Enter WikiOverland, the encyclopedia of Overland Travel

WikiOverland

WikiOverland is designed to “pick up where the traditional guide books leave off” for Overlanders.
Everything you need to know to successfully get around with a vehicle is included.

Some of the important topics covered for each country are:

• Crossing the border – paperwork requirements, insurance requirements, costs and permitted length of stay.
• Gas prices, quality and frequency. Prices are converted in real time to any currency and unit you prefer.
• Roads, Bribery and checkpoints.
• Camping – both paying and “wild”.
• Navigation – with paper maps and GPS co-ordinates.
• Vehicle maintenance.
• Buying and selling vehicles.
• much more.

More general topics covered include:

• Popular Overland routes.
• Vehicle shipping.
• Bribery tips and advice.
• General Paperwork requirements explained.

If travel information is readily available in guide books or on the web, that information is linked to as much as possible.

To start out exploring WikiOverland, checkout the Overland Frequently Asked Questions

This is a project made by the Overland community, for the Overland community.
If we all contribute a little bit, we’ll make the entire site better for everyone.
Because WikiOverland is built on the wiki platform, you can click edit in the top right of the screen, update or add whatever you like, and click save all in less than 2 minutes.

You can help make WikiOverland better for everyone:

• If you know a thing or two about the country you live in (like gas prices), please take the time to add or update that information.
• If you are passing through a country, please take 5 minutes and update sections that have changed. If nothing has changed, you can just update the “last updated date” for those sections so we know it’s still good as of now.

Head over and checkout WikiOverland.org

-Dan

P.S. Now WikiOverland is live, I plan to spend more time back here on The Road Chose Me. I have some mind-blowing photos from the summer I need to share with you all.

A combination of working along the way and a nice tax return helped the bottom line, though the remainder is still sitting on my credit card.
For the vast majority of the adventure I drew a few hundred dollars out in cash, spent it on anything and everything, then got more cash when I ran out. Unfortunately, this means I only have bank records for some of the big purchases mentioned below. I can see than I took out $400 in Guatemala, then another $400 in El Salvador, but I can’t say exactly what that money went into. At only $1/beer, I’m pretty sure it didn’t all go there

**NOTE: When I say everything else, I literally mean, everything else.
Food and accommodation would certainly be the next two big categories, then maybe activities (like park entry fees, etc.). Everything you can possibly imagine is in there somewhere; oil changes, small ferries, toll roads, tire repairs, flip-flops…. If I spent money, it’s in the everything else figure.

Notable Exceptions:
I did not include the following expenses for various reasons.
If you’re planning your own adventure, you may want to think about these things:

The Jeep:
The cost of the Jeep has been excluded, mostly because in my view it cost net zero. I bought the Jeep in August 2008 for $6,250 and drove it around as my sole vehicle until June 2009 when I set off on the adventure. Almost two years, and 65,000kms later, I sold the Jeep for $5000.
Allocating the $1,250 difference to deprecation before the adventure even began, means it cost me net zero for the adventure. I’m extraordinarily happy with this.

Vaccinations:
These were in fact very specific for this adventure, though with all the health-insurance refunds I’m pretty sure it cost me something less than $300. They are also good for 10 years, so I’m still getting value from them.

Camping Gear:
I had almost everything I needed before setting out (tent, camp stove, hiking boots, etc.) although I did buy a couple of pricy things like my sleeping bag. I didn’t include them because I already had most of them, and the things I bought, I still have and use regularly.

Laptop & Camera:
I owned my camera long before the adventure began, but I did buy my little laptop specifically for the adventure. I didn’t include it as an expense, because it’s a completely optional piece of equipment and I still use it all the time.

$27k is an average of about $1200 a month for the 22 months I was on the road. I hope these numbers help people planning their own adventure. Feel free to ask for any clarifications.

-Dan

I don’t want to answer it.

The two years I spent on the road can not be summarized by a single place, or experience.

It just wouldn’t be right.

The more I think about it, the more I think of a handful of experiences that are defining – they made up the core of the adventure and are by far the most vivid memories I have.

I think about these experiences and smile, often bringing back the emotions I felt – excitement, elation and even fear.

The list below is in chronological order – there is no “Outright Favorite”.

• The Magic Bus – Hiking to The Magic Bus in Alaska was an experience hard to duplicate, and during the adventure my thoughts often wandered to Chris, his adventure and lasting legacy. Sometimes I think of him as a role model and even idol at times.

  I will go back to the bus. Soon, I hope.

Dan at The Magic Bus 142

• Kayaking with icebergs – On the day I said “This is one of the best experiences of my life!”. Bizarre and beautiful, that statement is still true.

Jay in the ice bergs

• Playing with lava – The thought of poking lava with a stick feels absurd, and sometimes I wonder if I was dreaming.

Dan loving the lava flow

• Cotopaxi Volcano summit – The single most difficult undertaking of my life. Indescribable.

Victorious on the summit

• Hiking in The Cordillera Huayhuash – Ten days of hiking alone in the high Andes. I’m going to search for the rest of my life for a hiking circuit to match it.

Loving the view at Mirador San Antionio

• The Uyuni Salt Flats and South – Even the most gorgeous mountains, lakes, forests and beaches have comparisons somewhere in the world. The Uyuni Salt Flats in Bolivia stand alone – freaky and jaw-dropping in beauty and isolation. The desert to the South was possibly the most extreme adventure of my life.

The amigos elated to be on the salt flats

-Dan

Jeep Statistics

Dan Statistics

Feel free to ask for clarifications or more stuff.

(Costs are coming in another post)

-Dan

I jump in the driver’s seat for the final time and make the journey to the airport, trying to soak in every last minute of time I have with my much-loved Jeep. For a year and a half I’ve been saying “Ella está mi novia” (She is my girlfriend), and we all know breakups are difficult.

Saying goodbye

Just before midnight on April 12, 2011 the wheels come to a stop for the final time after 64,517km.
That’s a touch over 40,000 miles in 667 days, or 1 year nine months and 28 days.

For the next twenty-nine hours I wait, read, write, think and sleep while moving through different airports, never feeling present in any of them. I’m greeted by my always-grinning brother & his girlfriend, holding a huge banner they made for my welcome, complete with Jeep pic and map.

