Cyclogical

Ofe and David's Wedding

2010-08-18T19:40:00.015+01:00

I think it would have been hard to top the last few weeks experiences of cycling the laguna route and climbing Sajama and in fact, the way things have worked out, it looks like they will mark the end of this part of the trip! At least it ended on a real high, and what better way to mark the ending than with the beautiful wedding celebration of good friends!

After returning to La Paz and spending a few days recovering and enjoying the city Carl returned to Potosi to continue his cycle where he had left off, and I needed to get to Lima, where our good friends David and Ofelia were to get married!

Ja had been able to take a few days off from his new job, and I found a bus that went direct from Lima to La Paz (in only 36 hours!) and so we were both extremely honored to have the opportunity to share their big day with them. Ofelia looked stunning, the venue and weather were perfect, and apart from Ja and I partaking in one too many Pisco sours and having to duck out before the Karaoke began (a blessing for all involved, of course) it was a really perfect day!

For me, putting on a dress for the first time in a year (albeit an old one Ja managed to find for me from our boxes of stuff) and wearing something other than cycling and walking gear really was the icing on the cake! (Even if it also involved the first public outing of 'the hair', which even after 6 months growth is still alarmingly similar to certain 1980's male pop stars...)

Ja and I spent a week in Lima, being proper tourists and relaxing with friends, and it was very sad when DT had to go back to Spain and Ja return to London.

In the meantime Sarah (in spite of all her convictions that she would never manage to finish her course) found out that she had achieved a first class honours in her nursing degree from KCL, and we decided that to celebrate we would spend the last month of my trip backpacking around Peru together.

And so, after slightly more than 9000 km in a little over 10 months I have finally (and with a great deal of sadness at the ending of an amazing adventure) swapped my panniers for a backpack, bought a pair of Jeans, and hung up my cycling shorts for the last time!

Backpacking here we come!!!!

Sajama - Bolivias highest mountain

2010-08-18T19:39:00.012+01:00

I had been keen on the idea of climbing one of South Americas 6000+m peaks for quite sometime, originally thinking Hauyna Potosi might be a good option, as a fairly popular and relatively easy 6200m volcano which many people scale. However Carl was keen to make an attempt at Sajama – at 6542m it is Bolivias highest peak, and the challenge of this appealed to us both!

It is only slightly more technical than Hauyna Potosi, but due to the extra height and the more extreme weather conditions it is a much more challenging and harder climb. As we already had our acclimatisation from cycling to 5000m over the lagunas we decided to make the most of it by organising an expedition as soon as possible; taking a bus from Potosi to La Paz from where it would be possible to make all the necessary arrangements. Unfortunately I had got sick on arriving in Bolivia, and by the time we reached La Paz I hadn't been able to eat anything other than plain rice for over 5 days and we were worried this might counteract the benefits of the acclimatisation. After finding a guide and making all the necessary arrangements for the climb we stalled for a day in La Paz, to try and eat and build the energy levels back up.

La Paz is definitely the most interesting and exciting city I've spent time in-it is totally different from other South American towns and cities we have visited; very distinctly Bolivian and incredibly frenetic; I could happily have spent weeks exploring and just enjoying the atmosphere. The city is in a massive bowl, with the city centre in the low point at around 3100m, and the urban sprawl spreading all the way up to the altiplana at 4100m. Our guide, Eduardo, very kindly gave us a tour of the sprawling altiplana of the city the night before we left for Sajama from where we got an excellent view of the whole city lit up below us, in the shadow of the impressive snow capped Chacaltaya mountain.

Leaving early the following morning we arrived into the national park around lunchtime, where we met and loaded up the mules who helped us carry our kit up to base camp (how I wished they could have helped us all the way to the top!!)

It was a nice easy evening walk to this first camp, at 4800m, and the wind which had been making it impossible to attempt the climb for the last week had dropped, making it look good for our starting the following day.

The climb to campo alto at 5700m was mostly a long scree scramble, that Carl and Eduardo seemed to have no problems with, but which I found absolutely exhausting, reliving the feeling of trying to walk through treacle I'd got when cycling at similar altitude. Sleeping at this altitude tends to be a problem due to constantly waking up gasping for breath and feeling like you're suffocating, so when we awoke at 2am to begin the summit we weren't feeling particularly refreshed, and eating was difficult.

Suffice to say the following 7 hour climb was without doubt the hardest thing I've ever done. At a lower altitude the route would have been quite easy – although steep and with many fields of penitentes (strangely formed icicles that are difficult to navigate) there was very little technical ice climbing needed. However with the added dimension of lack of oxygen, everything seems to become ten times more complicated and difficult! The last 400m were the hardest, when the cold nearly got the better of me; my hands felt like they were going to fall off, making it hard to hold the ice axe, the steep icy ascent felt insurmountable, I was exhausted, and the lack of food and energy meant I was very close to conceding defeat! Luckily, just as I was about to give up the sun rose behind us, creating the most incredible light and casting the shadow of Sajama over the two neighbouring volcanos of Parinacota (6330m) and Pomerape (6282m). I resolved that I was no way I was going to get this far and not summit!

So, mustering all my will power, some kind motivational words I remembered from Dom and Michelle (come on man; toughen the f*ck up...) and with some rather gentler motivational words from Carl, we continued towards our seemingly unreachable goal. Finally, after one or two heart sinking false summits, we finally reached the surprising flat, dizzying heights of 6542m!-the highest point in Bolivia! and for the few minutes that we remained up there, we were literally on top of the world!

The laguna Route to Bolivia

2010-07-06T17:31:00.024+01:00

Ja´s departure resulted a liberating, if rather alarming, need for real self sufficiency for the first time since we started cycling. Liberating, as there is something very satisfying about knowing that you are carrying everything that you need to get by alone, and alarming as it means I am no longer able to rely on someone else to keep in mind the little things I tend to forget (eating reguarly, drinking enough, which direction I´m supposed to be going in... etc). Actually, given my almost complete lack of navigation ability coupled with my near disability level lack of sense of direction, alarming is probably something of an understatement.

Disappointingly, carrying the extra weight of all the kit Ja used to be in charge of (tent, kitchen, fuel etc.) has also meant I´ve finally had to take really seriously the need to only be carrying the essentials. This means I´ve had to say goodbye to the last remaining luxuries I had hidden away and now have now have virtually no toiletries, no make up, and no clothes that aren´t entirely practical (to be fair, inspite of what Ja would have people believe I was never carrying that much anyway). I´ve also had to take a crash course in bike mechanics after the rough terrain took it´s toll on the bike resulting in a further snapped gear cable, a sheared rack bolt, a snapped handle bar bag cable and the need for new brake pads. The two year old son of the owner of the hostal we were staying in turned out to be far less helpful than Ja usually is in these circumstances.

There is only really one route from northern Argentina into Bolivia, via La Quiaca, however there is a higher and more challenging pass known as Paso de Jama (4200m) into Chile, which has a small turn off just before the Chilean border, from where you can enter Bolivia. We had decided this route would offer a more interesting ride as it goes via a region of the Bolivian alti-plana known as the Sud Lipez, where there are a whole series of high altitude lagunas and also the famous Salar de Uyuni salt flats. The drawbacks of taking this route include; the lack of official border crossing between Argentina and Bolivia (although in the event the guy in the hut that passes as the official entry point into Bolivia took pity on us as we were on bikes, and didn´t insist we made the very arduous descent and re- ascent into Chile in order to get the official entry and exit stamps); the altitude (the pass itself is at 4200m, but going via the laguna route means cycling to peak of 4960m (which is higher than Mont Blanc) and staying at an altitude above 4000m for over 10 days); the cold (temperatures at this time of year can go as low as minus 25degrees, so we were pretty relieved to only have temperatures of minus 16 at night); the lack of access to food and water which means we had to carry 10 days worth of food (Ja would have been delighted to know that I not only had to do a calorie calculation to work out how much to carry, but that it also weighed almost exactly a kilo for everyday!!) and 12litres (12kg) of water each, and finally; the lack of any real roads meaning you have to guess directions from old jeep tracks in the sand much of the time.

In a last minute change of heart Dom and Michele decided (inexplicably) that the cumulative effect of these factors meant they would rather see the route from the comfort of a 4x4 jeep, and so Carl and I set off from Salta alone.

The route was inredible; we first passed through the Salinas Grande salt flats (which provided the most surreal campground I´ve ever had) to reach Argentina´s most northerly and remote towns - very noticibly less European and more Bolivian in culture - the first time we have really seen the women (Cholitas) in the traditional dress of wollens, smocks and bowler hats (almost universal once we got into Bolivia). Once we got over Paso de Jama (made even more of a challenge by my losing of a 5 litre bag of water at the border but not realising it until we had cycled on for 6kms and reached the highest point of the pass, which meant I had to go back down to find it and then make the climb again - this wasn´t a stretch I really wanted to cycle 3 times!!) we faced unbelievable winds and temperatures of -16 which made progress almost impossible until we finally reached the Bolivan border. Luckily a sympathetic border gaurd let us pass into the country inspite of our lack of official Chilean stamps (I think had he insisted we go back down into Chile I would have probably given up at this point!), and from here we set off accross the alti-plana via the stunning laguna´s Verde and Colorada. In between the laguna´s there are a series of astonishing hot springs and geisers, where we camped and were able to wash in pools of 38degrees! Although the volcanic waters left us smelling rather sulphorous I think this was probably still preferable to the alternative odour of unwashed cyclist! Getting to the high point of the route at the geisers (4960m) was probably the hardest thing I have ever done, with the lack of oxygen resulting from the high altitude making every turn of the pedals feel like one of those nightmares where no matter how hard you try to run your legs feel like they are stuck in treacle!. This already surreal experience was compounded by cycling through a landscape which entirely resembled a surrealist painting - no suprises one of the Valleys is actually named Valle de Dali.

After the geisers we took a route to the East of the sud lipez, via the tiny peublos of Alota and San Augustin. Our visit to San Augustin coincided with a fiesta celebrating the creation of the region, and although I´m fairly sure we are the only tourists the town had ever seen, we were shown enormous hospitality and invited to join the drinking and dancing as if we were locals! This was quite some introduction into rural Bolivian culture, as it seemed the entire town had already been drinking for 2 days when we got there, and whilst the tradition of offering the first part of every drink to ´pachamama´(mother earth) meant that there was at least as much alcohol on the floor as in anyones bottle or glass, it seemed that there was more than enough alcohol for all, pachamama included! The celebrations were being soundtracked by the local band, who may have been playing some traditional Bolivian ballads at the start of the festivities, but by the time we arrived were barely able to hold their instruments. This accompanied by the traditional line dancing (which should have been the perfect dance for me as it entailed standing opposite your partner whilst shuffling your feet to any rhythm you liked however, ironically my complete inability to dance shone through even in these extreme circumstamces and someone actually reprimanded me for shuffling too enthusiastically!!!!), made the whole experience one of the most surreal I have ever had. When we left at 9am the following morning the party was still going on! What a welcome to Bolivia!!

