Don´s mail after the inca trail dated 23rd March 2003

im not sure where i last left off, i think the day
before i embarked on THE INCA TRAIL!!!

it was incredible! one of the hardest things i've ever
done, easily the most incredible things i've ever
seen, and one of my greatest accomplishments! we hiked
for 4 days through mountains and cloud forests, over
rivers, beside waterfalls and through caves. in our
most difficult day we hiked uphill for 7-8 hours, from
3000m above sea level to 4200m above sea level as we
summitted Dead Woman's Pass. we were with a group of
18 awesome people but cam and i were the only two who
were carrying all our own equipment and food, and a
stove to cook the food... a big deal when you hit
those high altitudes.

Machu Picchu was fantastic! we got up at 4am to have
breakfast and head out early. we got stuck behind a
group for awhile but when we, cam, toby and i, took
off running. we blew by every other group and got to
the Sun Gate look-out before anyone else and laid
first eyes on the huge ruins of Machu Picchu.
INCREDIBLE!
we walked down and started out tour, all the while
taking pictures (everything took my breath away). we
ended up venturing form our tour and went exploring.
by noon we were really tired and hungry so we went to
the little snack bar... yes there was a snack bar, and
chill for a bit and rest for our ascent up the
mountain behind the ruins. this was not with our
tour... but definitly permitted. after abit we got to
the mountain and started climbing.... and i tell you
we flew up that rock! we ruined the average time of
1hr. in 27min. 1 minute fast than the competition
(Aitch, P.J., and Toby... sorry, maybe next time
hahahahahaha). getting to the top was .... you
guessed it... INCREDIBLE! there were no safety rope
and no warning signs... it was safe enough(mom) but we
all agreed that that was a huge part of making it so
incredible and that if you were to find anything like
that in europe and n. america there would be so many
safety precautions that it would ruin it. we climbed
down and went to this big sun dail type rock and
charged our necklaces with it's "cosmic energy" and
decided to call it a day since it was now
mid-afternoon.
by the time we got to Aguas Calientes, the nearby
town, to meet up with everyone else, all we could
think about was a place to rest. luckily some one had
reserved a room for us at a hostel. but... before we
made it to the hostel we found out that we wouldn't be
able to get the train we had intended to get the next
morning because the trains we all backed/booked up
because a landslide had hit a train earlier that
afternoon! crushing a coach but not injuring anyone.
south america, what a continent!
we spent an extra day in the town... a really wet day.
the highlight of the day was Aitch and i going out
for dinner and having Cuy Al Horno (full baked guinea
pig) and Alpaca steak (similar to llama) it was
delicious and when we were done Aitch ate one of the
guinea lungs!!! she is so gross!!! who does that!?

we got back this morning and didn't do too much
today... and there we have it, you're all caught up.

Aitches mail after machupiichu dated mon 24th march 2003

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do,
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over Peru....

First stop, stunningly beuatiful and hauntingly empty Huaraz National Park. Lunch was at a green glacial lake, 4600 metres up and all to my lucky self, following 3 gruelling but exhilarating hours of uphill hiking in gentle mist and sunshine and wildlife displays. The lunchtime entertainment was avalanche watching, as they cascaded down from the ampitheatre of snow capped peaks around me. Each thunderous crack of ice had me jumping, since the day before during my epic 22 km hike I had walked across the top of a whole town buried by an avalanche only 30 years before, killing 20,000 and sparing only the children in a school outside of town. And that avalanche had traversed 30 kms at speeds of 450 km/hour to do it. The ones I was witnessing were only a kilometre away. I skidaddled back down the mountain p.d.q, breaking all known female descent records.

