge around looking for bits of rubber we could use instead. Having done a make shift patch we headed off again only for both tyres to go down a little further on. Lost for words we inspected and found that the make shift patch had come off the back tyre and the front tyre had gone down because an old patch had perished, something I had almost never seen before! We figured that fixing the make shift patch job on the back tyre wasn't going to work so Andy hauled everything out of his bag to find a spare tube he had lurking in there, great we thought at least now the back one will be sorted while adding some glue to the front patch which had come loose. Finally, although we're running late at least that should be the end of our problems. Yet low and behold 5km up the road the back tyre was down again, poor Andy couldn't work out what on earth he was doing wrong! A new tyre and it's already got a puncture!

It was now midday and piping hot so we figured let's sit down and have a look at it properly only to discover that although we had removed the cause of the first puncture in the back tyre there were 2 other culprits causing a second and a third puncture thus explaining why the new tube too got a puncture so quickly. Resorting back to the original tube with the slime in it, carefully patching each hole waiting for the glue to dry we hoped that the fiasco would finally be over. Once patched we put back on and pumped it up hard, seemingly holding out well.

With Andy's 2 tyres still inflated having had lunch at the turn off to Hariendas where the Itaipú dam wall is located we finally got to the visitors centre where we hoped to get 'permission' to stay at the Refugio before going on another 10km to the actual Refugio, but nope Lonely Planet was wrong we actually had to get 'permission' at the museum 1km back in the direction we had come from. By now I was loosing my sense of humour knowing that we were on borrowed time with the make shift patches and it being over 35 degrees outside so I was not keen to take one step back in the wrong direction but at least we were making progress so off we went. After asking at about 10 different Itaipú official looking places on the way back none of them giving us a clear answer other than that they knew very little about this 'permission' we got to a sign claiming it was the museum but of course the guards there knew nothing about this 'permission' and tried to send us back to the visitors centre. We were having none of it and informed them they were incorrect so the senior got called in and finally he pointed us in the right direction. But the fun didn't end there, this was just the begging of the treasure hunt, we had now been told to go out the back and find a lady with some strange sounding name I can't remember and she will give us 'permission'. Going out the back it was not clear which house she was in so the first door was banged on at random and luckily that was the secret door and the secret lady was there ready to give us 'permission', but first she needed our passports so she could produce 6 copies by hand of the 'permission' form.

2 hours later and an extra kilometre to cycle we were now on our way to the Refugio, which was due to close its gates in 40min time, with 'permission'. Now in a rush Andy's tyres decided it was a good time to start going down again so having pumped up Andy's rapidly deflating tyres about 4 times during the race to the Itaipú Refugio we finally arrived shattered but just in time before the front gates closed. Once inside the gates we then still had another 8km of bumpy and dusty road to traverse before coming to the very well kitted out Refugio. Unfortunately though we had not made it in there before the restaurant had closed so it was leftover rice and oats a la dulce de leche for dinner.

Itaipú Dam (now 2nd largest hydroelectric facility in the world, thanks to China)

Although it was still cooking hot I slept quite well that night only to wakeup and discover a huge hole in the netting at the bottom of my tent. While we had heard about these tent eating ants, or ant eating tents as we kept mistakenly referring to them, we had fortunately never actually encountered them, until now that is. At first I blamed the little guys that were still running around my tent but the next night as I as about to hop into bed I spotted about 10 huge ants with massive front pincers and bulging eyes chopping away at the netting again, I had seen them on the grass but hadn't suspected them, yet in hindsight I should have as they looked exactly like the kind of ant the would eat your tent! No use crying over spilt milk I thought, at least this will make some lovely Bolivian seamstress a bit of money when I return there in couple of weeks time and now I knew what this infamous tent eating ant looked like, so life goes on.

Given the previous day's puncture fiasco and that we would be spending another night at the Refugio I had had enough of the bikes for a bit and suggested we just hitch-hike and bus it back to the actual dam wall where they had a free tour going on. So to our frustration we did, firstly none of the rangers would give us a lift back to the road where we could supposedly catch a bus back into Hariendas. The one ranger came by in a bakkie with empty seats and an empty bakkie at the back refusing to give us a lift because he had stuff on the seats and it would be too dangerous for us in the back of the bakkie. Eventually when we had given up trying to get a lift and go by bike Murphy organised us a ride with a kind man, not working for Itaupú, who was quit happy to let us hop in the back of his bakkie. Once at the road a bus never did come so we decided to hail a taxi with very little success but after a while a 'colectivo' taxi stopped and picked us up. When we got into Hariendas he just said pay what you like as he had just given us a lift to help us out, clearly not an employee of Itaipú. Now in town we easily found a lift to the Itaipú visitors centre.

At the visitors centre we were greeted with smiles by the many staff working there and were shown to an auditorium where we enjoyed a video full of interesting facts but it was clearly out of date as it incorrectly stated that this facility was the world's biggest hydroelectric facility when in fact China has a dam which recently stole this title now making them the second. Sadly though as Lonely Planet kindly points out they don't include the facts and figures about how many homes and ecosystems were destroyed when the dam was built and filled. The dam wall itself is huge and the tour is impressive taking you over the wall to the Brazilian side so you can see it from both angles but we never did get to go inside hydroelectric facility which I believe you can do from the Brazilian visitors centre which was a little disappointing. I hate being cynical but it all feels like it is just being done just to satisfy the public that Itaipút is 'giving something' back but behind it all are just a bunch of government fat cats running a government facility inefficiently just like the many falling para-statals back home.

Once the tour was over we didn't bother trying to catch a bus anywhere and just took a taxi straight back to the Refugio but of course taxis aren't allowed in so we again had to try catch a lift at the gate down the road. Having spent 2 hours under the tree asking every passer by if they would help us out we eventually decided to do the 8 km by foot. By th time we headed off in the heat of the day we were left fuming at the unfriendly stupid Itaipú staff yet by the time we got back to the camp an hour or so later we had all calmed down thanks to the walk off and the absolutely beautiful environment we had reluctantly had the pleasure of strolling through. The Refugio has the potential to be great but by making it so difficult to get permission to stay there, not providing transport to the facility once you arrive at the gates and then finally to a banning swimming in the actual lake and forcing everyone to keep their t-shirts on when the region in so hot really does take a lot away from it. To boot the facilities advertised are not what they make them out to be there are no horses to be seen, no kayaks and the bikes you can hire for free can only be used within the camp site area and not to explore the Refugio complex. It all seems like a giant white elephant to me because no one is using the facility as it is so difficult to get to and it is just full of staff sweeping pathways, cleaning sign boards and guards sitting around under trees sipping on tereré, although it is creating jobs all this boredom has made the staff quite unpleasant to the point where I would say this facility was at risk of ruining my entire impression of Paraguay had it not been for the other great people we met in the streets. I would have much rather paid to use this facility if it meant accessing it was easier, shuttle buses were made available and the staff were friendly - I say save tax payers money and privatise it!

Finally back at our tents and with lots of food in hand we could relax and enjoy the Refugio for what it was. Again I slept well that night anticipating the excitement of cycling across 2 borders the next day taking us all the way to Puerto Iguazú in back in Argentina where we would soon take site of the amazing Iguazu Falls!

All the pics can be seen here.

CYCLING for LOVE: Misiones, its getting hot in here!

2010-02-16T20:19:00.002+02:00

Km707 to Km634: Murphy strikes again

We all had plenty to catchup with on-line so we decided to quickly make our way out of Brazil passing through Uruguaiana and then spent the day in Paso de los Libres just inside Argentina. The border crossing took a lot longer than most border crossings we had made in South America but it didn't come close to the average time spent at even the easiest of border crossings coming into or leaving South Africa by land. When we arrived in Paso de los Libres, Argentina it was just before midday and the heat was beginning to indicate things to come. Every single town we had been to in South America no matter how small had had at least an Internet café or 2 and the Internet worked, albeit sometimes on a rather outdated PC. However, somehow the one day we plan to spend the day in what is a rather sizeable developed town using the Internet the Internet was down in the entire region so not one Internet café had functioning Internet. Now with the heat hovering in the late 30s it was too hot to move on but being in a town there wasn't even anywhere to chill under a tree so we just chilled at the local petrol station which even eventually chased us off!

Having now waisted most of a day sitting, sweating and eating ice creams outside the local petrol station it was time to make our way out of town on to the Route 14 which would taken us up to the border with Paraguay. The Internet had of course sprung into action as we were about to leave town so having now spent a little time on the Internet we were only making our way out of town as the sun was setting forcing us to take the first available camping spot. The region we were now in is covered in commercial forests so the only option we had was to hop across a fence and camp in the forest. We had been having troubles with finding the right fuel for our camping stove as 'White Gas' seems to have a different name in every country we entered and we had again had trouble finding the right fuel when arriving back in Argentina only to discover that night as we started up the stove that the fuel we had bought could have just as well have been waster because it wouldn't burn for anything. Andy and I had steaks to cook and Mark had oats to cook, neither of which would be taste raw so we had to make a plan. Knowing the risks and possible legal implications of starting a fire in a commercial forest we weren't too keen to start a fire but we were left with little choice so we cleared a large area leaving just sand, dug a whole and then held up sheets of plastic around the fire to hopefully prevent the cars passing by the edge of the forest from spotting our little camping fire and reporting it. We cooked our steaks quickly and Mark heated some water for his oats in anticipation of the dreaded sound of a fie engine coming flying up the highway. As soon as the food was done we doused the fire with water and buried it deep again dousing it until it was cool to the touch. Fortunately or rather unfortunately there was absolutely no wind that night so although we wouldn't be getting much sleep due to the hot air that just sat around us as we lay in our tents we could at least be comfortable in the knowledge that the wind would not be starting the fire up again and burning down any forests.

Km634 to Km544: The Death Road

We had been warned that the Route 14 was an unpleasant road but we did not realise just how unpleasant it would be. It is the main route running up from Buenos Aires to the north and is jam packed with big trucks pulling big trailers, buses and impatient holiday makers heading in both directions at well over the speed limit. On any other road this may be ok but the Route 14 although newly tarred only has one lane going in either direction and does not have any hard shoulder to speak of just a white line about a hand wide. To add to this we had a wind in our face which made it near impossible to hear the trucks and buses sneaking up from behind us. With no oncoming traffic passing trucks would make a little space and then go flying by hooting just as they came screaming past but if there was oncoming traffic there would be no slowing down to make space just a blast of their horn 2 meters behind you then you were thrown from the road in almost paralytic fear. We had worked a little system that when there was oncoming traffic one of us would check behind and shout big fat truck or BFT to indicating that we should all hit the gravel. Unfortunately though some trucks even without oncoming traffic still chose to pass dangerously close causing you to shudder from fear as the blast of wind from the truck almost sucked you under its wheels. Below is a little poem Andy dedicated to this section:

Argentinian Highway

Long road without end

No steep up hills or serious down hills

Just a long white line

Cars going 140 on your left

A steep drop off of 10cm to your right

And all you have is a long white line

Trucks sneaking up behind

Hooting in your ear

Millimetres from your bike

They instil great fear

Stupid drivers overtaking

Stupid trucks only hating

And only one white line

Gales in your face

Barry Wronger on the back of your bike

And all you have is a long white line

That evening we were quite relieved to pull into a beautiful little town called La Cruz, it had been a draining day and not very pleasant so it was great to just go down to the river and freshen up. As we had come into town we had seen they were setting up for a carnival that evening but when we asked around we discovered that it only would be starting around midnight. We decided to stick around in town and have dinner then perhaps pop into the carnival for a bit then head back down to the river to camp. There was a nice little hotel with a restaurant that had wifi so we decided to have an drink there and then see how it panned out.

The staff at the hotel were so friendly and immediately came and plonked a big fat fan next to our table so as a result of their great service we decided to eat there. The food was good too, then halfway through the meal the waitress came over and asked if we wanted a room at the hotel but explaining we had planned to camp at the river we declined. She then came back a little later and said the owner had invited us to stay in the room around the back for free as she had herd it may rain that night and they wanted us to enjoy our time there. It was now quite late so we accepted and headed off round the back to scout out our sleeping spot. There were a few girls round the back too but preparing for the carnival later that night but it became clear that the carnival would not be starting any time soon so we decided to take the opportunity to get a good nights sleep, planning to make good ground the next day to try and get off the Route 14 as soon as possible. The room we were in did not have air conditioning but it did have a huge fan which we took the liberty of setting up over our sleeping spot as we headed off to bed. Unfortunately though the supersonic jet engine 9000 fan made such a racket that I hardly slept a wink that night, I thought that would teach me for not taking the opportunity to enjoy another all night carnival!

Km544 to Km467: The day that just wasn't meant to be

The prior night of no sleep had been a sign of things to come. We tried to get going early in the morning but then as we headed off Andy discovered he had a puncture. Then of course while I was attending to his puncture some idiot tried his best to reverse over my bike resulting my fruit juice exploding all over my clothes and bags which delayed us even further as I tried to rinse the overly sugary Argentinian fruit juice from my kit. Now departing a lot later than planned we head off back onto the dreaded Route 14.

We had spotted on the map that there was a alternate dirt road further on that headed back towards the river passing through a tiny town called Cuay Chico and then continued on joining back up with the Route 14, thus avoiding about 40km of the Route 14 all in total. Normally we would never consider taking a dirt road over a tarred road but under these circumstances I would have been happier walking dawn a dirt road if I had to in order to avoid the Route 14. About 50km into our days cycle we came to the dirt road indicating Cuay Chico 8km so we took the turn off then about 6km down the road we came to a farmers game, confused we just opened it up and continued on. Eventually we came to the farm house were the owners we as always at this time of day having a siesta leaving us with the farm worker to give us directions. According to him Cuay Chico was not down this road and was in fact down another little road in the opposite direction which made us begin to doubt ourselves but the map clearly showed it was on the right and so did the sign coming off the Route 14. We now did not have enough food or water to continue on in the wrong direction so we had to turn around and head back up the road now bringing the total to 12km of wasted dirt road ridding only to be back at the same point on the Route 14. We never did work out where we had gone wrong but we do believe we may have encountered one on the lease informed human beings on planet earth that day so that had to count for something.

Having risked our lives for most of the day on the Route 14 we came across a river and decided to freshen up there before going on to find a camp spot. We stopped at the river and had a swim but it was not refreshing at all, I seriously think that the water flowing down the river was warmer than your average jacuzzi, this may seem a bold statement but I wouldn't really want a bath much hotter than what that river was. As I wallowed in the water I could actually begin to feel myself sweat, I think the evening air outside the water may have been cooler perhaps even a breezy 30 degrees which really did not instil much confidence about what kind of temperatures we were going to find further up river. After our swim we went on hoping to make some good ground in the now cooler evening but within 5km we came across a motorcyclist and his passenger stranded due to a burst tire. We spent about 2 hours assisting them with their tyre trying to repair a perished valve with the last of our patches to no avail which we knew wouldn't work but we couldn't exactly just leave them stranded. Eventually as the sun was setting and it was too late to cycle on much further I discovered I had mobile phone signal allowing them to call for help. Needless to say we did not get much more cycling done that evening and had to camp pretty much where we had stopped to help them bring to an end a very frustrating unsuccessful day.

Km467 to Km403: The Perfect Pool

We got going early the next morning getting to Santa Tomé in time for or mid morning break, Santa Tomé is also a border town with Brazil so we had been stopped and questioned by the army as is often the case but what gets quite frustrating is that you could see in this case they didn't really care about our documents they just were abusing their powers to stop us so they could have a chat and give themselves something to do for the day. While we don't mind stopping and chatting for a bit and being polite we do mind when its going on for midday and we don't want to cycle in the heat of the day, the last thing we want to do at this time is spend 30min satisfying some army officers ego. In Uruguay, the one lot of army officers that stopped us felt they should make it look like they were doing something official so they sat and wrote down our passport details on a scrap piece of paper but got them so muddled up that they landed up taking my details down for both Andrew and I landing up with my second name being written down as Andrew's first name so they ended up with Edgar and David Collett and we were miraculously the same age. Looking a little confused at the details they had taken down incorrectly they asked if we are brothers and we told them the truth and said yes, but we never said we were twins nor is Andrew's name Edgar!

Santa Tomé is a very cool tropical looking town and everyone is very friendly, strangely it didn't have that usual edgy feeling you often have in border towns. After asking once and without having to pronounce it in 200 different tones someone directed us to an awesome coffee shop with wifi serving great pastries and ice creams, needless to say we enjoyed a good breakfast there while updating few more things on-line. The word wifi in Spanish drives me mad because for one they have rarely heard of unless they actually have a wireless laptop themselves and if they have it is Spanglish so they all pronounce it differently ranging from 'why-fie' to 'wee fee' then if they haven't heard of it trying to explain the concept in Spanish is even more fun because you have to use the word Internet another Spanglish word so you land up going through a list of things trying to describe it using different tones puttying emphasis on different parts of the word Internet to no avail 'Tienes Internet libre?', 'Tienes Internet gratis?', 'Tienes Internet in el aire?' until eventually they say 'I no speaking English'.

Now having stuffed ourselves on delicious pastries and 250g of ice cream it was time to head off to the Route 94 which were hoping was going to be a drastic improvement on the Route 14, and thankfully it was. I have never been so happy to see pot holes in a road in all my life because for every one pot hole it would mean a whole lot less cars and trucks. The Route 94 ran almost parallel to the Route 14 up towards Misiones, world renown for being home to the awesome Iguazu Falls, high temperatures and heavy rainfall, through acres and acres of forests interspersed by wide marsh lands. With all the rainfall in the area and the huge marshlands we were crossing it was no surprise the roads and low bridges had almost been washed a way in parts creating an even greater deterrent for passing traffic, it was so great having a road almost all to our own and the traffic that did come by was going so slowly to prevent loosing an axle that we had plenty of time to get out of the way. The area we were crossing was so beautiful and there was no shortage of trees to relax under, the place where we had stopped to enjoy lunch had a very tall fire watch tower which Andy immediately decided to explorer. A few days prior I had been thinking about the Love Trust that we had dedicated this leg to and how we could make a sign to get a photo with and had come to the conclusion it would be much better if one day while sitting under a tree we could make the 'LOV' logo using ourselves and bikes then take the photo from up in the tree. Unfortunately, 2 or 3 days passed and we never did find a suitable tree so while Andy was climbing the towering tower I suddenly thought, wow what a perfect opportunity to get the photo!

Getting the camera up the tower, clambering down before the timer was up all the while hoping the 'V' of the 'LOV' logo made by the bikes doesn't collapse was all part of the fun, not to mention the thorns we had to throw ourselves down onto! Eventually we got the perfect shot and went back to relax for a little longer under the tree next to the gate we had come through, just in the nick of time actually because while we were lying under the tree a truck full of army guys spotted us. Oh dear we thought, caught trespassing now we're going to be in trouble just thank heavens we weren't still buggering around on the fire watch tower. As the army vehicle pulled up to the gate a whole lot of guys got out laughing hysterically, it was the same guys we had chatted to earlier that day coming into Santo Tomé just before the road split to the Route14 and the Route 94. We had told them we were heading up to Enarnación and for them the Route 14 is the obvious route so they were convinced we were completely lost. They weren't phased at all about us chilling under the tree on someone else property they just wanted to let us know we were lost and were quite amused by how little ground we had made since we had met them earlier that day. After we explained this route was better for us they all smiled, shook our hands and headed off back down the road, there really is something to be said for just being friendly and respectful to the local authorities when you see them because although they may just be abusing their powers to stop you just so they can have something to do for the day you never know when having them on your side may be handy. I often wonder how different this trip may have been if we were from the USA and also had not learn some Spanish, being South African, knowing a bit of Spanish and being able to banter a bit about our trip and the up coming World Cup in South Africa really has enabled us to quickly make friends with the authorities.

Although the area was very humid we had seen a distinct lack of water around deeper enough and accessible enough to swim in so were hoping in vain we would come across a nice little dam that we could cool down in and clean the layers of red dust and sweat from our tired bodies before heading off to our tents. It is amazing how often this happens but just as the sun started going down we spotted a body of water on the other side of a long bridge crossing another bit of swampland, it was just what we were looking for in fact even better it was the 'Perfect Pool' as it as an old quarry that had filled up with water and some kids were already swimming in it. After finding the owner of the land and getting permission to camp there for the night we went and set up camp up on top of a little ridge behind the quarry. The 'Perfect Pool' was absolutely amazing, the water was so clean you could see your feet, it was nice deep and refreshing too because it was deep so it hadn't warmed up too much under the intense midday heat and there was a 4m high ridge you could jump off into the 'Perfect Pool'. I mean really this was just the most amazing body of water, to a child or even a grown man it was an absolute dream come true in a hot place like this I could just imagine myself playing in this water for hours, jumping off the rocks, making sailing boats and playing around in a kayak for hours on end.

Km403 to 332: Ojo!

Having had a great nights sleep awaking to the sun rising over the quarry we were in good spirits and keen to get to Apóstoles for lunch. It was an absolute scorcher of a day so by the time we hit the fine red sand dusty road into Apóstoles we were parched and in desperate need of shade. I again had lots to do on-line that day (banking, picture backup, blog update and a few more things to update regarding the LoveTrust) so Mark and Andy were kind enough to feed me 'empanadas' or fried samoosa like pies while I carried on catching up on-line but that still didn't stop me from causing the delaying our departure so by the time it was pitch dark we hadn't gotten very far down the road towards Paraguay leaving us no daylight time to look for a suitable camping spot. Now pitch dark with rather hostile traffic heading towards what we had been warned by many in Apóstoles was a very dangerous country. We had all been informed by different people when we told them where we were heading that way that we´d better 'ojo' or watch out in Paraguay as it is very very dangerous giving hand gestures of a man with a gunwhilepulling dwon their bottom eyelid, the universal sign for 'ojo'. Not long before we stopped to find a camping spot Mark had a had a plastic bottle tossed t him, an absolute first on the bikes so we were a little uneasy as it was and now we stuck for a place to camp. The only option we had was to camp on the grass patch between the busy road and the barbed wire fence or go on in the dark, it was late and we didn't feel like lifting our bikes of the fence risking ripped shirts or going on in the dark so we just decided to camp right there on the grass. It wasn't long before a policeman spotted us passing by a couple of times trying to get a better look at us then moving on. Later we then spotted a rather seedy looking car drive up next to us do a u-turn only to do another u-turn further on passing by us again. Not the best camp spot from a security perspective but that was the lease of our worries that night. That night as probably one of the hottest and most humid I had experienced in the entire 10 months. I just lay there sweating, my bed was so wet and when you that hot anything will disturb your sleep even the most discrete of 10 ton trucks rattling by would have me wide awake again. Needless to say I was relieved to see the sun come up because I knew it was time to head to Encarnación in search of a very well air conditioned hostel room!

CYCLING for LOVE: Sneaking across the SW corner of Brazil

2010-02-05T15:47:00.000+02:00

The final leg of a our cycle trip dedicated to the LOVE Trust started in Uruguay along the coast and up through the 'campo' progressing into and across the south western corner of Brazil, please enjoy!

Km965 to Km904: Accidentally wondering into Brazil
Having now spent our last day in awesome Uruguay it was time to make our way across the south western corner of Brazil back into Argentina as we make our way up to Iguazu Falls. We could have crossed directly into Argentina on the western border of Uruguay with Argentina thus eliminating the need to pass through Brazil. However, that would mean heading back down about 200km in the wrong direction only to cycle back up along a highway we had been warned was not very pleasant, the Route 14.