The final section of the route involved crossing the Salar de Uyuni - the worlds largest salt flats, where the appearing endless desert of white salts dry into cracked hexaganols, and result in the loss of all sense of perspective (maybe the last thing you need at the end of a journey which has already seemed endless!!)

I think it´s safe to say that I have never been as glad to arrive anywhere as when we finally made it into the small Bolivian town of Uyuni, after a route that entailed the most´longests´of my life - the longest time without a shower (10 days), the longest time without a clean change of clothes (2.5 weeks), the longest time without access to running water, the longest time above 4000m (around 10 days), and probably the longest I have ever gone without access to communications with the outside world. Thats not to mention being consistently the tiredest, highest and coldest I´ve ever been. With hindsight, from the comfort of a hostal with a real bed, running water, access to food (and an unlimited supply of pancakes) and with the ability to communicate with the outside world again, I think I can say that whilst being the most challenging thing I have ever done this incredible route was absolutely worth the effort. Probably. I should also note that I owe Carl an enormous debt of gratitude, as without his determination to get us through I think I would have turned back when I lost the bag of water! or potentially, and more likely, ended up completely lost in the wilderness, never to be seen again! A number of the photo´s I´ve posted here are taken by him, and a greater selection can be seen on his website (along with his version of events) at http://www.southamericabybike.com . Also, as he is considerably more organised than I, he has already posted an update on our most recent escapade; the climbing of Bolivia´s highest (6542m) peak Sajama!

Tafi - Salta

2010-05-30T02:02:00.013+01:00

Leaving Tafi we were immediately faced with our first pass of over 3000m. Luckily, as we had already climbed nearly 2000m to get into Tafi we had only 1000m left to do, and it transpired that we share a love of embarrassingly loud, tuneless singing which kept us going most of the way (who isn´t inspired by a selection of the greatest show tunes...?). Actually singing is pretty hard at that altitude, which is my excuses for the tunelessness. At the top we met an Argentinean cyclist coming the other way who recommended (not for the first time) that chewing coca leaves could help (I assume he meant with the altitude, as it would take a great deal more than that to help with the singing).

However as we were already at the top we declined his kind offer, speeding down instead to the little town of Amaicha, where we took a day to visit the ruins at Quilmes. These were one of the tribes to most fiercely resist both Inca and Spanish invasions, for over 130 years. When they were finally defeated by the Spaniards they were forced to move to Buenos Aires - on foot, with only 10% of the 2000 prisoners making the journey alive-, where it is reputed that out of defiance they refused to bear any further children in order to end their blood line.

From Cafayate (after an all too brief introduction to some of the local bodegas) we decided against the quickest route into Salta, and (unusually) chose to take a stretch of the ruta 40 that goes via some tiny and seldom visited pueblos, including the beautiful town of Cachi. This is a challenging route by bike due to the poor and very sandy ripio, and also the altitude; the highest point being at 3400m. Whilst it was easy to see why most people would chose the paved route, the challenge was well worth it-the scenery was absolutely stunning and has probably been some of the most beautiful to date (or do I say that about every new place we go to...?).

We had hoped to camp just before the pass, at around 3400m in order to help our acclimatization in preparation for the pass into Bolivia, however unable to find water, we had to make a very ill advised 20km 2000m decent in the dark, in subzero temperatures. Prior to this however we were treated to one of the most beautiful sunsets we´d ever seen, it was just a shame we didn´t get to see the descent into the valley in daylight, as it is reputed to be stunning.

We timed our arrival into Salta with the busiest weekend of the decade; coinciding not only with a religious 4 day holiday, but also Argentina´s bicentenary celebrations, meaning every bed in the city was already occupied. Dom had been eagerly anticipating spending her upcoming 30th birthday in style; preferably in some top hotel or Spa. She was therefore extremely disappointed when insult was added to injury and the only place on offer at the tourist office was a ´special´ hotel, which it transpired meant it needed to paid for by the hour. Declining this option, we ended up celebrating in the less than salubrious surrounds of a cheap hostel, sipping champagne from chipped coffee mugs. Perhaps not quite what she had in mind, but one to remember non the less.

My bike seemed to sense Ja´s imminent departure and, either out of distress at the upcoming loss, or sensibly realising it would be a lost cause if it broke when Ja wasn´t there, pretty much fell to pieces on the way into Salta. This meant Ja had to spend much of his last time before leaving South America giving it a full overhaul, sorting out gears, breaks, panniers etc etc. And then, bike fixed, and after 7 solid months of cycling together, 7777.77 (and a little bit) kms, and (disappointingly only) 6 countries, we had a very sad farewell as Ja left for Buenos Aires in order to return to the UK to start a new work contract.

Aimogasta to Tafi del Valle

2010-05-11T03:10:00.010+01:00

If we'd imagined that we were going to take it easy on the riding after Iguazu (or rather without Ben&Sylvies good influence), we were very wrong!! (Although without their invaluable translation services we did have a rather interesting meal in Concepcion where, in a rather rash decision to go off piste with the menu and sample some of the local delicacies, we chose the dishes of Cabra and Conejo. Later dictionary consultation led to the rather alarming discovery that we had been eating 'Cabra - goat; nanny goat; cud chewing mammal closely related to the sheep', and 'Conejo - rabbit; any of several small species of rodent; (vulgar) vagina'. I'm not sure which translation was correct, but this was a cautionary tale in the importance of checking the dictionary before ordering, and of our ongoing need for Spanish lessons.) Rather than just heading straight North to Salta we had decided on a route that would allow us to make the most of the beautiful rural surrounds and take in a number of the tiny picturesque pueblos, in the foothills of some very large mountains. In order to get into the towns of Concepcion and Tafi del Valle there were also 2 very high passes to contend with.

This has meant some of the most beautiful and varied riding we have had to date, but also some of the most difficult. In the last 6 days we have covered 450kms, with over 6000m of climbs. The terrain has varied from cactus lined ripio to lush sub tropical forest, whilst the weather has been throwing everything it can at us to test the limits of our (tiny) wardrobes, from massive electrical storms to glorious sunshine, from sub-zero morning temperatures to scorching afternoons. It has sometimes seemed that the massive condors circling above our heads might have known something we didn't!

An interesting side effect of such intense riding seems to have been the fast-tracking of our friendship with new cycling partners Dom and Michelle from strangers to a level of over familiarity usually reserved only for those related to you, all in the space of one short week of riding!

We have now started planning for Ja's imminent departure in Salta, and for the (rather alarmingly adventurous looking) 4700m Paso Jama route into Bolivia.

Aimogasta & Iguazu

2010-05-10T15:54:00.021+01:00

Cycling with Ben and Sylvie has been a bit of a revelation for us, and we have rediscovered the possibilities open to us when we leave before 11 in the morning!! This has meant we've regularly been managing 100k days and have achieved our biggest day so far of 125km! Being in a group pf 4 has also given us more accomodation options, and we've been able to intersperse the wild camping with some rather lovely cabana's and taking every opportunity to perfect the art of Asado making.
The road has been mainly red rock and cactus lined desert - we're at a similar latitude to central Australia, and this may be why the area seems not disimilar to that surrounding Ayres rock! It has been entirely different from the barren windswept deserts of Southern Patagonia.

With the extra days off resulting from the trip to the lagoon we were glad to be back on the bikes again, planning to divide the 130km trip to Aimogasta into 2 days. Unfortunately, just 40km out of Aimogasta Sylvie developed a re-occurrence of a knee injury (exacerbated by some very challenging sandy ripio on the way into Chilecito) and she and Ben were forced to take a ride into town rather than cycling with us (a lucky escape from an unexpected heavy headwind!!)

In Aimogasta we had arranged to meet Dom&Michelle, (a South African couple we had previously met in Coiyhaique), thinking that as the route becomes increasingly challenging as we head North it would be nice to travel in a larger group for a while. Also Ja has a provisional date for starting a new contract in London, and in planning his exit strategy is keen not leave me making a solo border crossing into Bolivia!

With Sylvie needing at least a week off to recover, and Ja and I keen not to lose our new friends (and motivational coaches/guides), the 6 of us decided to take some time out and make the trip East to Iguazu to see the falls.

It would take an awful lot to make a 60 hour coach ride worthwhile, but luckily Iguazu is awesome enough to manage to do just that!!

The sheer scale of the falls can only really be appreciated by taking a trip into brazil where they can be viewed from afar in their entirety. This year there has been flooding in Brazil, and where the falls would normally have 1700 cubic meters of water falling per second, at the moment they have an incredible 7 times that amount, with 13000 cubic meters of water per second!!! This meant that many areas of the falls usually open to be explored were too dangerous to get close to; whole sections of the park were closed due to the sheer volume of water passing through. Even some of the areas that were open were impassable due to the falls spilling over onto them! I think it was a fairly unique experience to be able to walk underneath part of the falls!

It was a truly incredible sight and after spending the day in the Argentinian Iguazu national park, by night fall we had it nearly to ourselves except for the local inhabitants!!

After such an epic trip we were hugely disappointed to discover that Sylvie's knee was not yet strong enough to start cycling again. Unfortunately, (after nearly 1000 hard, sandy and thoroughly enjoyable kms together), as Ja has so little time left and is keen to get as far north as possible before leaving, we made the difficult decision to push on and hope that Ben&Sylvie will catch us again in a week or so, when fully recovered.

In their favour with this task is the likelyhood that we will slip back into our old tardy ways without their good influence, and the increasing evidence that Dom&Michelle share our enjoyment of the Argentinian vino and need very little encouragement to make the most of the opportunities afforded to partake in it; there may be a few more bodega visits to book in en route!!

Chilecito and Laguna Bravo

2010-05-01T20:22:00.005+01:00

From Talampaya we continued northwards on hot and dusty roads to Chilecito, from where we decided to take a side trip up into the astonishing landscapes of the Parque Nacional Laguna Brava; a salt water lagoon on the altiplana at 4200m, surrounded by copper and iron coloured desert rocks. This is the highest we have been so far in South America (although I confess we were in a 4x4 rather than on the bikes !!), but we must have been reasonably well acclimatised from having been cycling above 2000m for the last week, as none of us experienced any problems with the altitude.

More bitey things ...Scorpions, Spiders and Sdinosaurs...