Lima was huge, sprawling, fun (I was staying in the best district of Miraflores, cocooned from the real downtown poverty, crime and grime). Sitting in a park I was accosted (pleasantly) by a colourful character called Larry, part time guide, writer (of a book called People in the Park, funnily enough!) and local celebrity. Larrys City tour had an inauspicious and worrying start when he was pickpocketed on the bus but things got better after he had padlocked my bag to my chest and acted as personal security guard for the rest of the trip. In return I taught him essential tourguide phrases such as Hold your horses, talk to the hand, in your dreams, no time like the present... And so equipped, his fame will be spreading beyond Limas suburbs, if indeed possible, as 22 million people spread a fair and murky distance into the surrounding hills! A quick footnote on Peruvian hills - the famous Nazca lines were cut into rock thousands of years ago by Inca (maybe?) artists for some unknown reason. And young Peruvians still occupy their spare time by cutting words and football emblems forty metres high into every rocky hill they find...its nice to see old customs holding out, minus the original artistic talent.

For any wine connnoisseurs (dad), look away now. Ica, south of Lima, initiated me into a true Peruvian wine festival, which forevermore should carry a government health warning. After snowboarding at an oasis (great fun except for the boiling sand which I ate plenty of on my descents..) I toured several vineyards. The production process is a strictly adhered to regime of dirt and dodgy practices, resulting in a powerful but vinegary drink with unidentifiable sediment chucked in free-of-charge. Imagine outdoor mud pits, flies, dirty feet pulverising the grapes, fermentation outside in clay pots sealed with mud, back to the outdoor pits in fields to bubble away under blazing sun and acid rain, rudimetary filtration, bottling and sale. Its certainly not a fine Chilean red that results. The only quaffable version was Pisco sour, a strong spirit drunk with egg whites, lemon and eyes shut to block out memories of the pits.

It was an interesting tipsy day topped off thankfully by the excellent company of 5 young Peruvians from Lima who fed and watered me and taught me Spanish all night. A true travelling experience and Im now fully confident to converse with grandpas in market squares and provide a 5 point logical argument with kids as to why Im not buying their postcards in their own language. Its great!

And the Inca trail to Macchu Pichu. Something EVERYONE should experience. We passed 13 year olds and 50 pluses on the trail. Although I heartily recommend it without food poisoning, 48 hours without food and intermittant vomiting. This renders the 15km uphill second day a 6-hour Whole New World of personal misery. (Thanks to Don and Cam for keeping me company in my own private hell of dead legs, nausea and breathlessness). Top travel tip : Wash food from the market before consumption. But the 43 kms were 43 kms of amazing experiences. Macchu Pichu is incredible and words cannot do justice to the walk, the company we had and the sense of awe, spirituality and achievement. We even finished our 4 am-start-day with a near vertical climb of a zillion steps (straight drop, no railings, slippery rocks, safety nightmare..) to the top of the mountain behind Macchu Pichu in half the usual time. At this stage were were firing on adrenalin and life, although the two Canadian boys (dubiously) claim to have done it quicker, albeit without watches and witnesses to the event. But the competition had long legs and youth on their side so a rematch is scheduled for some mountain somewhere soon....watch this space, its been done before. On the third day of the walk they ran down the mountain 900 metres in rain to arrive at camp first ... only to be welcomed by this little lady and Toby, who had arrived 5 minutes earlier and were hot-shower-bound. How to kill a smile at 50 paces....

The view from the top of the hill of endless misty mountains, the brown raging Riobamba river snaking away through the valley and looking down on that ancient Inca city was something unforgettable. Some of the guys took their own alternative souvenirs home, apart from our shared aching calf muscles and stagnating, slowly steaming clothes. Quote : [I need to pee and peel my face). Remember - when you are close to the Gods, you are also closer to the sun....

Train travel out of Agua Calientes back to gorgeous Cusco was waylaid a few days due to a landslide that unfortunately landed on the train itself. Very unlucky timing. I celebrated by watching an endless 24 hour deluge of rain and Don munching on a whole guinea pig. Spreadeagled on his plate, little legs and claws curled in anger and baked head looking at me so sadly, I had to cover it with a napkin. I ate a guinea pig leg and lung too BUT in my defence only to make Don feel better about his own horrible carnivorous habits ...obviously.
And then I tucked in to my own succulant alpaca steak! They are a great industry for Peru, providing cute photo opportunities for tourists, fantastic soft jumpers and pretty great dinners too.