Welcome Home Dan

Together, we cross the final border of the adventure.

The familiar words uttered by the friendly customs officer make me realize how much I’ve missed this place.
I think I’ll stay for a while.

“Welcome to Canada”.

-Dan

I’m currently writing up posts about trip stats, total costs, gear reviews and more.
They’ll show up over the next couple of weeks.
If you have any questions you want me to cover, just ask.

Check it! – not only the Jeep, me as well. This might be my favorite photo of the trip yet!
(it’s worth zooming in one step)

View Larger Map

It looks like the Jeep is right on the join between two photos, so it’s kind of blurry.  Moving south on the highway there are 3 or 4 more similar snaps, though they are from further away and more blurry.

I know I passed one on an open stretch of highway in Alaska too, but it’s going to take a while to find that one.

-Da

Panama Passage is a new Overlander Resource Center, providing absolutely everything we could possibly need. And more.

The courtyard at Panama Passage

Beautiful hotel rooms, camping space, a locked yard for parking, a workshop and tools and a ‘container matching service’ are really just the beginning. Their extensive knowledge of the big city is crucial to point you in the right direction for all your needs, from spares and repairs to pesky Customs and Police.

If you’re headed to Panama City, this is the place to stay.

-Dan

Every second person that sees it’s for sale for only $6k immediately asks to buy it. After I politely explain they really can’t (foreigners only) people think of all kinds of crazy ways we can make it work. Most revolve around reporting it as stolen, some involve stripping it for parts and even crazier ideas involve various takes on insurance fraud. Hmmm.

Singing a “Power of Attorney” for an Argentine guy is the closest I’ve come yet. He is to “drive it around” for a little while until I “come back” in a year or two. (cough, cough). At the border leaving Argentina the customs guy catches on pretty quickly to what we are trying to do and immediately puts stop to it, almost having the guy arrested for driving it until he realizes I am there too (Apparently in Argentina the Jeep and I are literally inseparable). Upon re-entry the guy is very formal and strictly checks all my papers twice.
Very quietly, off to one side, he mentions that in two weeks he will be at another border station, alone, and we should talk more there.
My new favorite word in Spanish is Corrupción

About an hour into Argentina we drive through a routine police stop where they very throughly check all my papers, search for drugs and generally waste our time until one officer asks about our intention to import the Jeep into Argentina. Apparently our friend at Customs has called ahead and told them to give us a good old fashioned shake down. This is all pretty funny to us, as we know we haven’t done anything wrong, and they have to let us proceed.

After all this has been explained in great detail to willing buyers, each and every Argentinean tries to buy my tent separately. Then my tool box. Then the spare parts. I think somehow they just want a piece of what they know is selling for super cheap, we just can’t make it work.

I’m sure something will present itself. 

-Dan

Looking out over Villa O'Higgins

Lago General Carrera

I meander my way North, camping in road-side pullouts and exploring tiny local villages as I go. Arriving in Chaitén I can’t believe the level of destruction caused by a volcanic eruption three years earlier. Locals explain it wasn’t so much the eruption itself (though that did produce enormous amounts of ash), but more-so the re-direction of the river that washed away half of the town. So much sand and ash washed down that the “beachfront” is now 500 meters back from the original line. Woah.

Country living

Rivers and mountains

I camp within site of the volcano, still spewing smoke, though heavy rain in the morning prevents me from hiking closer. Maybe that’s for the better.

Mountains of the Austral

Attempt at The Southern Cross

For my last night on the Austral I camp at the hot spring of Termas de Amarillo, soaking long into the night and chatting with locals and ex-pats alike.

-Dan

Sitting next to Lago General Carrera

Amazingly blue

I cross the border at Chile Chico and am immediately rewarded with spectacular views of the amazingly blue Lago Buenos Aires / Lago General Carrera, named differently in the two countries. The road is gravel, windy and narrow and closely hugs the mighty lake while passing through tiny farming communities. The Austral proper is continuously surrounded by snow and glacier-capped peaks, dotted with amazingly clear lakes and often winds along next to gorgeous rivers and streams.
I take out my fishing gear for the first time, and discover the $2 reel is broken beyond repair. I try my luck in a few lakes but give up quickly due to the frustration of manually winding the fishing line onto the reel. Small turn-outs on the side of the road are abundant, so I camp for the night, enjoying the extreme remoteness.

The mighty Carretera Austral

Narrow canyon on the Austral (spot the Jeep)

In the morning I catch the free, military-run ferry at Puerto Yungay / Rio Bravo and soon discover why this road is so highly regarded. The road becomes narrower, windier and in places quite steep as it climbs up and over small mountain passes. Somehow, the scenery gets more beautiful too.
In the tiny Villa O’Higgins I post up at the beautiful hostel “El Mosco”, and splurge to sleep in a bed for the first time since Buenos Aires.

Lakes and mountains everywhere

Fantastic Austral scenery

I hike up to a very remote and peaceful little cabin above the village, and pass the rainy and cold afternoon and evening sitting by the fire reading and drinking tea. Spending the night is amazing, and it’s for sure one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever been.

Villa O'Higgins

Which way to the refuge?

There’s nowhere I’d rather be.

The refuge above Villa O'Higgins

-Dan

Sonny and Dan on the summit of Cerro Crystal

In the morning I wave goodbye to Sonny (who is heading South) and immediately pick up more hitchhikers heading North on Route 40. I’m reassured several times I’ll find gas along the way, and pull into the tiny town of Bajo Caracoles after some 500 odd kilometers, just after the gas warning light comes on. The owner inside the gas station doesn’t even look at me during the following conversation, which follows a now all-to-familiar South American trend:

Me: Hi, can I buy some gas please?
Owner: There is none.
Me: Oh, when will there be more gas?
Owner: I don’t know.
Me: When does gas usually come?
Owner: I don’t know.
Me: What day does it normally come?
Owner: I don’t know.
Me: Do you think I should wait here until tomorrow?
Owner: I don’t know.
Me: So, what can I do about getting some gas?
Owner: I don’t know.
Me: Do you think they will have gas in the next town?
Owner: (in a condescending tone, like it’s a stupid question) Of course there is gas there.