2010-05-01T19:27:00.009+01:00

Since our last update we seem to have spent a disproportionate amount of time encountering a variety of biting, stinging and generally horribly venomous creatures. This started in Mendoza where we had arranged to meet up with Ben&Sylvie, a French couple cycling around the world on recumbents, and where Sylvie and I (in yet another dog related incident) were attacked by what was supposed to be a pet dog. Unfortunately as it was significantly larger than the hair bobbled kitten-dogs of previous attacks, it was therefore able to do significantly more damage than a slight nip to the ankles, thankfully he was pulled off before it got too serious.

Meeting Ben&Sylvie was a slight change of plan, as we had thought we would take a bus all the way up to Salta with a view to avoiding another lengthy ride through the desert and pampa of Northern Argentina. However we then heard that the route although predominantly desert, was actually really beautiful, and so decided we would instead take a short(ish) bus ride to Mendoza and continue the ride from there. It was a very bizarre experience to be on a bus, covering kilometres without moving the legs at all!! We were actually rather sad not to be cycling it, and speeding through all that countryside without really getting to see it properly really highlighted how much better it is to be travelling by bike!

Mendoza is Argentinas most famous wine region, and we took some time over the Easter weekend to take a tour of some of the local bodegas around Maipu, before leaving for San Jaun on the Ruta 40.

San Jaun was memorable only for being the site of the most disastrous haircut since 1992 (the self inflicted undercut using a pair of pinking shears and a bic razor). It turns out that signing that you only want a tiny amount of hair trimmed off, whilst repeating 'solo un poco' can easily be misinterpreted as 'please cut off all of my hair and leave me looking like a bad 80's throwback'. All photos from now on will have the addition of my new hat.

From San Jaun we rode through increasingly harsh and arid desert, towards the town of Chilecito, via the UNESCO world heritage sites of Ischigualasto and Talampaya. These are national parks in which the prehistoric desert rock has been eroded by the wind to form amazing sculptures and towers, and where there have been some important fossil discoveries of dinosaurs. Ischigualasto is also know as the Valle de Luna, which is very apt as both sites have a distinct 'other world' type of feel to them; camping and walking around them feels like being on a film set for something set on the moon or Mars.
Camping in Talampaya as the sun went down and bathed the desert around us in red light, whilst the foxes prowled around us was quite a magical experience. (The enormous spider we found under the tent the following morning was less magical, especially after we found out that she was extremely venomous...although not as venomous as the second scorpion of the trip who we spotted as he made his way towards my toes, and who we understand would have made us quite ill if he'd chosen to sting!).

The poverty has been much more marked outside of the towns as we get further North, presumably in part due to the lack of water for agriculture, however we continue to experience great hospitality wherever we go, being invited to camp on peoples land, offered fruit and drinks as we cycle along, and the novelty of the recumbent bicycles attracting a huge amount of curiosity and interest wherever we go.

Below is a selection of photos from the Talampaya and Ischigualasto national parks.

The 500 charity Kilometers

2010-03-31T19:59:00.012+01:00

We left Bariloche and took a fairly circuitous route around the region known as the seven lakes, in order to try and spend time at each one, and clock up a few kms for the Red Cross appeal. The cycling around the region is fairly challenging; a lot of very undulating, unpaved routes with miles and miles of road works where they are trying to improve the ripio, and the lakes themselves largely hidden from view most of the time. That said, when off the road and by the lakes themselves the region couldn't be more beautiful. As the holiday season has now officially ended the area was almost deserted, and we had entire lakes to ourselves for camping and fishing! It was a shame to move on, and we were very tempted to take a week off to explore further, but decided in the end to push on for San Martin de Los Andes. Here we did take a couple of days off, after finding a hostal full of other cyclists, we spent some time servicing the bikes, cooking (always such a nice change after eating food off the MSR for any length of time), and exchanging tips for route planning.

We had previously thought it wouldn't be possible to go back into Chile and that we would continue instead through Argentina, however we had really wanted to visit the Lanin and Villarica Volcanoes via Pucon and as we heard from other travellers that this was still possible, decided to take a little 260km detour across the border in order to do so. As with all such Andean border crossings, it turns out there are a couple of hills to navigate enroute, and crossing twice in a week, although memorable, is probably not something we will repeat in the near future!

The terromoto in Pucon was felt at 7.6, and being at the foot of the very active Villarica volcono the majority of people we spoke to were deeply traumatised not only from the quake itself, but from the belief that the volcano itself was erupting. People described the roads literally waving up and down as if made of jelly, the buildings moving so much that it was impossible to stand, and a general belief that it was the start of the end of their world. Incredibly only four people died in the area, and the majority of buildings remained intact. The only visible remnants of the quake we saw were a couple of land slides onto the roads and in areas where the roads are paved they were often split down the middle for extensive stretches. In general however it was amazing how everyone seemed to be getting back on with their lives, after what was such a terrible natural disaster.

From Pucon we decided to climb the 2800m Villarica Volcano; one of the most active volcanos in South America, (it last erupted in 1984 and there are huge black rivers carved down the sides of the mountain from the the lava streams that ran down it!). This has probably been one of the most incredible things we have done so far on our travels; the climb itself was relatively easy, and provided the most amazing views of the surrounding lakes and volcanoes. The crater at the top was like something from another planet, it was incredibly toxic - very difficult to breathe due to the amount of sulphur and phosphur gases being emitted, and looking down into it felt like looking into the core of the earth!! I was only slightly disappointed not to be able to see a big pool of red bubbling magma at the bottom!
We took the quick route down (throwing ourselves down the snow on our bums!!) which was very funny, and meant I finally got chance to try out an ice axe arrest! (although unfortunately still not christening the axe Ja got me for Christmas last year).

We had a couple of long (100km) and what felt like very difficult days back into Argentina crossing the Andes at the Icalma border (1300m, but undulating so felt more!). Two notable events occured here; firstly Ja's worst fears were realised when he was attacked by a pack of four dogs, and ironically he was not armed with any of the many defensive sticks/sprays/alarms he still insists on carrying. My sympathy for him lessened somewhat when I discovered the dogs he described attacking him turned out to be no bigger than your average kitten, and were the house pets of a hotel owner, all were identical to the one pictured here in its full viciousness - two of them even wore pink hair bobbles. Even Ja admitted with hindsight that 'attack' might have been the wrong adjective.

Secondly we discovered the wonders of the monkey puzzle tree (or pehuén), which is native to the region, and at this time of year is full of the piñones seeds that the native Pehuench peoples were named after. The nuts are like a cross between pine nuts and chestnuts, and taste amazing either roasted or boiled. Collecting them became strangely compulsive and seemed to put us back in touch with our hunter gatherer roots (it reminded me a lot of collecting conkers when we were children, except even better as they are edible) and before we knew it we had managed to weigh ourselves down even further with about 3 kilos of the things. We are now planing a pehuench dinner party, and desperately trying to think of recipes to use them up!!

We have managed to clock up 700 kms since leaving Bariloche, and are close to having raised the £500 we had hoped to raise and donate to the Red Cross Chilean earthquake disaster appeal. Thank you so much to everyone who so generously donated, and Richard you will be pleased to hear that at least 200 of them were uphill, with a headwind and on bad ripio, so I reckon we earned it ;-)

We now plan to jump further North, to Mendoza, where we are meeting a French couple Ben&Sylvie, who we will cycle with for a bit before heading up into Bolivia.

Bariloche

2010-03-13T15:15:00.002Z

Although relatively straightforward, the journey to Peurto Montt took significantly longer than anticipated, necessitating an over night there rather than heading straight through to the much smaller and more picturesque Peurto Varas. It was a bizarre experience to be back in a city having been in such rural areas for so long- the traffic, noise, number of people and relative poverty came as a bit of a shock to the system. Peurto Varas however is a lovely little touristic town, where we re-met up with a Chilean couple, Natalie and Ricardo who were trying to get back home to Santiago.

As all transport to the north is in chaos we ended up spending a couple of very enjoyable days with them, before we headed off to leave Chile for the Argentinian city of Bariloche.

The route we decided to take for the border crossing is a fairly unusual one, and involved three lake crossings (plus an extra little one necessary to reach somewhere to camp for the night) and crossing the Andes via a very challenging and poorly ripio'd 1000m pass, to head into Bariloche from the West. The challenge was worth it however, as it provided three days of unbelievably beautiful scenery, and our lakeside camping spot at the border control was absolutely stunning!

Bariloche has ended up being a week of parties and reunions, staying in a hostel with a really lovely group of people and then having bumped into Kev and Heather again we had a very lovely evening watching James Wheeler and some other local blues bands at a Blues concert. Carl the Swedish cyclist was leaving Bariloche after a month here resting his knee, and celebrated by cooking an amazing asado (Argentinian BBQ) which we shared with his family others from the hostal.

Tomorrow we start the next 500k of our trip, for which we are hoping to raise £500 for the Red Cross to support their work with the relief effort. We now plan to do this through the Argentinian Lake district, but are not yet certain as to which route we will take to get to the North Chilean town of Atacarma.

Chaiten

2010-03-12T19:51:00.014Z

The town of Chaiten was formerly inhabited by around 4500 people, however was evacuated in 2008 after the start of the ongoing eruption of the Chaiten Volcano. It is officially closed and the authorities have previously (and unsuccessfully) taken legal action to try and remove the inhabitants who did not wish to be evacuated. The town was largely buried under volcanic ash during the initial eruption, although thankfully no-one was injured. As the eruption is ongoing the layer of ash is intermittently added to. In spite of this a number of the inhabitants have refused to leave, and remain in their homes without electricity or clean running water. The road north of Chaiten remains closed, however it is possible to continue north by taking the ferry to Peurto Montt.

Rather than staying in Chaiten itself (which is possible, although potentially not very comfortable) we stopped some kilometers out of town in the very beautiful national park.

Here we met Kev and Heather, a Scottish couple also on bikes, who we have been bumping into intermittently, and spent a very lovely day relaxing in the hotsprings (finally getting to use the bikini I have been carrying all these weeks!!!!).

The difficulties suffered by Chaiten were being compounded by the after effects of the earthquake and the impact on the tides of the tsunami when we arrived. The town itself is almost deserted, and is a very surreal place; we were left extremely saddened by the sight of peoples homes and businesses half buried under the mountain of ash, often with the just the roofs appearing to be protruding from the ground. Given all the difficulties we were extremely lucky, and relieved to be able to make the trip over from Chaiten with relative ease.