We had not planned to cycle far into Brazil so only started marking our way across to Rivera's Brazilian neighbour, Santana do Livramento, late in the afternoon. What we didn't know was that no official border exists between the 2 towns, only when all the signs turned to Portuguese and the people we were asking directions from responded in Portuguese did we realise something was amiss. Now having made our way up and down steep hills to get into what was now Brazil we had to head all the way back to a little office in Uruguay somewhere even before the hostel we had stayed at the night before to get our Uruguay exit stamps. Once that hack was over we returned to Santana do Livramento where we got our entry stamps into Brazil and also met an Argentine family very exited about heading to South Africa for the Fifa World Cup, but as with most people they're struggling to find reasonable price accommodation so I took their details an am hoping to able to help them out there.

Brazil has a distinctly different feel to Uruguay in addition to the change in currency and money there is just a little more of edginess about the place. More security, slightly crummier streets and a lot of people loitering about but what was quite a welcome surprise was an improved willingness to accept credit cards at the shops and a far superior road network. While the roads in Uruguay are great you can see they are designed for less cars with a lower budget but appropriately so, as it is far smaller economy. The highway running across Brazil to the Argentinian border you could see had been well constructed with a healthy hard shoulder and an asserted effort had been made to level out the land instead of just laying the tar over whatever little hill may cross its path making for nice gradual up hills with long steady down hills to follow. Everyone in the towns were quite friendly but this could just be something that rubbed off from their nearby neighbours.

That night once we were just up and over a couple of hills cycling deeper into the wet humid vegetation of Brazil it started growing dark. Because the roads are designed to be flatter it is not easy accessing the adjacent land as it is generally a lot higher or lower than the road with a healthy gutter running in between so we had to utilise one of the farmers access roads so duck down the back of one of the side verges which happened to be right next to a swamp. Luckily that night we were not bothered too much by mosquitoes however a frog or 2 did think it would be entertaining to dive straight at my headlamp sending me and my dinner flying. These must have been the tamest frogs in the world no matter how much to waved your hands at them trying to chase them away the more they hopped closer just staring straight at you. That night I slept like a baby with the frogs croaking nearby while taking comfort in the knowledge that the things banging up against my tent every now and again was just a harmless frog that had lost his way in the night.

Km904 to Km800: Nicest Internet café in the world

We had a great day of cycling the next day as the good roads provided a nice surface to glide along with wind giving us a little push from behind while the surroundings provided us something beautiful to look at. A creaking sound coming from Andy's peddle crank shaft was growing loader as we came into the next border town along with Uruguay, Quaraí but as it was lunch time everything was closed bar the local Internet café which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It was now probably close on 40 degrees Celsius so we decided to take refuge in the air conditioned Internet café where the owner was only too happy to see us. Once under his wing the generosity did not stop flowing, we were invited to secure our bikes round the back and offered to use the nice cool shower if we so wished, which we all did and desperately need, and then he offered for us to cook or sleep in the room at the back if we were tired from our cycling. So once we had had a good cool shower we got chatting gain and it turned out the owner is quite an avid mountain biker so when he heard we were looking for a bicycle shop to have a look at Andy's creaking peddle crank shaft he said not to worry and asked his friend with a bicycle shop in Uruguay to come on over.

It turned out that the owner in fact was not Brazilian either but rather Uruguay, once again another Uruguay being incredibly kind! Soon his Uruguay friend arrived on his bicycle now having crossed the border to answer the call for help with all his tools in hand. After having a look at the shaft he found it was wearing a little loose so used a bit of tin from an old Coke can to tighten things up but then he found he was short a washer so he in turn called another friend of his to bring a washer over from his bike shop in Uruguay. We got chatting and it turned out that the man was not very wealthy when he was young and through getting into cycling and starting to service peoples bikes he had built his business up to the point where he now owned the biggest bikes shop in Artigas just across the border. Once he was done with Andy's bike all the creaks were gone so I asked him how much we owed for a job very well done and he refused to let us pay as he was just too happy to help us out.

Now that the bike was fixed it was time to make lunch so while I updated the blog putting the finishing touches to the LOVE Trust Valentine's Day Appeal Mark and Andy got cracking round the back with our old faithful meal pasta, tuna, tomato paste and olives. The Internet café owner now spotted we were making lunch so he quickly hurried to put a table out for us under the shade and grabbed us some complimentary ice cold Cokes from the fridge inside for us to enjoy over lunch, I mean really what do we do to deserve this kind of amazing treatment! But it did not end there, after lunch our friend from the bicycle shop returned with some mates for us to meet and gave us some cool t-shirts and had also gone past the tourist information centre leaving us with some brochures and maps of the region to help us enjoy our cycle through the area. I couldn't believe our luck I mean what if we had chosen the Internet café next door that would have meant nowhere to secure the bikes, no cool shower, no fixed bike, nowhere in the shade to sit and cook, no free shirt and Cokes! These guys had turned what could have been a potentially very hot and frustrating day into a super awesome day, all I can say is that I am overwhelmed with their kindness and hope to keep reminding myself to every day “do unto others as I would have done unto me”.

Now with our spirits high, bodies refreshed and a fixed bicycle we headed out of town towards Uruguaiana which would be the last Brazilian town we passed through as that is where we would then pass back into Argentina. Again we found it difficult to get off the road due to a the large adjacent gutter so we again used a farmers road to duck in behind what was this time a large pile of rocks. We tried to keep as discrete as possible but it wasn't long before the adjacent farm owner grew concerned about the flash lights on the edge of the property and came to investigate. We didn't know whether to try turn off our lights and hide in the darkness or just go straight up to him and explain ourselves but in the end we were left with no choice as he drove straight up to the fence and shone his car lights on us. They were worried that we may pose a security risk but once they saw we were cyclist and we had explained our story they were quite happy for us to camp the night on the edge of their property. Technically we were outside of their fence but its always nice to meet and have the chance to explain ourselves to anyone that may be concerned that we could pose a security risk, we wouldn't to cause anyone any unnecessary concern.

Km800 to Km707:The long hot road

We were now getting closer to Argentina and the province of Misiones which is renown for being hot and humid and we were beginning to feel that we were getting closer. That day as we rested under some trees it must have been close to 40 degrees Celsius with a high humidity and to boot there were hundreds of horse flies and mosquitoes ever ready to attack. Andy made the smart choice and set up his tent over lunch so he could enjoy a nap in peace but it also meant he had created himself a little roadside sauna, one had to choose, between bugs or a sauna. I had been quite annoyed by all the heat and bugs that day but nothing could bring my spirits down as I had just received the news that my sisters fiancé had been offered a great job back in South Africa so they would be moving back just before I returned home.

That evening with spirits high we enjoyed a light breeze on the bikes stopping at a petrol station for the night just short of Uruguaiana, where we would cross the border the next day into Argentina. As petrol stations go this one was quite picturesque as it was set in the middle of nowhere providing for a great spot to just sit and watch some of the strangest people stop and fill up their cars before cruise the last 20kms into Uruguaiana while the sun setting provided a beautiful back drop. Many of the people seemed to be stuck in the 70s or 80s with full body leotards or tiny white running shorts with some great pump shoes, I felt like I was in a movie.

The next day we would head back into Argentina bringing to an end our short experience in Brazil. While I had enjoyed Brazil it had been tough suddenly not being understood again as Portuguese is similar to Spanish but not the same so half the time I wasn't sure I people we just speaking Spanish differently or if they were speaking Portuguese. I also felt quite rude speaking Spanish to people in a Portuguese country but I had very little interest in confusing my already weak Spanish with new words and a whole other accent so I was quite excited to be heading back into a country where I would be a little better understood.

All the pics from Brazil can be seen here.

CYCLING for LOVE: Magnificent Campo of Uruguay

2010-01-29T21:50:00.013+02:00

Km1545 to Km1497: Cycling for LOVE commences

Now with just Mark, Andy and I left we were ready to commence the last leg of our journey which we are now dedicating to the LOVE Trust. While Uruguay is one of my favourite countries visited on this trip it too will be remembered for the many bike troubles we had even though conditions have been perfect for cycling. Fortunately, Uruguayans are cycling crazy too so spares and bike shops are easy to come by even in the smallest of towns. Coming out of Punta del Diablo I had heard an all too familiar pinging sound coming from my back wheel which can only mean one thing, a broken spoke. Later I heard a second spoke go so I knew I'd better get to a bike shop fast otherwise I may be soon dealing with a very buckled wheel. While in countries like Ecuador and Peru we had never been too concerned about bike troubles as we knew that sooner or later a local bus would be coming whizzing prepared at every opportunity to stop and pick up or drop off passengers wherever or whenever they desired. However, here while the people are incredibly friendly their buses run on schedules and only stop at stations so if we were to be stranded without a functioning wheel we would most likely be stranded for while before catching a lift into the next town.

When planning for this trip I read a little about long distance bicycle touring and although most experienced tourers indicated that pretty much any bike will do, what they did note is that one should have their back wheel which will be taking a lot of weight, rebuilt by hand. I had considered having it done before heading out here but didn´t and soon forgot about this good piece of advice when I had covered over 8000km on my original wheel with very few troubles. The back wheel hub had perished and after replacing 3 axles I had had it replaced in Montevideo but had not remembered to ask them to rebuilt my wheel by hand so they just used a machine to rebuild it causing the spokes on my already bucked rim be overly tightened. This is ideal for racing conditions when you need a perfectly true wheel but with all the weight I was carry it didn't last much more than 200km before the spokes started going. Mark too had a few loose spokes so as soon as we cycled into the rather scruffy little town of Chuy, with its close Brazilian neighbour of Chuí, we immediately set about tracking down a bike shop.

The bike shop on the central plaza could not help us that evening so off we went on the now quite customary 'de frente' process of being sent from pillar to post until we eventually find what we are looking for. It was Andy's first day on the bikes with us so having only just survived the 40km gruelling cycle into the wind and rain he really was being treated to quite a baptism of fire when we commenced our bike shop hunt. The bike shop on the central plaza had sent us towards the sprawling suburbs in search of another bike shop so asking as we went we got sent deeper and deeper into the thick of the suburbs which was now beginning to look more like township than a suburb but nonetheless we persevered. Just when we were about ready to give up on the hunt a man on a funny old motorbike we had encountered earlier stopped and ask exactly what we needed a bike shop for. After explaining that our spokes were broken he smiled and asked us to follow him, we laughed and off we went as if being lead off by The Pied Piper of Chuy.

By now Andy was shattered and hardly wanted to be chasing down a motorbike but he didn't have much choice so he sucked it up and joined us behind The Pie Piper. After following him around a few twists and turns we found he had lead us to his friends workshop which was nothing more than a shack which opened up on to the road in what was now a very poor area but we didn't need much more. The man at the work shop was not to interested in our travel stories but he was the perfect man to replace our perishing spokes. Within an hour he had repaired both our wheels proudly showing off the device he had built to true bicycle wheels. while the man saw to our wheels we relaxed a bit and just watched local life pass us by, its experiences like these that allow that we most most enjoy and would not find on your average tourist trail making every bit of peddling worth it.

Now chuffed with our wheels boasting a full set of spokes we set off to find a hostel, a rest Andy by now was in desperate need of. It's easy to think of our time on the bikes as one big holiday but it really does take a lot of discipline and time management. Just when you think phew we've made it to town now I can kick back and relax that's when you've got to start the hack. If its not setting up the tents its hostel hunting and once that's done its time to start cooking, then there's no leaving the dishes for tomorrow, the dishwasher or the domestic so its wash up time, once that's done its time to go shop and plan 4 meals for each day we're going to be between towns and finally its wash and to bed time only to be awake again 6:30am ready to pack everything up and cycle another 90 odd kilometres - only do it all again.

Km1497 to Km1398: Discovery of the beautiful Uruguayan ´campo´
Waking up in Chuy early, in order to make some ground before the heat of the day, Andy found that his legs were pretty stiff and Mark found that one of his spokes that had been over tightened had now pulled itself from the rim. It was only one spoke so we decided to go on and deal with it when we reached the next big little town of Lescano. The section between Chuy and Lescano was breath taking not only because of the little rolling hills but also because of the beautiful and green scenery. Halfway to Lescano we came across an old fort, Fortín San Miguel just outside of a little town called San Luis with a beautifully maintained section now operating as a hostel. We never expected much form the hinterland of Uruguay but as has always been the case on this trip the places that we have little expectations for always pleasantly surprise the most.

Most of the people we had spoken to before heading inland did not know much about the hinterland of Uruguay and certainly weren't doing a great job of promoting it. What we found was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen with the friendliest people we have encountered anywhere on the continent all contributing to the feeling of absolute serenity. Huge bright green planes opened up before us with fields of palm tress dotted here and there. The lush green grass seemed to be teaming with life including some very healthy looking cows that were literally swimming in the abundant pools of water, however for some reason this place seemed to defy nature as high humidity and mosquitoes never were a problem. In between the jaw dropping green fields we passed over and down rolling hills covered by think green shrubbery proving endless ever changing breathtaking views as we rolled up and over the top of each one of them.

Halfway through our afternoon session we arrived in Lescano where Mark quickly found a bike shop to replace his spoke, while that was being seen to we all shared a 'mate' with the shop owners. We first came across this 'mate' when we entered Argentina, it is basically a type of tea that does not come in tea and is drank straight out of the 'pot', otherwise called a calabash. It is enjoyed and shared by the calabash around being drunk through a metal straw with a filter at the bottom, otherwise called a bombilla. Everyone drinks it in Argentina and Uruguay quite religiously to the point where you it is not uncommon to see people ridding along on scooter with a passenger on the back refilling the calabash from the trusty flask of hot water ever present, they even have vending machines at every petrol station to ensure your flask is never empty. One of the first things Andy said to me when he arrived was ´what is that thing everyone is carrying around and sipping on as if their life depended on it?. Personally I find it a bit bitter but it a is a great social drink and almost rude to turn down if ever offered.

About 20 cups of 'mate' later Mark's bike was ready and we had been told there was a great place to camp by Rio Cebollatí, 12km down the road. It was Andy's second day on the bike and he was already quite shattered but we all agreed it would be worth it so off we went. The sun was going down fast and we didn't want to cycle in the dark so it was a rather quick 12km down the road leaving Andy puffing and panting as we got to the top of each rise. Once at Rio Cebollatí we all agreed the mad race down the road was definitely all worth it as we got to enjoy watching the the sun slowly slip down over the where the river disappeared into the distance. There were no facilities there but there was a road running along the river with makeshift camping spots doted here and there. After a refreshing swim Andy set about making a fire while we got the veggies on the boil. We weren't there long before another camper and their pet sheep, Gordi (short for gordito which meaning little fatty), came along to welcome us and told us to please let them know if there was anything we needed, we had been offered this a lot in Uruguay and were quite tempted by this stage to see what they would say if we responded by saying "ok then, some dinner and a place to sleep would be lovely thanks".

It was Andy's first night in his new tent and sleeping basically in the middle of nowhere so was quite understandably a little apprehensive about a few things. After carefully pitching his tent, between ours making sure he would not be the first one approached if someone were to bother in the night, he spotted what looked like 2 eyes in the bush so he very puzzled he came over and said with concern in his voice "ah guys what is that in the bush, is someone filming us?". After recovering from laughter we allayed his fears and began to realise how accustomed we have become to living outdoors, now little things like fire flies flashing away in the bush have been lost on which is why having someone like Andy joining us is great as it helps us to have a renewed appreciation for our surroundings. Having had a great braai and a swim we all slept great that nigh enjoying what was one of my favourite camp spots on our whole trip.

Km1398 to Km1323: The broken bolt that brought good luck
Waking up on a river bank is always so pleasant because you can have good wash and a freshen up before you head off for the day. Again it was another beautiful morning in Uruguay and we realised we had to get moving fast before it started getting too hot. We made good ground so as started getting sticky we were only too relieved to roll into Treinta y Tres for a good long lunch break. I had planned to just sit back and relax in this little town possibly even getting to my Spanish Popular Mechanics under the shade of a tree in the local plaza but my bicycle had other plans. As I pulled my bicycle up onto the pavement I lent back on my seat and crack went the bolt sending me flying off the seat. Great I thought to myself, there goes my break, as I wheeled my bike off in search of yet another bike shop.

Fortunately, the people of Treinta y Tres do not have super mammoth siestas and the bike shop I had found reopened within an hour so I sat outside enjoying my Mechanicos Populares magazine just outside the door. So often on this continent have we arrived at a place to find its closed only to come back later and find we had missed the 10 second window of opportunity when it had opened in between so I was staying out until I had gotten my bolt. When I had barley gotten through an article because of having to use the dictionary with every second word, I looked up to see an attractive middle aged lady asking me where I was from, I thought to myself surely this is not the owner as every other bike shop owner was a chubby greasy man? I politely told her I was South African after which I was promptly invited to come inside and before I had finished explaining that the bolt had snapped she had rushed off to the work shop to ask the workman to please have a look for a spare seat bolt.

The workman seemed to be having some trouble finding a bolt so in the meanwhile the shop lady and I got talking, and before long I had been given a very cool German looking 70s cycle top which she explained had been her fathers, the original owner of the shop. The shop was full of pictures of races her father had done in Brazil and around for what I understood was the Peñarol cycling team but I could have misunderstood her. In addition, I received a couple of free football stickers, one from Peñarol and the other Nacional who I believe must be the 2 main big teams here because when I had them out on a table later that day the waitress was very exited by the one and pulled a really horrible face about the other. The workman had still not found a bolt so after a couple of phone calls her daughter pitched up on her bicycle to hold fort while her Mom hopped on the bicycle and went in search of a bolt in her dress and high shoes! Soon, after a slightly awkward chat with her daughter, who I managed to work out was still at school, her Mom returned brandishing 2 brand new bolts. She proudly handed me both and when I enquired how much I owed she just said 'No, por favor!' a very commonly used term here in Uruguay meaning 'No, the pleasure is mine' sometimes just shortened to an almost off putting 'No!' in response to a polite 'Gracias'. Now very chuffed first and foremost with my awesome family heirloom I cycled off to show it off to the others thinking to myself how lucky I was that my bolt had broken that day.

That evening´s cycle was again so breathtaking, we cycled up and over green rolling hills which would rival any Scottish scenery. It was now Andy's 3rd day in a row on the bike so after a long day the rolling hills were almost the end of him. When given the choice as to whether we camped at the top of the hill we were on or over the other side Andy very quickly selected the one we were already on which turned out to be a great choice as we enjoyed yet another wonderful yet unique sunrise over the rolling hills.

Km1323 to Km1243: Becoming famous in Melo

The next day we continued up and down over rolling hills as we made our way into Melo. Andy had been cycling almost none stop now for a few days on a an almost zero fitness base so he was very relieved when we finally pulled into the quaint little town of Melo, a town where we became a little bit famous for a day. On cycling into Melo a man stopped and asked me what our trip was about and then asked me if I had a local mobile number, which I did, so gave it to him and cycled off thinking nothing of it. About an hour later I received a call from a lady enquiry about our trip and before I knew it I discovered I was was chatting live in bad Spanish on the local radio station! Then the following morning as we were cycling out early past the local plaza, the wrong way up one-way street, some men started shouting at us asking if we spoke Spanish. I just cycled on thinking that they were going to reprimand us for cycling 'contramano' but then Mark stopped as he realised all they wanted was to do an interview. So, another local interview later we were back on the road towards Brazil now just a little bit famous in the town of Melo.

Km1243 to Km1143: The generous gaucho
Having had both a radio and TV interview we were now almost more famous than Brad Pitt, be it only in Melo and probably only for those 24hrs but we were famous nonetheless, well at least we like to think so. Even later that day when we stopped by a river for a lunch break about 60km out of town some people kept approaching asking if we were the people they had heard about on the radio but our fame didn´t last long because once we were out of range of the local transmitter we back to just being another gringo.

One of the greatest things about Uruguay is that people can drive down to their local river and set up camp for a day or 10 to have a little holiday, which got us think why don't/can't we do this in South Africa? Firstly access to land is an issue but also if you allowed anyone and their dog just to drive down onto your land and pitch up camp it would soon be over run with people. Uruguay only has a population of around 3 million people so overrunning shared resources like rivers and beautiful beach destinations is less likely. We in this modern age are forever banging on about recycling and carbon emission but has anyone ever dared to stop and think what if we just bore less children? For every one less person in this world I'm pretty sure there would be a whole lot less pollution than if say even 2 people separate their waste and stop taking overseas holidays and solely use public transport. Problem is no one dare suggest we have less children, I don't know why it´s such a taboo but why can´t we start encourage people to have less children, and if they do want more children there are hundreds and thousands of children without parents who would love a pair, or even just one!

That evening as it began to grow dark we started scouting for a river we could camp at and had stop to check one out when a 'gaucho' or farmer stopped next to us. Darn we thought to ourselves now he's totally going to chase us off, but no he popped his head out and invited us over for a Friday evening 'asado' or braai. He said he owned all the land we could see and that were welcome to camp by his river but his house was just 5km back and we were welcome to join them for and 'asado' and could stay the night at their place. We loathed the idea of cycling back 5km so we thanked him and said we'd just camp down by the river so looking a little disappointed he again confirmed his house was only just up the road and if we changed our minds we're welcome. We still loathed the idea of cycling back 5km but then again this trip has tough us to always take an opportunity that is not likely to come around again soon so after some discussion and a democratic vote we headed on back up the hill. Soon we were bouncing down a dirt road where we found the 'gaucho' and his family enjoying an evening of fun down on one of their lakes but this was not where the house was so he loaded us all up in his 4x4 and off we all went, 3 kids, a 'gaucho' and his wife, 3 bicycles, 3 ´Gringos de Africa´ and a dog!

Back at the farm house the staff already had the fire going and were almost ready to slap on the lamb that that the 'gaucho' had prepared. It was a great evening because not only did we get to enjoy the evening with the family but the staff were invited to the 'asado' too. The one old man had worked for the family for 3 generations now and claimed to be 116 and also claimed that his son had taken part in the Olympics for Uruguay. The 'gaucho' seemed to agree and verify this info but I struggled to understand it all let alone believe it because the old man's dialect was quite a mix of Portuguese and Spanish now being so close to the Brazilian border. We had a great evening out under the stars next to the fire sipping local beer and learning a bit more about the farmland way of life in Uruguay. Soon the meat was ready and we all sat down to eat, however with 'asado' there's no salads and other veggies all there is is meat and a few little rolls. Mark got lucky though as the 'gaucho's' wife had whipped up some eggs and rice for him but I nor Andy were about to complain as we had healthy helping tasty tender lamb to get through.

Km1143 to Km1053: Crazy lady with great hamburgers
Over the 'asado' the 'gaucho' had given us some advice to take a back road from Ansina, about 40km up the road, which would take us to a earlier border post with Brazil, at Rivera, instead of going via Tacuarembó which would have taken us directly up to Artigas further along. The new route meant we could cycle through a beautiful area with little traffic up to the border and then would be able to cycle along the plateaux in Brazil towards the border with Argentina, essentially just along the other side of the border with Uruguay passing close by to Artigas along the way. The route we had planned to take apparently was not as beautiful and the road on the Uruguay side of the border was apparently interrupted by a large 'cuesta' or steep hill. Given that we preferred back roads and only ever avoided them when they were tarred and would be avoiding a 'cuesta' we took his advice and first thing headed for a our new destination, the border town of Rivera.