So as I’ve come to love & hate, he knows absolutely nothing about his own situation but is an absolute expert on something a hundred odd kilometers away. Hmmm.

Woodpecker doing it's thing - amazing to watch

The situation quickly becomes clear in my mind; I can sit around with my new outgoing friend waiting for the remote possibility of arriving gas, or I can hit the road and at least get a lot closer to a town that definitely might have some. The warning light on my Jeep officially indicates 70km remaining, though at the last fill-up I intentionally made it overflow to get in every last drop possible. That knowledge, combined with only 40kms of gravel before paved road, leads me to think I might just pull off 90km.
100km if it’s downhill.

Without much delay, I hit the road with the near certainty of running out of gas before the next station, 130km distant. Needless to say I take hypermiling to the next level, coasting with barely my little toe on the accelerator, and eagerly count down the remaining kilometers. For the first 30km or so the gauge continues to fall, before hitting rock bottom, and staying there for the remainder of the day.
Announcing the kilometers remaining is bittersweet, on one hand I’m moving closer to the gas station, on the other, almost certain failure.

No idea what this strange bird is...

I pass first the 90km mark, then the 100km in total disbelief. 110km rolls by and a tiny speck of hope creeps in.
If I can just make 120km, I’m there.
I clear my throat to announce only 10km remain, and before I can utter a sound, the engine completely dies.
No coughing. No spluttering. Completly dead.
In the now pitch-dark and moonless night I roll into the ditch and setup camp, digging myself in to wait for the new day.
Tomorrow should be interesting.

After walking with my thumb out for less than three minutes, I’m pretty happy when the first car of the day, a chatty Frenchman in a rental, stops to give me a ride. The station has plenty of gas, and the guy there even digs out an old four liter container I can use. Less than five minutes later I’m back walking on the highway, thumbing every passing car.
About half way back, a car going the other direction turns around to get me. They explain they saw my Jeep in the ditch, so I’m a dead giveaway carrying the gas container. Talk about friendly.

With the new lease on life, the Jeep fires up instantly, and has not shown any ill effects from the ordeal since. I always thought the tank was a little more than the stated 72 liters, though try as I might at the station, I don’t get a drop more than 68 liters in.

This guy posed in the early morning

Looking back I have to laugh at the thought and fear of running out of gas. Before this whole adventure began I thought of it as a potential “disaster” and serious problem, something I’ve worked hard to avoid the entire trip.

The reality?
It took about an hour and I met a bunch of nice people

-Dan

Nice and close now

The site of the broken arch

From our arrival in the early morning until our reluctant departure in the afternoon, we see, hear and almost feel each time a chunk of ice breaks free and slams into the water below.  The scale is inconceivable, evidenced by the seemingly “tiny” pieces constantly breaking free. These little pieces look small enough for me to carry around, though when they hit the water, the sound takes over a second to reach us, the first sign something is amiss. When it finally reaches our ears, the very loud <crack> is just like a gunshot, causing everyone to jump.

Reflections on the lake

Notice the little bits in the water?

More than a few times we see enormous slabs break free, smashing down into the water with such force the splash reaches back to the top of the glacier, and the ensuing wave triggers ever more collapses. One of the most surreal evens I witness occurs when a couple of enormous pieces rise up from under the water and smash into the face of the glacier – I can only guess they broke off underwater – the volume of water pouring off as they bob to the surface is hard to grasp.

Loving Perito Moreno

Sitting down close to water level watching all this, with explosions, eruptions and cave-ins, complete with sound effects in every direction makes we wonder if we’ve entered the set of some kind of weird war movie. Absolutely unbelievable.

All calm (for now...)

While we didn’t witness a collapse of this magnitude, this youtube video shows just how close it’s possible to get to this spectacle.

Capturing the entire glacier

It may seem a little expensive at $USD25, but I would happily pay it again.

-Dan

Perched on the mountainside

At seven in the morning, still rubbing sleep from our eyes, we find ourselves staring at a glacier-melt river, which, regrettably, stands between us and our continuing path. After scouting up and down stream for a while we both agree to the inevitable, take off our boots, and plunge in. The first couple of crossings through smaller streams are only ankle deep, and actually don’t hurt too much, though the more times we cross, the worse our feet get. Walking with numb feet is not so much a problem, it’s more the searing pain that comes immediately after exiting the water as the blood rushes back. Walking on the sharp rocks and pebbles in this state is not exactly fun and I can’t help but laugh at our comical hobbling.
If you look closely in the video below, you’ll see chunks of glacier ice floating in the river. Yep. It’s cold.

Back on the trail we make great time, though we actually lose the way, and basically make our own path right down at glacier/lake level. It’s amazing to be so close to the enormous glaciers and with Sonny’s huge amount of experience I feel confident striding across the surface of Tunel Glacier, checking out the crevasses he points out as we go.

Glacier Tunel, another giant

At 16,800 square kilometers, the Ice Field is the second largest in the world and I’m completely awe-struck when we arrive at the high point of the ominously named Paso Del Viento (Pass of the wind). The view in every direction is pure ice, with amazing swirls and patterns where it’s been slowing marching on for thousands and thousands (millions?) of years. Luckily the wind is quite bearable and we stay for a solid half and hour, soaking in as much of the view as possible, which is not diminished in the least by the clouds that have been rolling in all morning.

Fine detail of the glaciers

Loving the Southern Patagonian Ice Field

The entire walk down I formulate a plan to re-cross the river, hoping to avoid the unpleasantries of the morning. I’ll admit that simply taking off my socks and plunging in with my boots is not much of a plan, and not surprisingly, it doesn’t help much. After a solid nine hours of hiking most people opt to stay in the night in camp, though for some reason Sonny and I decide to feast on the remainder of our food, and hoof it back to El Chaltén, where we arrive just after dark, extremely foot sore and a little cold, after fours hours of hard slogging.

Glacier Quervain

Dwarfed by another glacier

Needles to say we’re grinning like mad at the last couple of days.

Thinking about the immense ice field

-Dan

All the photos in this post were taken by Sonny. Checkout his blog to see more of his work.