Better weather and bitey things

2010-03-12T18:44:00.010Z

After my moan about the rain in our last entry we have, miraculously, not had a grey day since!!! The amazing sunshine has meant we have been able to fully enjoy the breathtaking beauty of the county we are cycling through, and everyday the views along the Caretera Austral seem to be more amazing. As tends to be the ying and yang way with these things however, when the sun came out, so did a huge number of enormous black and red bitey flies, more like pitbulls with wings than the variation of horsefly that I think they are.
Like pitbulls they seem to take great delight in chasing along behind us and attempting to bite at any exposed flesh. The only thing worse than hearing them buzzing round is hearing them stop, as it invariably means they have landed somewhere on you and are about to take a chunk of flesh (and they obviously have teeth the size of a dogs as they can bite through clothing). This has resulted in many hours of windmill like arm flailing (particularly dangerous on a bike) and significantly increased our speed as we try and escape (no bad thing as we seem to have become somewhat tardy in our pace of late!). These, together with the killer mozzies we have been encountering of late resulted in Ja insisting on donning the above outfit involving prety much every item of clothing that he owns before he would agree to put the tent up!!

In the very lovely little hamlet of Puyuhuapi we had a fantastic hospedaje to stay in and made the most of the good weather with a couple of days of sea kayaking. The arm flailing practice we had with the flies turned out to be good practice for the paddling, and it made a nice change to be moving arms rather than legs! Our intention had been to find one of the hot springs that are common in this volcanic region, but we were over enthusiastic in our efforts, ending up miles out to sea instead, where we met a number of penguins and were joined by a pair of seals who were playing with a fish they had caught, and were extremely interested in us and our boat-repeatedly diving down underneath us and then popping up a few meters away!

The towns we passed through after Puyuhuapi on our way to Chaiten were very different; far less friendly and very run down. Wildcamping out of the towns of La Junta and Villa St Lucia would have been preferable to staying there, but unfortuantely we needed to get some work to my bike after I damaged it (and myself, although rather less badly than the bike) losing control on some really bad ripio as we left Puyuhapi.

It was in St Lucia that we first heard about the earthquake, although in fact we seemed to have managed to sleep through it, and weren't able to find out any detailed information about it until reaching Puerto Montt nearly a week later.

Earthquake

2010-03-11T18:02:00.005Z

As everyone will be aware, on Saturday 27th Chile was hit by a massive 8.8 earthquake, leaving millions in and around Concepcion homeless and killing hundreds. Being nearly 800km South of the epicentre the area we were in felt only mild tremors and was thankfully undamaged. Due to how remote we were news was slow to get through, and it was unclear how serious the situation was, leaving many desperate for news of friends and family. Everyone that we meet has been deeply affected by the tragedy, most having friends and family in the area. Juan, who we cycled with in December was further North than us and unfortunately lost everything in the tsunami. Thankfully he was left unharmed. The crisis in Chile is ongoing, with massive aftershocks still occurring and high ongoing tsunami risks. Our thoughts are with those who have been affected and we are considering ways that we might be able to help, including trying to raise money to donate to the Red Cross, who are currently leading the relief effort, by asking for sponsorship for our next 500km. Due to damage to the roads and the ongoing risks in Chile we are not able to continue north through the country, and will plan a new route over the next few weeks. If you would like to sponsor us you can do so via the JustGiving website on the following link

Rain Rain Rainy rain

2010-02-17T19:11:00.007Z

Battling through the wind in Tierra del Fuego some weeks back we met a number of cyclists heading South off the carretera (with the wind very much in their favour!!) who were bemoaning the weather in Chilean Patagonia; many had not seen a day without rain, and on occasions there had even been sleet and snow. At the time we considered it would be a welcome change to be out of the wind, and after the near drought levels of dryness on the estancias, thought rain would be an absolute pleasure!! Thinking about it now, it's a harder to make a call as to which is worse! Part of the reason for starting in the South and heading North instead of vice-versa was an attempt to miss the worst of the rainy season in this region. Unfortunately however, this year there has been a freak weather front (being blamed on everything from El Nino to global warming) resulting in there having been no let up from the rains at all yet! All this water makes for extremely beautiful terrain to cycle through (and photograph in the brief reprieves that we have had), but makes it quite hard to pinpoint why or when we decided against taking the turn off for (the supposedly hot balmy climes of) Chile Chico, and instead continue on in the wet for Coyhaique.

The 331km from Cochrane to Coyhaique is on quite poor, undulating ripio with a number of high passes (around 1200m) to negotiate. We had thought to complete it in 3 to 4 days, but with the elements still conspiring against us, and with the addition of a mild bout of illness it ended up taking 7 days to get to there (although this did include a number of unplanned rest days).

Some weeks back, much to my disgust but in keeping with his slightly anankastic side, Ja discovered the delights of calorie counting. Previously, when calculating how much food we would need to get us between places I have used an (oh so Conservative) calculation for shopping purposes based on the number of meals we would require in that period. Ja has consistently insisted on reducing this down to a weight calculation; estimating that we need to eat around a kilo of food each per day, irrespective of from what that might consist. This accompanied by his new habit of 'doing' food, rather than eating it (something like...“hmmm, I could do another one of those” uttered after most ingestions) has been making recent meals more of a tiresome mathematical exercise than a pleasurable gastronomic experience, and make me fear for his reintegration into the London restaurant culture. Discovering calories has added a whole new dimension to this, as now our individual daily intake not only needs to weigh at least a kilo, but also to contain at least 5500kcals (which I am assuming it always has done, since the only change to what we are eating since Ja's discovery is the semantic one of how he refers to it, and his quest to find food stuffs containing ever higher quantities of calories!!). After his recent delight at discovering a cracker that contained more calories than bread I fear he has started planning a recipe for the ultimate cycling snack, which will probably look something like one of those fat balls you put out for the birds in winter and consist mostly of crumbled dry crackers mixed with peanut butter and dulce de leche (which is apparently obligatory in all south american cooking). Anyway, I mention this because I found it really interesting that what seemed to slow us down so significantly whilst trying to cover the kilometers between Cochrane and Coyhaique was not so much being slightly unwell, as the resulting loss of appetite which made it impossible to consume anywhere close to either of Ja's calculated recommended daily intakes.

We have now, finally; after a number of tears and tantrums, and for the first time doubting whether we should continue solely by bike, arrived in Coyhaique. The largest town on the Carretera (with a population of 50000) Coyhaique has been a much needed break from the road and with appetites returned we have taken the opportunity to visit a number of the local restaurants and have once again been able to enjoy food for more than simply it's mathematical, density or nutritional qualities.

After a few days off we now plan to leave in the morning, heading north towards the town of Chaiten, which is still officially closed following the recent and ongoing eruption of the Chaiten volcano, but which we have heard may still be passable.

Villa O'Higgins-Cochrane

2010-02-17T15:21:00.014Z

After the unexpected days off in Candilario Mancilla we only had an overnight stop in Villa O'Higgins, keen to finally get underway with the 1300km of the Carretera Austral. The Carretera was one of Pinochet's undertakings, to connect the rural villages and Estancia's of the Aysen region of Chile. The Southern most sections we are starting on were only finished in 2000 and prior to this the majority of the region was only accessible by boat or air, consequently it remains still largely independent from the rest of Chile and retains a feeling of extreme remoteness. Outside of the towns most people seem to be either self sufficient from small holdings or working for the larger Estancias. Water is drawn from rivers running off the glaciers and from what we have seen on smaller dwellings electric lighting is either gone without or drawn from car batteries. The average rainfall in the region is massive and as a result the terrain couldn't be more different from the drought ridden, wind swept pampas we have cycled through in Southern Patagonia.

We had a fairly slow start to the carretera, splitting the 100km to the boat across Rio Bravo at Pt Yungay into 2 days, enjoying the incredibly beautiful scenery and stopping to fish at regular intervals. First impressions are of cycling through a cold rainforest; surrounded by lush green vegetation filled with wildlife.
The huemul is one of the national animals of Chile; a timid deer-like creature, on the verge of extinction – we were told there are only 50 pairs left in the whole of Chile (although I think this may have been an exaggeration), and there are many commercial treks offering the opportunity to go wildlife spotting to try and get a glimpse of them (from what we have heard these are rarely successful!) We were therefore extremely surprised to nearly run down an anything but timid family of three of them, grazing on the side of the road, who happily posed for photos!

At Pt Yungay we were very sad to wave goodbye to Carl as he made the difficult decision to take a break from cycling and hitch-bike up to Bariloche after developing a reoccurrence of a knee injury.

We decided to make a short (22km) detour to Caleta Tortel, a town built entirely of the wood it was developed to exploit and connected by 7km of wooden boardwalks. It is a bizarre little port, perched on the steep slopes of the banks of the Rio Baker, with no roads or vehicle access (we had to leave the bikes in a parking area at the entrance to the town), and very little contact with the outside world; the road connecting it to the carretera was only built in 2003 and there seemed to be only limited public phone or internet access.

We took a day off here, as in spite of the enforced rest days we have been feeling pretty tired and achy recently, but the town had a strange claustrophobic feel to it and Ja was keen to get moving again as soon as possible (to be fair this is as likely to have been a result of the lack of wifi as the strange atmosphere). Although it wasn't helped by staying in Chile's equivalent of Faulty Towers, where the patroness was so astonished at our lack of Spanish that she thought we were trying to trick her, and kept slipping in insults to the constant stream of (largely uncomprehended) Spanish that she bombarded us with, to see if we would react and she could catch us out!

Quite relieved to leave Caleta and be reunited with the bikes again, we split the 130km to Cochrane in to 2 days, having an enforced stop 86km in; completely drenched after 6 hours of continuous downpour. The refugio we had found was full (only taking 2), but the family whose land it was on invited us in, and we were again transported back in time, as we dried off around their woodburning stove, and were made a bed of handwoven blankets in their candle lit spare room.

Cochrane, the largest town we have been to in weeks (actually having a bank, albeit one that won't service international cards), is a pleasant little place where we have been mostly eating complejos (hotdogs with copious guacamole) and chilling out. We will move on again tomorrow, as the town is without public internet connection and we are keen to make it to Chile Chico, which we have heard has it's own micro-climate and promises sunbathing on the banks of the lago in 30degree sunshine; a welcome change from wind and rain!!!

El Chalten – Villa O'Higgins

2010-02-16T19:55:00.012Z

El Chalten is the end of the Ruta 23, and the only way out by car or bus is back the way you came. There is however a route back into Chile, across Lago O'Higgins, that can be done on foot or (with some difficulty) with the bikes, that takes you right to the start of the Carretera Austral.