For the singles out there contemplating a traditional Quechan wife, complete with long black hair, dark eyes and skin, you will be pleased to know they have taken the guesswork out of courting for you. Hat worn to the left with blue bands - single, looking for a man. Left only, no band - single, go away. Anything else, married. Makes life easy... if you can also get past the eighteen layers of clothes, sticky out skirts, bright cerise pinl legwarmers and tonne of wood, corn or children all the women carry on their backs. Seems women do all the work in the fields and home around here. Feminism has yet to reach them.

Cusco is a wonderful, winding-cobbled-streets sort of place you should all visit. Despite the tourism it retains bucketloads of charm and cosy sofa-filled pubs with subdued lighting and magical music to curl up in after the trials of hiking. Its steeped in history, old churches and fountains, alive with Peruvian music, jumper and poncho sellers, and filled by street kids selling postcards and cigarettes as you sit on the terraces watching the rest of the world wander by. And it has the best soup this side of Mums. I fell in love with a 16 string guitar and even though I still have no idea what the stings are tuned to, its easy to play and makes a beautiful sound. I am addicted already but its no wonder everyone{s heading off to Bolivia without me!

So so far, so good. Not robbed, immensely happy, been blessed with some superb travel companions and amazing experiences. Peru has really been something else. Lake Titicaca still to do, the famous Copocabana and Bolivia next week. Till next time...

Little Wanderer Out

Aitch´s leaving ecuador mail dated 07 march 2003

The usual retrospective postcard....

I had no expectations of Ecuador but have been surprised by how little its actually knocked my socks off. Maybe I´ve been hiding out in surf towns and cities too much, or maybe I´m so travelled that huge mountains, cloud forests and lakes dont do it so much for me anymore. But it has been fun all the way so I cant complain. A few (edited)highlights for you!

Quito wasnt the swarming nest of would-be thieves and dark threatening atmosphere I was led to believe. Its now Adios to the Lonely Planet, as experiencing places without preconceptions has been a lot more useful to me recently! Carnaval in South America is a fiesta of water, or flowers, flour or mayonnaise and ketchup, depending on where you are unlucky enough to be walking. Get the Gringo is a national pastime at this time of year. On my first 8 hours wandering solo through the quaint, winding cobbled streets and music-filled market squares of Quito, I was initiated into the festivities with 5 water bombs and two full buckets of water. Luckily my patience and the sunshine for drip-drying were both in abundance.

The novelty wore off a couple of days later when a girl friend and I were chased down the street whilst doing the tourist trip at the Equator (balancing eggs, practising blow pipes and admiring shrunken heads...great stuff!)!. I got back my sense of humour a week later, standing with our excellent party crew on a balcony, water-bombing all the Ecuadorian poseurs and surfers/surf chicks on their way to the beach in Montenita. Great vantage point, poor shooting from me but the boys made up for it with finely honed pinpoint accuracy on hitting bikinis! Wonder why that is then...?

I havent seen much evidence of extra-fervant religious worship though, outside of the water bombing. In honour of the occasion (and my heritage) I visited a massive old church in Quito. And I was scared. Im sure it was the decor that did it and not that instinctive Catholic guilt kicking in....?. It was so overdone in gold leaf, dripping in gilt, dramatic paintings of death and pain, dark wood and corners, and plastic doll statues that looked more like a Stephen King voodoo doll incarnation than Jesus or Mary to me. I have a feeling my next visit may be a while.

I escaped from the Cuba Libre drunken nightmare of El Centro Del Mundo hostel (but boy we had fun!) to Banos. Beautiful sleepy spa town in a dramatic setting. There was a steam bath to start the morning. The hot steam was great, the sadistic guy hosing us down at 7 in the morning with freezing cold jets of pressurised water afterwards (supposedly as part of the treatment!) was not quite as good. Although it appeared to be his thing!.