Laguna Torre by night

Sunrise at Laguna Torre

Over the course of three days we hike around the entire area, from Laguna Torre, up to Laguna De Los Tres and the extreme northern limit of the park, before doubling back on ourselves, hiking most trails more than once. We’re up every morning before sunrise for photos and fall into bed late at night after star photography. On the morning we plan to rise at 4.30am for shots of Fitz Roy I can’t summon the courage and roll over, back to sleep. Sonny enjoys the famous “red flash” sunrise all alone, before we hike over 15 hours for the day. Dedication.

Laguna Torre

Cerro Torre (3102m)

Highlights include swimming then sunning ourselves on the pebble beach at Laguna Hija and eating ice recently calved from the active Glacier Piedras Blacas. Although we hear the glacier cracking and moving, we can’t see any action from our vantage point.

Mountain reflections

Thinking hard**

Breathtaking mountains deep in Southern Patagonia. Does it get any better?

The famous "Red Flash" sunrise**

Cerro Torre

-Dan

** These photos are taken by Sonny, using his very tricky Leica camera. Checkout his photography blog to see his amazing photos.

The views around here are impressive

The road chose Jeep?

I’ve switched back over to Argentina, and am still enjoying a great run of sunny days and mountain-cool nights.

Ready to get back into the mountains

Windy roads & mountains

-Dan

The glacier stops here

The size of Grey Glacier

Over coffee in the early morning the three of us are excited by the idea of a rest day and agree to take it easy. At about 9am we hike, sans packs, up the valley to Campamento Britanico and the viewpoint showcasing Valle del Francés, complete with enormous glaciers and mountain peaks. For the first time the weather is overcast, and the low-slung clouds obscure the best of the views. On the way down we stop to “rest” every 10 minutes, dozing in the little patches of sunshine on offer, making the round-trip 11km take most of the day, before more coffee and food back at Italiano.

Infront of Grey Glacier

Hiking around

Anticipating a big one for day six I’m out of camp at 7.30am and make fantastic time around to Campamento Los Cuernos then make a big push further to Campamento Chileno for lunch. Another 45 minutes on the trail sees me arrive at the free Campamento Torres, completing the 20.4km stretch feeling great. The campground is small, uncrowded and peaceful, clearly my favorite of the hike and I’ve just finished setting up by a beautiful little stream when John and Bernie wander in, equally excited about the great hike after our refreshing rest day.

Darth Vader insect

Sunrise in the mountains

On the morning of day seven we wake before 5am, stuff our warm gear into a pack and hike 45 minutes up to watch the famous sunrise on the actual Torres (Towers). It’s wonderfully calm in the pre-dawn light and we sit quietly, anticipating the spectacle to come. Though the sky is perfectly clear and calm a band of thick black clouds on the horizon obscure the rising sun, killing any chance of us seeing the famous “red flash” on the towers. After waiting a couple of hours and seeing regular old sunshine strike the towers we call it a day and wander back to camp.
We feast on our remaining food before hot-footing it down the mountain to the waiting Jeep, and all things beyond.

Clouds at sunrise

The Torres Del Paine, with regular sunlight

A great hike with spectacular weather and new friends.

-Dan

I later heard reports of relentless snow/sleet and nights of infuriating wind, making me more thoroughly appreciate the weather on our hike.

Torres Del Paine

Arriving at Torres Del Paine National Park

Early the next morning I drive into the park and leave the Jeep at Hotel Las Torres before setting out counter-clockwise, taking enough supplies to complete the full circuit in eight days / seven nights.
A beautiful sunny morning through green forest sees me arrive at Camping Setón at about lunch time, and I decide to push on to Refugio Dickson, a stretch where I encounter some extremely strong winds and amazing sunshine while skirting around the mountains.
I arrive at Dickson a little footsore around 7pm after a long 28km on the trail for day one and am pleasantly surprised by the hot shower in the pay-only campsite. The plague of thirsty mosquitos is not so nice.

Setting out to hike the full circuit

On the backside

I lazily amble out of camp at 10am on day two, hiking through beautiful dense forest for the 9km around to Campamento Los Perros (another pay site), near a little glacier of the same name. I really have no idea what to expect on the “back side” and have been a little surprised by the remoteness and lack of people – I had been warned of many hundreds per day, and have only seen a handful on the trails, and about 30 tents at night in the campgrounds.

The campground at Refugio Dickson

The forests of the backside

In the morning I’m moving early with some friends from the previous night and we make good time up and over Paso John Gardner, the high point and hardest section of the trail. At the summit I’m dumbfounded by the unimaginably immense Grey Glacier, extending the width and length of the entire valley, looking more like an enormous lake than a glacier. Hiking alongside Grey for the remainder of the afternoon provides some stunning views and great rest-stops.

At the summit of Paso John Gardner

Immense Grey Glacier

I cook hot noodles at Campamento Paso before pushing on to the beautiful (and free) Campamento Los Guardas for a total of 18km for day three. Sitting above the glacier at the lookout is surreal, and although we hear plenty of activity, we don’t see a sizable chunk break off.

Nice spot for lunch...

Valley of giants

There’s a lot more to come on this one…

-Dan

I’ve been looking into the requirements for selling my Canadian-plated Jeep down here and it looks like I can make it work (legally) in both Ushuaia, Argentina and Punta Arenas, Chile because they have “Tax Free Zones” where the customs & importation rules are different. People are always commenting on how great it is, and how they would love to buy it, but of course none have the money.
I’ll also try to sell it to a fellow traveller, which will make the paperwork a thousand times easier.
In all seriousness, if anyone wants to buy it, get in contact with me.

Jeep ready to roll on

As for what I’ll do with myself after this is said and done, I have some plans I’m currently working on, though I don’t want to say too much in case they fall through. Hopefully I’ll be flying to a whole new continent and starting a completely new (and different) thing…

Right now I’m out hiking one of the most famous circuits in the world and you can be sure I’ll be posting tons of pictures and trip reports for a while yet.

-Dan

Lots of colour on the map now

Dan & Jeep at the very end of the road

Our week…

• Tierra Del Feugo National Park, at the very end of the road where we camp a few days and pose in front of the sign.
• Throwing disc golf on green grass, soak in sunshine and have a BBQ and beers for my birthday.
• Inspecting all the local bars and empanada cafés.
• Towing firewood then Parker on his bike behind the Jeep. (“I’ve ridden all the way down, I don’t need to ride back!”)
• Riding around town on the back of Parker’s bike.