From El Chalten there is 40km of fairly poor and flooded, but cycl-able ripio to Lago Del Desierto where there is a boat that goes twice a day to where you can cross out of Argentina. There is then 22km before the border crossing into Chile, 7km of which are a up a steep, muddy, tree root lined rain channel (not wide enough for the bike+panniers), where in places there is no choice other than to make separate journeys with the bike&panniers. Once across the border it is another 1km to the bank of Lago O'Higgins, where a boat calls (supposedly) 3 times a week and can take you back to mainland Chile at Villa O'Higgins.
The crossing was significantly easier having the help of Carl, a Swedish cyclist who started in Ushuaia at the same time as us, and who we have been crossing paths with at various places as we have been coming North.

Carl had heard that the lake in between the border posts was good for fishing, so we made camp for the night in an orchid filled forest in no-mans land and fished on a lake which was so clear you could see the fish swimming from the banks! The first fish I caught was a rainbow trout big enough to be dinner for all 3 of us (and luckily Carl is more skilled at fishing than us, and there was no need to resort to sporking anything to death), so after that we put back what we caught. I think there probably aren't many places in the world where such big fish are so keen to be caught; the one we ate, which must have weighed 3-4kg, was the smallest of the four that we caught that evening! Carl was so excited he didn't even want to stop whilst cooking; attempting to develop a new sport of 'fry-fishing'.

We crossed into Chile leaving plenty of time to get the boat, which turned out to be a pointless precaution, as it didn't turn up (leaving a steadily growing group of wet, hungry cyclists and walkers stranded for a further 2 days). Fortunately we were saved from having to resort to cannibalism after Carl somehow managed to procure a large quantity of beef from a local Estancia (via some German walkers travelling the other direction), which we supplemented with much smaller and harder catch fish from Lago O'Higgins. (I should probably note that for those who had the foresight to bring Chilean Pesos across the border with them, the estancia where we camped would also provide food, negating any real need for picking off the weaker members of the group. For those who didn't bring cash it's a long and hungry 180km to the nearest bank, where standard cash cards don't work and they won't change dollars or euros).

We were told the boat was delayed due to the weather, but it seems that the weather tends to be bad when there are fewer customers, as we have subsequently heard many stories about it only showing up when there are enough people to

make it worth their while. When it did finally arrive we had a very pleasant and calm crossing (no sign of the reported problematic weather!) accompanied by a selection of farmyard animals and military officials!!

From the ferry it is only a short 7km ride to the tiny hamlet of Villa O'Higgins, where a warm shower and meal not cooked on the MSR were an extremely refreshing and welcome change!

El Calafate to El Chalten

2010-02-16T19:19:00.001Z

From El Calafate to El Chalten is 220km, the first wonderful 35 of which usually have a tailwind, followed by 95km of debilitating sidewind, followed by a final 90km straight into the headwind. After a late afternoon start we were looking out for a suitable camping spot about 60km in, when a truck driver stopped and asked if we would like a lift. This seeming too good an opportunity to turn down, we chucked the bikes into the back of his very large truck and jumped in, affording us a far more rapid and entertaining (although I suspect a little less safe) shortcut, dropping us off at the cross road to face the last 90km on the bikes again.

Angel, the driver, was on an 8 day journey across Argentina to pick up a load to take back to Buenos Aires, and was keen that we enjoyed the beautiful scenery we were driving through – winding his window down so we could take photos (and taking photos himself, when he wasn't texting, or making the near constant supply of mate he shared with us on the calor gas stove he kept lit, next to the gear stick).

This was our first proper experience of mate, and we were pretty much instant converts. Mate is the Argentinian tea, which seems to be more of a national activity than a drink, and the preparation and sharing of which is surrounded by a multitude of social niceties, to which we are of course largely oblivious. It is drunk out of little pots, often very ornate, which all Argentinian's seem to carry with them along with a thermos of hot water (or in Angels case a little gas stove). Watching him make it reminded me of the way dad used to smoke his pipe – spending far longer cleaning out the bowl, repacking it with leaves and topping it up than actually smoking (or in this case drinking) it! The taste is very strong and bitter, and easy to see how it could be quite addictive- Ja even suggested we might carry the extra weight of a mate kit ourselves (and he hasn't even weighed it yet!)

After the warmth and comfort of Angels cab and the mate, cooking and camping on the side of the dusty road in wind that must have been gusting up to 90km an hour seemed particularly challenging, although had we seen this little fella before we pitched the tent rather than when we packed it up in the morning I think we would have had an even more uncomfortable night!

The last 90km were probably the most challenging we have had so far, and after taking 10 hours to cover 45km we were absolutely exhausted, but could find no-where out of the (by now quite scarily strong) wind to camp. Eventually we came across an estancia, where Sandra, the cook in the workers kitchen took pity on us, and allowed us to camp in a relatively sheltered area just outside their building. We were surrounded by cats, dogs and what must have been hand reared sheep judging by their repeated attempts to get into the tent, but it was lucky we found the place when we did, as the wind was so strong through the night I don't think the tent would have survived without the shelter. Sandra invited us into her kitchen, which was like stepping back in time, with a huge woodburning stove, enormous pans of stew bubbling away and cuts of meats hanging from the ceiling and served us soup and the homemade fried bread-rolls; pan frite. I don't think anything has ever tasted so good, until the following morning as we were leaving when she gave us freshly made rolls for breakfast, still warm from cooking, and tasting like savoury crusty doughnuts!

In spite of another windy 45km, and a big climb into El Chalten Sandra's kindness (and pan frites) kept us going the whole way. We have been getting used to people slowing down and taking photo's of us as they drive past, but on this last climb someone actually leaned out of the car window and handed us biscuits! We arrived in El Chalten cheerful, well-fed and relieved to have finally come through the worst of the wind; ready to face the rain of the Carretera Austral.

Perito Merino

2010-02-16T18:40:00.000Z

The Perito Moreno detour ended up being well worth every (windy, difficult and mostly ripio'd) 200km of the roundtrip. The park boundaries are around 60km from El Calafate and then it's a further 30km to the glacier. It used to be possible to camp in the park, until someone caused a fire destroying 1/5^th of the woodland. We arrived at the boundary planning to wild camp somewhere just outside, but after discussing with the guardaparque we were invited to camp in the garden of their house; a beautiful spot overlooking Canal De Los Temp Anos. We were joined briefly by this skunk, but he made a swift exit, probably after discovering the stench he took to be potential mate was actually just two stinky cyclists.

An early start meant we were able to reach the glacier before the crowds of bus tourists arrived, and even Mr 'seen one glacier seen 'em all' was pretty impressed by it. The glacier itself is around 60m high and 5km long, and reputed to be moving by up to 2m per day.

This means that it constantly cracks and groans, sounding like rounds of applause in the distance, with pieces breaking off and shattering into the Lago as you watch. It was strangely captivating, and we spent at least a couple of hours just sitting and watching it, trying to guess where it would break next!

We had heard that Lago Roca around 60k the other side of the glacier was also worth a visit, so we returned to El Calafate via the very lovely campsite there, and spent a day chilling out enjoying the scenery and trying to supplement our dwindling food supplies with fresh fish from the lake. This plan was an entertaining and diverting enough way to spend the day (I haven't fished for about 17yrs, and had forgotten how strangely addictive it is!), until I went and caught one. This led to paroxysms of guilt, and the realisation that short of beating it to death with our Spork (*) I had absolutely no idea what to do with the (rather fine 1.5kg) trucha, who I'm told would have tasted delicious. So after letting him flap around on the shore for a bit and feeling terrible about it, I finally decided we could probably manage on powdered mashed potato for another night (an interesting alternative to pasta we have recently been experimenting with). Ja, who had previously calculated the cost/benefit analysis of purchasing the fishing rod required for us to catch at least enough fish for 2 meals, conceded that he too hadn't thought through the plan to it's grisly conclusion, and was remarkably sanguine about our fishless dinner.

(*for the uninitiated, a 'Spork' is a small spoon shaped implement, with little points at the end, and a serrated edge, supposedly covering all you cutlery needs in one handy object, whilst in reality performing none of its stated functions particularly efficiently but with a far greater potential for oral-facial lacerations than your average spoon).

Viento Puta

2010-01-14T17:58:00.000Z

That was one of the phrases Jaun taught me that's not supposed to be used in polite company. It's 270km from Peurto Natales to El Calafate, and in the interests of easing Ja back in slowly, we allowed for 5 days food, hoping it might not take that long. It did. They say there's nothing better than cycling along with the wind behind you. We wouldn't know, as for the first 3 days we had nothing but a 40k/h headwind to cycle into.
Without wanting to go on about it too much again, it really is quite soul destroying. At one point we lost 600meters of height over about 2 kilometers – what should have been a lovely quick drop into a valley, largely in the hands of gravity. Not so; it was an 8k/h grind in the lowest gear, fighting not to be pushed backwards! On a number of occasions it was so bad I could barely even push the bike, let alone cycle it. I spent most of the time desperately wishing that the wind would change direction, but with a niggling trepidation that if it did that saying my mum always used might come true, and my face would be stuck forevermore in a horrible fixed grimace. Anyway, then something wonderful happened. (and it isn't true – if the wind changes your face doesn't stick like that). Halfway through a particularly grim and slow morning the wind suddenly seemed to be be making less noise, then gradually without even properly realising it we were suddenly flying along at between 30-50k/h!! It was a most bizarre experience – the wind must have been gusting around 30k/h, as at this speed it was almost completely silent to cycle – we could talk to each other as if we were standing still; it was almost like being in a silent movie. After a horribly slow morning we managed to finish the day covering just shy of 100k, with an enormous grin on our faces, and remembering that it can be fun after all!

Our thoughts that some of the landscape we were cycling through was a little bleak were confirmed when we happened to get chatting to the owner of the Estancia we were cycling through, and he told us he farms 60 000 hectares of land (600km2), but that the land is so barren it takes 3 hectares to support 1 sheep!!

One piece of good news was that the border crossing back into Argentina was far easier than it had been into Chile - they didn't even check for offensive weapons, let alone seem to be worrying about any offensive vegetables we might be carrying! We finally limped into El Calafate yesterday, and plan to take a couple of days off (mostly just to eat, sleep and enjoy the sensation of finally being clean again!!), before cycling out to the Parc Nacional los Glacieares to see the dynamic Perito Moreno Glacier, around 80 windy km's west of here. We'll update again on our return.

Torres del Paine

2010-01-13T23:10:00.003Z

Torres del Paine is Chile's largest (and, according to the Lonely Planet, one of South America's finest), national park. Finally bored of his enforced resting, we decided that a bit of hiking around the park would be just the thing to strengthen Ja's knee and get him cycle fit again (probably). So, with 6 days food in our backpacks, and very little clue what we were going to do, we set off with Nicolas (a guy we had met in one of the hostels), to explore the park.