The back roads did prove to be beautiful and tarred, and as we cycled along we could actually see some hills in the distance down in the lower planes that we figured must have been what we would have had to cycle over had we not changed our route. They looked like mini versions of table mountain and proved beautiful scenery from a distance and that's how we preferred them, at a distance. Halfway to Rivera we came to a little town famous apparently for having the first hydroelectric plant in South America called Minas de Corales. It was a strange town and everyone was friendly but you could definitely see you we getting closer to Brazil as the people looked more Brazilian and they all seemed to speak some strange mix of Spanish and Portuguese. We had stopped to ask the lady at a make shift hamburger stand in the middle of the main road where we could find a supermarket but we got chatting and she turned out to be the funniest lady we had seen in a while. She was amazed by us and a our story calling us 'loco' (crazy) at every opportunity while pointing at Mark's beard saying 'feo, muy feo' (ugly, very ugly). That evening we returned to her stall so that Andy and I could try out one of her hamburgers and it turned out to be delicious, that is when she finally stopped laughing at us and went inside her little trailer to prepare it. The hamburgers were crammed full of hamburger patty, ham, peas, eggs, you name it it was in there and it was just what we needed after long day of cycling.

As we finished up our delicious hamburgers it began to pelt down with rain so we quickly made our way out of town in the direction of Rivera, which happened to be up a huge hill, where we set up camp for the night. Fortunately, the rain soon stopped so we enjoyed preparing our dinner and a most enlightening catch up on my little big brothers last few years in school as the sky grew dark. It has worked out so well that Andy could join us for the last leg of our trip because not only is he getting to experience some of the most beautiful places we have seen and gain Independence but this too has given us a chance to catch up 5 years lost years while I working and travelling all over the place.

Km1053 to Km965: Andy gets towed into Rivera
Sleeping up on the ridge over looking Minas de Corales proved quite a treat as we were awoken by a beautiful sunrise over the valley and town below. We had a long day cycling into Rivera with the scenery now pretty as the road had joined up with a more main road outside of Minas de Corales now running along the border and into Rivera. Just as we could see Rivera on the horizon and were literally climbing the last hill before coming into the town Andy's bicycle chain broke. I was already at the top of the hill being puzzled by a rugby field that I had seen pop up on the horizon, now I knew Argentina played rugby but I was surprised to find a rugby field in Uruguay especially just on the border with Brazil. Mark had luckily spotted Andy's plight and kindly threw him a rope, literally, and towed him up the hill. Fortunately as we came down the other side into Rivera we almost immediately came across a little bike shop where a customer agreed to wait a little longer for his bike so that the man could deal with Andy's broken chain and another 2 spokes of mine that had gone in the last 100km. It was already very kind of the man to almost immediately start working on our bikes but then when he was done he refused to let a pay him! Imagine trying to find a bike shop in South Africa where: A the owner works on your bike, B it is done there and then in front of you and C they don't charge you anything for it.

The bikes were all back into top shape in almost no time so we had the whole evening off to go shopping in the duty free town of Rivera preparing for our next section where we would spend 2 or 3 days sneaking across the south west corner of Brazil and back into Argentina. It is amazing but things we already beginning to look more like Brazil, especially the vegetation, and while I was excited to be making progress in trip up to Iguazu Falls it would be sad to soon be soon waving good-bye to Uruguay which could well be one of my favourite countries in South America.

All the pics from Uruguay can be seen here.

CYCLING: Welcome Andy, hasta pronto Nick!

2010-01-29T20:39:00.004+02:00

We have decided with to dedicate the final 1,500km of our over 10,000km cycle trip culminating at Iguazu falls to LOVE Trust. I hope to post the commencing of our final leg soon however in the mean while please take a look at the LOVE CHALLENGE APPEAL above and enjoy the below post which carries us up to the point of our finar departure.

Km1778 to 1708: Cooking show
We awoke in a forest on the side of the highway 70km out of Montevideo ready to make our way to Punta del Este where the rich and famous apparently from around the world meet and play. We had all heard such great things about this place mostly because it is a popular vacation spot for Uruguayans next door neighbours the Argentinians with their slightly stronger Peso but I don't think any us us were particularity excited to by the idea of the place. As we cycled into the place everything seemed to go up including the price of things and the buildings. We had gone from the beautiful tranquil beaches of El Pinar to the peak season packed and over priced beach destination of Punte del Este. The only things that had really changed for the better I suspect would be the night life, which we were not going to hang around for, and the body of water which the pristine white beaches led onto that being the slightly clearer Atlantic Ocean as opposed to the murky river water of Rio Plata flowing past Montevideo and El Pinar.

We arrived in Punta del Este just in time for lunch so by habit we found a nice spot under a tree and whipped out our little 'kitchen' and ingredients. Although, this time we did not have the place all to ourselves as we had set up under a tree on the waters edge just in front of a rather busy pavement where a restaurant too had felt it was a great spot for their patrons to enjoy a meal and so had a few tables and chairs within ear shot of our set up. Our little cooking stove is by no means quite and before long it was as if we were doing a cooking show and were now being gawked at by many passers by. Fortunately, only the polite and interested ones had the guts to approach us asking questions and mentioned that they actually quite enjoying the aroma of frying tomatoes and onions emanating from out little stove. The waiters at the nearby restaurant also became quite interested in our culinary skills and soon we all got chatting. I'm not sure if we smelt really bad but one of the waitresses even offered for us to use her shower which we politely declined as we needed to move after lunch but nonetheless we were overwhelmed by everyone's kindness. I'd imagine if you had to set up a mobile kitchen near any other popular beach destination anywhere else in the world you'd very quickly be chased off.

After having played cooking show cooking show for the local passers by Mark and Nick discovered that the price of internet was 4 times that of other areas so decided to move on quickly down the coast to one of the smaller less know beach towns in order to use the internet at a reasonable price. I had agreed to meet them there later as I had the luxury of being able to take advantage of the free wifi at a local bar while sipping a cold beer even if the beer was twice the price of one anywhere else in the country it was so worth it but the extra time in Punta del Este proved to be a bit of curse. By the time I had done what I needed to do on-line the clouds had rolled in and would now have to make my way down the coast to meet the others. Just as I set off everyone and their dog vacated the beach in a mad frenzy due the dark ominous clouds that were fast approaching so before I knew it I was not only stuck in the rain but stuck in traffic too!

The beach towns further on up the coast didn't prove to be any cheaper as this is where we discovered the super wealthy and elite hang out . As fast as the high rise beach apartments begin to disappear so do the the Ferraris and the like become common place. Needless to say Mark and Nick never did find an internet café let alone a cheap one so when I did finally get to them they were just sitting around waiting for me to appear from the curtain of rain while huddled under the shelter provided by the local petrol station. That night we camped in the park behind the station hoping that with all the rain the passers by whizzing by in their Ferraris wouldn't take much notice, and fortunately they never did However, the lady at the petrol station staff did do a bit of a double take when I reappeared from the darkness of the park to restock up on water.

Km1708 to Km1590: Naked swim
Thanks to all the rain the day prior we began to doubt whether we would make it down the supposedly long dirt road to the much spoken of beach town of Vilizas in time to see the place and still get back to the highway so we could continue on to meet Andy in Punta del Diablo the following day. We had been told it was all very natural and didn't even have electricity so we were very keen to get there but because it was supposedly down a long dirt road we began to doubt whether or not we would have time. Luckily when we got to Castillo the town inland a long the highway we discovered that there was a 30min bus down to the beach and a courtyard out the back of the 'bus terminal' where we could store our bikes for the night. Again quite astounded by our luck, we set off in the bus to Vilizas for the night.

Valizas was less of a 'small town' than I had thought and had a tarred road leading all the way to it boasting far more electricity than I would have imagined but it was beautiful nonetheless with a healthy supply of hippies dancing around fires selling useless tat to support their free lifestyle. That night after a couple of drinks and in true hippy style we didn't even bother looking for a camp site and headed straight to the beach. It was new moon and pitch dark so with only the starlight to guide us we walked far down the beach hopping to avoid bothering any local home owners whilst also hopping not be bothered any local home owners or wondering hippies.

Once a spot had been strategically selected and camp set up we did a bit of star gazing and within moments I saw 2 shooting stars. Now already satisfied with my star gazing accomplishments my mind turned to getting clean before going to bed. I did not want wet clothes in my tent to deal with nor did I want to have to faff with drying them in the morning so figured I'd have to go for a swim without them. It was so dark that there would be no finding my kit post swim if I wasn't careful so after stripping down I carefully piled my clothes close enough to find but far enough away from the waters reach not to be washed away. Slowly I walked straight into the deep dark ocean trying not to veer left or right never allowing my feet to leave the ground, I did not want to be moved off centre of my clothes nor did I want to get sucked out to sea in the pitch dark only to be found the next day stranded and naked!

It was the most amazing swim, I felt so vulnerable being surrounded by nothing but blackness, crashing waves and the starry sky while just being in awe of the elements that surrounded me. Although, soon this awesome feeling of freedom turned to concern, a concern that the other guys, the hippies, the waves or my bad memory may cause my clothes to go amiss so I quickly followed the line back from where I had started. As I began to towel myself dry I noticed that the fine white beach sand glowed florescent green and the more I ran it over my arms and legs the more it seemed to glow. This truly was a moment I never will forget.

Km1590 to Km1545: Brothers reunited
Andy had arrived in Argentina the day before and over night had been making his way to Uruguay so that morning I was up early checking my phone to see if I had any news of his exciting journey from Argentina to Uruguay with a bicycle and not knowing 2 words of Spanish. As I checked my phone I noticed it was just going on for sunrise and because we were now on the east coast of South America the sun was rising over the sea as I peeped out of my tent. We now were not alone on the beach as many of the hippies still partying in town when we had left to setup camp had now stumbled onto the beach and were too now enjoying sunrise on the beach but I don't think it was nearly as appreciated by them.

I was now very keen to get to Punta del Diablo as Andy would be arriving there soon so after an early morning swim Mark and I made our way to the bus terminal leaving Nick to enjoy the beach for the day. Once back in Castillo I packed my bike up and headed on up the road to Punta del Diablo leaving Mark to take advantage of the cheap Internet we had discovered in the little town. As I headed off I received a message from Andy to say he would soon be arriving at his destination which was encouraging and provided much fuel for the 45km cycle especially given that I had to stop every 15min and force some more air into my tire which was now had an ever growing puncture.

By the time I made it into the little beach town of Punta del Diablo, exhausted from trying to pump up a deflating tyre with a perishing pump, Andy had arrived and was now putting his bike and bags together in order to cycle on to the hostel I had booked for him. It was so good to see Andy again especially since it had been almost a year since I had last seen him and was now most looking forward to him joining us on our adventure,and too boot he was carry a mich need puncture repair kit and spanking new bicycle pump! The guy is growing so fast that I hardly recognised him, the only reason I turned and took as second look was because he was making a distinct African whistle sound trying to get my attention, fifiiiiiiif!

Due to the intense heat we experienced coming out of Buenos Aires and the never ending confirmations that the region leading up to Iguazu Falls was even hotter and more humid Nick had taken the decision to move on and cycle elsewhere on the continent where it would be a bit cooler once we had reached the end of the Uruguayan coastline. Punta del Diablo is essentially the last popular white sandy beach along the Uruguayan coastline so as Andy was joining the team Nick would be heading off for cooler pastures. Nick hadn't quite decided yet where exactly he planned to cycle but had booked a bus and boat back to Buenos Aires and would then be heading back up into the Andes because with the altitude it would be a lot cooler cycling around there.

I decided to join Andy at the hostel that night but accommodation was now full, and Mark and Nick did not want to pay the inflated price for camping on their grounds so decided to rather find somewhere else to camp for the night then spend the next day, our last day all together on the beach. Staying at the hostel landed up being a rather lucky choice not only because we were out numbered by girls 5 to 1 but also around midnight it began pouring and I mean absolutely pouring with rain the whole night long. The rain unfortunately did not stop there and continued on into what was now going to be all our last day on the beach. After breakfast Mark and Nick appeared from underneath the curtain of rain but were made to feel most unwelcome by the hostel staff so now homeless and with rain pouring outside our options were limited.

With our options limited Nick decided to take start making his way back to Buenos Aires ASAP by first cycling back to Castillo then catching a bus from there while we decided come rain or shine we might as well start our cycle trip on up towards Iguazu falls. However, before setting our separate ways we would be having one last big meal all together. Everything was quite pricey within the actually beach town of Punta del Diablo so we decided to try our luck at the restaurant we had all seemed to have noticed just at the turn off down to Punt del Diablo. It was a perfect location too because it was on the highway so after lunch we could head our separate ways. The restaurant was less established than we had all imagined and was basically just an old home converted to a restaurant where the locals took refuge to enjoy a meal outside of the craziness of the beach resort but it turned out to have great food and we had probably the best service we have ever received.

On arrival at the restaurant were immediately welcomed in and invited to take a seat wherever we pleased being offering a table outside which was not yet set up if we so desired one. Once seated the chef popped out to give us a run down of the her best dishes and once she was done she told us she would be coming back with a little dish on the house to get us started. The prices we all so reasonable and with home made pasta and malenesas being a Uruguayan speciality we all opted for one of the two and no one was disappointed. We all enjoyed our lunch, just the perfect meal to welcome Andy to the team and wish Nick a fond farewell and good luck on his cycling adventures.

Now with tummies full we all reluctantly clambered onto our bikes saying our fond farewells as Nick cycled off into the the distance with his 'Please give me a lift to Montevideo' sign attached to the back of his bike, which as we later found out was unfortunately not very successful. We all wish Nick luck with his trip!

To see all the pics click here.

CYCLING: Buenos Aires to Montevideo & becoming little bit famous

2010-01-17T04:19:00.007+02:00

We have now made it into Uruguay and Andy, my little big brother, is due to join us in a few days from Punta del Diablo just as Nick has taken the decision to continue his bike trip in the cooler Andean region. The end of something great and the start of something new and exiting but I reckon the next few weeks are going to get tough as we head into the hot humid region below Iguazu Falls!

New Years & The Feministas
Buenos Aires is actually probably the worst place big city in the world to be for actual New Years because it a family thing here, nothing is open and no one is doing anything. Luckily enough though during old years day we were accosted by some crazy Brazilians who had decided in true Brazilian style if there isn't a party to attend then you make your own wherever it may be. They were just chatting and sipping beer on the side walk outside a convenience store taking advantage of a few spare tables and chairs provided along the main avenue running through Buenos Aires. As we walked by, the streets now deserted because it was siesta time, they called us to join them. In hindsight I think we can thank Steve for this because it quickly became clear who the one chica was interested in. They had already gathered a bit of a crowd by that stage so we were now accompanied by several Brazilians and a Frenchmen, stereotypically arrogant winking as he announced he was from Toulouse.

It was only midday and we had a long night ahead but it was time to get the beers flowing along with some banter . As always there was a bit of a language barrier but what was nice about this crowd is that they were all in the same boat as us and Spanish was too their 2nd or 3rd language making it much easier to be patient with each other. Steve having only been on the continent for 2 weeks obviously just had to do with English, most of the Brazilians knew some English but the the lady who's eye he had caught didn't know much at all, nonetheless she persistent in her attempts to reel him in. It was quite entertaining having the 2 of them sitting next to me because the chica was blatantly interested in Steve and well on her way down the road to passing out before midnight. She kept whispering things to Steve in Spanish which he had little understanding of so she had to repeat just about everything to us in order for us to translate them, most of which were getting quite bluntly flirtatious. Eventually she got desperate and asked him straight out if he wanted to go back to the hostel, to which he declined, and then finally as we were bidding farewell she managed to, in desperation, pull together some English words blurting out across the pavement 'I want you!'. Steve being Steve just laughed in her face and said thank you as he walked off, she had used a literal translation of Spanish to English which in Spanish actually just means I like you and can even be used to express fondness between friends and family members but nonetheless it provided us with endless laughter.

We had made plans to meet the Brazilians outside a club just before midnight just after dinner. Once back at the hostel we met some more Brazilians chicas Sarah, Patricia and Kauara preparing for the night out but they did not yet have concrete plans so we did as all sensible gentlemen would have done and invited them out to join us for a New Years eve dinner. As expected nothing really was open when we were looking for restaurants so after walking the streets near the club where we planned to meet we finally found a suitable dinner spot but only started eating just before midnight so were a bit bummed we'd be sitting at a table for New Years. These Brazilian chicas too were so interesting to talk to and turned out to be 'Feministas' who work in a feminist organisation in Brazil fighting for woman's rights. They were most interested in South Africa and how far woman's rights have come and were especially interested policies promoting equality in the work place and our parliament proudly boasting a 50% female membership which I was all too happy to go on about.

Steve was on top form and had spotted some more ladies to join us, this time a rarely spotted South African and a German lady. So, after so more banter and great food it wasn't long before we had all wolfed down our dinner, just in time for the New Years celebrations. As the clock struck 12 free bottles of champagne began to flow, people poured into the street in front of our dinner table conveniently placed on the pavement and the sky light up with fireworks, all a very unexpected exciting turn of events. We were all aware that the other Brazilians were expecting us as the night club so we soon headed on to the club but it was closed and the streets around it dead. We spotted a bar opening up nearby, bear in mid it was now 1am, and within 30min of ordering a drinks the area sprung to life!

The streets quickly grew busy with cars, the club opened and a huge queue formed outside it reaching around the block. Just as we were reluctantly muting the idea of joining the queue some crazy DJ with a generator and a mobile sound system came striding down the road with a huge crowd of dancing follows. Needless to say we never did get to the club but instead danced in the
street until the sun came up!

Later that New Years day we discovered that the Dakar 2010 - Argentina and Chile was being kicked off near the city centre where we were but after watching the first of hundreds of cars, trucks, motor bikes and quad bikes setting off for the challenge we grew tired and headed of for some much needed sleep.

Popping in for a chat with Ambassador Tony Leon
We have been trying to visit all the South African embassies as cycle between countries, one because it is so interesting chatting to and hearing the experiences of the staff at the embassy but too to get a resupply of World Cup 2010 and South African promotional goods. Everyone we meet wants to see pictures of South Africa and where it is on a map so thanks to the very generous embassies we have plenty to share with them. When visiting the Lima embassy Ambassador Manley mentioned that Tony Leon soon would be taking office as the Ambassador in Argentina and if we were lucky we would get to meet with him when we finally made it to Buenos Aires. A few days before coming into Buenos Aires we decided to try our luck because our promotional goods were running out and it would be very interesting getting to chat to Tony Leon. However, we did not have much faith because it was the festive season and we figured it would be unlikely that anyone would be about receive our email let alone meet with us. We were in luck though and as we have experienced at most of the embassies we've contact we had a very positive and timely response, if only Home Affairs could be as efficient as Foreign Affairs!

The earliest we could meet with Ambassador Leon was the 4th of Jan the day after Steve left so unfortunately for him he'd miss the visit. As with all our visits we were quite nervous to meet the staff and the Ambassador, what were they going to think of these unshaven boys with crazy beards, moustaches and mowhawks?! We headed over to the offices in good time to make sure we weren't late but there was now way to spruce ourselves up as our wardrobes are very limited and to boot Nick had handed in all his clothes for a wash so now had to attend the meeting in board shorts and flip flops! I'm not sure how but we passed through security with ease and before we knew it we were sitting at a table with Mr Langa, First Secretary and head of World Cup 2010 promotions in the region and Ambassador Tony Leon. It was quite surreal having such a famous well respected South African figure sitting before us but it is was easy to see why he had been chosen by the DA to be the longest standing leader of the official opposition party for over 15 years because within moments we felt quite comfortable and conversation was flowing fast.

It can always be a little awkward at first meeting with the staff at the embassies because I'm sure for them its kind of like why on earth are we meeting with these hobos especially if they haven't been briefed about our cycle trip. Often the staff at the embassies are so busy that they don't get a chance to experience the countries that they are now South African representatives to so we get to offer a perspective on the country and people that they would otherwise often find difficult get so by the end of the meeting I'm sure they are quite grateful that we've shared our experiences with them. In addition, as Mr Langa and the Ambassador expressed that they are paid to promote the country so us offering to lend a hand while cycling around the continent is much appreciate.

The Ambassador was then only in his 2nd month at the head of the South African Embassy to Argentina but had plenty of interesting insight to offer about politics on the continent. He in jest suggested that perhaps he should have done a little more cycling instead of spending his youth studying and doing his lawyers articles but I think we can be grateful he didn't because I'm sure the knowledge he gain during this time enabled him to keep the ANC on their toes for all the years he was at the helm of the official opposition party, the DA. It can't be easy moving from the head of the opposition into an ambassadorial role serving under the very same party you spent many years 'opposing' but I feel this shows how South African's democracy is maturing and as the ambassador stated himself 'I'm living proof we celebrate diversity'. Around the same time as we had met with the ambassador he had been interviewed with the Mail & Guardian and its looks like they chatted about almost exactly the same stuff so I won't go into any more detail, the article can be read here.

After an enjoyable and insightful chat the Ambassador and Mr Langa presented us with some more promotional goods to take with us including being kitted out with World cup 2010 caps and t-shirts . In addition, we got presented with a box of beautiful South African calendars, the only catch was how would we carry them all. In the end we were so overwhelmed with the whole event that we forgot to get a picture at the embassy with the Ambassador and Mr Langa to remember it all by! But, as the Ambassador stated in the meeting, if you don't write it down it never happened, so here's to hoping this serves those purposes.

Km300 to Km210: Plans are made to be broken
We had now bode farewell to Steve who was going to be missed but had to headed back to South Africa to continue his day job and although we had such a greet experience in Buenos Aires as with all cities we've been to we were always just too excited to get out of the city after a while. Being on the bike feels like routine now and having our own tents every night has come to feel like home and our own little bit of space. At first the thought of unpacking and packing up a tent is quite arduous but I actually I still get as excited as I was the first time every time I set him up. Having the bikes in the city is a pain because you always have to find place for them then drag them up and down stairs piece by piece with numerous bike bags in tow. With the tent you can just strip everything off the bike, set up the tent, chuck everything in, lock the bike to a tree then jump into the tent and organise everything into its little routine corner and there you have a little home with everything exactly where you can find it. Then, when you leave you can very quickly see if you've left anything behind.

Sorrel had had a bit of admin with her house mate who had returned from his holiday to find 3 bicycles on their roof terrace, which I may add is huge like 4m by 8m, and decided he did not want them up there which is fair enough. As a result Sorrel kindly organised with Vero and James, 2 of her friends we met at her place on the first night to kindly take us in so when we returned for having spent New Years in the hostel we collected our incredibly space consuming bicycles and headed over to Vero's. Their place is huge and they had a few spare rooms so we were very well accommodated and as is always the case in Buenos Aires we almost immediately headed out for another asado (braai). It's been great staying and hanging out with all these guys because we've come to meet so many local and international people living in Buenos Aires which is just the way I like to see a city!

We had always planned to catch a ferry to Uruguay but as usual we left buying tickets for the last minute so when we got there not only were the queues huge but the tickets had doubled in price. So, while standing in a boring long queue when we could be doing something else more fun we had a little vote amongst ourselves and unanimously voted to skip the boat and cycle up the river to the first available bridge and back down to Montevideo. This route would add on an extra 600km to the trip to Montevideo but we figured since we had the time why not. We would now be cycling out of the city from Vero's place which is near the centre and thus needed to head off early to avoid traffic so off we went to do our routine departing shop.