Sunset in Tierra Del Fuego National Park

The whole crew camping in Tierra Del Fuego

Beautiful. And fun.

Fox sneaking around our campsite

Jeep map complete

-Dan

Seth hoping for the best

Seth and Parker grinding uphill

A warm sunny day greets me for the climb up and over the final mountain pass, where I continually stop for photos with the Jeep. Rolling down into town and posing for photos in front of the “Welcome” sign does not bring forth the emotions I thought it might. I feel like I’m in any other town along my journey. Ushuaia itself is absolutely beautiful, surrounded on three sides with snow-capped mountains and the island dotted ocean dominates the forth.

Sunshine and blue skies!

On the final mountain pass

I post up in the La Pista Del Andio Campground and await the arrival of Seth and Parker, which kicks off a celebration of immense proportions. Many times during the night a phrase like “This is biggest achievement of my life” has us pondering exactly what it all means.
In the morning there are a lot of sore heads and confused people, and we tread very gingerly for a while.

Climbing mountains, all in a days work

I’ve driven a total of 55,580km over 558 days. That’s an average of 95km/day over one year, seven months and nine days. It’s really beautiful here, so I think I’ll stick around for a few days and let it all soak in.

Dan and Jeep in Ushuaia, 55,580km later

This adventure is far from over

-Dan

Hiking with my park ranger friends

For a diversion I checkout Bosque Petrificado, a national monument of petrified trees and quickly befriend the park rangers who invite me to stick around for a few days, talking, laughing, cooking great food and generally hanging out.
When word comes through the ferries to Tierra Del Fuego are operating as normal, I’m eager and ready to move on.

Over the course of a very long day I drive south from Rio Gallegos to the Chilean border where I line up for a couple of hours to check myself and the Jeep out of Argentina, then into Chile. A short drive further finds me at the ferry terminal where I chat to a couple of bikers before the 30min, $USD30 ferry ride across to the island of Tierra Del Fuego. The 135km of mediocre gravel road to the border of San Sabastián is a slush-fest thanks to the constant rain and driving wind. Again, some lining up and waiting sees me exit Chile, then 10km further I’m stamped back into Argentina. Each border is painless and free, requiring only my passport and the original registration for the Jeep.

Welcome to Tierra Del Fuego!!!

After a re-supply stop in the big city of Rio Grande I make my way down to Tolhuin, a beautiful little town renowned for it’s excellent bakery and beautiful, lake-side “Hain” campground.

Camping inside a tepee at Camping Hain, Tolhuin

Only 100km to Ushuaia, the end of the line.

So close now...

-Dan

Sunset over Puterto Madryn

I spend a couple of days in the friendly town of Puerto Madryn, also packed with tourists, but not quite so fast paced. Peninsula Valdés is a nearby nature reserve that depending on the time of year plays host to sea lions, elephant seals, southern right wales, dolphins, penguins and even orcas that come very close to shore.
Over the course of a full day I cover the entire peninsula, checkout all the animals at this time of year and camp for the night in the beachside campground in the little community of Puerto Pirámide.

Beach covered in sea lions

No doubt about it – this is summer, hot sun, beaches and all.

Little guy posing

Gas shortages in Southern Argentina appear to be a common occurrence in summer and I’m almost constantly lining up, waiting to get what little is available. While waiting in one line of more than 50 cars I’m told the station has run out and I’ll have to move on to the next town, or wait until tomorrow, maybe even the next day. I keep my speed around 80km/h for the 110km to the next town and watching the gauge creep below the red empty zone passes the time quite effectively. Putting 70 liters into a 72 liter tank is probably cutting it a little fine, though somehow I seem to be constantly driving around on empty.
On the plus side, when there is gas, it’s around USD $0.80/liter, due to a “Southern Patagonia” subsidy.

Armadillos crusing around the parking lot.

-Dan

I’m back on the road again, my head full of conversations, thoughts, and ideas from my family. I’m very much aware the end of this journey is in sight, and with the help of my family I’m thinking more and more about what comes next for me. As much as I’m looking forward to the end and a fresh start somewhere new, I’m also extremely excited to spend a couple of months in the mountains of Patagonia, hiking and camping my little heart out.
I have to remember to really soak in every day.

South?

Today saw yet another oil change and tire rotation on the Jeep (there was one back in Peru I neglected to mention too) and everything looks great. She’s starting to show her age a little with a serious display of stone chips on the hood and windscreen, though still runs like a champ, never missing a beat. I think my original tires will just make the distance, and I’ve been told route 40 and the Carretera Austral will eat them up.
Let’s find out.

-Dan

Another sweet vehicle

After the motorbikes and a few beefed up 4×4′s came through we wandered in the direction of home, only to find the official “entrance parade” going right by our front door. Pretty convenient.

The crowd downtown was huge

A bike entering Dakar 2011

Our apartment is on the left

-Dan

I have only one question… Where are we going to be next time?

My sister Liz has been one of my biggest supporters from day one, for which I’m extremely grateful.
The following post was written by Liz about our time in Buenos Aires (thanks Liz!):

Saturday 11th December I started on a bus ride into a fairy tale. Technically it was to Heathrow Airport, in reality it was to become part of the world that is “The Road Chose Me”. The reality really did feel like walking into the pages of a story book.

The waterfront of Buenos Aires

Street markets, our favourite

The 33 hours of travelling saw me finally arrive in BA, Argentina. Dan was there waiting for me to land and so began my first ride of many in “The Jeep”.

The ride into BA was an eye opener. People picnicking on the grass beside the freeway, slums on one side of the road and the nicer parts of town on the other and sun like I haven’t seen or felt since living in Australia.

Fancy buildings

Sunny days

Dan asked me to write this post on the day I landed. While I’m so honoured to be asked I’ve also been running the whole thing around in my head for the last 4 weeks. How on earth do I relay the love, laughs, and reminiscing that comes when a family meets for the first time in nearly 7 years?!