As it happens there are a couple of fairly standard, well trodden routes around the park, so we picked one that seemed to give the best opportunity to see both the glaciers and the Torres (the 3000m granite spires which tower majestically over the park), and spent the rest of the week being awed by the incredible views (or at least I was, having never seen a glacier before. Ja was slightly more taciturn, claiming that if you've seen one glacier you've seen them all, but I think he was just being grumpy as he was still taking it easy with his knee and didn't want to climb the full 800m to view it in it's full glory).

The weather was typically 'Crowded House' (4 seasons in one day); going from gale force winds and hail stones one moment, to glorious sunshine the next, meaning we managed to get sunburned in spite of being freezing half the time. And, it turns out (probably unsurprisingly), that carrying all that weight on your back is even harder than carrying it on the bike. Still, it was a pretty amazing week, and even better; by the time we got back Ja was feeling ready to get back on the bike (probably for fear I would suggest another week of hiking if not!), so next stop - El Calafate!

Punta Arenas – Puerto Natales

2010-01-13T22:33:00.000Z

During our aborted attempt to move north, Jaun; a Spanish cyclist, had arrived at the hostel. As it was apparent that Ja's knee was going to require some more serious R&R, and Jaun was bored of cycling alone, it seemed that the most obvious solution was for Ja to go on ahead by bus and for Jaun and I to cycle it and meet him there.

Everyone talks about the wind when cycling across Patagonia. It's one of those things that you know about, cos everyone talks about it, but somehow think it won't be as bad as everyone makes out, or that maybe they were exaggerating. It turns out, of course, that it is, and they weren't. If the Inuits supposedly have a hundred different words for snow I wouldn't be surprised to hear that the Patagonians have as many for the wind. I certainly came up with a few choice names for it as we were going along. Jaun added to my Spanish vocabulary by teaching me some of the words he was using to describe it (none of them printable). Suffice to say it was another four days of incredibly slow going into a head wind that seemed determined to keep us from getting there. It was like a bad joke at times, repeatedly being pushed off the road, getting off the bike to push it back onto the road, only to be pushed back off again. This was particularly disconcerting when cycling through what looked like fairly innocuous landscape, only to notice that the signs indicate they are actually live minefields; a reminder of the political volatility that is still such recent history between Argentina and Chile.

We found some great places to stay along the way though, the first night spent in a shed outside one of the estancias, the second in a derelict outhouse offered by the owners of a cafe (where my dog protection plan backfired completely), and the third in a really cool camping spot just off the ruta. The outhouse we stayed in was protected by what, at first sight, seemed to be a vicious guard dog who barked incessantly, kept trying to chase the bikes and bite our feet and panniers. I employed my usual technique of pretending not be worried and barking back, I don't know how my bark translated, but from that point on the dog refused to leave my side. It turned out he was only a few months old, and I think was very starved of attention. The first indication that dog was becoming a problem was when my coat disappeared. Obviously with such a limited wardrobe as the ones we are carrying, every item is sacred, and the loss of my jacket was much mourned. Initially we wondered if the wind had blown it away, but this wasn't likely, and unless it had been taken by a large German motorcyclist we had been briefly chatting to (which seemed unlikely) the only other suspect was the dog. Extensive searching failed to turn it up although we did find 2 chewed tea-towels and an apron in his kennel, further adding to the suspicions) and eventually I had to leave, without coat. We were however accompanied by the dog, who was repeatedly trying to attach himself to my foot. This was amusing for the first kilometer or so, assuming he would soon tire and go home. After about 10kms I started to get worried, but we had gone to far to take him home, so hoped that consistently ignoring him would do the trick. After 20kms he was still going strong, I could just hear his little paws tapping along besides me. At 30k he resumed his attempts to try and get onto the bike; jumping up every time I slowed down, until I accidently ran him over, at which point I was unable to ignore him anymore, having to check he was ok (which he was, and absolutely loved all the attention he got). When we found a place to stop for coffee after 40k the owners assumed he our dog and bought out food and water for him, after which he jumped onto my lap and kept trying to lick my face. In total Dog followed us for 60km, before finally turning back for home (I hope) after a particularly long downhill stretch where there was no way he could keep up. For the next two days I kept imagining I could hear his paws, and turning round expecting to see him. I imagine he might turn into some kind of Lassie character, helping out other cyclists and performing heroic acts on his long journey home. Ja was a little more cynical about the dogs potential fate when he heard what had happened.

Jaun and I finally arrived (minus dog) in Peurto Natales in time to join Ja for New years eve, which we celebrated with dinner, followed by another midnight bbq, and finished off with dancing till the small hours in a local bar.

A nice welcome to 2010!!!

A Chilean Navidad

2010-01-13T22:12:00.000Z

We left Porvenir for Punta Arenas by ferry, after being honoured to a fascinating tour of Ramon's textile factory by his manager Robert; it was really interesting to have the opportunity to see a different side of Chile from the standard tourist and service industry one tends to be exposed to!

Ja's knee continued to cause problems when cycling and it was suggested that it needed a period of 'complete rest' in order to recover. Ja was of course delighted by this (especially as the hostel had wifi), and took the notion rather literally; spending the best part of a week re-aquainting himself with the internet and barely moving other than to occasionally venture out to adjust something or other on one of the bikes. I took the opportunity to make preparations for the next leg (243km to Puerto Natales) and do a bit of the tourist thing (the slightly 'The Prisoner'-esque photo was taken in the cemetery-a vast marble city lined with these incredible topiaried trees!)

We were given a very fond farewell as we finally set off for Natales, with lots of hugs and photos and being waved off by the owners Pamelita and Eduardo. Pamelita was so concerned that we were going to spend the festive period in a ditch, and that Santa wouldn't know where to find me, that she gave me a christmas present of the rather fetching stuffed penguin who now adorns my handlebars. Pinguinita flaps his wings in an amusing fashion in high winds, and plans to travel with us until I find a more worthy home for him (or gets blown away, whichever happens sooner). Anyway, all this attention surrounding our leaving made it rather embarrassing when after 65km Ja realised that in spite of all his intense resting the knee wasn't going to make it another 180km, and it was more sensible to return the way we had come than to continue. Luckily we were welcomed back with just as much gusto, and were in time to spend a very lovely Christmas Eve in traditional Chilean fashion, joining Eduardo, Pamelita, their entire extended family and the other guests at the hostel in sharing a midnight bar-b-q (paradilla) of whole lamb and choritzo, and drinking pisco sour till the early hours. We did, of course, drink a toast to absent friends and family, and send everyone much Christmas love and cheer.

xxxxx

Ushuaia to Punta Arenas

2009-12-19T18:31:00.000Z

So.... It's hard to know what to write about our first weeks' cycling, to try and describe the vastness and impressive wilderness of the windswept landscapes we have been (slowly) moving through. Ja has even on occasion been moved to use the adjectives bleak, tedious and arduous, leading me to suspect he is finding it slightly less enjoyable than myself. That and the utterance that he thinks his next vacation will be a 2 week package in Teneriffe with a good book.

The last minute preparations in Ushuaia ended up having to include mutt-proofing ourselves, after the surprise discovery that Ja has a phobia of dogs (or, more specifically, barking South American dogs). My suggestion that a brief course of CBT would be the easiest solution to this did not go down very well, Ja instead preferring to protect himself with the more concrete measures of an electronic dog dazer, a can of pepper spray and a large stick. I am sticking with my tried and tested method of barking back at any dog who comes close, which so far has worked a treat.

Our departure was delayed slightly by bumping into Christian and Eduardo, two Swiss cyclista's who had just made it in from Quito (Christian actually started in Alaska!!), so we made the most of being able to pick up some tips and recommendations, before finally getting underway early afternoon. Not far down the road we found an old estancia serving food and coffee, and decided to take a short break, which turned into a massive roast dinner for two; the meat being hacked off an enormous splayed lambs carcass which was roasting whole over an open fire. Even hardened meat eaters would be slightly taken aback at the gusto with which we dug in! We have vowed to only eat organic vegan food for year after we get back to repent!!!

Anyway, it seemed to do the trick, and in spite of not getting back under way until early evening, we managed to put in our longest ever day (at 100km), stopping in a small campsite just outside Tolhuin (where in spite of not speaking a word of the language, and before the tent was even erected, Ja had managed to convey to the proprietor his need for beer, who jumped in his car and reappeared 20 minutes later clutching 2 cerveza for us!!! - you wouldn't get that in Wales!)

The cycling since Tolhuin has been quite challenging, although this is largely psychological resulting from the headwind into which we are constantly battling, and the sheer barrenness of the countryside. Nothing that we've done in Europe had really prepared us for the distances we would be covering between any form of life or civilisation, and as a result initially we weren't carrying enough food and water to cover us.

It took 2 days to get to Rio Grande, and by the time we got there we needed a day off to recover, rehydrate and buy extra water carriers and food supplies. Luckily we had a fantastic place to stay, in a boat house/hostel/campsite, and here, as everywhere we have been so far, we have been bowled over by how genuinely lovely, kind and helpful everyone is (even in spite of any ongoing sentiment over the Malvinas!!- actually we are told this is largely political, and not something most people are too worried about).

From Rio Grande we pushed on to the Chilean border at San Sebastian in one (extremely long, wind battered and challenging) day. Here we discovered that there are strict border controls meaning no animal or vegetable products or by-products can be taken into Chile.

This meant that, like the hungry caterpillar in one of my favourite children's books, we had to munch our way through One very large tub of pasta and bolognaise sauce, Two large blocks of cheese and Three hard boiled eggs each, before being allowed to enter the country. Unlike the book, this protein feast had a much less pretty outcome than the emergence of beautiful butterfly, and also had the unfortunate effect of clearing out a large proportion of our food stocks for the 142km to Porvenir. Luckily (!?!) just over the border there was a cafe, the owner of which decided he would be willing to part with a bag of pasta and a bar of chocolate for $12 (USD!!!). Anyway, we weren't really in a position to negotiate, so meals for that part of the road consisted of the most expensive (and disgusting, following the addition of a tin of tuna and sachet of soup) pasta I have ever eaten.

As soon as we entered Chile the sealed road ended and the ruta 3 becomes ripio, which is much like I imagine cycling on a graveled washboard would be. Except much, much, much windier.

The whole distance of the road we probably only saw about 1 truck every couple of hours and the lack of human contact available out there was apparent by the willingness with which people would stop to talk; from the farmer who drove up one night we were camping and pretty much wordlessly shook us by the hands, before getting back in his tractor and driving off, to the Gaucho trotting past on his horse (who knows where he came from, or went to!!), and many of the cars and trucks who just stopped to chat on the way past!