To make amends for our alcoholic past, Isobel and I decided in a moment of madness to walk a huge mountain. From 2500 metres to 4500 in 3 hours, 6 kms of distance up 60 degree inclined slopes in soggy energy-sapping mud. The altitude was an absolute killer. I limped up and positively scampered down like a mountain goat, claiming a new downhill speed record of one hour and leaving our long-legged guide way behind. Short legs...low centre of gravity...they have finally found their calling. Then at 2500 metres we collected mountain bikes. Stupid, stupid idea. Id rather jump fifty times from a plane without a parachute than ever do this again. The adrenalin junkie has finally met her nemesis. As if driving up in a 4x4 around hairpin bends with 1000 metre straight drops over the edges to the valley floor below wasnt scary enough. Hurtling down mud and rock trails on bikes with dodgy brakes with the same dizzying drops was even worse. At the bottom I retrieved my stomach from my mouth and my heart from its frozen terrified state and headed straight for the pub for a beer to calm my twitchy nerves. I had moments of sheer life-passing-before-my-eyes fear. Never ever again. TRUST ME or shoot me should I ever reconsider..

And so to the sea, as usual, cant stay away from it long. Montenita, a little basic surf town Ecuadorian stylee. Great Carnaval, dancing, and pounding music till 8 am reminsicent of the Oz Desert Doof without the swirling sands. Met back up with the Quito crew there for some crazy, sunny, not really very cultural days at all but unforgettable all the same. Lads - thanks! Got a smile on my face typing this and thinking back....The 24 hour bus rides there, adding another country´s bus station to my list of sleeping spots, wasn´t as unforgettable, but the boys (stalkers??! :-)were good company! I cant recommend corn and cheese wrapped in banana leaves as a great gourmet delight though, or indeed anything so far purchased from hawkers walking the aisles of buses late at night.

The last two days I have been chllling in the mountains in a national park. The horse riding was amazing, right up into the mountains with spectacular views, cloud cover, rivers, fiesty young horse that was a challenge and great fun. OK so it wasnt truly backpacker standards. I know I tell you this isnt a holiday but sometimes...well, $9 a night for a double room with TV, jacuzzi, free pool, 3 course dinner and breakfast, all mod cons and good comapny. It was a hardship!

A quick horror story to close. A few days ago I had noticed a bump on my toe and my nail was a little loose. I just left it for a few days to see what happened. What happened was that in the middle of a relaxing foot massage yesterday I was startled into life by a couple of worrying words I caught in Spanish ... animal and toe. Too close together to mean anything but something awful. The lady kindly proceeded to slit my toe open, a lump of puss came out (or so I thought), she got a needle and fished out a 1.5 cm long worm from my toe. Complete with black head and mouthparts. I was completely grossed out. I now have a hole in my toe, a story and a paranoia about creepy crawlies around here. And I thought the tick in Australia was bad enough....

So onwards to Peru on another epic 24 hour bus journey. Having missed my first bus I am having a great 4 hour Stand Off with the officious Spanish person at the transport company who is refusing to change my ticket without me paying for another one. At the risk of spending another night enjoying the comforts of an Ecuadorian bus station and police men, I might be backing down shortly to purchase another ticket. The stubborn streak is keen to hold out but my Spanish just isnt up to the fight just yet.

Nothing too cultural in this missive as it hasnt been such a cultural trip. Sorry! Maybe a better effort from Peru?

Love to you all

Worm-Free-Zone Girl Out

Aitches mail after the bike ride
So I found plenty of gun-toting people in La Paz but, bizarrely enough given recent events, no one volunteering to shoot me. In the absence of bullet holes and the words ¨never again¨ from my available vocabulary for the day, I went mountain biking AGAIN. Oh the follies of youth....

Theres an amazing survival mechanism the body has that works to dim the memory of pain and fear. This works fantastically well in women after childbirth, encouraging further procreation, but less well in women after the Ecuadorian Mountain Bike Episode, encouraging further life-threatening activities. And so with memory sufficiently impaired I turned up the fear factor and signed up to ride down the officially Most Dangerous Road in the World - affectionately locally referred to as The Road of Death.

With hindsight, the word Death is entirely appropriate but Road is an oversophistication of what is, in essence, simply a mud track dynamited into the side of a rock face in a 3000 metre high series of mountains. This leaves 1500 metres of loose topsoil-and-tree landlide potential above, and 1500 metres of gravity-assisted death-drop potential below.