None of us had slept well since arriving in Buenos Aires due to the heat, humidity and mosquitoes so we were all a little blurry eyed coming out of the city. It was hard work because as we discovered the city sprawls north with big highways and heavy traffic. Only after about 4hrs of cycling did the roads quieten down and we could find a road side restaurant to eat lunch and have a nap under the trees. It was piping hot and humidity high thus mosquito heaven so I literally had to sleep with mosquito spray in my hand lazily spraying it around every time I herd something buzzing near by, I think this is when Nick started questioning whether or not he was going to enjoy cycling in these conditions all the way to Iguazu Falls still over 2000km away.

That night as we came across a toll gate storm clouds began to roll in so after getting permission from the local police we setup camp along side the highway. After setting up the tent the clouds an sky lit up with lightning and soon the rain followed, for the first time in a while I was only too happy to have a cold shower even if it was just an act of nature.

Km210 to Km95: Mosquito infested deltas and memorable swims
We would now spend the whole day crossing a large delta with the Rio Paraná running through the middle of it. This river has its source all the way up in the Amazon forest running past the Pantanal (a region of the Amazon Forest most densely populated by animals), running through Paraguay (where is called the Rio Paraguay), finally passing into Argentina below Asunción (the capital of Paraguay) and down through the delta joining up with Rio Plata as it flows into the Atlantic Ocean past Buenos Aires on one side and Montevideo on the other . I didn't realise this at the time of crossing Rio Paraná but Andrew and I may just be catching a boat up this very river in 2 months time to the Pantanal starting in Asunción where it is likely our bike trip will end and a boat journey will begin passing along the border between Brazil and Bolivia

We crossed 2 large bridges that day to get across the delta, a very unexpected addition to our journey around the continent as we had always planed to catch the ferry across between Buenos Aires and Montevideo if we got that far completing the whole journey in under 3hrs now extended to over 6 days. The rivers were huge and as I passed over the one bridge with a sign denoting that I was passing over the Rio Paraná a huge oil tanker passed under me, I think I now really understand what my geography teacher meant when he said South African rivers are not navigable, especially if this is what he was comparing them to.

There had been a lot of rain in the delta of late so as we cycled through we were greeted with entertaining images of cows standing in fields literally tummy deep but they didn't seem to be too bothered. Again it was hot, humid and the mosquitoes were going mad and all we wanted to do was take a swim in one of the many pools of water that we passed. Jokingly I noted how good would it be if we could find a restaurant with a wooden deck that we could prepare our lunch on and a pier so we could have nice refreshing swim without haying to traipse through a swamp, and true as bob as the clock struck lunch time that's exactly what we found. We spent a good lot of time at that restaurant swimming and chatting to the owners younger son who at one stage dropped his poor little bird into the water who's wings had been clipped so we figured it didn't have a chance of survival but then 15min later it popped out on the bank alive!

As we progressed down the highway we became ever nervous about whether or not we would be allowed to cross Rio La Plata at the first bridge into Uruguay. We had heard conflicting stories about whether the first bridge crossing into the town of Fray Bentos was open. Due to a pulp factory that had been built in Uruguay on the Rio La Plata in the town of the Fray Bentos the people of Argentina, and more specifically the people of the town opposite the factory, Gualeguaychú were now preventing anyone from reaching the bridge and ultimately Fray Bentos directly. It's a long complicated story but I think it just comes down to politics and the Argentines feel that Uruguay didn't get their permission to build such a huge factory on a shared river. On the other hand the factory was one of the biggest foreign investments Uruguay had ever seen so they weren't about to stop it from happening and now that it was built bash it down because Argentina felt they need to get their permission. Everyone we asked had conflicting stories, some said absolutely no one could cross at that bridge but the border was still open which didn't seem to add up considering it had now been blocked by protesters for over 2 years, while others said we should be able to cross the bridge in Fray Bentos by bike, either way it was worth attempting to cross if the actual border was still open which it sounded like it was. The big catch though was that if we were not able to cross into Fray Bentos we would have to head 30km back to the highway and up to the next bridge adding about 300km to our journey!

If the name Fray Bentos sounds familiar that is because it probably is. There used to be a huge meat processing plant in Fray Bentos under the brand of Fray Bentos so at some stay in your life you probably ate or at least heard of one of their products but the factory and the products have long since ceased to exist.

Km95 to 0Km: Protesters, Vespas and Hello Uruguay
The next day we cycled into the town of Gualeguaychú now making a beeline for the border and were almost immediately approached by a radio station reporter, then before we knew it we were being interviewed in Spanish by the local radio station, yikes! The interviewer was obviously in the know about the local politics so after the interview they assured us that if we spoke to the protesters nicely they would allow us to cross.

As we cycled out the other side of the town towards the bridge and the border we started noticing that the road signs to Uruguay had been painted over by protesters saying that the road was closed, which only made us increasingly nervous. We had been told that the protesters were somewhere along the road so every time we saw something in the distance we started to wonder if it could be them until eventually we saw what must definitely be them characterised by cars, caravans and a boom blocking the road with plenty of posters around explaining their cause. The company that had started the pulp factory is Finish so many of the posters were aimed at them including 'The Finish are terrorists!' which we found quite in entertaining as Nick's ex-girlfriend is Finish.

As we arrived at the boom blocking the road an older couple came out to chat to us and they very quickly agreed that we could go through but they didn't think that the police would allow us to cross the bridge on bicycles. We took their pamphlets explaining their cause and explained that we were from South Africa and felt the same way about nature resulting in Nick getting lucky for the first time in Argentina receiving a parting smooch from the protesting lady. Not far down the road on the way to the bridge still nervous we may not be able to cross now not because of the protesters but because of the bridge laws we spotted a calf that had literally just been born. We stood their for a while admiring the miracle of life and enjoyed watching the little calf take his first steps then full of joy off we cycled for the border.

We had been told that the border post for both countries was on the other side of the bridge so we quickly snuck past the police station where the police had long stopped looking out for anyone and quickly approached the bridge hoping that the police station was not where we actually should have got our exit stamp. The bridge was huge and looked to rise almost vertically in front of us as if a roller coaster. We grew a little concerned that we were going to cycle our way across this huge bridge only to be sent back and to get our exit stamps but we thought that we would rather have that than alert the polices attention. Once across the huge bridge we rolled down into what was now Uruguay still nervous about whether or not we had made actually made it to the final hurdle, passport control. The border office were now run down and dilapidated due to years of neglect as hardly anyone use it but we were in luck and there still seemed be few offices open, one for Argentinian exit stamps and the other for Uruguayan entry stamps, phew we had made it!!!!

We were now in Uruguay and with far less hassle than expected even the search guy who I would have thought would have been excited to finally have something to do just asked us what was in our bags and waved us on. Fray Bentos dare I say too loudly because someone in Argentina may hear is actually a very nice friendly and clean little town clearly benefiting from the wealth brought in by the pulp factory. Uruguay and especially Fray Bentos seems to be Vespa country with everyone from school kids to grannies shooting around town on them.

My back axle had given in again so now with plenty of time to spare I went off to find a local bicycle shop. After being sent from shop to shop I eventually found a service place which was a workshop open to the pavement with everyone inside covered in bicycle oil and grease, I now knew I definitely was at the right place. There was an old man sitting outside sitting in deck chair watching life go by and he quickly brought the fact that I was waiting to the owners attention. I explained what was wrong with my bike and before I knew it I had a team of people seeing to my axle but this is no conventional bike shop, here they either salvage a part from an old bike or you're sent to run off and get the spare yourself. The salvaged axle part he had to hand didn't quite fit so off I was sent on a spare bike to hunt down my new axle. I found the part in no time so once I had returned with my find the bike was back in top order but it wasn't going to last long as the chamber on the back hub was now quite worn and the problem would only happen again in the next few hundred kilometres, yet at least it would get me to Montevideo.

Km340 to Km297: Down by the river
Montevideo was now 340km down the river and little did we know we would get to cycle through some very cool little towns with river side white sandy beaches along the way that are just like seaside beaches except sans the waves. The first one we came to was Meredes and again here everyone was whizzing around on a Vespa but they had something extra with them, a deck chair slung over their shoulder as it was Friday lunch and everyone was off to the beach! Later that evening we arrived at Dolores the next little beach town and they even had a free camp site down by the river so after being spotted and interviewed by the local rag we enjoyed a pleasant evening down by the river.

Km297 to Km197: Free laptops and Internet

We spent most of the next day in the next beach town along the road called Carmelo where they had a great big sandy beach. The road coming into Carmelo was one of the most beautiful I've seen, it was lined with huge old trees on either side for over 10km providing much needed shelter from the blistering heat and on the other side of the trees on one side a beautiful golf course could be seen and on the other some kind of well kept horse training track all beautiful and green. Once we had spent some time floating in the river I headed off to find some wifi. What is very unique about Uruguay is that it is the first country in the world to provide every school child with a laptop. All these laptops have wifi which can be used to access the free internet at the central plaza or at their local school any time of the day. Wherever you find a central plaza you will find someone sitting on one of these little laptops surfing the web, quite oddly though its often dad using the laptop not the kid!

That evening we camped on the side of the road and because the heat we decided ot to cook and rather just make a salad. We were trying to make as much ground as possible so we only stopped whn it was almost already dark so s we sat on the steep side bank of the road we made our salad while enjoying display of lightning crawling across the sky in the distance and a very unique display of dancing fire-flies just the other side of the road, who would have thought that camping on the side of the road could provide such great entertainment.

Km197 to Km186: Colonia
By midday we had arrived in one of Uruguay's most popular tourist destination, Colonia. Most of the boats coming from Buenos Aires dock here and then you can catch a bus to Montevideo from there. Colonia is beautiful ancient old city with a historic area boasting cobblestone roads and old buildings including an old light house. Unfortunately the bumping cobblestone roads proved too much for my bike and later I discovered that the bolt on my back rack carrying all the weight had snapped off. I didn't let that ruin my time in Colonia though as there is nothing that a cable tie can't solve, well at least for a while. I spent the rest of the day watching people go by while enjoying a beer in the sun.

Km186 to Km45: White Chocolate

We spent most of the day just trying to make ground so that we could get into Montevideo early the next morning. I was very much craving something sweet by the time we were coming to the end the day so when we popped into the shop to buy our dinner and they had white chocolate bars going for $0.5 for 2 I didn't stand a chance and bought 6! Of course now having 6 slabs of white chocolate melting in my bag when I was absolutely starving was not a good thing and by the time we reached the soccer field where we camped that night I had already polished off 5!

Km45 to Km0: Montevideo, a South African Embassy and a fantastic family
We had been looking forward to staying with a couchsurfing family who Jim and Denys, a couple we met way back in Montañita, suggested we stayed with if we could as they ha really enjoyed spending time there a few months prior. The family lived 30km on the other side of Montevideo in small suburb practically on the beach called El Pinar. We hadn't planned to spend much time in Montevideo itself as we figured it would be just another city set by a body of water. As we cycled into Montevideo it was overcast so we just went into the centre had a look around, had a bite to eat and then moved swiftly on along the coast towards El Pinar. Montevideo had a nice historic feel a bit like Buenos Aires just a little smaller and has a nice beaches running along the river front. The river here is so wide that it actually looks like an ocean and although there are a fell swells there aren't any waves to speak of. The most impressive thing I noticed coming into the city is the old railways station but unfortunately it no longer functions as a station and I believe the train network is in a pretty much similar situation. Train travel seems like such a pleasant and great way to see the country side but the reality is that railway networks are expensive to maintain where as road and bus networks are far cheaper and flexible to maintain which results in most developing nations opting for the latter leaving the old rail networks to decay.

The South African Embassy in Argentina had put us in contact with the Uruguayan mission who Ambassador Leon is also presiding over so we went in search of the South African Embassy to Uruguay. We eventually found the mission 15km out of the city in a wealth area, on the way to El Pinar, where all the foreign embassies seem to be located. Kaya Mbusi, the Charge D’Affaires, is currently at the helm of the embassy in Uruguay and had said she was ready to receive us any time that day. When we arrived at the embassy we were quickly welcomed in passing by another life size teddy bare version of Zakumi the World Cup 2010 mascot meaning ZA (South Africa's official 'code') and Kumi, the number 10 in many African languages. By this stage of the day we were very grateful for the air-conditioned boardroom we had been shown to while we waited for Kaya. We had a great time chatting to Kaya and the rest of her all female team sharing our experiences and equally just being in the company of other South Africans. Kaya's first language is Xhosa so we even asked her to give an example of a few Xhosa clicks for Nick, clicks which are quite often asked after by other tourists when they find out we are South African only to have to ashamedly admit we don't yet know how to speak Xhosa. After some tea and delicious cake it was time to make our way to our host family we had so been looking forward to meeting.

After getting a little bit lost following the admittedly pretty straight forward directions we had been given we finally met Rosanna and the family. The house was packed full with family and couchsurfers so we were incredibly grateful they still took us in. While we were there Rosanna, Nacho her husband, Santiago (Santi), Lara (just turning 3), granny, 2 Belgium couchsurfers and 2 Colombian couchsurfers! With us they now had 12 people dotted all over the house, absolute chaos in anybodies mind but all just seemed to work so well. Rosanna and the family are all just so easy to get along with and we were all never short of conversation. Rosanna is lawyer so the level of conversation was far above what we would normally chat to people about so it was definitely a strain on my level of Spanish but I absolutely loved it. The children were also just too cute and every evening Mom would take them down to the beach for a swim and a play in the sand and of course now we got to joined them. It was also great having the other couchsurfers around, every evening we took turns to cook dinner for everyone but I think the Belgians pulled the short straw when they landed up cooking spaghetti bolognese for 11 people plus an extra side dish for the veggie amongst us.

El Pinar itself is such a great place to be too. No one is allowed to build their house on the beach so once on the soft sandy beaches no houses can be seen. Just a quick walk back over the dunes and through the pine forests and you're back in the leafy spacious suburb only about a block or 2 wide running all along the beach. We loved being there so much that when my bike that had been sent in for service was delayed by a day and Rosanna had said we could stay longer we were only too happy to spend another day in such a great place with such a great people.

Km1818 to Km1778: Awesome service and tears of a 3 year old

Today was full of emotions one I got to get my bicycle back from its service all nicely spruced up but two this meant we would now have to bid farewell to the great family we'd been staying with. Under the cargo load of of calendars, booklets, pamphlets, t-shirts, caps and an assortment of stationery given to us by the South African embassy my back rack had finally gave in. The bolt holding my back rack up had actually snapped off leaving half the bolt now stuck in the hole so this was not something I was going to be able to fix myself. In addition, my back axle had given in too many times and was now beginning to wobble excessively causing the chain to keep jumping off whenever I pushed down hard on the peddle not only wasting my energy but it had also caused me to smack my knee on the handlebar one too many times. I had looked for a local guy to do the job but he just sent me to the big guys closer to Montevideo, the Trek bicycle shop in Canelones.

The Pablo and the rest of the guys at Trek had been super interested in our trip when I came to drop off the bike and they really did take a genuine interest in getting my bike back to me in top order. This had been a stark contrast to just about every big bike shop I had been to in the past, with the exception of Linden Cycles in Johannesburg, finding that they always very cold and disinterest in what we are doing. I don't know if its a super friendly Uruguayan thing but these guys were just so friendly and took their time to understand what I wanted done. So, it was now the day my bike was due to be ready and earlier that morning the guys at the shop had let me know the bike would be ready at 1pm just before they closed for siesta time. I should have been more careful and allowed time for delays but of course I left collecting the bike to the last minute so when the bus finally arrived I realised I was going to be at least 15min late and the shop would be closed. In true Murphy's Law style just as I had the bright idea that I should phone them I received a text saying please recharge your account as you are low on credit, damn he got me again!

Luckily I had enough credit to quickly ramble off in Spanish that I was on my way so they were waiting for me when I arrived. They had taken so much care of my bike and even got my rusty old bell ringing again but more importantly all the ailing parts had been replaced and the back rack repaired so he now looked and felt like new again! After talking them through the blog Pablo spotted my makeshift water bottle which was just an old buddy bottle with an old drinking lid screwed onto it which I had never bothered to replacing with a proper water bottle because I figured I would rather have had it come with some kind of juice in it if I was going to pay for a bottle, but now it had caught Pablo's eye so as a parting gift he gave me a spanking new Gary Fisher water bottle and even rushed off to fill it with some water for my cycle home. I think I have discovered the best and friendliest bicycle shop in the world!

It was another scorcher of a day so by the time I had cycled over 12km to get back to the house I was very grateful for my new water bottle! It was Lara's 3rd Birthday that day too so we had got her a little gift and couple of sweets for her to enjoy, I think she might just be the cutest little kid in the world! The gas was finished so lunch would only be ready later on once the gas bottle had been replaced so we took this opportunity to have one last stroll along the beautiful beach lined by pine trees and take a swim before returning for lunch. After lunch it was time to bid a sad farewell, it had been so great staying with and getting to know this wonderful family. One of the true gems on this trip has been getting to meet so many great people. We gathered all our stuff up which we had now managed to distribute all over the house and garden and gathered together for a photo. As we said good-bye to everyone a little tear rolled down Lara's cheek, this is the hard thing about couch surfing because you live in someone's home and inevitably you have to leave knowing full well you may never see them again. Fortunately though we come from such a great country and even this big family has promised to come visit, so hopefully one day we'll get to host them and witness them see their first wild African animal!

We are now 70km out of Montevideo sleeping in a forest hoping to tomorrow reach Punta del Este for lunch but we'll just have to see how it all pans out.

For those who don't know our story has made it into into the Buenos Aires Herald newspaper and the article can be read here.

You can see all the Argentina pics here and the Uruguay pics here.

CYCLING: Beaches, civil servants and the cycle into Buenos Aires

2010-01-02T15:47:00.013+02:00

We have now reached Buenos Aires having completed over 7600km of cycling since leaving Montañita, Ecuador. The distance we have cycled to date is the equivalent to us having cycled home from Sao Paulo, Brazil where we landed back over the ocean to our home city of Johannesburg, South Africa. We have met some of the most interesting, generous and kind people along the way while being supported by our equally awesome friends and family from around the world and it is for this I will am always grateful. I hope you all had a great festive season and if you celebrated Christmas day it was merry and filled with friends and family.

In the past few weeks it has been confirmed that Andrew my younger bother will be taking a gap year and will be joining us on the bicycles from mid Jan 2010 until we return to South Africa at the end of March 2010, we look forward to his arrival! It is on this note I'd like to say thanks to Steve Donald for joining us on the bikes for the past few weeks coming into Buenos Aires its been great having with us! I look forward to spending a few more days with you before you head back to South Africa.

Km600 to Km505: Steve's first day
A week in Mar del Plata flew by before we even noticed it. Most of the time it was just Mark and I with Kell and Sebastian, as Nick was doing a Spanish course and living elsewhere. The week really just consisted of us going to the beach, eating well which included asados (Argentinian braais), lots of facturas (pastries), and ice cream amongst other well know Italian delicacies while enjoying living as if we were back in our own home. We met quite a few of their friends many of whom are life guards and childhood friends of Sebastian. Interestingly in Argentina being a life guard is quite a sought after and well paid job, although seasonal, resulting in many of their friends being incredibly well travelled and very interesting to talk to.

Towards the end of the week Mark and I's life long friend Steve Donald who was also at Northcliff with us and Kell joined us in Mar del Plata. It was now the busy travel season so the bike didn't make it onto the same plane as Steve as planned but thanks to a lot of help from Sebastian it was eventually reunited with Steve. We had planned to depart Mar del Plata for Buenos Aires on the Saturday but when we woke up that morning it was pouring with rain and the roads almost flooded so we resorted to plan B, stay another night and enjoy more good food and good company! Poor Kelly and Sebastian now had 4 boys littering their home for another day but I think Ingwe their very cool cat was loving all the chaos given that he could now not play outside.

The next morning the rain had stopped so we bode farewell to our incredibly generous hosts and off we went. This was going to be the first time Steve had cycled with us and to boot I think it would be the first time he had cycled further than 30km let a lone with his home strapped to his bike. Steve held up well but the usual saddle pains were inevitable. After having cooked lunch on the side of the road we rolled into the small beach town of Mar Azul around 90km out of Mar del Plata. Steve was now beginning to feel the aches and pains quite intensely and as growing weary but unfortunate we were not yet at the end of the road. All the roads within Mar Azul and the adjacent beach towns are sand and having skinny little tyres the cycling around this little beach town proved almost as tiring as the 90km cycle to the town.

We had a swim to freshen up then headed to the local heladeria (ice cream shop) for an ice-cream where I too managed to lose my wallet. Not aware that I had left my wallet behind we headed off to find a camping spot. It was not as easy as normal to just find a spot to camp so in desperation for a warm shower and a sleep Steve checked us into the first camp site we came across. We are now camping at a spot in the next little beach town along called Mar de las Pampas, an incredibly wealthy town where everything is twice the price it would normally be. While cooking dinner I realised my wallet was missing and the last place I saw it was in the loo at the heladeria. So, now I lie here with Steve snoring away anticipating the early morning cycle back a long the soft sandy road to the heladeria where I'll hopefully find my wallet.

Km505 to Km450: Soft sand roads
The camp site was right by the beach so when woke up I was super keen for a swim but first had to go on a hunt for my wallet. The soft beach sand roads had now almost completely dried out so the cycle back to where I thought I had left my wallet was a little tougher than thought even though I didn't have my house with me weighing the bike down. When I arrived at the place where I thought I had left my wallet, actually the bar next to the heladeria (icecream shop) the barman said nothing, just smiled and handed over my wallet. My instinct was to give the barman some cash for finding my wallet but then I thought well he hadn't gone to any effort to get it back to me and I pretty much knew I had left it there so should I be rewarding someone just for not stealing something? I figured not, so thanked him profusely and off I went.

Once back at the camp site I joined the others who were enjoying the sun and sea. The sea here is by no means warm but I actually quite enjoy cooling off in a refreshing ocean every now and again. We hadn't planned to go far that day and had planned to just go on to Pinamar, a bigger more developed beach town where we would have lunch and spend the day enjoying the coast. We only managed to set off around midday so the sand roads were now completely dry and with our heavy bikes, and the skinny tyres Steven I were sporting, cycling was near to impossible. Steve resorted to pushing his bike while I persevered sliding all over the place nearly having about 10 accidents along the way. It's very entertaining watching someone cycling on soft sand, they weave all over the place peddling like mad just hoping they'll hit a hard spot, if not they are either lucky enough to get their feet out of the peddles and catch themselves before falling or if the on looker is lucky they'll get to see them plough into the sand, all very entertaining.

Later that afternoon we arrived at Pinamar, a wealthy more built up coastal town although popular with local tourists I preferred the more wooded organic feel of the section around Mar Azul. Steve was still feeling a little broken so I joined him for a treat, a big fat burger and icy drink at one of the many posh restaurants over looking the beach. Spending the afternoon relaxing in addition to raising Steve's bicycle seat a little seemed to work a charm as Steve felt much better coming out of Pinamar. It was now late afternoon and things were cooling down and the harsh Argentinian sun was a little easier for us all to bare but soon it began to grow dark so we did our usual trick and found the best most inconspicuous spot on the side of the road and set up camp. After a few nervous moments over dinner convinced that the police were coming to chase us away I now lay here suffering from numerous mosquito bites while trying to keep my arms away from the side walls of the tent. I can hear all the mosquitoes outside just dying to have a bite to eat, that will serve me right for deciding against buying the insect repellent I spotted while shopping in Pinamar. Insect repellent should carry a warning indicating: If you do not buy this product after considering it, that night Murphy will ensure you camp next a mosquito infested swamp.