Ja unfortunately developed a sore knee whilst making this epic crossing, and we had to push the bikes for about 40km of it. Just outside Porvenir a truck stopped and offered us a lift, and Ramon, a Chilean business man gave us a ride into town, and ended up offering us his house to stay in whilst he is out of town!! Yet another act of random generosity that is leading us to wonder about the side effects of London living on our psyche!! Anyway, tomorrow we will cross the water to Punta Arenas, where we plan to do very little for a few days in the hope that a bit of RnR will sort Ja's knee out in time to get to Peurto Natales for Christmas (which we think will be preferable to spending it wild camping in a ditch on the road side!!).

From the end of the world to the (other?) end of the world. Or; from Finisterre, Spain to Fin Del Mundo, Ushuaia

2009-12-18T20:59:00.000Z

Having edged back from Finisterre we spent a week or so in London sorting the bikes out and generally lounging around. The bikes needed a surprising amount doing to them, given we have only been on them a couple of months, including another new bottom bracket (probably due to poor fitting of the last one), new crank shaft, headset, chains ...etc etc. You might notice in future photo's that Ja's bike now appears to be a rather fetching shade of blue. This isn't a trick of the light, but rather the result of a rapidly put together new frame, built specifically to carry the extra kit (after the last one developed a rather alarming wobble under strain!!). I have taken this to mean a relaxation in the weight rules, and put in an extra pair of trousers (go on, treat yourself...)

The journey ended up being astonishingly easy, and against all the odds both Ja and I arrived in Ushuaia at the same time as the bikes and all the luggage!

Argentina has rapidly become my favourite country yet visited. It is beautiful, incredibly varied and having spent too many years living in London, unbelievably friendly.

Ushuaia is the Southernmost town in the world, at the mouth of the Beagle Channel, and surrounded by beautiful, if rather intimidating (when you are about to cycle off into them), snow tipped Andean peaks. We stayed in a small apartment which was a great find; no more expensive than a hostel, but a full living space where we were able to put the bikes together, make some final preparations and chill out a bit before setting off.

The owner (who I think thought we were completely mad) couldn't have been more helpful, and even got a part of Ja's bike welded back together when we found it had been damaged in transit!

We had time to take a trip out into the channel and get all gooey about the baby penguins and sealions, making us wish we were able to take longer (or rather be richer, as it is prohibitively expensive) and go all the way to the Antarctic.

Finally sorted, we started the cycling with a 50k round trip to the start of Ruta 3, figuring since we're so far south, and like most good stories, we may as well start at the very beginning.

Will update as to our progress on the first proper leg of cycling, Fin Del Mundo (Argentina) - Punta Arenas (Chile), very soon.

It's the end of the world as we know it... (and I feel fine...)

2009-11-25T06:36:00.000Z

34 days, 1895km, 1 puncture, 1 broken bottom bracket, 1 snapped gear cable, far too many hills and some really horrible weather after leaving Puy, we finally arrived at the coast previously believed to be the edge of the world: Finesterre. It looked a bit like Cornwall. We decided against joining the tradition that has built up amongst walkers to burn ones boots upon arrival; historically this was probably a very sensible health precaution, but with the advent of vibram soles means that there are rather unsightly piles of burnt plastic everywhere. Anyway, cleats are expensive and we'll probably be needing them in South America.

We don't have too many photo's to put up this time, as the weather turned again as we left the flats of the meseta. Mostly this led to miserable driving rain, which turned to miserable driving snow with altitude and meant risking hypothermia to get the camera out.

The cycling wasn't made any easier by the gradual reduction in functioning of gears on my bike. Initially I lost all high gears, meaning I looked liked a mouse in a wheel on anything that wasn't a steep incline (bizarrely meaning that we spent 2 days hoping for plenty of hills!). Functioning ceased completely about 70km outside Santiago, and we made it into the city with my bike having effectively become a singlespeed, stuck in a mid gear that managed to make both the ups and the downs challenging! Following this I can confirm that singlespeed touring bikes probably aren't a good idea, and whoever it was that said bikes don't need more than 3 gears, was wrong. Luckily, alongside his many other talents, Ja is secretly a mechanical genius (and he didn't even make me write that!), and managed to recable the whole bike using little more than an allen key and an old pair of stockings. Or something like that. It looked quite technical and meant I got gears again, so I was pretty impressed.

For some reason I had imagined it would be all downhill from Santiago to the coast, but I couldn't have been more wrong, and as a result we had a couple of overnights enroute, staying in the tiny village of Olveiroa, on a working farm in renovated 17th century outhouses (sadly the weather was too hideous for photos). It was here we decided to try the Galician regional specialty of Caldon Gallego which is, I understand, usually a cabbage and bean stew (obviously supplemented with the obligatory serving of chorizo) however in this instance involved the largest plate of cooked meats we have ever seen, served with something that might have been cabbage when it started stewing 2 weeks earlier. Good job we're still on that vegetarian holiday!

Back in Santiago we had a final evening of tapas and Ribeira, wrapped the bikes in clingfilm (an unusual stipulation of the bus company before travel), and got the night bus to Bilbao to enjoy the 30 hour 'mini-cruise' crossing to Portsmouth. The less said about this the better, and I am still left undecided as to whether I was more disturbed by the on board 'entertainment', or the fact that Ja appeared to thoroughly enjoy it.

Having added a couple of weeks to this part of the trip, and with the bikes in need of some serious servicing, we have now decided to leave for Argentina on the 5th December, and will be spending the week or so until then gloating about not having to be in work and trying to come up with ways of becoming independently wealthy so as to be able to continue this lifestyle indefinitely.

Llegamos a España ...

2009-11-04T19:11:00.000Z

It feels like forever since our last rest day (which turned into 2½ rest days after Ja had an unfortunate encounter with some crusty bread, necessitating an even more unfortunate encounter with a French dentist). Luckily we were staying on a campsite in Lauzerte, in a very lovely yurt, with an even lovelier patron, who helped us get it sorted (thanks Theo!!). Actually it's only been 14 days since then, but in that time we've covered a further 975.5km (a total of 1397.5km) crossed the Pyrenees into Spain and grown a beard (well, one of us has).

We had about 4 days of rain as we came through southern France and into Spain, making crossing the Pyrenees pretty hard work; initially it was cold and wet, which wasn't so bad; putting the mp3 player on random and becoming reacquainted with loads of tunes not listened to in ages was actually quite fun (and I kept myself entertained by trying to list all the bands I've seen, in order, since Radiohead in 1995. This is probably the mental equivalent of alphabetising ones CD collection; ultimately pointless, but extremely cathartic and strangely enjoyable). As we got into Spain it became warm and wet, which was much less fun, especially as the Russian roulette of the Mp3 random function started playing songs I don't even own (I still don't understand how I ended up listening to a Peter Gabrielle track).

The differences between cycling through Southern France and Northern Spain have been striking, highlighted by our absolute ignorance of the Spanish language meaning we have had to resort back to the good old British method of international communication – speaking English, slighter louder and more slowly, and in Ja's case with an odd spaghetti western style accent. We have, however, been diligently listening to our Spanish lesson CD's and I'm fairly sure we will soon be fluent, courtesy of Michel Thomas. That said, I am not entirely convinced by the utility of this as a functional language course, as having reached the end of the introductory course we are now able to confidently ask for an opinion on the current socio-political situation in Spain (which given the global economic situation, and whilst cycling through Basque Nationalist territory where the population are openly supportive of ETA, is conversational ground upon which even the most fluent would be hesitant to tread), however have yet to be endowed with the capacity to ask if there is somewhere to buy bread nearby, or whether we might be able to get a bed for the night. I'm hoping this might come up in the next CD.

At some point since we came away Ja seems to have made the decision to give up shaving. Consequently he is currently sporting what he believes to be a manly facial growth (think somewhere between Russell Crowe; Gladiator and Gary Oldman; Dracula). I am not making comment on this (although if pushed would probably suggest it is closer to Shaggy; Scooby Doo). Unfortunately (or not), don't think many people will have the opportunity to see it in the flesh, as after seeing a photo of it Sarah has announced that she is more allergic to facial hair than she is to cats (and she is very allergic to cats), and that it has to be fully removed before we are to be allowed back in the flat.

I had hoped that in Spain, as in France, we would be able to maintain our vegetarian values (all be it with the taxonimical flexibility that allowed the rather fine pan fried margret de canard we rustled up in one of the gites we stayed in (well it is practically a fish isn't it...?). Unfortunately however I have had to concede to a vegetarian holiday, as I can't find anyway of considering the large quantities of chorizo we keep being presented with as a fish, let alone a veg.

Although never really discussing it, we seem to have decided to finish the whole of the Camino, and are currently around 400km, 7 days (and an awful lot of hills/mountains) away from Santiago. With hindsight, this decision may have been made shortly after discovering and making full use of the 'Fuente del vino' - a free fountain of red wine in place to fortify tired pilgrims and travellers. As you can imagine we ensured we were fully fortified before moving on, and even took a little for later fortification.

We are not planning another rest day until after we reach the end of the world (also known as Finisterre on the coast about 90km after Santiago, where the Pilgrims of old believed the world literally ended), and so we may not update again until we're back in the UK. It's looking likely that we might go for a weeks skiing or possibly mountain biking after we get back, as a problem with Ja's bike means we can't go straight out to South America, so hopefully we'll have time to catch up with everyone as well. I'll finish with another series of cycling photo's - particular effort made to ensure they aren't all of Ja's back....

Nous sommes arrivés dans le Puy en Velay

2009-10-17T17:13:00.000+01:00

We finally arrived in Puy following a long but fairly pleasant and uneventful journey (provided 1 set of forfeited ferry tickets, 2 surplus train journeys, an unfortunate misunderstanding resulting from their being more than one train station in Calais and an extra 12 hours, counts as uneventful). Although ideally we would have shared the 8 hour drive across France, Ja had rather inopportunely picked this week to send his liscence off to have the address changed and as a result the driving was left to me. Every cloud has a silver lining, or so they say, and in this instance I was provided the opportunity to learn the appropriate way one ought to drive – as it transpires, after all these years, I have actually been doing it wrong. Having learnt, among other things, the correct way my hands ought to be positioned, the most appropriate road position, and when indication is required, we finally agreed I had learnt enough and decided to spend the majority of the next 7 hours in silence.

Puy is a pretty city, famed for it's lentils, lace and large quantity of religious iconography. Although it had rained heavily for the majority of the journey, the weather cleared when we arrived and we were able to take in the impressive, if somewhat bizarre, views of the Statue Notre-Dame de France, Cloitre de la Cathedrale and the Rocher St-Michel d'Aiguilhe (direct translation should be, although probably isn't, Church on a very high rock).