The track was designed to be one vehicle wide. Unfortunately due to a planning oversight they measured this against a standard small family car and not the average south American tourist bus. And then agreed to allow two way traffic. Every hairpin pin is also a blind corner. Theres pot holes big enough to bounce the endless speeding banana trucks right over the edge. Cover this in thick fog like cold gruel. And then add the ever present crumbling edges over which tyres hang precariously, aided in its premature demise by frequent landslides and waterfalls that cascade across the road and take half of it with them. Now you have it.

Quite simply the rules of the road are 1) loudest sounding horn 2) right of way (uphill?) and 3) right of weight (bigger = better). As I was about to undertake a 60 km downhill suicide run on two wheels I didnt qualify on any of these three counts. And judging by the crushed vehicle carcases littering the valley floor, the rules are frequently and fatally contested en route by everything going this way.

For too many kms to remember clearly, my fingers were gripped tightly in a battle to first to burnout - between the bikes brakes and my courage. Before you leave you pray to the God of Mother Earth by sprinkling alcohol on the ground before your tyres. Then you cross yourselves on the way down at every memorial to people lost over the edge (and thats a lot of crossing, trust me). And in between the switching between praying to any God that will listen and blaspheming them all at every corner, I was secretly praying for a small miracle like a (non disasterous) puncture so I could retire legitimately to the support bus trundling teasingly along behind me. No such luck, just pain and fear and mud the whole way. Vertigo kicked in big time and I got drop-fixated which only added to my severe balance problems on the huge potholes at 40 km/hour speeds....it was all going horribly wrong for a nice day out biking in the sunshine and pleasant country scenery.....

So to cut a long story short, on the long, long, long, long, long etc etc route down it was ROCKY with ROCKS, my sweaty palms and racing heart the only testament to me being alive. My face was set into a permanent frozen grimace of sheer fear that my friendly Kiwi guide mistook for glee as he hurtled ,without even acknowledging the presence of brakes ,around every corner ahead of me. The bumps and slides were so frightening but great in a sort of near-death-experience sort of adrenalined-up way....I think. At the bottom my bruised hands and arse were only outdone by my bruised ego at not being able to keep up with the testosterone-fuelled freewheeling of the guys on the trip. The only bit I really enjoyed was the uphills, where I got to work hard and sweat and be in control. Not appreciated by the Dutch girls who were confused by the concept of hills but were scarily keeping up with the guys on the downhills.

And I got to the bottom alive. I got over it. But this time I MEAN it. If I ever suggest going downhill mountain biking again with 1500 metre drops and tracks laughingly called roads, someone please please hand me a gun and i will shoot myself. Although (post note) the next day I did then get on a 16 hour Bus Ride From Hell along the same winding, treacherous bumpy road and felt equally scared but less in control. Tomorrow,not wanting to chance the odds of the frequency of tourist bus losses over the side, Im flying back to La Paz. Only with the airline that loses an engine every other week and a plane about as frequently. Travel is a tad too dangerous for this lady at the moment!! Next week, jeeps on flat plains and the simple pleasures of foot-power for walking mountains is in order....

Scared Girl Out.

Cams mail from Copacobana
...i must digress,
i need to rest
my soul, my body as a whole
i need to regain control
emotion...
poisons like a potion
it's time to live the elemental
strengthen the mental
experience the world from a different angle
we're caught in a mess we can never untangle
progress is working deeper into the weave
have a look at what you truly believe
if knowledge is the lock, then find the key
if happiness is key,
then turn it, and let yourself willfully be free
open the door to a new possibility
that there´s more to life than a percieved reality
if perception is deception, take an altered direction
step out of line for a mental ressurection
maybe there's merit in an unproven theory
a truth that emerges from an unanswered query...

...if stumbling down that unmaintained path
remember its splendor, don't relive its wrath
when living in the past,
a strong shadow is cast
of doubt and uncertainty
none of which is meant to be
so have a look at the now
see not only with what's under your brow
appreciate the full picture with untainted eyes
it's sure to reveal a breathtaking surprise...

...whether or not these ideas hold true,
this my friends, i shall leave up to you
for if this theory has holes and should break,
isn't life about making mistakes?