Km450 to Km350: Material goods
Early the next morning Nick realised he had left his beloved CamelBak water bottle behind and was going to cycle back about 10km to see if it was still at the internet café in Pinamar where he knew he had left it. I've learnt a lot on this trip and one thing is that having fancy things just creates more stress in life. For example we need a water bottle but why not just use the free one you get with your Energade because then if you loose it so what, this can be applied to so much in life. The more expensive something is relative to the average material good the more attached and the more petrified of loosing it we become. Anyway, so off Nick went to fetch his water bottle, its a nice bottle and being only 10km away from having it back why not go back and get it. So far I have lost an electronic English/Spanish translator and an expensive lock which I wouldn't have lost if I hadn't have been so paranoid about loosing. I had decided not to leave my lock attached to my bike while my bike was being serviced in Santiago so instead decided to carry it around with me for the day and in the process left it on a bus! As for the translator well I think I left it in a hostel somewhere in Peru but given it took me 5 days to discover that it was missing I figured I was better off without it and it would be one less thing to keep track of.

We had planned to meet Nick back on the coast later that day as we would be stopping there for lunch giving him time to catch up. As we got half way up the road the wind started to gust strongly into our face so we were very grateful it was not us cycling 10km in the wrong direction only to have to cycle all the way back into the wind. We were soon back down on the coast passing by the tourist office of Mar del Ajó where we were informed that the towns name meant Sea of Ajó a local indigenous word different to Mar del Ajo meaning Sea of the Garlic in Spanish. The sea thankfully didn't smell anything like garlic but the water along this coastline is also anything but blue. The tourist office was incredibly friendly and had provided us with a pile pamphlets about the region including a very handy map of which roads were tarred and which weren't so we decided to go on to the first coastal town, Lucila del Mar, which we could get to by tar then stop there for lunch.

In Lucila del Mar we found a very cool restaurant set on a pier where we relaxed and had lunch popping down to the beach every now and again for a refreshing swim in the sea which Steve aptly a likened to swimming in a cold cup of cappuccino. We had expected Nick to be only about an hour or so behind us but about 3hrs later Nick came stumbling onto the pier quite annoyed that the road was far longer than thought and the wind rather unfriendly but nonetheless he had his bottle, so all was good. Once rested we set off again for the highway a little further inland following a long tree lined avenue to reach it. We now had a friendly sea breeze pushing us up the avenue towards the highway so decided to take advantage of it and try a few tricks we had been talking about trying for the past few days. One of which is to lie flat on the bike making like Super Man which was successful and far easier than thought but needless to say rather uncomfortable on the crotch!

That evening we rolled into the last beach town along the coast before we would get to Buenos Aires, Las Toninas, where Steve insisted we would be staying at a camp site even offering to pay if he could just have himself a shower. Being the marketing manager for a large range of personal hygiene products certainly required him to have a far higher hygiene standards than the one we have become accustomed to that's for sure. Once in town Mark and I went off scouting the various camp sites and while Nick and Steve were distracted by an old man advertising an apartment for rent which Mark and I had ignored assuming that it would be way pricer than the camp site. We all know what they say about assumption and a few minutes later Steve and Nick came cycling along saying that they had found an apartment for only AR$80 (R160 or $22) between the 4 of us.

The apartment was very quaint and the shower made me laugh, it was a bucket stuck up on the wall with a kettle element inside it. The sign above the apartment said it all 'Es lo que hay' meaning that's just the way it is, a saying which is often used by locals when passing through red lights or to explain some strange Argentine behaviour, kind of like 'only in Africa'. Unfortunately we couldn't get the bucket to fill up so we had to change apartments to a slightly fancier one which very disappointingly had a normal shower, I was quite looking forward to having a shower underneath what was basically a kettle stuck to the wall. The old couple renting out the apartment were just so sweet and friendly making sure we had everything we needed, and were quite surprised that the gringos knew how to make an asado (braai). That evening over a braai we chatted with a few locals who chose to share their Fernet and Coke (popular local drink) with us as they passed by discovering that the kid next door was sporting a SA rugby t-shirt but again he had never heard of South Africa let alone their rugby team.

Km350 to Km270: Hostal Policia
We had made plans to spend Christmas in La Plata, different from Mar del Plata, with Isa and Tamara whom would be flying to from Chile for the event. La Plata is a quite a big city with a population of over 700000 and is located just south east of Buenos Aires so given that we yet be in Buenos Aires by Christmas we would need to catch a bus up the road in the very same direction that we would later and pass again by bike. We had worked out we could catch a bus from a small town en route called General Conesa which we had now allowed a day and a half to get to however the wind had other plans and as we started heading inland the wind picked up from behind and blew us down the road far quicker than planned. Before we knew it we were in General Conesa a day early and now needed to find a place to sleep then the following day find a place to store the bikes while we would be away. We had noticed a very strong presence of police in the town of about 1000 people and wondered if they wouldn't know of a place we could store our bikes if not against a pole outside the station. We knew that given that it was such a small town there wouldn't be much of a security risk and had also noticed that all the restaurants and bars just left their patio furniture outdoors untended.

At first the police were a little hesitant because they didn't want to be responsible for the bikes but a little later they came back and said it would be fine, then in jest we were being offered to spend the night in a cell as we had told them we had nowhere to stay. Literally this town did not have any accommodation so eventually one thing led to another and we landed up camping out the back of the police station. All the police were very kind but we were quite confused as to why there we about 5 police on duty at any one time and nothing really seemed to be going on so we enjoyed many cups of 'mate' (local tea like drink) and watched numerous bad game shows with them in their staff room. They also had showers and a place to cook so it actually turned out to be the perfect hostel. Before we knew it we were part of the furniture and were strolling in and out as if we were staying at 'Hostal Policia'.

That evening we went out on the town to see what has happening at the local bar only to discover it had some kind of concrete bowling alley where they were playing a sport that looked like a mix between bowls and Petanque, the French game of Boules. Everyone seemed very into it and paid very little attention to the strange group of 4 gringos who had wondered in, well that was until our friend from earlier that day arrived. Argentina and the UK have had a rather sordid history so while sitting in the bar we had just agreed that from then on we would tell people Nick was Swedish as he is half Swedish although born and bred British, just to keep the peace especially since we were now sitting in a rather rowdy locals bar. Having come up with our guise for Nick we were trying to keep a low profile when a local we had met earlier that day, who had become quite excited about the fact that nick was British as he loved British football, came strolling and shouted across the bar and game of Boules 'Hola mis amigos!'. We now had everyone's attention as they were all looking over to see what all the fuss was about but that wasn't the end of our friends outbursts, next he strolled over to Nick taped him on the shoulder and looking proudly round to everyone at the bar announcing 'El es de Ingleterra!' (he is from England!) at which point we just sank back in our chairs, frowned and just pretended we weren't with Nick or this crazy man who was now shouting around the bar. Fortunately nothing came of his outbursts and everyone just carried on doing what they were doing before his outbursts.

La Plata and Christmas
We spent the next day chilling in the small town just waiting for our bus to depart just watching life go by and enjoying a few pastries at the local bakery while waving at the local police/house mates as they did their rounds. At 4pm we were finally off to La Plata and arrived at our hostel at around 9pm where the Chilean girls were already getting the party started. It was now Christmas eve and the girls had done a shop for drinks and food for the asado (braai). There were a few other Argentines and some Colombians at the hostel so we all decided to get into the Christmas spirit and party the night away together. The Colombians had a little more than just the Christmas spirit at hand which they had brought from Colombia, boxed Colombian Rum and boxed Tequila/Sambuca, both of which were a recipe for disaster.

After a delicious asado (braai) we opened our presents which were sitting around the Christmas tree which the girls had built from a bunch of paint buckets. We had managed to find Tamara her favourite drink, Absolute Vodca, and Isa some delicious Argentinian delicacies but we were totally out done by their generosity. The girls had given us some great t-shirts and some pisco from Chile which would now be put to good use. Fully loaded with drink supplies the Chileans, Colombians, Argentines and South African's gathered for a game in which everyone was bound to loose. The drinks flowed and the crazy dancing began ring in a very Merry 2009 Christmas day.

I awoke with a sore head surprisingly early on Christmas morning given what time we had gotten to bed, I think it must have been the excitement of opening my card and chocolates from home. My mom had sent a Christmas card and chocolates from the family with Steve and I had specially kept it all just to open on Christmas day. It was so nice being able to open up a handwritten card frm the family and enjoy a few South African chocolates. The family was all together in Pretoria, South Africa enjoying a great family Christmas day so fortunately I managed to catch them all in one place. After a good catch up with the family we all set off for tour of La Plata. First was the neo-Gothic style cathedral of La Plata, the largest church in Argentina where we all sat at the back and enjoyed a few carols echoing through the enormous chambers. After that we felt we had done our bit for tourism so spent the rest of the day chilling in park and recuperating at the hostel.

Km270 to Km159: Fire Station
After a few relaxing rainy days in La Plata we returned to our bikes which were being stored in a police cell in General Conesa. What we didn't know is that our bus would drop us off at the turn off to General Conesa which was still 2km from the actual town down a beautiful tree lined avenue. Fortunately for them, otherwise they would have received a 'very strongly worded letter' from Nick, there was a guy waiting for his family to arrive on the same bus so he offered us a lift to town on the back of his bakkie (http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/bakkie). We only got back to the little town of General Conesa late on boxing day so we decided to spent another night camping behind the police station. We again headed out for night on the town heading straight for the local bar/ice cream shop (yes a bar that sells Italian ice-cream), while I think the town folk were amazed to see the 4 strange gringos come into town in the first place I think they were even more amazed to see us back! One man even followed us for while in his car and then stopped asking with quite concern in his voice whether we were lost and if we needed any help. The blonde attractive ice-cream/bar lady was just too happy to see the that 4 glutinous gringos had return and queried as to whether Steve was a famous movie star, Mark was a little slow on the draw here and said no. Movie stars or not I'm sure the people of this town won't soon forget the time 4 strange looking gringos frequented their tidy little town.

Leaving the policemen and lady with a parting gift from La Plata we now headed off on the final stretch to Buenos Aires. We made good ground that day and arrived at another little town called Lezama. I had noticed General Conesa had a Bomberos (Fire Station) next door to the Police Station so figured that given that Lezama was a bigger town they must too have one. I was was right and within 500m of the highway we found it. They had a nice big patch of grass and a great entertainment area with shower and kitchen which they gladly offered up for us to use. The Argentinian civil servants have just been so generous to us making it hard to keep your expectations in check but we are aware that no everywhere can we expect this kind of hospitality.

The last night camping at the police station had been a bit of nightmare because I discovered that we had set up the tent on-top of the hole leading to the home of some kind of animal. The first time we had camped there I had heard something crawl past the tent in the night but I had figured as long as it was outside the tent all was good. So that night when we were just nodding off to sleep on more or less the same spot of grass I again heard a noise but just told myself to chill out go to sleep but all the while secretly petrified of what it could be when suddenly 'whaaaamo' something rammed my arm form underneath! Steve has been sharing the tent with me while he as been out here so when I jumped up and started screaming like a little girl (yes I 'll admit it just like a little girl but I'd like to see how you react) he too got fright and was like what the hell is going on. I think what had happened was that we had put the tent over a snake or mole's hole and the first time it came up it figured something, i.e. my arm, was in the way so it just gave it a forceful nudge. I was in no mood to move the tent so I just slipped my mattress over where my arm had been and made sure all my limbs were now firmly on-top of the mattress, as long as it don't touch me I was ok but then I slowly started getting paranoid and was like what if it is a snake and it punctures my air mattress! Thankfully it didn't and was almost relieved to later feel it slowly slither out from underneath my mattress hoping that once it left it would be coming home, however it did but only at about 6am and thankfully it is was Steve that received the nudge this time.

That night at the Fire Station was not much better, as I fell asleep I again felt something bumping me but was persistent in not allowing myself to worry about it and just forced myself to keep my eyes shut and try fall to sleep. All through the night I was convinced there was something outside the tent brushing past me every once in a while only to discover that it was actually Steve rolling a round on his not so comfortable none existent mattress. Thanks to the confusion of being half asleep I had forgotten that we were now sleeping the opposite way round in the tent due to the slant on the ground and the side wall was in fact on the other side of me.

Km159 to Km51.5: Petrol Station

We had made excellent ground since leaving Mar del Plata so we decided to head into Buenos Aires a day earlier than planned and as a result used this day to cover as much ground as possible hoping to make the next day's as short cycle as possible. Sorrel one of Kelly's friends living in Buenos Aires had kindly said she would take us in so when she said it was ok to arrive a day early it was all systems go. As we left the Fire Station in Lezama it began to rain but we were prepared for it and spirits were high so there was no getting us down. Given that it was warm rain we actually had a great day ridding along in the rain and it even got to the point where we were so wet that we gave up trying to stay dry. It got to the point where we would deliberately cycle up close to passing trucks and buses so that we could get fresh gush of warm water being thrown up off the road, laughing historically as as it came washing up into your faces. After a fun day on the bikes it began to dry up up bit just as dusk was beginning to fall. Us and the bikes were now filthy so we were lucky to come across a petrol station just 51.5km outside of Buenos Aires with a hosepipe and showers where the owner gladly invited to set up camp for the night.

Km51.5 to Km0: A highway escort and the cycle into Bueno AiresA
It was Steve's last day with us on our bikes and it looked to be a perfect day after riding all day in the rain the previous day it was now clear skies. We were heading into Buenos Aires on their main highway but after the rather scary cycle into Santaigo, Chile we didn't really know what to expect. Buenos Aires has over 12 million inhabitants and it is a relatively wealthy city so we knew to expect big highways but were not sure if there would be a hard shoulder for us to cycle in on. Approximately 25km outside of the city we came to a split in the road we now had follow the road that would take us directly into Buenos Aires but a policeman at the toll gate on the off ramp spotted us taking the fly over and indicated for us to come back. We had come this far and knew of no other way into the city so given that he wouldn't get to us until we were over the other side of the flyover we decided to continue on and plead ignorance when and if he gave chance. Over the other side of the flyover there were the main toll gates leading into the city. They had received the news that we were coming so as we arrived at the booths we were very quickly waved down.

They were not very impressed with us but once we explained how far we had come they started to think of solutions. They were just implementing the law, no bicycles on the highway, so we couldn't be annoyed with them but we really wanted to cycle into the city and needed to do it the safest quickest way. After a few discussions making it clear to them we would not be taking any form of public transport into the city we were giving 2 options; wheel our bikes back across the grass and take the off ramp a little further back and then pass through the outer suburbs of Buenos Aires, or have one of them escort us to the next off ramp just a 5km on and then take the parallel main road into Buenos Aires. The first option did not excite us for numerous reasons but the main one being that when he said we could cycle through the back suburbs he caveated it by saying we were most likely to get shot en-route, while this would have made for a great blog entry it would have made for miserable New Year. So, the second option seemed far more sensible as not only did it not involve us getting shot at but it also meant we would be getting a police escort down the highway with flashing lights and all! We apologised for ignoring them in the first place and accepted the offer for the escort trying not to look too pleased with ourselves.

Mark and I cycled as slowly as possible to the off ramp with our escorts in tow just lapping up all the strange looks from passing traffic, we really were hoping they would just say ah don't worry about the off-ramp we'll just escort you all the way in but no such luck I'm afraid. The suburbs that we now had to cycle through were by no means wealthy but we didn't feel unsafe and enjoyed a little snack at great corner café before tackling the city centre. Once we had navigated the suburbs we came to river and the only way we could see to cross it was now to get back onto a highway but there was not hard shoulder and the traffic was not looking friendly at all but then we spotted another little bridge that had no traffic on it. The other bridge we found was new and was just about to be opened to traffic, we of course took the just do it and apologise later option and ducked under the barriers and peddling our way quickly and across the pristine new bridge that we now had all to ourselves. Quite prod of ourselves we were now on the edge of the city centre just few suburbs away from our destination.

Once in the city we navigated our way to Sorrel's house, a friend of Kelly's who would be hosting us for the fist 2 days. Sorrel has a beautiful home with a terrace on her roof where we could store our bikes out of the way and an entertainment area with bathroom where we could sleep so it was just the perfect place to stay especially since there are currently 4 of us, quite an ask for anyone to have over so we are all very grateful to Sorrel and her other house mates for taking us in. Shortly after arriving at Sorrel's place the heavens opened making us all the more relieved we had made it into town early. Sorrel had mentioned to us earlier that day that we were going to be having a chilled asado (braai) that eve so we picked up some meat and waited for her to come home form work at around. Everyone in this city seem to leave work really late so Sorrel only finished work around 9:30pm and when she got in she mentioned she had invited a few more people over for the asado and that they would all be coming after work at about 10:30pm!

By 11pm the roof terrace was alive with her friends from all over the world, New York City, Sweden, Canada, Brazil and even few token Argentines. The fire was only just getting going but fortunately we had come to know the customs around here and were not expecting to eat dinner until well into the early hours of the morning. Drinks flowed and eventually after fantastic night of cultural exchanges we headed off to bed after having been up for over 24hrs. Lucky for us we had the whole of the next day to recover but the rest all had to head to work the next day, I really don't know how these guys do it. We went to bed on the roof terrace so by 7am we were all wide awake sweating in the sun which was actually quite fortunate because we had made plans to meet up with Pablo for breakfast, a friend we had met in Neuquén at around.

Pablo had planned to come cycle with us a from Buenos Aires but he has landed a good job for 2 months over the summer as life guard on a river near Neuquén so he decided just to pop into Buenos Aires for visit. It was great seeing Pablo, he is just such a kind gentle guy and seems to attract some rather bizarre happenings when he is around. Just after we had met up with Pablo and were walking down a street we walked past a doorway with an old bent over lady shouting for us to help her. We all were a bit confused by the call and went back to find a very old lady asking if we would please help her down here stairs and walk her to the end of the block. Palo quickly jumped into action helping her down the stairs. This lady was hilarious because when she first asked she was very polite but once she had reeled us in she was very instructional to Pablo, she demanded 'put your arm higher, don't walk too fast, hold me here, do this and do that' but she was only getting started, once she found out Mark and I were foreigners she had even more to say 'what are you doing here, the president is terrible bring back Paron, go quickly to Paraguay its much better there, maybe Argentina needs the South African to come here and be our president, I am a very lucky old lady to have 3 young boyfriends' as she smiled and laughed. She was such a demanding yet friendly and likeable old lady but we were quite relieved to deliver here to her destination, the local café.

The bizarreness didn't end there and carried on through breakfast with a French lady passing out just next to our table needing to be loaded into here taxi by her family as we enjoyed our coffee and 3 medialunas (croissants). Then after that the debacle was over 3 young ladies came walking into the coffee shop all sporting Brazilian football tops and started taking photos with all the staff causing passers by to pop their heads through the window so they could get involved in the mini photo shoot.

It has been a crazy start to our time in Buenos Aires having not even been in the city for 24hrs and already experienced so much. I have a good feeling about this city and am looking forward to New Years and a pending visit to the South African embassy early in the new Year!

CYCLING: Falling in love with Argentina, Argentines and their pastries

2009-12-15T01:25:00.013+02:00

We have cycled over 7000km and when we get to Buenos Aires we will have cycled the equivalent length of the full South African coast line 3 times! Argentina has been relatively easy cycling due to flat terrain and being a relatively developed country. I love this place but I'm looking forward to tackling Uruguay in the New Year!

Km1010 to Km925: Random acts of kindness
Last night I discovered that when sleeping by a wind break it is probably better to sleep in amongst the trees creating the wind break rather than in the fire break just next to them. Fortunately, the rain forecast did not materialise over night but a very strong wind did. Halfway through the night I woke up with someone was kicking me in the back, well that's what it felt like, but it was just my bag knocking against me as the wind hit the side of my tent. The side of my tent facing the direction in which we were due to cycle the next day had pulled loose from the peg suggesting that there was a rather strong wind coming from that direction. Needless to say I was now quite anxious about cycling into a gale force wind all of the next day and did not sleep much more that night.

By dawn the wind had died down proving yet again that there is no point in stressing over something that hasn't even yet materialise, if only it was easier to convince yourself of this in foresight rather than in hindsight. The road was horrendous as it was a single lane road with lots of traffic so all I wanted to do was get to the turn off down to the coast but that would only be that evening, if we were lucky. Over lunch we needed to restock so we headed a little off the road to the town of El Perdido which is a rather unfortunate name as it literally means 'The Forgotten'.

The town was widely spread out but couldn't have had more than a couple of hundred residence, as usual though it was siesta time so just about no one was about. After much searching we found a shop that was open where we planned to pick up a few veggies. While paying for our veggies the owner threw in a few things for free and as if that wasn't enough he later came running after us with an additional free 2 litres of juice! We hadn't managed to get all the veggies we needed though so we were directed to the only other shop open at this time where where the lady there too threw in a few freebies. Amazed and filled with happiness by all this generosity we went off to find the local bus shelter that we had spotted earlier that day.

The minute we finished making our lunch in the bus shelter it started to bucket down with rain so we decided to see if we could sit it out for a while. We had been sitting in the shelter there on the edge of town for a while when a young couple came along on a motor bike, now soaking wet, and asked if we were ok or if we needed anything. We explained to them that we were ok and were just resting so they set off back into town. I couldn't believe that these 2 had gotten on their bike in the pouring rain just to come and check if we needed anything, I almost wanted to say yes just because they had gone to so much trouble just to come and check on us. Argentina really is the home of random acts of kindness.

The rain never did stop so eventually we set off in the rain adding to the already dangerous road conditions. We didn't make it to the turn off, so now I lie in my tent 20km short with the rain tapping away on my tent. It may be overly hopeful but I hope to wake up to a dry tent and clear skies!

Km925 to Km850: We swim in the Atlantic Ocean
What we didn't realise about our camping spot just behind a decrepit old petrol station was that we were right next to a farm and as a result we were kept up most of the night by what sounded like cows being slaughtered. In the morning we awoke to sunshine and dry tents so that we were incredible grateful for. 25 odd kilometres down the road we turned off the highway and started heading down towards the coast. We had about 20km of tar then the rest would be farm roads down to the the coastal town of Claromecó but first we needed to stop at Copetonas to restock because we feared with a dirt road we may not make the coast by nightfall. The town folk there were friendly and we met a very patriotic little kid explaining to us how he doesn't speak Spanish or Castellano but rather Argentinian. It is true though these Argentines really do speak what sounds like a whole new language, going from 'caye' to 'cashe' for the phonetic pronunciation of road and 'aya' to 'asha' for 'over there' all very confusing when being given directions!

Our map made the route along the dirt roads down to the coast look really easy but what we didn't know is what the map wasn't showing and that was all the other dirt roads criss crossing the ones on the map. This wouldn't have been a problem if there had been more than one sign post along the route however we only ever did see one sign to Claromecó and that was as we headed out of town. Just when we thought we were lost in the maze of dirt farm roads, after having enjoyed were being chased down by some horses in an adjacent field, we saw what looked like an ambulance parked in the middle of nowhere. Once we got closer we saw it was a huge army like autovilla being driven by its German owner down to Patagonia for what looked like a rather pricey over land holiday. An English guy also accompanied them on his dirt bike but what was most entertaining was that his name was also Nick and lived just 40km or so from where Nick lived in the UK. You don't expect to meet crazy travellers like this but you certainly don't expect to meet them on a muddy dirt road between somewhere and nowhere!