We spent the night in Puy in a campsite, resulting in us leaving typically late for what was to be a particularly difficult first days cycling. The particularly fine shot of Ja doing his best catalogue pose is on the steps of the Cathedral; the start of the route Chemin de St Jacques de Compostelle, that could potentially take us all the way to Santiago.

In trying to keep a record of many hours of repetitive exercise, and turn it into a blog that isn't just excruciatingly dull, I seem to have turned myself into some kind of twisted Bridget Jones type character....

Fri 9^th October – Puy en Velay

Bike weight – 41kgs

Alcohol consumed: beers - 0, bottles of wine - 1 (between 2) (technically beers consumed = 1, but continental beers are so small as to not count. Unusual alcoholic temperance resulting from oversight in supermarche, and apparent lack of off-licences in France).

Rather alarmed to discover this morning that bike has actually managed to gain weight since Wessex Way trip. This in spite of radical wardrobe-ectomy prior to leaving. Must find way of subtly redistributing more weight into Ja's panniers.

Sat 10^th October – Puy en Velay - Saugues

Bike weight – 42kgs

Distance cycled 50kms

Meters ascended – 1100

Alcohol consumed: beers - 0, bottles of wine - 1/2. (unusual alcoholic temperance resulting from exhaustion – not physically capable of staying awake long enough to drink any more).

Disappointed to discover that excess bike weight not resulting from secret clothes/make-up stash, but from re-distribution of communal weight by Ja. Still, probably a little churlish to complain as he is still carrying all the camping kit.

Had to complete an extra 2 hour 500m climb this eve after discovering that proposed campsite was closed for the winter. Arrived in Saugues in the dark, only to discover their campsite also closed. Ja appeared to take this as some kind of indication of national constitutional weakness on behalf of the French, reminiscing fondly about the number of sub-zero temperature winter nights he has spent in a tent in Wales. Managed to subtly rearrange face from relief at prospect of bed for night in to convincing disappointed face just in time. Arrived at Gite positively glowing...wont be long before we are fit, beautiful and positively irresistible (I'm sure cycling can do that for you).

Sun 11^th Oct - Saugues - Aumont-Aubrac

Bike weight 42kg (careful guarding of panniers ensured no further redistribution)

Distance cycled – 50km

Meters ascended – 600

Alcohol consumed: beers – 0 (calculated flawlessly as 3x the amount we had on Friday 3x0= 0) bottles of wine ½

Slightly easier cycling day today, weather cleared and ended day in sunshine meaning wouldn't have minded camping, although couldn't find open campsite (and no matter how much Ja tries to persuade me, I still object to staying anywhere that doesn't have running water – and no Ja, a river doesn't count).

Have become concerned though that as a result of aforementioned wardrobe-ectomy, healthy glow is rapidly turning into rather unpleasant odour. Also alarmed to discover that thighs are still growing at disconcertingly fast rate; whilst toned and athletic may be desirable I fear I am rapidly moving toward muscular (next stop shotputter?).

Mon 12^th Oct Aubrac-Aumont - Espalion

Bike weight 43kg (extra weight resulting from litre of 'emergency' vin de table Ja decided we needed to be carrying)

Distance 66km

Alcohol consumed: very little (alcoholic temperance becoming alarmingly commonplace)

Awoke to howling wind and rain. Everyone else in Gite up and on their way by about 7am. Ja refused to get up. By time we finally managed to set off (having spent at least an hour adorning enough wet weather gear to fair any storm) the worst had passed, and by afternoon it was gloriously sunny again. We took more humour than was probably right in thinking about everyone who had set off early and got wet.

Found campsite that was open by River Lot.

Tue 13^th Espalion – Conque

Distance – 53km

Meters ascent - alot

Alcohol consumed – very little (resulting from unplanned religious encounter)

Arrived in Conque in early evening, feeling ambivalent about the amount of downhill – certain to mean that tomorrow will be entirely up. Odometer registered max speed of just over 50km/hr (I don't think my car will even go that fast). Conque is quite amazing place, where nothing seems to have changed since the 11^th century. Apparently it has a population of 50, but with no shop and only 1 bar/restaurant (closed) it was hard to see how it even supports that many people. The campsite was (of course) closed, as was the Gite, which left us with only the option of staying in the church (who provide accommodation for those doing the route to Santiago as pilgrims). I was convinced we were going to be turned away for not being Catholic enough (or indeed at all), and very nearly fashioned myself a wedding ring out of a can-pull, just to be on the safe side, but it transpired our fears were unfounded, and we were given the most hospitable welcome; provided with cups of tea, an amazing evening meal, and a very comfy bed. We were even invited to make a reading at their evening service (to which Ja's face contorted with such horror that I think they assumed he was illiterate).

Wed 14^th Oct – Conque-Figeac

Distance – 59km

Fears were realised this morning, with what felt like a kilometer of climb out of Conque, followed by mostly uphill all day. Discovered on arrival in Figeac that there was an open campsite 10k further on, so continued on without spending any time in the town. At the campsite Ja decided that the extra weight of the emergency wine was too much, and pretty much singlehandly polished it off, before falling unconscious for the best part of 12 hours, and waking with what he proclaimed to be the worst hangover he has ever had. I suspect this could have been predicted as in spite of Ja's belief to the contrary, even in France it can't be usual to pay only 1euro for a litre of wine, and he was probably lucky to wake up with his sight still intact.

Sat 17^th October – Lauzerte

Am getting a bit bored of the Bridget style diary keeping. Although the more I think about it, the more parallels I'm noticing... I have been told more than once that Ja shares more than just a passing resemblance to a certain Mssr Grant (although no matter how hard I squint at him I've still yet to see this). Also, although Bridget's support pants would never have made it through the wardrobectomy, these cycling shorts are equally hideous (whilst ironically having the exact inverse effect).

We are, today, having a rest day, having come a further 130km in the last 2 days (mostly flat, obviously) The highlights have been waking each morning to the condensation on the inside of the tent having frozen (I still maintain this must the point at which it is officially too cold to camp), and spending a memorable evening sharing a bottle of wine sitting on a washing machine in the launderette of a campsite (it wasn't even turned on, but seemed to be the only place in walking distance with a power supply and a door). Ja has promised to try and top this excitement this evening (I'm hoping he isn't just planning to do some washing), so will update the next time we are online.

Weston-Super-Mare to Eastbourne

2009-10-05T15:59:00.000+01:00

So we began the planned epic cycle with a, potentially rather unglamorous, trip to test out the new bikes and all the kit in Weston Super Mare. Predicatably our 10 am start was foiled by the fact that Ja is the only person I have ever met who can faff more than me. After repacking his panniers for the 10th time, replacing the wheels that inexplicably needed removing at least twice, oiling anything that moved in a 5m radius and an hour cycling around central London in circles as we both (incorrectly as it transpired) assumed we knew how to get to Paddington, we finally managed to get on a train at about 6pm. Naturally this meant arriving in Weston long after dark, and led to us eazing into the financial expediency of camping more gradually than planned, instead spending the night in a B&B.

These are the bikes, looking rather overladen for a UK coast to coast, but it seemed sensible to try and find out if carrying that much weight was feasible somewhere slightly more accesible than the Patagonian Lake District.

Ja's is the white one; the one that as you probably already know, has reduced me to (at least) third place in his affections (and that's only if you aren't counting any of his other bikes), and left me with an unwelcome but alarmingly large knowledge about the relative merits of various bike dimensions. The construction of this bike has been a long and painful process for all involved, and Ja's preoccupation with it has, rather conveniently, meant that I have been tasked with ALL other non bike related planning tasks. My bike, the black one, was a lucky and much less painful purchase, complete with panniers, camping kit and everything one could ever need for a long distance touring trip, off Ebay.

The route we planned to test everything out with is known as the 'Wessex Way'. It is the longest off road coast to coast in the UK, pretty good for mountain biking, with a fair amount of semi technical up and down hill single track. All pretty cool for mountain bikes, but as we learned alarmingly quickly, not so good for a suspensionless touring bike loaded with well over two thirds of ones body weight (final weigh-ins when we left were mine at 39kg and Ja's at 42kg).

Determined not to let a few little hills get in our way (and acutely aware that failing to manage in the rolling foothills of the Mendips wouldn't bode well for our potential in the Andes), we adjusted the plan and timescale slightly (no way could we manage the proposed 80km per day), and were extremely lucky to find ourselves cycling over a week of glorious summer weather and beautiful English countryside. If it hadn't been for the Autumnal leaves falling from the trees it could've been mistaken for the end of July, not the end of Septemeber!

Our total distance ended up being about 420km, over 7 days, mostly camping, although we made a couple of detours along the way to visit Ja's family in Salisbury and thanks to Matt for the bed in Haselmere.

The bikes held up pretty much OK, although Ja has of course found a multitude of adjustments that need making anyway. The major issue, as it was alway going to be, is with weight. Whilst Ja is convinced that we can live quite happily taking
nothing more than some kind of mighty booche style zip off utility suit, and a sawn off tooth brush, my list of essentials is considerably larger. We have, since returning, been in careful discussion around the definition of the word essential, and the compromises reached must have saved all of a kilo. I don't imagine many people are required to whittle down their wardrobe by weighing it all!

Ja has had to go back into work for a few days, which has given me time to flesh out the plan for the next leg of the journey. We have decided to broadly follow the route known as the San Sebastian Way through France and Spain, of which there a number of routes, all traditionally ending in Santiago de Campostela. The route we have chosen mostly follows the GR65 in France, cuts through the Pyranees and we'll probably stop short of Santiago (in either Santander or Bilbao) in order to get a ferry back to the UK. The logistics of sorting this out as a round trip, with the bikes, has been significantly more complicated than I imagined (and slightly worrying, as no matter how long I leave it the South America bit still hasn't planned itself). The main aim for Europe has been avoiding needing to box the bikes, which rules out 90% of the usual transport options. However, it has convinced me that my choice not be a travel agent was a wise one.

We're still aiming to be out in South America by mid-November, having shaved a couple of weeks off the Europe bit to complete the Wessex way and for Ja to finish up at work.

I think that I have probably written enough now for my first attempt at 'blogging', but since it doesn't seem to be much more arduous than writing an extended postcard (with the absolute advantage that I know it isn't going to end up at the bottom of pannier without a stamp on and never get read anyway), I imagine I will try and keep it updated whilst we are away.

I shall finish with a little montage of photos from the rest of the Wessex Way - although I have a nasty feeling that the theme clearly developing of multiple shots of Ja's back against various scenic vista's is one that will become all too familiar. Hopefuly the scenic vista's will be varied enough to forgive this! Oh, and don't be decieved by how flat it looks - I think it must be some wierd trick of the camera.