The colored houses of La Boca

Hanging out in the park became quite the habit

Each photo brings back a flood of memories that are going to last a life time. And then there are also the times that weren’t captured on camera; the green plastic table that fell off a roof in high winds and shattered with pieces easily 100m away; Mike and I taking turns in the back of the Jeep on the way to and from the beach (numb bum and all!); the split second we looked up to see a car drive into the centre concrete barrier on the freeway; and a distinct lack of anything to drink on Christmas Day, we drunk it all Christmas Eve!

City buildings

Everyone in La Boca

I’m sitting here trying to do justice to a post and the tears keep coming. Tears of love, tears of happiness and most of all tears of joy at the fact each and every one of us can follow our dreams, even when they do lead us to every corner of the globe. This holiday has taught me many things but most of all the fact that we aren’t really that far away from each other. Distance is relative and as my family is in my heart every day they really aren’t that far away at all. After all what’s 33 hours of travelling, other than time?!

Fun with dreadlocks and superglue!

Dan, Liz & Mike at the beach

-Liz

PS I’ll let Dan talk about the photos etc. He does such a good job of it

Mike and Dan

Full family dinner of Argentine BBQ

Jeep and the whole family (the first time we've *all* been together)

The city is huge, and after getting home at 7am on my first night out I get to work learning my way around the city and eventually rent an apartment for us all for a month. It’s extremely surreal to goto sleep in my “own” apartment, complete with fridge full of delicious cold stuff, and even a microwave.
Seriously, is that thing safe?

Please excuse a lack of updates over Christmas/NYE while I party / relax / laugh & smile with my family. It’s been a long time. Too long.
Things will pick right back up again early in the near year.

Merry Christmas all!

-Dan

The stunning Inca Bridge, just near the park entrance

Hitting the trail

The surrounding mountains are spectacular in their own right, though my attention constantly focuses on the glacier capped Aconcagua, constantly visible while hiking the approach trail. I’m lost in my thoughts of a solo summit attempt, and seriously toy with it in my mind. Arriving at the Confluencia base camp (3,300m) is a little surreal, with permanent dome tent-like structures, kitchens, solar panels and even a volleyball court, it looks like just I’ve always pictured a serious mountain base camp.
Well, I guess it is.

The ever-visible Aconcagua

The sun is beating down and the wind howling through camp, making setting up my tent quite a chore and coating everything I own in a thick layer of sand – even the inside of my tent. After a cold, cloudy afternoon of hiking and mountain gazing I finish cooking dinner with numb hands and feet and crawl into my tent in the midst of driving snow and howling wind. For over an hour I curl up in my sleeping bag trying to warm up, my tent flapping furiously the entire time. I can’t imagine what the weather must be like higher up on the mountain, and don’t even want to think about it.

Confluencia base camp

It’s freezing in the morning when I set out for the seven hour round-trip hike to Plaza Francia (4,200m), another camp higher up the mountain. It’s an extremely beautiful day and after hiking to the toe of Glacier Horcones Inferior in sunshine, I turn back and battle a seriously cold head wind all the way back to camp, and down to the parking area.

Sunrise over Confluencia base camp

One cold night

I’m completely tired out when I arrive, and at my wits end from the relentless howling wind. It’s pretty clear in my mind I have no intention of battling this and much, much worse for 20 days.
I’m content just looking at the summit, I don’t need to try and go there.

Infront of mighty Aconcagua (6,962m)

-Dan

Typical North-East Argentina...

Cool rock formations

In Bolivia, Peru, and the mountains of Ecuador it was obvious a huge percentage of the population are trying hard to retain the cultural ideas of their ancestors; clothes, language, crafts and a simple means of living. Not so in Argentina. My immediate impression is the Argentines take immense pride in their Spanish heritage, and live that life to the full.
Every village, town and city in Latin America, big or small, boasts a central plaza, a kind of hub for the town. More often than not I’ve seen desolate concrete dust bowls, scaring away even the street dogs. Here in Argentina I’ve seen the exact opposite, beautiful plazas bursting with shady trees, green grass and plenty of tables and chairs – extremely inviting places to be, and not surprisingly packed with friendly people.

I've wanted to camp in one of these "rock forts" for a long time

This pool is 106m x 56m - good for 1000 people!

After a couple of days of adjustment and a huge re-resupply (at Wal-Mart…) I head back into the mountains and quickly find Route 40, the epic route from North to South I’ve heard so much about. This highway runs along The Andes all the way to Ushuaia, my long dreamed-of destination and seeing the kilometer marker of 4700km is an extremely bizarre feeling – not only am I close and in the right country, I could theoretically stay on this highway to the end.
Woah.

The Jeep high on route 40

Red rocks everywhere

Over a week or so I meander my way South watching the kilometer markers constantly decrease and spend more than a few days in the beautiful little town of Cafayate.

-Dan

Rob decides to rest for another day, so in the early afternoon myself, Warren & Sara roll up to Customs and are stamped out of Chile after only 24 hours. We drive back up over the same pass as the day before and come to the international border some 270km later, high in the mountains.
Rob & Sara have fallen behind, so I move inside, fill out another tourist card good for 90 days in Argentina, then get another sheet of paper for the Jeep based on the registration.
Again, no money, no copies, no worries.

International border

I wait and wait, and start to get worried as the light fades. Warren’s been having a lot of trouble with his Toyota and I really don’t know what to do. I’m already stamped into Argentina and I don’t think I have enough gas to go back to find them. I leave a note at immigration and reluctantly move on, into my 16th and possibly final country. While driving a few more hours I think long and hard about the fact I’m now in Argentina and have essentially no more border crossings for my journey. Sure, I’ll cross Chile/Argentina/Chile a few more times, but those seem almost superficial and irrelevant.
So close now.

Summer is coming...

At 8pm I watch the beautiful sunset wearing shorts, flip-flops and a T-shirt.
Roll on another summer of camping, hiking & gorgeous mountains!