After such an exciting morning the afternoon session dragged on a bit and soon Nick decided he was having a sandwich there and then but I figured with the sun already going down I'd sooner rather get to Claromecó in time for a swim and a sundowner than sit on the side of a dusty road so on I went. Ross had said when I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time I must run and have a swim and that is what I intended to do. Just further down the road the road turned and I could see Claromecó 5km down the road, this just made me just too excited to get to the sea thus covering the last 5km in what felt like minutes!

When I arrived in town I made my way straight down to the beach, locked my bike up to an umbrella, whipped on my swimming costume and ran into the sea. Most of the locals, packing up for the day, stared at me as if I had gone mad but that only added to the experience. Soon after my swim Nick and Mark rolled into town joining me on the beach for a beer as the sun slowly slipped down over the Atlantic Ocean. Although we were now on the east coast of South America the bit of coastline we were on faces south so you can get both a sunrise and sunset at either end of the ocean. The beach at Claromecó is nice enough but the sand although fine is a little dirty and the sea not very clear and slightly chilly but its a beach and a sea which is warm enough to swim in so I was very happy to be there.

We spent the next 2 days enjoying the beach and in town catching up with family on Skype while staying at a nice little camp site on the edge of town. The people were all so friendly and the food, especially the ice-cream and panaderias (bakeries), fantastic but it was just so frustrating not being able to find anything open between 12pm and 5pm as EVERYONE is having a siesta. After having had a fantastic relaxing 2 days and many many facturas (pastries) here I now sit under the pine trees with the wind blowing gently bringing little fluffy seed like things down, waiting in anticipation for our braai of red peepers stuffed with local olives and cheese, and a good Argentinian steak while enjoying a 'glass', actually a metal mug, of delicious Malbec red wine.

Km850 to Km770: Sleeping at police station
After a great couple days in Claromecó we were now heading towards Necochea, our next beach destination, but before heading off we had to stop at the secret panaderia (bakery) for various facturas (pastries) and the most delicious medialunas (croissants or half moons) I have ever tasted-these guys really should go down in some kind of record book. I have never been a big fan of pastries but these Argentines do something to them that makes my taste buds water. Mark tells me that there is a new Argentinian bakery just round the corner from my house in South Africa, now I would never have thought of Argentina as being the home of pastries but apparently it is! Nocochea was now over 130km way so we knew that most of the day would just be making ground so that we could cruise into Necochea early the following day.

As predicted nothing really too exciting happened that day other than getting to witness a rather noisy local test driver driving what looked like a home built racing car. We were still on a back road but this time tar, as we cycled down the road we noticed 100m markings on the road and a crowd of people gathered when suddenly we herd a eardrum popping car come flying past us. It sounded like he was running a lawnmower engine at 1000 times its capacity and the whole car didn't look too stable on the road so I was not too excited to be cycling anywhere near him!

By nightfall we were back on the highway and had resolved ourselves to the fact that we were going to be sleeping pretty much in a ditch on the side of the road. Just when we found a little road running off to the side, which would have been perfect to cycle down a little in order to find a slightly more peaceful place to camp, we saw a police car parked on the turn off. As we cycled past him we asked him if it would be ok to camp there and with much hesitation he queried as to whether or not we planned to make a fire to which we quickly responded with an emphatic no, knowing full well we soon planned to cook dinner on our rather hazardous little gas stoves He said ok but we must go 1km to a bus shelter which could be seen from where we were and there we would find an old school which is now a police station. We cycled on to this school which is now a police station and by the time we got there they had received the news on their CV radio that we were on the way. Now here I lay probably in the safest place we have ever camped with my tent pitched between 2 guard dogs tied to trees on either side of the property, I just hope nothing disturbs them on this what has so far been a very peaceful night.

Km770 to Km735: Meat
Short of the police moving their 4x4 into the garage for the night our sleep outside the police station proved very peaceful, although it did concern me a little that they felt the need to lock the car away for the night given that this was a police station and the car was already inside the same fence that we were. It couldn't have bother me too much because after the little disturbance I fell straight back to sleep and slept like a log. Mark however was not as lucky and had to get up in the middle of the night and literally 'gaan kuk in die milies' in the field adjacent to police station.

We didn't have far to go to the next beach town on our list, Necochea. Necochea itself is quite ugly but it's lucky enough to have a relatively pretty beach front and the again people were friendly. The whole place is bordered by its even uglier sister Quequen to the east which looks very much like an old agro-industrial port town which has been left to fall apart and can unfortunately even be seen from the beach including its most distinguishing features of towering silos and factories spewing steam into the air. The Parque Miguel Lillo and beach running to the west helps makes up for this with a beautiful camp site set amongst the the Parque Miguel Lillo forest. The beach is huge and runs along the front of Necochea and to the west as far as the eye can see. The section along front Necochea looks like it could be a huge nightmare/party come busy season as there are bars running along this 2km section with little sun tents lining the beaches just waiting for the pending people flood. The sea itself is a little bland as its not very warm, a little murky and doesn't have great waves but then again it is being compared to the great beaches of Ecuador and Southern Africa which I have become accustomed to.

We arrived early at the Parque Miguel Lillo camp site so once camp was set-up we had almost the whole day to enjoy the camp site swimming pool and local beach. The local panadarias (bakeries) however did not live up to those of Claromecó which was a little disappointing but Nick and I did each enjoy about 500g of great steak on the camp site braai. Meat here really is great and it is so cheap and readily available, the best cut costs less than $8 a kilo on average and is just too delicious. Seafood on the other hand is a lot pricier here than the west coast of South America and I think that is because there aren't too many fish left in the warmer waters on this side of the continent but then again that's just a guess.

Interestingly I used be of the opinion that its better to eat animals that are 'wild' e.g. fish from the sea or say a buck that has roamed the fields all its life but I have come to realise that this is not sustainable or a realistic opinion. Yes its nicer or kinder to eat animals that have lived a happy life but there are just too many humans on this earth for us all to eat like that and if we all tried to eat like that there would/will soon be no wild life/fish left in the world otherwise we need to create a hang of a lot more world for all these animals to roam around on.

The reason I started to think about this was because Mark doesn't eat beef and stated that, but not giving it as the reason for not doing so, there is a lot of unnecessary cruelty involved in mass producing animals. This is fare, cruelty to animals may be a good reason not to eat them however many of these same people still continue to eat fish because they are not bred in captivity resulting a whole bunch of people now switching from eating bred animals to wild animals. However, as I cycled past the hundreds of fishing boats and villages and walked through the fish markets on a daily basis, manly those of Peru, I just began to realise how much we are raping the sea and how unsustainable it is. It became so disturbing to me that I have almost got to the point where I refuse to eat wild animals (i.e. fish in Peru) and only eat animals that have been bred because there are just too many of us humans to sustainably feed off of them. At least with bred animals we are only eating what we produce.

Yes, yes, I can her you already saying what about the cruelty, what about the pollution well I agree that's why we as humans need to start being more responsible about breeding animals using free range techniques, perhaps not eating so much meat etc. but I think we should just leave the wild ones alone. If we can't produce enough animals ethically to eat then perhaps we should stop having so many children!! Ok hope you enjoyed my rant..let me know what you think.

Km735 to Km675: Gaucho
After spending a fantastic 2 days relaxing, swimming and sunning ourselves by the pool in Necochea it was time to find our next beach along the coast however we again had to head inland only to later head back to the coast. We didn't quite make it back to the coast in a day but we did just make it to the dirt road that would take us down to the coast to Mar del Sur when it started to become dark. We spotted a nice piece of grass outside a farmer's, or gaucho's they called around here, gate which we thought would be great for camping but were bit concerned the gaucho may come home or see us early in the morning and chase us away. I grew a little concerned about how the gaucho may react given that all the way down the highway we had been seeing bullet holes in all the traffic signs but just as we were about to whip the tents out the gaucho came home and we managed to flag him down for a chat. After allaying his fears that we were not druggie hippies we asked if we could stay and he said fine but to rather meet him at a farm gate just further down, so off we went just desperate to set up the tents and make dinner!

The gate he had sent us to was an entrance just 500m down the road and the road leading for the gate was lined with trees with the sun going down at the other end of it making for a beautiful sight. As we followed his car down the avenue we kept spotting beautiful patches of grass to camp but we had been instructed to follow so we did. Just as we came to the end of avenue it opened up on to a beautiful pristinely kept polo field. I had never seen a polo field with my own eyes let alone camped by one so was quite chuffed! The framer kindly let us into the club house where there was a little stove and a sink and said we were welcome to camp or sleep on the floor there. After being told some crazy story about some other people the gaucho had met who had been travelling the continent by horse and getting married and then pregnant and then going back to give everyone they had met a horse shoe we headed off to bed. I now lay here on the club house floor having murdered numerous mosquitoes while Mark and Nick sleep outside under the night sky out on the polo field. I absolutely love sleeping under the starry sky but given that my mosquito net is rammed at the bottom of one of my bags I'd sooner rather sleep indoors.

Km675 to Km645:An ancient hotel
The gaucho had to make is way to Mar del Plata early the next morning. The next morning the gaucho came bounding along on his horse early as promised and wearing his typical gaucho clothes including a typical Argetninian biona (flat little cloth hat balanced on his head) setting us on our way with a smile. It wasn't long before we were down on the coast in a little town called Mar del Sur (sea of the south). Now Mar del Sur is the perfect holiday beach town for me as it is only a few streets wide and long and has a quiet little beach, I even noticed that there is a awesome little hostel right there by the beach. There are some beautiful old buildings in Mar del Sur to look at including a 120 year old hotel 'Boulevard Atlantic' where I believe Hitler once took refuge! Perhaps if come back in Argentina in March I'll return to Mar del Sur.

Having eaten our breakfast on the beach in Mar del Sur we carried on along a coastal road for about 20km arriving at Miramar where we had originally planned to stay. Miramar is a much bigger town and reminded me a lot of Umhlanga in South Africa or Cancun in Mexico with high-rise flats and hotels lining the beach front. The town itself has lots of nice little bars and coffee shops set along the pedestrianised centre streets and plaza but its not really our scene and we would much prefer to camp on the beach somewhere, which would obviously not have been possible around there. We cycled up and down the beach front for a bit which was clearly preparing for pending onslaught of porteños (people of the port of Buenos Aires), had a beer or two over lunch in town and then head a little further up the coast. The coastline form here reminded me a lot of a slightly colder version of South African south coast with coastal homes now sprawled all along the coastline.

We soon realised that we weren't going to find anywhere completely unpopulated to camp so started looking for the most discrete place we could find. We soon spotted some bushes over on the top of the sand dunes noticing when we got behind the bushes that were would not be the first people to have ever camped there and there was plenty of evidence to suggest it was perhaps a spot where more than just camping and camp fires had gone on, perhaps even a little romancing. Hoping that we were not taking over someone's home and were not going to be accompanied by anyone else that evening we cleared a spot and set up our tents. Being on the sea front it pumped with wind all night which didn't make for a great nights sleep but that was ok because we knew we would soon be in Mar del Plata where we would be staying with a friend, in beds for the first time in a while!

Km645 to Km600: Staying Mar del Plata with fantastic friends!
Excited to finally be arriving in Mar del Plata we set off into a strong head wind towards Mar del Plata. Mark and I would be staying with Kelly Gibson now Kelly Santandrea (well actually not officially because Argentines wives don't traditionally take on their spouses surname), an old friend from high school, and Nick would be staying with a different local family as part of his Spanish course. As we rounded the south east coastline and started heading now almost directly north we started coming into the outskirts of Mar del Plata. Mar del Plata is huge with around 600000 permanent inhabitants all kind of set along the coast. The first main beach we came to is the aptly named Playa Grande (big beach) and it is absolute madness. The porteños (people of the port of Buenos Aires) have not yet arrived for vacation but you can see that the people here are prepared! The beach has what looks like airport terminals numbered 1 to 24 with acompaning parking lots, long stretches of the beach have been cordoned off boasting rows of what look like miniature carports all over the beach which can be hired either for the day of just for the season meaning you get your own little piece of beach. They look hideous from a distance but it does mean no wind, its easy to find people, you can leave your deck chairs there and you get a whole extra set of neighbours!

Kelly had sent me the address to her place and thanks to google maps we found her street with ease. Her house didn't have a number on it but the locals milling around in the street were only too happy to pointing out where the South African lived. I had suspected it may be her house because it looked just like a typical modern Joburg suburban home but didn't want to go ringing some random person's bell hoping it would Kelly's place. After attempting to freshen up a bit on the sidewalk Sebastian, Kell's husband, was presented with 3 hobo looking cyclists.

Kell was still out shopping as we were a little earlier than expected but thankfully Sebastian let us in even if he didn't have anyway to verify that the hobos standing at the door were intact Kelly's friends for back home. Kelly and Sebastian were due to celebrate their one year wedding anniversary the next day and were currently still putting the finishing touches to the home they had built replacing the one Sebastian had lived in as a child, now a beautiful and modern home. Mark and I are lucky enough to have our own room and bathroom which too means Kell fortunately doesn't have to fall over our stuff. Once Kell was home we almost immediately headed down to the beach. Kell and Sebastian share a 'car port' on the beach with 2 other couples and they can take guests which is great. So nice to go down to the beach knowing everything thing is already there and your friends might even already be there!

We've since spent some good time catching up with Kell and getting to know Sebastian, playing with Ingwe their cool little cat while eating and living like kings! What I discover when having a parrilla (braai) the other evening and at various canicerias (butchery) is that they don't generally use expensive cuts of meat on a parrilla and I think I know why. Apparently expensive cuts are too dry which is valid but it is compounded by the fact that they seem to cook the meat very slowly over low heat. The other evening we bought what looked like a very fatty lump of meat but Sebastian cooked it very slowly even putting a piece of newspaper over the top of it to keep in the heat and paper didn't even go brown! The meat was absolutely delicious though but was cooked more like how South African's would do a roast in a Webber rather than a flame grilled steak. Think I'm going to have to give it a try when I'm home.

We now have a few more days with Kell and Sebastian before Steve Donald arrives and we set off to Buenos Aires for New Year! I wish you all a fantastic Christmas and a happy New Year!

To see all the pics form Argentina click here.

CYCLING: Argentina; a very pleasant surprise!

2009-12-07T20:27:00.004+02:00

I have finally managed to catch up with my blogs, enjoy!

Km1814 to Km1760: Petrol stations
Waking up at the back of the petrol station I suddenly realised we had been camping between 2 large petrol tankers and a giant commercial gas bottle, relieved we had survived the night and hadn't decided to make a little camp fire we head off down the road. Soon we came to Zapala where we had planned to do some much needed washing and to spend a day or 2 resting and discovering our new home country. Sadly again we arrived during siesta time and after waiting outside a hostel for 3hrs for it to open we found it was not worth the money they were asking for so we decided to make our way out of town. We still had clothes that hadn't seen a washing machine since Santiago but we had no choice, they would have to wait until Neuquén 180km away for a good wash!

Again just outside town there was a petrol station with good facilities round the back and it was starting to rain. It was already dark so we went with the ask for forgiveness option and just slinked round the back and set-up camp. Once the tents were set-up it soon started to pelt down with rain so I don't think anyone knew we were there or could be bothered to care given all the rain. There is something quite comforting about being inside a nice cosy tent while its pouring down with rain outside. I now lie here in the comfort of my tent with the pouring rain outside and I find it quite amazing that I can be sitting here taping away at my keyboard, incredibly content and looking forward to another good nights sleep somewhere in the world I never imagined I would ever have been.

Km1760 to Km1650: 'Highveld' thunderstorm
Having slept that night like a baby, thanks to the rain taping down on my tent, we woke to clear skies and a nice dry tent. Given that we had set-up in the dark and in a rather big hurry we didn't really know what we had put our tents down on so when Mark got up first thing in the morning he discover he had been sleeping with used baby nappy just outside his tent, something which we found quite entertaining but weren't going to laugh too quickly at because we could never be sure what we would find lurking under our tents. We knew we would be staying in the middle of nowhere that day so we just made as much ground as we could. The weather was good, roads quiet and the scenery desolate with oil pumps jutting out of it every so often. We now knew why we had seen so many petrol tankers going back and forth over the border with Chile and could now confirm it was Chile that was doing the importing and Argentina doing the exporting.

Later that evening we picked a random desolate spot amongst the oil fields and enjoyed a dramatic sunset while cooking dinner. We were off to bed early only to be woken shortly after by a violent electric storm. Once I had counted the seconds between the thunder and lightning and had worked out the lighting was nowhere near I quickly nodded back off to sleep, it had been a while since I had enjoyed a good 'highveld' thunderstorm.

Km1650 to Km1585: Great steak and Malbec in Neuquén
Again we awoke to clear skies and dry tents but by lunch time the road into Neuquén had become quite unpleasant. It had had no hard shoulder ever since the border but there had not been much traffic so it hadn't been a problem but now we were starting to get into the outskirts of Neuquén and thus had more urban traffic to contend with. Traffic was pretty heavy in both directions leaving very little space for cars, trucks and buses to overtake.

Having only just surviving the road into Neuquén we were quite relieved to be at our destination and quickly started looking for place to stay. We figured we would spend 2 days there getting washing done and sorting out local SIM cards amongst other things. Everyone in Neuquén was very friendly and a lady even chased us down so she could provide us with some useful information about where good hostels etc and ultimately we landed up staying at the Hostels International hostel that the lady had suggested. Everyone at the hostel as incredible friendly, we had a nice room, they had facilities to do washing and the lady we met in the street even came back there the next day to a make sure we had found everything we were looking for.

The hostel was awesome and had a big fat braai place where Nick and I got stuck into some good Argentinian steak and Malbec red wine. Neuquén itself didn't have too much to offer but it was big enough for us to get done what we wanted t do and relax a bit. The people at the hostel were great to chat to and strangely enough mostly were Argentinian so it was good to get some Spanish practice in. Pablo, an Argentinian who was staying at the hostel, muted the idea of joining us on the bikes when we get to Uruguay which would be awesome especially since he speaks Spanish but we'll see if anything comes of it as it all depends on whether or not he gets a job as a life guard on the local white water scene.

Km1585 to Km1540: Rio Negro
Now with our mobile phones working on the local network, thanks to the very helpful Augosto at Personal, and our clothes clean we set-off on the bikes once again. The road was quite harrowing coming into Neuquén and only got worse as we headed out of town which confirmed our plans to get on to the dirt road as soon as possible that ran parallel to the highway we were on, but on the other side of Rio Negro. Only that evening did we get the bridge that would take us over the river and to the dirt road that would be a lot quieter but did not pass by any towns for the next 100km.

Realising that 100km on a dirt road was probably going to take us 2 days we discovered we were a bit short of food so just before crossing the bridge we decided to stop at a little shop where we could restock, but we had also noticed that they had a lovely piece of grass out front their shop. This would be perfect place to camp as the river was just down the road meaning we could have an early morning swim before heading off and to boot there were tables and chairs under the tree which would be perfect for preparing dinner on. The sun was going down fast so I was not going to mince my words and just asked the shopkeeper straight out if we could camp there. The shopkeeper was more than happy for us to camp there and once we had set-up camp under the trees him and his son joined us for a chat as the sun went down over Rio Negro. This is when we began to realise it was no longer a coincidence but that Argentinians probably are some of the friendliest and most generous people around.

Km1540 to Km1490: Campo, campo, campo
The following morning we had a great refreshing swim in Rio Negro and then headed off across the bridge and down the dirt road. We had been told that all the was was 'campo' (veld or grasslands) on either side of the dirt road interjected by Valle Azul 100km on but we had not appreciated how little there would be. Fortunately the road wasn't too bad but there was little really in fact nothing , no cars, no farm houses just a few cows some of who were now dry skeletons on the side of the road. According to the locals it has been raining for a weak prior but luckily the road had dried out quite a bit resulting in only few muddy spots that nearly took me for a muddy swim only just saving myself by bringing myself down in the grass next to me.

Just in time for lunch we came to an elevated point on the road where we could look down over Rio Negro which was magnificent. The scenery although dry and desolate was beautiful and that night we enjoined a peaceful night just randomly sleeping in the 'campo' with absolutely nothing to disturb us.

Km1490 to Km1440: Camping by Rio Grande
The next day we arrived in Valle Azul in time for a lunch and a restock. The people in this little town were again very friendly and we even asked by one of the locals if we could have photo with them. We even managed to rouse the attention of the police while we enjoyed our lunch under a tree, we were probably the biggest disturbance the poor policeman had seen in years.

After plenty more punctures, bruises, scratches and worsening sunburns we came to a little cow path where we could make our way down to the river, Rio Grande, to set-up camp for the night. I'm not quite sure why the river alternates between the names Rio Negro (Black River) and Rio Grande (Big River), but is does. Navigating our way down a cow path to the river's edge was quite treacherous but it was all worth it. Once we were down by the river we found a nice soft patch of grass to set-up camp, then it was time to freshen up in the river. It is so great just camping by a river in the absolute middle of nowhere.

It is nice and warm in this area so I decided to sleep under only the mosquito net part of my tent that night. I now lay here on my back typing this out on my phone with only a thin net between me and the starry sky above allowing me to spot the most amazing falling star I have ever seen just over the corner of my phone, it even had a long burning tail and everything! I just feel so privileged to be here under the night sky with the only sound of the flowing river and jumping fish to to disturb me.

Km1440 to Km1360: Ants
One of the great things about the dirt road has been the true desolation of it all. When going through the deserts in Peru and Chile we were mostly on highways so there was always passing traffic however, out here we were lucky if we saw a car a day. Sitting down for lunch in the harsh sun, as there were no trees to speak of, we have found ourselves beginning to appreciate the really small things in life, ants. As we sat there eating our bread rolls we noticed the little army ants marching off with our bread crumbs and decided to follow them to where they were taking them. These little guys were just amazing and so entertaining to watch. First we gave them bigger and bigger pieces of bread to see what they would do with it and when they became too heavy for one guy to carry they would team up and carry if off. Then we saw one little guy attempting to pick-up a little berry by it's stalk and after egging him on for a bit he just seemed to build up some energy and wham he whipped it up and over his shoulder, as if ant sized sack of potatoes – man were we impressed! Another little guy had found a small fluffy flower thing and too was carrying it by the stalk but the wind just kept catching and pulling it out of his hands. We just sat there laughing and observing these little guys' determination for over an hour. I didn't quite realise how entertain an army of ants can be when they're not ruining your picnic or trashing the kitchen sink.

By midday it was pretty hot and the sand on the road was begging to get a bit too soft so we had just about had enough when it prematurely turned to tar. We had almost forgotten what it felt like for the bike to just keep rolling once you stopped peddling. A little way down the tar road we saw a police station in the middle of nowhere and wondered what on earth the people there did and soon we found out. Just as we came past the station a cop on a motorbike went the other way but then a few minutes later he came flying back past us flashing his blue light indicating for us to pull off. I wondered what on earth now what law can we have possibly broken. Apparently, we hadn't broken any law the guy was just so darn bored that he decided to exercise his blue light powers so he could pull us over have a chat.

After passing through a small town, Fary Luis Beltran, we came to Choele Choel where we had hoped to restock and keep going. However, we had done our same old trick and arrived in town during siesta time except this time it was a Sunday and the shops would not be reopening until the next day. On entering the town we had seen there was a camp site in the town but on an island called 'La Isla' (The Island) so we decided to cut our loses and camp the night there and head off in the morning. What we discovered is that camping in Argentina is a lot cheaper than in Chile and that the reason all the shops are closed on Sunday even is because everyone is at the local camp site hall doing some crazy drunken dancing. 'La Isla' was literally an island sat in the middle of the Rio Negro river so it was pretty awesome camping there except that they had chosen a rather strange tree to plant all over the camp site, Mulberry trees, which were now baring fruit by the bucket load!