-Cam'Ron

Dons mail from copacobana
copa... copacabaaAAAAna!
so beleive i left you guys after Machu Picchu. since
then alot has happened but i don't that i can spill my
guts to everyone here... friends, family, people i
ment just in the last month, past teachers, mentors,
past and present employers... you´ll have to write
back for the juicy details. anyway, the censored
version... we chilled in Cusco for abit longer and got
into a bad habit of spending too much money, it's so
easy there. so we took off and started our journey to
Bolivia... first stop Copacabana right on the coast of
Lago Titicaca(yes i'm serious). now you've really got
to tell me where the copacabana from the song is
because i know it is not this one... this one was nice
but i don't think it is song worthy. so we stayed
there for a hot minute before boating it to the Isla
Del Sol... the site of alot of incan history and some
ruins and such. we stayed there for 3 days, probably
longer than any other gringo but we did some good
camping on beaches, in ruins and some other things
that i will leave out due to the censor. after we
headed back to copacabana on our way to La Paz, the de
facto capital of Bolivia, only to stop for the night
and head to Tiahuanaco (like tiajuana with a CO)...
this is the site of some of the most ancient ruins in
s. america and probably the western hemisphere now
that i think about it. this shitty little town, 1000
years ago (or so), was the centre of Andean
civilisation! the people who lived here and the way
they lived strongly influenced the way the incans
learned to live (as far as agriculture and such). we
lay under the stars late at night fully FULLY clothed
in our sleeping bags, watching the most amazing
foreign set of stars i've seen, amoung these ruins
watching shooting stars and lightning from distant
storms flash over the whole sky... stars and
lighnting, go figure! those of you who were
travelling with us before know what... or should with
alittle though, know what we were up to. and i'm sure
the rest of you can start to guess... but don't worry
it was a great experience, different from what i had
expected, but great and i'm safe and healthy.
we're in La Paz again and we will soon be heading
down to the small town of Uyuni to do a 4 day trek of
THE WORLDS LARGEST SALT PLAINS dun dun dun! might
sound a little bland but it is supposed to be
incredible (this 'incredible' thing seems to be a
re-occuring theme... i can dig it('dig it'? that's cam
wearing off on me)). since we're in the wet season the
whole of the plains are going to be covered with a few
inches of water so still that the horizon
disappears... just clouds and mountains everywere...
i'll make use of my excess film.
we have figured out the next few weeks of our trip so
i suppose i'll fill you in: after the salt plains we
are going to Potosi, once one of the richest cities in
the world during the largest silver rush in world
history... it dosen't hold much but memories now
though. although you can tour the mines (supposedly
sickening to see the conditions and to realize the
number of deaths that took place there but worth
seeing)¨it was once said that you could build a bridge
to spain with all the silver in potosi. it was also
said that you could build two such bridges with the
bones of the people who died there¨ with that said
you can also play in a train graveyard and get on the
roves and jump train to train... you can also buy
dynamite and blow up abandoned mines!
from potosi to a small town outside of Cochabamba
to do some volunteering with... get this... recued
jungle animals! for a whole 2 weeks! we didn't have
any choice in the length of time but it should be
great. mom, close your eyes and scroll down. this
area is in the Chapare region of bolivia... famous for
beautilful scenery and the largest coca fields in the
world... responsible for near half the worlds cocaine!
this is only where they grow the coca it is refined
deep in other very unaccessable areas of bolivia and
this town has been sponsored by both the bolivian and
US govn't to be a safe place to encourage tourism.
i'll be careful.
next back to La Paz to... mom, scroll down again...
bike down the WORLDS MOST DANGEROUS ROAD but
supposedly one of the worlds most beautiful roads too.
the road runs from la paz to Coroico where we might
do a 4 day hike OR if we have enough time we might
head to Sorata to do a huge 8 day hike through dense
jungle with machettes!
from there we start heading back to quito hopefull
via the Rio Ucayali to Iquitos on the Rio Amazonas...
we jsut realized that we might have trouble flying
from there to Quito with out going via lima... a very
big detour! we're in the process of figuring it out.

that's all folks... it might be a while until the next
letter but i'll try and get one out before i head to
the animal volunteer thing (i won't be able to write
from there i don't think)