-Dan

The amazingly remote border post

To get an exit stamp from Bolivia, we need to each pay 15 Bolivianos (about USD$2), he says. Warren, Sara and Rob have already paid up when I ask for my usual receipt, which is where the trouble starts. The more-or less official-looking receipts, complete with hologram, are stapled to the tourist cards he has just removed from our passports. Unfortunately, he can’t give us a copy because they have to be sent to La Paz.
I’m tired, hungry, covered in dust and not at in the mood for any South American bribery crap and proceed to argue loudly with him for the next ten minutes about how this is an official border crossing and there is no way I would be required to pay money without an official receipt. Furthermore, I add, I watched at the immigration office in Uyuni while ten tourists were stamped out, on their way to cross this exact border. Nobody paid a cent there.
“Yeah, that’s different”. Sure it is.

Chile, complete with road signs!

Rob points out he only paid 12 or 13 Bolivianos, everything he had, and the guard accepted it happily. In my mind, this is always a sure sign of something screwy – the guy is happy to take what he can get. In the end he reluctantly stamps my passport and gives it back, though my tourist card doesn’t get a hologram-equipped sticker.
While waiting for Rob to organize some gear I stew in the Jeep, wondering if that was a really stupid thing to do. He could easily not hand in my customs paperwork, or mess with my tourist card, or …
I think I’m getting a little too big for my boots and taking this arguing thing a little far.
Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut and pay the USD$2.

We move off into Chile and can’t help but take photos of the excellent paved road we’re following for another 45km into San Pedro de Atacama. It’s all downhill and I think the gas gauge on the Jeep actually goes up a little, alleviating all my prior stress. It’s a serious shock to see a road with a great surface, well painted lines, distance signs, corner signs and emergency stopping lanes for trucks. On top of all this the other drivers even use signals to overtake and do so sensibly and safely.
I seriously wonder if I am hallucinating from exhaustion.

Paved road goodness!

We pull over at the customs checkpoint just out of town, are stamped into the country after filling out yet another tourist card, and receive paperwork for our cars based on the registration.
No copies, no money, quick and easy.
Chile is pretty serious about keeping out fruits and vegetables, so we sign a very serious looking legal declaration before a cursory inspection where my honey and popcorn are both confiscated, currently my two favorite food items.

We roll forwards into Chile, a whole new world.

-Dan

Sand everywhere

We soon develop a rhythm whereby whichever vehicle is closer jumps out to assist Rob as the Harley topples over time and time again in the deep sand, or else gets beached on the home-made skid plate. Following the most obvious track and trusting the occasional sign we miraculously arrive in the little village of San Juan, a great rest stop. Just twenty minutes out of town the Harley repeatedly loses power, to the point it’s unridable. Over the course of an hour and many false starts we diagnose and tighten a loose battery connector, to get the monster roaring to life once again. Since sunset the road has become unbearably cold and windswept and even after I put on all my thermals and 5 layers my extremities are numb, and I have a bad case of windburn on my arms, face and legs.
Likewise for the others.
We head back into San Juan and get a warm hostel for the night, exhausted and excited at the same time.

Rob and the mighty Harley

The morning is crisp and clear and we leave town in a different direction than yesterday, on the advice of locals. The salt flat of Chiguana is a great relief after the horrible roads and we can move along at 60km/h on even the worst parts. After posing for photos with the heavily armed military guys in Chiguana we take their advice and turn South, quickly realizing we’re on a tiny track that is seldom driven. There can be no doubt, this is a desert, complete with sand dunes, crazy rock formations and extremely little vegetation in the baking hot sun.

Crazy rock formations in the desert

Using my map and compass I’m pretty confident I can navigate us around and feel like the 6000ish meter mountains surrounding us correspond with the map nicely. When we arrive at the sizable village of Copacabaña, confidence in my navigation drops, and not for the first time in Bolivia I have absolutely no idea where we are. Incidentally, I’ve still never seen that village on a map and have no idea where it actually is. Again, our faith goes to the locals, and again we drive through, in and around an enormous desert, this one packed with rock towers and bright red dirt, reminding me of the national parks of Utah. With little confidence I conclude we’re driving on roads that are not on any of my maps, and we’re happy to pass a few Landcruisers packed with tourists going the other direction – a sign we are probably (hopefully) on the right track.
Late in the day we arrive at Laguna Hedionda, packed with pink flamingoes, and hope that a few abandoned rock huts will provide enough protection for camping from the frigid wind whipping around us.

Younger white flamingo

The older ones turn pink from eating shells

The temperature plummets overnight and I’m not surprised to find all my water bottles are frozen solid, as is the washer fluid under the hood of the Jeep. Early in the morning Rob and I get separated from Warren and Sara and after waiting almost an hour I drive back the 10km, and start to get a little nervous about gas. After scraping over a rock, Warren has found oil leaking from the transfer case and is rolling around in the dust trying to figure out what’s going on. A driver from one of the tour companies assures us it’s just the breather venting a little oil because of the seriously cold night, and we move on, keeping a close eye on things.

Serious isolation

Our days begin to blur, moving from one flamingo-covered lake to the next, crossing sandy, rocky and then pebble strewn barren deserts, all the while at around 4500m in elevation. Highlights include a stop at the rock tree, the stunning orange & white Laguna Colorada and camping at a hot spring on the side of the road. The nights are now excruciatingly cold and the sun blazes during the day, causing ever increasing sun and windburn. The exhaustion and stress begin to tear at us as we’re all anxious about our quickly depleting drinking water, food and gasoline supplies.

Crazy beautiful mountains

The amigos at the rock tree

Without a doubt this is the kind of adventure I’ve been searching for my entire trip, maybe even my entire life. There is no safety net, no room for error – seriously far off the track, rolling with the punches, thinking on my feet, living it to the fullest.
By far the most full-on, out there adventure of my life.

Three vehciles in the desert

Beautiful sky

On the sixth and final day we’ve all hit our limit, physically and mentally. The last liter of water is shared out between us, and all gas containers have been empty for days. Everybody we ask is certain of the distance we still have remaining, though none of them agree. The fear of running out of gas is too great, so we buy more from a guy on the side of the road. Rob doesn’t have any Bolivian money remaining, so I lend him all I have, closing down my options fast.
Further South at Laguna Verde the wind torments my ragged state of mine and I can only stand outside the Jeep for 10 seconds, long enough for one photo. I become fixated on the enormous Volcán Licancahur (5760m), sitting at the far end of the lake and marking the border with Chile.
Almost there.