Km 1360 to Km1220: The beautiful girls of Rio Colorado
Waking up on 'La Isla' Nick and Mark had a swim to wake themselves up for the day while I enjoyed a lie in. Once we had scraped the mulberries from our tents and bike parts we set off to do our shop planning for at least 2 days of food as the next town, Rio Colorado, was over 140 away. The road to Rio Colorado was dead straight, had no towns and intersections and was pretty much flat all the way but what was even more fantastic about it was that the prevailing wind headed straight up it towards Rio Colorado. The wind was strong that day and in our favour so we hardly needed to peddle when we were in our top gear, and we estimated that we must have been averaging about 30km/h which is pretty impressive when your packing over 100km on your bike. So, in under 5 hours we arrived in Rio Colorado with a whole lot of unnecessary groceries.

Oddly though Rio Colorado is a very awesome little town which seems to be quite wealthy. Rio Colorado is quite aptly set on Rio Colorado but there is nothing else from there for miles besides farms. Cycling onto town the first thing we noticed was that all the girls were beautiful and cycling around a bit we this was confirmed from parks to shops most the girls you saw were just simply beautiful. We also noticed that the streets we very clean and seemed to have some rather upmarket restaurants including a very nice Panaderia (bakery) with a girl serving you that was the hottest girl in the world, according to Nick. This town also had a very cool bar done up with lots of antique things including road sighs and number plates from all over the world. Most of the number plates were from Argentina, South America or the USA but then we notice he had an actual number plate from my home province in South Africa, Gauteng, how bizarre!

After enjoying a good evening at the bar and the Panadaria we made our way to the camp site which was apparently very nice and on the river. On our way there we were came across a large group of kids, the kind of kids had I seen while cycling through London I would given a large birth to in fear of my life. However, these kids were the polar opposite to London kids they were just so polite and all they wanted to do was chat with us, quite oddly no one had the impulse to shout out 'wot you look'n at' or swipe our mobile phones at any stage, which was quite a pleasant surprise. We landed up chatting to these kids in the street for ages before we took pictures, shared email address and then received further directions of how to get to the camp site.

Once at the camp site, even though it as now going on for midnight, the site manager was still up so he came running out to meet us when his dog alerted his attention. We thought ha he's just so excited to make a quick but off of us gringos even through we're hardly going to be here 8 hours but no in true Argentinian style he just wanted to welcome us and when I asked how much we owed he said nothing for you because it's late, and then showed us to a camp spot explaining that there were ablution blocks with hot water if we wanted. In the morning I enjoined another early morning river swim and a second hot shower, just because I could.

Km1220 to Km1094: Waking up on a bar lawn
The prevailing wind was still going in our direction and there was not too much to see until we got to Bahía Blanca 170km away so we decided to do what is we have discovered is best on this kind of trip and that is to 'make hay while the sunshine's', which has now become quite synonymous with taking advantage of a good loo when its available but it still applies to most things we do here. When you arrive in a town and the shops are open then shop now don't leave it, if you see a chocolate is on special don't wait till the next town to take advantage of it even if it is in a big chain buy it now, if the sun is shining and you come across a river stop and swim don't hope in vain that you'll soon come across another river no matter how many times the map indicates that you'll cross that river again. All of this is dictated by Murphy's Law or 'Ley de Murphy' as they refer to it here, because the minute you take something for granted Murphy will be sure to be there to prove you wrong and that's why no matter how clear the skies are make sure the suntan lotion and sun-glass are hard to get to and the rain coat is at hand because then you're guaranteed it won't rain that day. We really have become quite religious about our belief in Murphy and what seems to be the only way to defeat him and that is to 'make hay'.

'Making hay' really did pay off because we after stopping briefly to have lunch in an abandoned old farm house we managed to make it to far poorer town than that of Rio Colorado called Médanos, 126km down the road in good time. We did not expect much from this town other than to do some shopping and catchup on a few mails then head a little out of town to find a camping spot however, Médanos had other plans.

Although the town was a little groggy and the people not quite as good looking as Rio Colorado we got a good feeling about this town when we entered it, yet it was a very strange town. Firstly we came across a Panadaria (bakery) called 'Paz Panaderia' which directly translated means The Bakery of Peace, a rather odd name for a bakery but pleasant none the less and they did have delicious bread, spreading peace one loaf at a time. Next we were reprimanded by the police for cycling the wrong way up a one way street. I really don't understand this, all the towns in Argentina no matter how small all have one way streets everywhere but to add to it the streets are wide enough to turn an ox-wagon, seriously they are about 4 lanes wide and there are about 4 cars a day riding down them. So, I really don't understand why they don't save themselves the trouble of ridding around in circles and putting up unnecessary one way signs, and then the police could do something else with their time instead of standing around waiting to reprimand the one gringo that comes into town every decade.

Mark and Nick found an Internet café to do there admin at but I preferred to sit in a coffee shop with my laptop so I went of cycling in circles around the town trying to find a coffee shop or restaurant where I could sit and use my laptop even if they didn't have wifi. Strangely though after asking around I discovered the only such place is the restaurant at the petrol station just outside of town . It quite sad to think that the only place these people can relax and eat a meal is at the petrol station on the edge of town but then had the bright conclusion that if they don't have a restaurant they must definitely have a bar. Of course, I was right every as self respecting town has a bar so off I went in search of it.

After cycling past the bar about 4 times 'contra mano' (the wrong way), which is what everybody on the side walk shouts at you if you cycling up the wrong way, I eventually found the bar but it was more of a hall than a bar. The bar had those bead things hanging across the door and as I got close I immediately heard the chit chatter of the local men inside the bar however as I cycled up and lent my bike up against the wall when I would be able to see it through the bar window everything suddenly went very quite. I walked through the beads and all the men, all 5 of them at this stage, stopped and stared at me. I had to fight the instinct to turn and run but just announced loudly to everyone 'buenos tardes señores, quiro cerveza!' (good afternoon gentlemen, I want beer!-now this may seem very direct but this is how you ask for things in Spanish you simply expressing a desire) this was warmly received and the bar man quickly appear from the back producing an ice icy cold Quilmes.

I knew I could hardly now ignore the men sitting at tables scattered around the room shouting things across at each other so I just sat quietly at a table sipping my beer engaging in some friendly banter across the room about our cycling trip. At one point a tubby gentleman cycled up parked his bike, ran up to the bar and ordered a spirit. The other men began to poke fun at him saying how far do you cycle everyday? The man very proudly responded saying at least 20km a day! They all laughed and pointed at me saying he has cycled 130km today! He quickly downed his spirit and ran off back to his bike. I now felt like I had their approval and soon after this I was presented with another bottle of beer but I hadn't ordered another one. Not sure why I had received it and wondering how things worked around here I queried across the bar 'quanto de debo?' (how much do I owe) too which I was quickly informed it was on them.

To thank the men for the beer I moved over to where they were sitting and offered to share the beer between us as is the custom here and they gladly obliged. The beers began to flow fast and furious from here resulting in both my understanding of Spanish getting worse and their ability to speak clearly quickly diminishing. I was quite relieved when the other boys responded to my text message saying they were on their way because I knew once they arrived it would take away a little of pressure off me to comprehend what was being said around me. Now with the other guys there and the banter flying fast and furious a few more locals arrived one looking and behaving very much like a true Scotsman which was quite entertaining.

All the gentlemen were very kind and by the end of the evening we had been offered a place to stay or a place on the lawn to camp outside and were also asked to stay on the next day to join them for a braai but we needed to get ot Bahía Blanca so we graciously declined. We however did land up camping on the lawn just the back of the bar. While we were setting up our tents Mark headed back into the bar and to his surprise a lady had appeared. I'm not quite sure what was said but Mark quickly returned to the tents looking for backup because it sounded like they were trying to hook the two of them up and the men just couldn't understand why Mark as not interested. Quite strangely here in South America infidelity almost seems to be the order of the day, if someone's 'novia' (girlfriend or fiancé)is not there it is almost as if they don't exist. Fortunately Mark managed to change the subject and after a few more beers and some banter we retired to our tents only to wake up feeling a little squeezy wonder what on earth had happened!

Km 1094 to Km1050: Manu Chao and Chilling in Bahía Blanca
Thank heavens we had only left ourselves 40 odd kilometres to Bahía Blanca because after an impromptu night at the bar no amount of bread from The Bakery of Peace could make me feel better. We had an incentive though that once in Bahía Blanca we would stay for a day or two and we would be getting to the the Atlantic Ocean for the first time since leaving the Pacific ocean up in Chile. The cycle was not easy and to boot the wind changed direction for the last 15km so we had a strong headwind coming into Bahía Blanca.

Bahía Blanca is not pretty as its name suggests, Clear Bay, and really is just a groggy port city but the people there are friendly none the less. Cycling into town opposite the central town plaza down another stupid one way street the man in panel van in front of me just stared reversing and before I could get out of his way he hit my bike and I went flying into the road. Fortunately I managed to slap has car as I fell so he stopped short of damaging me and my bike but I landed on the handle bar sprawled in the middle of the road. Luckily there was no other traffic and a hippy guy we had met back in Choele Choel appeared out of nowhere to quickly help me up. As soon as he knew I was all fine he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. I was fine and couldn't really say too much to the driver because he was already very apologetic and obviously could not have seem me though his van so off I went a little shocked.

For accommodation the tourist office directed us Bahía Blanca Hostal but they were all full due to a convention that was on in town but they very kindly did a bit of phoning around for us only to establish that everywhere else was full too. It had just started to bucket down with rain as we stepped in the door so being the kind Argentinians that they are they made a plan and said that we could sleep on the floor in the table tennis room for free after midnight. They had space for the next night so we decided to stay there and then at least we would have room in the morning sometime. The hostel was awesome with had very cool décor set in a very old colonial building. There wasn't much to Bahía Blanca besides the pretty town square so we were just enjoying relaxing in the enjoyable atmosphere of the hostel and took good advantage of the kitchen.

The next day we discovered that Manu Chao just by chance would be playing at a local venue that night, I had gotten some Manu Chao music from a friend before coming out here and had been listening to while cycling for the last 7 month so could not believe it when I found out they were playing in Bahía Blanca. Fortunately there were still tickets available and the cool hostel manager had offered us a lift with him and his wife. We really had lucked out with our stay in Bahía Blanca.

When we got to the venue where Manu Chao was playing there was a huge queue but we first needed to collect our tickets so were directed to the office close to the front of the queue. After we had gotten our tickets no one seemed to be too bothered by us being there so we just proceeded on to the gates knowing we would probably get way with it by pleading ignorant gringos. No one battered an eye lid not even one of the ten police that hadn't noticed that we hadn't been searched. Once inside we found we were one of the first few people inside so could get a spot right in front of the stage which we would later begin to regret. Strangely though they don't sell beer or food in their venues so we were quite starving and would soon find out why they don't sell alcohol.

Quite unexpectedly the concert started on time, around 9pm, and without any pre backup band. By the time Manu Chao came on the venue was packed and we were now quite tightly wedged near the front. The crowd went mad when the band came on and it pretty much got crazier from there. Manu Chao was brilliant, as the tempo went up everyone just started jumping and swaying into one another. Now, I had come to expect this if I was at a punk concert and I was anywhere near the marsh pit but here the whole venue just seemed to turn into one giant marsh pit. Everyone seemed to be jumping simultaneously and if you got your timing wrong you'd just crash into someone who would fly into someone else which would create one massive chain reaction of people flying across the venue. At one point I was being squashed so hard I couldn't breath in and was quite relived I was over a foot taller than the average Argentinian and could just pop out the top if I really need to. The concert was great and I can see that these Argentinians really do know how to party – I can't wait to go watch an Argentinian game during the South African Football World Cup!

Km1050 to Km1010: World Cup Draw
Waking up with every muscle in my body aching from the Manu Chao concert the night before I realised it was already 10am and was about the miss our free hostel breakfast so I upped ran through, smelling like a giant cigarette, to claim my spot in the breakfast area. It was the World cup Draw day and we had decide to stick around until 2pm our time (7pm in South Africa) for the draw. The hostel had already been so kind to us but gave us yet another liberty and let us keep our room for an extra few hours so we could get our bikes packed up before we all sat down to watch the draw. This was such a treat because all I wanted to do was have one last nice warm shower and get packed properly and not have to run around frantically still smelling like cigarette just so that we could be out of the room by 10am, which was now already long gone.

Since Argentina had qualified for the World Cup the local station already by 11am had a show building up to the draw. It was so exciting sitting there watching our country be discussed and scrutinised by the world and from what I could understand they kept saying 'Que impresionante, que fantástico!' whenever they cut to live footage of South Africa. Just about everyone in the hostel that stopped to have look at the tele as they went by were sure as can be to be told that we were South African and this was our country. When the draw show finally commenced and Johnny Clegg started symbolically walking down through Africa with his familiar tune blaring out of the speakers, and an annoying Spanish translator shouting over the top, I just smiled from ear to ear forcing a lump back down my throat. I thought the show was brilliant and very professional with one of my best parts being the old wise umkhulu sitting down with his grandchildren showing them the book, I just think this scene had so much symbolism in it, we have an abundance of history and culture but we can be modern and first world too. The draw seemed fair too resulting in relatively fair pools, I can't wait for the World Cup and truly believe it is going to be one of the best World Cups yet!

Happy that I'd been able catch the draw show live, and a little concerned about the kind of whipping I'm going to see Mexico give Bafana Bafana in the opening match at Soccer City, we said cheers to all at the hostel and set off on our bikes. We managed an easy 40km before the sun began to fall taking us comfortable out of town where we now camp fairly well hidden on the side of the road amongst some trees. Hopefully the wind won't be too strong in the morning and the rain forecast never materialises because the wind farm we cycled past about 5km back concerns me a bit. There are 3 beaches we hope to visit on the way to Mar del Plata the first of which is now 150km away so we should hopefully be there in the next 2 days.

CYCLING: Over the Andes and into Argentina

2009-12-03T21:31:00.002+02:00

Km270 to Km201: Most frustrating day yet
After a weekend of rain in the lake district we awoke on Rodrigo's friend's little plot just outside of Los Ángeles to the sound of more rain. Having already taken 2 days 'off' the bikes we figured we'd better get going no mater what. So, we reluctantly pulled ourselves out of our sleeping bags, put on our clothes which we had been drying by the fire all night and stepped out into the rain as it began to pour even harder.

We had considered taking a back road to Victoria where we would turn left off the Panamerican and head directly east for Argentina which would add an extra 30km to the 102km journey but given the conditions and that we had heard it was a dangerous road we decided against it. It was only 102km to Victoria so we had hoped to just push on a bit longer that day and get there by nightfall that day but the weather and our bikes had other plans.

I had bought new tyres in Santiago to replace my perishing old ones and now had the right tubes for them but the the actual tyre still had very weak side walls so with the bike fully laden I almost immediately got a puncture coming down the bumpy dirt road leading from the plot. Grrr I was so irritated, just as we were getting going as if it wasn't bad enough that it was pouring down with rain we now had to all stand in it while I again fixed a pinched tube. This set the tone for the rest of the day.

The rain never stopped, we were cycling down a rather not so interesting highway and I kept having to stop and fix a pinched tube so we weren't really having much fun but we have the hope of getting to Victoria where we would get off the highway and hopefully replace my stupid tyres, again! Lunch that day wasn't too exciting either because we had to make it while wet and cold huddled in a bus shelter on the side of the highway with trucks, cars and buses whizzing by (yes they have bus stops on their highway). Nick's bike too was now beginning to give troubles and his peddle crank kept coming loose so he too had to keep stopping to tighten that up. We must have looked a rather sorry bunch because a very kind man in his 4x4 bakkie (truck/pickup) stopped and asked us if he could give us lift to the next town but much to his shock we declined and continued repairing bikes and making lunch in the freezing shelter.

After lunch I discovered my tyre again had a slow puncture and Nick's peddle shaft still kept coming loose even after pouring half a bottle of 'Loctite' on it. Had we not had all the bike problems I don't think we would have been bothered by the the worsening rain but given that we had cycled halfway around the continent with very few punctures let alone more then one in a day and this was the first ever time we had encountered such cold and heavy rain we were just about ready for somewhere dry and warm and were in dire need of a bike shop. With 50km to Victoria in the pouring rain we knew we would get there so we decided to pull into Collipulli just 20km on.

When we did finally get to Collipulli we almost immediate stumbled upon a bike shop in this little town. While Nick and I had our bike troubles seen to Mark went on the hunt for a hostel and found an awesome little place with good food and a wood fire heating the whole hostel wonderfully. That night our clothes littered the hostel on just about every banister available but the owner only seemed to further encourage such behaviour by pulling chairs closer to the fire draping our clothes over them. Our bikes were fixed in no time and we were now warm, dry, well fed and ready for bed after along tiring day. It almost felt as if this whole thing happened just so we could get to experience this awesome little hostel and for that I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Km201 to Km113: Curacautín
The follow morning we were relieved to see the rain had stopped. We quickly gathered our warm bone dry clothes from around the fireplace and headed off. The sky was a bit grey and the highway busy so we were quite excited to get to the turn off to Victoria and start heading towards the Andes on a much quieter road.

When we did finally come to the turn off we realised it was quite a momentous occasion as we were leaving the Panamerican highway for the last time. The turn off was at the 609km mark from Santiago bring the total distance covered to around 5500km since we had started our trip up in Ecuador. Just as we took the turn off and were about to stop to take some photos we discovered the Panam had left Mark a parting gift; a big fat metal nail in his tyre. Left with little choice we decided to make the most of it and have our breakfast rolls on the grass encircled by the off ramp while Mark went about removing his parting gift.

It was quite nice enjoying our last meal on the Panam but we were definitely about ready to leave our faithful friend and make our way to a new warmer side of the continent. After having spoken about the town of Victoria for just about 6 months we just went shooting by the little place hardly noticing it was there because we were just so excited to be heading for the Andes. The road from there wasn't too exciting as it was still overcast and little of the mountains ahead could be seen but we did get to help some local ladies push start their car over lunch which provided some entertainment for both us and them.

Later we came to a little town called Curacautín quite early in the afternoon where we had planned to restock. I didn't like the look of the weather, needed to catch up on some much needed blogging and quite liked the look of the little town so the others agreed to see if we could find a cheap place to spend the night. While the others did the shopping I went on a hunt for either a close camp site or a cheap hostel.

After having been sent from pillar to post and not having too much success with finding a bargain hotel I spotted a little tourist office. The tourist officials were so awesomely friendly and also kindly advised me that there weren't any camp sites nearby but gave me directions to the bargain hostel in town. I had been given detailed directions but still managed to get lost so I asked some locals to show me to the place and thank heavens I did because it was just a random house on a little foot path down the back of an alley. An old man very hard of hearing came out and bargain an even lower price but it was only valid if we did not have a hot shower.

Proud of my find I rushed off to find the others who had just finished the shopping. It was good fun leading them back to our secret bargain hostel and I was only too happy to give the old man our business. I hadn't looked at the place because at that price we'd probably ready to take just about anything but we were pleasantly surprised as we just about had a house to ourselves.

Once in the place we found we had two rooms one with two singles and another with a double but this old man was not going to let a double be used as a single. Oh no he preferred to sit and dismantle the entire double bed, drag it out of the room piece by piece and then sit and assemble a single bed. Granted we were only paying for 3 singles but really, if I was the owner, to save myself an hour and a half worth of manual labour, I would have gladly left the double bed!

I was quite relieved we had found the place because just as we brought our bikes and all our stuff in it started to bucket down. I did hear rats running inside the wall just above my head board that night but I just sank a little further down into my bed and quickly nodded off to sleep, as it had been a while since I had been in a real bed I was not about to let a few rats disturb my sleep.

Km113 to Km22: Crossing the Andes Day 1 – Breathtaking Scenery
The next morning as my alarm went off I noticed it was rather bright behind the curtains. I slowly crept over and peaked through the curtains only see a fogged up window so I quickly rubbed a patch clear and all I could see was bright blue sky. We were due to be cycling between 2 snow capped volcanoes that day so all I wanted to do was jump on my bike and go go go! I ran down the passage, like an excited child on Christmas morning running to his parents room, to see if the other guys had too spotted the big blue sky outside window. They had noticed and were quickly gobbling down their breakfast so that we could hit the road before any clouds could ruin the amazing views.

Not far from up the road we began to see the two magnificent snow capped volcanoes on either side. Green, and I mean like really really green fields surrounded us. I felt like I was the luckiest man alive, how could it rain for days and nights on end and then on the one day we pass through one of the most beautiful places on earth the skies clear and we get to see it in all its glory! I was on top of the world and hardly thought it could get better but this was just the beginning.

There was a tunnel further up the road that passed through part of the Andes but one that would be cheating and two very dangerous as we had been advised it was long, often flooded and was infested with crocodiles (I never believed it but sometimes you just have to trust the locals). Fortunately for us there is a pass that goes over the top through the Malacahuello National Reserve providing breathtaking views but it would mean cycling along a rather unfriendly dirt road ascending and then descending 1000m within a 25km section.

When arrived at the turn off to Malacahuello National Reserve we decided to have a good cup of hot something and our sandwiches before we took on the challenge. We soon spotted a sign advertising hot chocolate at one of the many German restaurants in this region, Cafe Aleman – Augsburg. The place was perfect, it was basically a little wooden cabin just off the road set amongst some trees. The owner was just opening up for the day and was quite happy to serve us outside where we had started making our sandwiches for the day. There is a large German community in this part of Chile and they all seem to be running fantastic little restaurants or bed and breakfasts. If this lady started a bed and breakfast I would definitely be back for a visit if not I'll probably be back one day just for another cup of that hot chocolate!

After enjoying a delicious hot chocolate in the sun with fantastic scenery all round the lovely lady who had now taken quite an interest in our travels left us with a parting gift, a key ring brought all the way from here families home town of Augsburg, Germany! Needless to say she received some South African memorabilia in return for which she was quite pleased as she said it was her dream to visit South Africa, I really do hope her dream comes true one day.

Now full of happiness and good eats we headed off for our climb over the pass through the Malacahuello National Reserve. The road was far better than we had expected saying wow if it stays like this then we'll be happy, only to find the road got even better as we went on. The pass was quite steep and after all the rain it may have been hard to pass in car but given the great views we hardly noticed we were ascending. As we went up the scenery slowly changed from green green pastures, to more pine forest like surroundings to snow covered landscape. All the way up the views were of volcanoes and valley below but it just kept getting better as we got higher. Eventually when we got to the top we found a spot not covered in snow and looked over what remained of the Andes ahead and what would ultimately be Argentina. After some good reflection about where we were and how lucky we were to be there with such great weather we started out fast descent down the other side.

The other side of the mountain was almost instantaneously warmer but clearly a lot drier. We we weren't quite in Argentina yet as we still had another pass go over but that would have to wait for the next day. We came screaming down into a charming little town called Lonquimay losing a water bottle every now and again irritating me to no end. As you come hurtling and bumping down the dirt roads it shakes just about everything loose so anything stuck under one of the elastic cords eventually comes off. If you crush a bottle a little bit before pinning it down with an elastic it stays put longer however if it has any gas in it whatsoever, or if you are ascending in altitude, the bottle expands making it nice and smooth and really easy to work itself loose and hence many stops to pick up my now perishing bottle of Fanta.

Once in Lonquimay we set about making our lunch near the local town square. Soon a local school boy came to join us who must have been about 10 years old. First we offered him a little South African soccer ball and then some pens but he wasn't interest. All intellectual Ricardo was interested in was the information pamphlet about South Africa. This little kid was incredibly polite and seemed to know more about South Africa and Africa in general than most of the people we had come across so far put together. He even had some crazy story about an African caterpillar that feeds on the local cactus variety. Ricardo definitely had been taught not to accept gifts from strangers (although information pamphlets seemed to be ok) because he wasn't even interested our sweats when we started digging into them.

All Ricardo was interested in was our stories and South Africa. I think he had a particular interest in us because his dad was apparently from Ecuador and he knew of the places where we had cycled from. Later that day his mom, who I'm quite sure was beginning to worry about these strange men who had befriended her son, came out to take some photos with us. It was then time for Ricardo head home and as his mom led him away he turn and said with a happy tone in Spanish 'Please come and visit us again'. This was quite heart wrenching given we knew it was unlikely we would ever be back in this little town again but hopefully we've inspired Ricardo to perhaps one day get on bike and follows his dreams too.

We had already had a fantastic long day so decided that after lunch we would roll just out of town and find a place to camp but as soon as we got back on the main road towards Argentina we found we had a gradual downhill and a strong tail wind. The border post on this route is quite strange. You exit Chile at the entrance to the Alto BioBio National Reserve and then 22km away on the other side you exit the national reserve and enter into Argentina. Thanks to the tail wind we found ourselves 60km down the road and just outside the entrance to the Alto BioBio National Reserve in no time. To enter the reserve we would need to get our Chilean exit stamp and figured it probably be best not to spend the night in no man's land as we would not have managed the additional 22km so we decided to camp just outside the reserve.

Camping by what essentially is a border post is not something I could ever have imagined myself doing especially not in this crazy dangerous South American continent. However, the truth is that Chile and Argentina are probably just as safe if not safer than any country in Europe so we were quite comfortable setting up campingin a field not more than 500m from the boom which essentially demarcated the edge of Chile. The police did come by later that evening to see what we were up to but once we had explained ourselves they said they were happy for us to camp there and that they would keep an eye out for us.

When I think back on this day it truly was one of the longest and best days I have ever had in my very privileged.

Km22 to Km0 and Km1880 to K1814: Crossing the Andes Day 2 – Cruising into Argentina
The next morning we woke up bright and early ready for the 8am border opening time. First we had to spend the last of our Chilean pesos and because I hd too much many on me I even got lucky enough to change my money at a good rate with the shop keeper. If there is one thing Chile does have it is good chocolate so I stocked up on my favourite slabs and off we went. Getting our exit stamps was easy work even if Mark did get a few extra questions just for having a rather bushy beard.

Once inside the Alto BioBio National Reserve we immediately started to climb but this came as no surprise because one we had been pre-warned that we had a long way up before we would go down into Argentina and two the name of the reserve includes the word 'Alto' meaning high so there was no deluding ourselves. We climb felt like it was never ending and as we looked back on the volcanoes and mountains we had left behind us and conquered on the previous day they almost began to appear quite dwarfed by the pass we were now climbing. Every corner we came around looked as if it was going to be the horizon but then another rise would appear.

Finally we reached the top of the Pino Hachado pass and passed a sign on the other side of the road welcoming visitors to Chile so we assumed we had crossed over in the Argentinian part of the reserve. Not long past this sign the beautiful tar road disappeared and became a perilous steep dirt road down into Argentina, later confirmed by some rusting Argentinian welcome signs. We began hurling towards Argentina at quite a pace now hitting over 50km an hour on bikes not very well balanced also not helped by large stones and lose gravel on the ground. On one corner the road began to slope inwards, I didn't want to fight the gradient as my tire may dig in and send me flying so I just had to follow the gradient and landed up flying over the pile of rocks that had gathered on the inner corner of the turn. Fortunately, I kept my steering straight and bounced rather vigorously over and through the stones amazed and relived that my tires hadn't ripped to shreds. Phew that had been a close call.

At the bottom of the pass after the road seemed to alternate between dirt and tar a few more times we came to the Argentinian border post. Fresh produce apparently was not permitted into Argentina but thanks again to Mark's beard he received most of the attention. One of the guards searching my bag came across my medicine bag and started pulling all sorts of tables and stuff out and was asking what it was for. Most of the medicine I was carrying around I discovered I had no clue what it was used for so just thought up some common condition each time, did a few charades and then the guy would nod and move on to the next pill.

After our big search we explained that the fresh produce they had now pulled form our bags was supposed to be our lunch and since we were 40km or so from the next shop we would need to eat it before going on. They understood and said ok take it just we must eat it all at next rest stop further down the road. That was fine except that we had eaten not that long before at the top of Pino Hachado pass and were thus not hungry at all but not ready to turf our beloved avos, so we just kept going rendering their whole search procedure pretty darn fruitless.

The landscape pretty quickly turned to the semi-desert everyone had told us about looking a lot like parts of the Eastern Cape. As we looked back over our shoulders now leaving the snow capped peaks of the Andes way behind us it brought home how far we had come in the past 2 days.

That afternoon we pulled into our first town in Argentina, Las Lajas, and discovered what we were to discover in every town in Argentina and that is that they shut-up everything at about noon for a siesta and only reopen again at about 6pm. After scouring this small town for an open shop and an ATM we made our way back to the main road, with our wallets and shopping bags full but our tummies empty, where we found a petrol station with a good restaurant/bar. What we have also discovered in these small towns is that often the best restaurant in town is the one at the petrol station just on the edge of town and probably because its the only place open 24 hrs.

We spent the afternoon there and enjoying a meal and a few beers. Later we discovered an ablution block around the back of the petrol station made available to passing truckers so we asked if we could camp on the grass around the back to which they gladly agreed. As we set-up our tents at the back of the petrol station we enjoyed a magnificent sunset looking back over the Andes. We had now successfully crossed the Andes and were now enjoying getting to know our sixth country in South America, and I could honestly not have asked for a better experience.

To see all the pics from Chile click here and from Argentina here.

CYCLING: South of Santiago - Vineyards, Lakes and All

2009-11-25T19:14:00.003+02:00

After a fantastic time in Santiago we now head south down Chile discovering the wine valleys and lake district but with all this green comes lots of rain! Bike problems persist too.

Km800 to Km724: Getting out of Santiago
We all awoke excited for the days the ahead and to add to the excitement we had beautiful clear skies. After a good clean of Waldo's apartment, who was again away on work, we did relays loading the lift full of bags and bikes in order to get our stuff down into the lobby where we would load up the bikes for the cycle out of Santiago. After waving good-bye to the friendly man at reception we made our way outside for a few parting photos. It was quite sad standing outside the apartment that we were just a few weeks prior just too excited to have arrived at but were now leaving behind. We are incredibly lucky and grateful to Waldo for letting us use his apartment because no other place would we have been able to store all our stuff, get washed and organised and have stayed in such comfort.

After the harrowing cycling into Santiago along the highways we planned to take back roads out of Santiago. Firstly because we did not want to kill Nick on his first day on the bikes and secondly there was a rather conveniently placed vineyard along the planned route. The Concha y Toro wine estate which produces the most experted and famous Casilleron de Diablo (devils lair) wine range (look out or the little devils face next time you're shopping for wine). It was a Sunday so the roads were quite but of course we had managed to pick a closed road and a road under construction to head out of town on so we we wound our way out of town under the big blue beautiful skies.

Just outside of Santiago, in the south, we came to the Concha y Toro vineyard but it looked a little over commercialised so we figured we'd go on and visit a smaller vineyard somewhere along the way. It was lunch time though so we were fortunate to stumble upon a beautiful botanical garden like looking park (not too dissimilar to Walter Sisulu botanical gardens just outside of Johannesburg) where we sat and enjoyed our delicious avocado rolls while Nick unveiled his glaring English tan for the sun to with what it could.

The Panamerican highway which we were due to follow down south now ran almost completely without undulation along a valley with the Andes in the left and the Cordillera de la Costa (mountain range of the coast) on the right while heading south. We wanted to avoid cycling down the busy Panamerican for as long as possible and also wanted to avoid going through a tunnel on the Panamerican just south of Santiago but this meant we had to go either over or around some geographical feature. So, that afternoon as we cycled along the alternative route through and past rolling vineyards we eventually came to a sign saying 'cuesta' light vehicles only. At this point Mark and I grew a little concerned as the only time we had ever seen something referred to as a 'cuesta' we landed up cycling uphill for 2hrs and then to add to our concern the road suddenly turned to dirt without warning.

The 'cuesta' turned out not to be so bad after all and thankfully the dirt roads in the south resemble nothing of the soft desert sand dirt roads further up north. We slowly spun our way back and forth up the 'cuesta' leaving growing magnificent view of the valley behind us. Along the way we discovered that with all this vegetation and water down south comes animal life including amonsgt other things bugs, mosquitoes, spiders big enough for our English companion to mistaken for crag and long scary snakes so we will definitely be checking our shoes carefully first thing in the morning from here on out. When we finally came to the top as the evening was beginning to approach and we could now look back on the valley we had come down from and look forward down the valley which would eventually take us to Victoria where we would begin to head east of the Andes towards Argentina.

We free-wheeled down the 'cuesta' on the other side and soon came across a house selling home made empanadas (pies) which were busy being backing in a wood fire oven just in front of the house. We had also spotted that they had a lovely green field out the back of their house where it would be great for us to camp so after enjoying a good pie we popped the question. They said we were happy for us to stay there for a small fee and we could use the shower in the house. We spent a great night camping there and chatting to there friends who had clearly been enjoying some of the local produce in abundance which brought the perfect first day to a perfect end.

Km724 to Km650: Back to the Panamaerican
The next day we were forced to join the Panamaerican highway pretty early on in the day. The weather was still good and although we were on the highway the scenery was still awesome with the Andes towering over us on the left and the coastal mountain range on our right. We had a great lunch stop baking ourselves in the sun and interacting the locals who were promoting wine in the car park and were only too happy to have someone to keep them entertained.

That evening we headed off the Panamerican again to hopefully find a nice place to camp but we kept getting sent from pillar to post and eventually landed up at a sanctuary of sorts 4km in the wrong direction and were still denied a place to camp even though they had plenty of beautiful lush green crash to share. By that stage we had had enough so just went 100m up the road to where a farmer had left the gate to his orchard open and set about making our dinner on a pile of empty crates. We figured if someone doesn't come by the end of dinner which would be around 9pm we would just camp there and an the end we just wished that the farm owner had come to see what was happening so that we could ask their permission because every time a car came past we were convinced we were about to be booted. Eventually no one did query our self appointed camp-site but I'm pretty sure we did provide some great dinner conversation for the locals as every rather wealthy looking farmer that came cruising by in there new 4x4 just about came to stop so that they could stare at us as they drove by. We joked that the word must have spread through the small town that there were 3 gringos in the orchard because more and more cars seemed to just drive down this dead-end road only to return 5 minutes later.

Km650 to Km564: Ridding on a lawnmower
We continued south down the Panamerican highway stopping to make our lunch on the pristine lawns outside the San Pedro wine estate. No one seemed to be too bother by us sitting there except for the numerous people that would reverse up the on-ramp to the Panamerican in order to avoid paying the toll and got a bit of fright when they saw us sitting there in bright yellow jackets. After having made our lunch, cleaned the pots under the sprinkler and then relaxed under a tree for couple of hours and a grass cutting man eventually came along on him mower. We thought that he was going to chase us off immediately but he didn't he just apologised for bothering us then offered to let us take photos while riding on the lawn mower. Fortunately we were just getting ready to go so didn't keep him long but he was just such a friendly old man.

That night we stopped at trucker stop provided by the toll road which had all that we need but got a little overly confident and set-up our tents on the beautiful green grass. Just as we had all hopped into our tents and were just about to turn off our headlamps and go to sleep I heard someone outside my tent. It was the truck stop manager and he just wanted to ask us to move our tents off their newly planted grass which was fair enough but could he not have done this 5hrs earlier when we arrived! Needless to say we were not too happy to have to haul all our stuff out the tents and set them up all over again in the dark while wondering around in boxer shorts but we were just too glad that we hadn't been chased off altogether.

Km564 to Km444: Bike problems begin
The weather and scenery were still fantastic but my back wheel was going out of it's way to spoil our day. I had had my bike serviced by the Specialized dealership in Santiago and they had clearly done a shoddy job as I could almost immediately hear clicking coming from the back wheel when I left Santiago. Now all these shops say you can come back if there are problems but that doesn't help when you are half-way to Argentina and something goes wrong due to their shoddy work. Specialized had not been able to help me with finding placement touring tyres which is understandable so I went to the Collondale dealership and they provided me with some lightweight Maxxis tyres but they couldn't provide the smaller 26x1.5 tubes required so they had just replaced my tyres and used the old larger 26x2 tubes.

The first alarm bell should have sounded when I got back to Waldo's place in Santiago to find that one of my tyres already had a puncture but I was flying to Torres del Paine that night so I just left it for when I got back. When I got back from Torres del Paine I discovered that both now had punctures so I just put it down to an unlucky cycle through some thorns on the way back from the Collondale dealership and patched it up so we could set off first thing the next day. The tyres had held out ok to this point but then I got 3 punctures on this the 4th day of the cycle out of Santiago annoying me to no end.

That night we set-up camp in a field just behind a Copec petrol station next to a field of horses. Later that evening I went over to the Copec to have a shower and discovered only now for the first time that all the Copecs we had passed or stayed near all the way down Chile offered free wifi! When chatting to the lady at the Copec about our trip she asked where we were camping and so I told her where and her face dropped saying 'no no its too dangerous there come camp closer here' but it was too late to move the tents now so needless to say I just about slept with one eye open that night.

Km444 to Km380: Repairs and chill'n in Chillán
We got up early that morning so that we could get to Chillán early and have the evening off . It wasn't a long cycle down to Chillán but the noises coming from my back wheel were beginning to get worse so I had hoped to have it looked at in Chillán as it was the first biggish town we would be passing along the way. The joystick on my mobile phone had also packed up so was also going to be looking for mobile repair shop.

We arrived in Chillán early and quickly found a very nice and homely hostel with beautiful wooden floors and even a teddy stuck to our room door. The hostel keeper was just so sweet that she alone gave us a great feeling about Chillán. Once we had checked in we set about getting things done so we could relax that evening and to my surprise within an hour my bike was in having its axle replaced and my mobile phone having its joystick replaced leaving me 2 hours to roam the central markets. Chillán is quite developed with a mall etc but still had a huge market area selling fruits, meats and just about every other things you could be looking which is always nice because I find it a bit of a shame when commercialised malls kill the local markets. Unbelievably my mobile and bike were fixed within the 2hrs they had promised leaving me to enjoy a couple of beers with the boys at the market and then later down at the local pub where we were enjoyed the locals selection of classic English 90's songs like Thunder Struck by AC/DC. Not sure if this selection was just to appease the visiting gringos or if they generally listened to this kind of music but we had noticed in general Chileans enjoyed a bit of hard rock.

Km380 to Km320: The Kind Farmer
Due to an earthquake in 1835 the then 250 year old Chillán Viejo (old Chillán) was destroyed prompting the new location of Chillán just further north where we were staying. Chillán Viejo is the birthplace of the Chilean liberator Bernardo O’Higgins and thus the main street in just about every Chilean town we have been to had been in had been name after him. We were going to be taking a back route again heading for Los Angeles further south and would thus be heading out of town through the Chillán Viejo area. We had hoped given its name I would show its age but due to the earthquake most of it had been rebuilt so didn't live up to expectations.

It was a another great weather day and being back on the back roads the views were awesome with the occasional car and even horse and carriage passing by every now and then. We had stopped at a bus shelter on a corner by a lake baring our chests on order to catch some sun over lunch. We thought that besides the horse roaming around the field next to us we would be pretty much left alone but of course it was lunch time so the school down the road had just closed for the day so we provided much entertainment for the passing school buses. News spread quickly about these strange topless gringos cooking up a storm in their local bus shelter so by the time the buses got anywhere near us the kids were already hanging half out the window in order to catch a gimps and shout 'hola amigos' out the window as they passed by.

As evening began to fall we passed through a small town called Yungay (not to be confused with the Yungay of Peru where 30000 people were killed by a landslide) and just on the other side was a sign indicating that there was a camp site just off the road. We headed off down the dirt road eventually coming to a house on the side of the road where we were told to continue on to find the camp site. Further down the road we came to river but still no sight of a formal camp site so we just went about 200m into the scrub land and set-up camp. Just as we had gotten the tents set-up a man came along on his horse and we all thought oh boy looks like we're going to be booted but no instead he just asked how long we would like to stay and why we had not wanted to camp right by the river.

It was quite a relief having permission to camp there meaning we could then set about making dinner with piece of mind. We also gathered up some dry wood and made a little camp fire, as the evenings still grew cold, and enjoyed a beautiful sunset over the fields marking the end to another perfect day.

Km320 to Km270: Time Trial
We enjoyed another great day cycling down the back roads but slowly the fields around us turned into huge pine and wattle plantations blocking the view of the mountains on our left. As we reached the intersection where we would now be heading directly west towards Los Ángeles the road continued on the opposite direction east towards Argentina opening up an amazing view between the trees of the Antuco volcano where we enjoyed a good lunch.

Isabel, our friend from Viña del Mar, had arranged for us to stay with her boyfriend's brother's friend on plot just outside of Los Ángeles. We arrange to meet her boyfriend's brother, Ricardo, at a supermarket in Los Ángeles so when we arrived there we were asked to follow him out of town to the plot. What we didn't know was that the plot was 10km out of town and that we would be down some kind of time trial to get there, now this in a car is a quick 10 minute potter down the road. However, on a bicycle weighing over 110kg including my body weight and with tired legs from having already cycled 50km, this is no quick cycle down the road.

We began to follow Rodrigo down the road, thus commencing our impromptu time trial, almost immediately struggling to keep up with his pace loosing him at every corner. Not knowing where we were heading we began to joke saying he was taking us back to the plot just outside of Yungay where we had camped the night before. Soon we had crossed the highway and were heading almost directly north up on a different back road from the one we had just come into town on but pretty much back in direction we had just come from. There was a lovely cycle track all along this road which had kilometre markings so as were progressed up this road we could see how far we were going in the opposite direction to where we were ultimate heading. Slowly the numbers began to climb 1km, 3km, 5km at which stage I had just about collapsed from exhaustion desperate for him to turn on his indicator thus indicating that we had arrived bring to an end our impromptu time trial. However, from my position about 1km behind him my eyes kept playing tricks on me mistaken his back lights for an indicator giving me false hope every few hundred metres.

Eventually at about the 8km marking he did turn off the road onto a dirt road heading up to the plot. The plot was beautiful with a white horse just wondering around making it all worth the sweat which was now pouring from every pore on my body. I felt quite sorry for his the ladies that came in for a welcoming kiss on our arrival as firstly I stank and secondly the fuzz on my face was again getting bit out of hand again. Mark's beard is beginning to retain so much food that I am sure they could have even had a bite to eat on the way in for a kiss.

Rodrigo kindly then drove us back into town so we could shop for the next day and get some meat and beers so we could enjoy a braai with them that evening. Back at the plot as we began to discuss our trip with them they seemed surprised that we were not going further south of Victoria to an area near the town of Pucón which is the heart of the lake district. This area offers lots of excellent hikes, cycle routes and thermal baths to enjoy so we soon realised that this was a worth while region to visit and that it was only a 4hr bus ride to Pucón from Los Ángeles. Rodrigo did some calling around for us and found that there would be a bus leaving the next day at around noon so we asked if we could leave all our stuff there and go off with the bikes.

Lake District
We had planned to do a 2 or 3 day return trip to Pucón by bus because timing would not allow us to cycle all the way down there but we did want to take the bikes with so that we could cycle around and then just camp wherever we landed up. Getting bikes on a bus was a little more of a mission than anticipated but eventually we got them on a bus later then planned. The lakes and surrounding volcanoes provided for breath views as we pulled into Pucón so given it was getting late we decided just to camp by the lake that night and enjoy a dinner and few beers in town while watching the sun go down.

Unfortunately the lakes don't just create themselves and require water to keep them full. The weather was not great for the following 2 days meaning that we spent 2 days cycling around looking at waterfalls and sitting in thermals baths in the pouring chilly rain. We were not super keen on camping the 2nd night that we were there as it was very wet and cold so we decided we would just spend the night in the bus shelter just outside of one of the thermal baths thus avoiding putting up a tent in the pouring rain. The night in the bus shelter was hilarious and quite freezing. This was no ordinary bus shelter as it was wooden and 3mx2m in size so was perfectly comfortable and quite luxurious as bus stops go. This bus stop even had a window but unfortunately one of the panes was missing making it a little breezy. I decided to put up my tenet in the shelter so we had somewhere to put our valuables while we slept but Nick and Mark just slept on the floor next to it with Nick in his paper thin summer sleeping bag much to his peril.

It was pitch dark around the bus shelter and quite late so we didn't expect to be bothered but then the dog across the road kept barking eventually arousing the his owners attention. We suddenly heard and saw someone heading our way so we all just closed out eyes and pretending to be sleeping. First he shone the torch straight in Mark's face but Mark just kept his calm and didn't flinch. Slowly we herd him chuckle and then walk on. Once we knew he was out of earshot we all burst into laughter wondering where had gone to suggesting this might make for a great news story with the headline 'bus shelter axe murderer'. Needless to say he never did return with an axe but he did return the next day to collect his horse so we don't think he was bothered by us at all and had probably just passed by us on his way to feed his horse. We were quite relieved to see the sun come up the next day though because we were up in the mountains and it had grown quite freezing over night. At one point I woke-up in my duck-down sleeping bag inside the tent thinking wow if I'm cold Nick must be frozen solid. As expected when I whispered over to Nick he was wide awake and freezing so I made some space in the tent for him so he could hopefully survive the night. The next day was overcast but not raining so we made a beeline for Pucón to catth the first bus back to Los Ángeles.

Once back in Los Ángeles we had to make our way back to the plot from the bus station in town, the other guys were on-line so I decided to head back by myself which turned out to be a disaster. During the time trial getting the the plot when we first arrived I had not noticed we had turned left just as we headed out of town so when I tried to get back to the plot I took the wrong road. 5km down the road, which too had a cycle track, things didn't look too familiar but then I recognised the name of a river we had gone over on the other road so I continued on. Only when the cycle track disappeared way before where the plot should have been did I realise I was cycling east and not north so I then had to turn around and head all the way back town and take the right road thus turning my 10km cycle into a 25km cycle arriving back at the plot just as it became dark with everyone wondering what on earth had happened to me.

It had been an interesting couple of days but all I wanted to do was get back on the road and continue progressing towards Argentina. The thought of passing over the Andes in the next few days crossing into a whole new country is quite exciting!

To see all the pics click here.

It has taken a bit of time getting this blog out as I had to write it out twice. After having in Argentina I soon discovered that somehow Entel in Chile had locked my phone to their network so in trying to get it unlocked I managed to format my phone along with everything I had stored to publish when I arrived in Argentina. I am hoping I can find someone to unblock it soon so that I can keep the blog up-to-date but let this be a warning to anyone using a prepaid Entel SIM when visiting Chile! The awesome trip over the Andes will be published soon.