Freaky Laguna Colorada

Roads of sand

After a stupid debacle where the trucks are separated from the motorbike, I end up driving back around the entire lake, yelling and screaming to myself about the 35km of gas wasted the whole time.
Eventually we find Rob waiting at the border, and we all manage to grin and laugh when we realize we’ve done it. We’re there.

Amazing views from the hot spring

Laguna Verde, with Volcán Licancahur (5760m) in the background

Almost.

-Dan

(A note to anyone attempting this – From the last gas station in Uyuni to the Chilean border we drove 570km with minimum back-tracking and screwing around. It’s another 45km to the first gas station in Chile. Driving at extremely high elevation and crawling through sand and rock deserts decreased my usual gas milage by 25%-35%)

The three vehicles almost on the flats

En route to our entrance point of Colchani I’m stunned to see an Emu & chicks.
Again, that is not a typo. Emu. In bolivia. More bizarre.
We’ve heard over and over the most dangerous part of the salt flats are the entrance points – sometimes with heavy rain they can turn to muddy salt water where a vehicle will sink up to it’s axles. We follow the heavily used track and after navigating a few small puddles, we’re happily rolling on solid salt. Bizarre is now normal.
The surface is extremely hard, though not perfectly flat due to the salt forming hexagon like shapes on the surface.

The amigos elated to be on the salt flats

Salt Cairn

There are heavily used ‘roads’ where black tire tread makes it easy to follow, or it’s perfectly OK to veer off in any direction and go wherever I want. We’re constantly stopping to take photos and it’s hard not to drive a little crazy with the other guys so close by. Some guides point to the tracks we want to follow and we set off, grinning from ear to ear on our way to Incahuasi Island – A piece of land jutting up from the flats where we camp for the night.

Rob & Warren on the flats

The views go on in every direction

In the morning we all smile and laugh while experimenting with ‘perspective’ photos with all the props we can find. Because there is nothing to give perspective, it’s easy to make objects look extremely small or big, just like being on the moon.

Rolling on the salt flats

Our campsite at Incahuasi Island

Sunset over the salt flats

It’s great to have so many hours to really soak in the alien landscape and every few minutes we all go silent and just stare around us, still disbelieving.

Sunrise over the salt flat from Incahuasi Island

The views in every direction

That's one GIANT Jeep

Warren fishing

Throwing the frisbee out here is great fun

Reluctantly, we move South, and safely off the salt flat, beginning the next part of the adventure…

-Dan

The Rich Mountain above Potosi

I sign up for a mine tour with “The Real Deal”, a group of guys who used to work in the mines, have been guides for many years and have recently started their own tour company. We gear up in full weather-proof gear, gumboots, helmets and headlamps before a visit to the miner’s market – a district of town where all the essentials can be purchased, namely dynamite and coco leaves for chewing. It’s tradition for tourists to purchase these items to offer as gifts, so we stock up.
Playing with a stick of dynamite with the detonator and fuse inserted is a little surreal

TNT in hand, with detonator and fuse

Down at the refinery we see textbook techniques from the 1750′s. The raw rock is crushed and refined with a variety of chemicals to a raw paste, containing lead and tiny amounts of silver. There are no safety measures of any kind, and almost everything is hard manual labour.

Coco Leaves for chewing

After a short drive up to the mountain we enter the mine and after a few hundred meters I’ve smashed my head on the low roof about 10 times and am extremely thankful for the helmet. We stop about 800 meters in and the harsh environment begins to show it’s ugly head. It’s extremely hot & humid, due to the elevation there is very little air and most of that is stale with clouds of dust sitting still for us to choke on.

All the latest technology at the refinery

We enter a small side tunnel where the humidity and dust increase times ten and find a family chipping painfully slowly at the rock face. After crawling on my belly I enter a chamber half the size of my Jeep, where the father is using a hammer and chisel to “drill” a hole in the rock suitable for dynamite. After the struggle to get in I’m really short on air and extremely hot and uncomfortable, to the point I have to concentrate to calm myself down. The man is working in an extremely tight space, and only has about 25cm to swing the hammer, before rotating the chisel and repeating – each time issuing a genuine grunt from the effort and sweating profusely.
It will take him six hours to make one dynamite hole.

He’s 55 and has been working in the mine for over 35 years, ten to twelve hours a day, six or seven days a week. His son, 16, is working in the next chamber gathering small fragments of rock by hand. Their brothers, uncles and cousins are scattered around, chipping, digging and gathering rock. They have been in the mine for eight hours already today, and will probably do another four, he says. Because of the harsh conditions in the mine, none of them eat any food during the day, they only chew coco leaves and drink soda. While watching them work for ten minutes in unbearable conditions, it really sinks in they will be doing this for the rest of their lives.
The combination of shock and pity I feel for this family is overwhelming and I give them all my dynamite and coco.

I have never even imagined third-world slave labour, and it really moves me. Seeing the 16 year old boy working in these conditions is a very powerful sight. The miners all work for themselves, usually in a family unit and earn USD $14 on a good day, around half that on average. Most expect to die by the age of fifty, overcome by lung and respiratory problems. It’s not surprising the miners toast prosperity with 96% alcohol, and I’m bewildered to see the bottle we sip out of is exactly the same as the one I bought to burn in my camp stove.

It’s an extremely difficult situation to dwell upon, and I am lost in my thoughts as we make our way back down the tunnel to sunlight and fresh air.
Outside, our guides take a stick of TNT (which really does feel just like soft clay), put in a detonator and fuse, pack the whole thing in a bag of ammonium nitrate and light the fuse. While everybody else surges back, I move forward, eager to hold the dynamite with fuse furiously burning down.
After thirty seconds of fun they run down the hill, deposit the package on the ground and run back before the explosion, which is strong enough to knock the wind out of my lungs. Woah.

Holding the smoking package...

Visiting the cooperative silver mine of Potosi is a first-hand experience of poverty and desperation in the third world. Something I will not soon forget.

I highly recommend the guys at “The Real Deal”.
It is.

-Dan

It goes without saying I’m driving it.

The infamous South Yungas Road

Immediately after turning off the pavement is a huge sign asking Señor Motorist to drive with care, and confusingly, to drive on the left. Huh?
The locals appear to ignore this making we wonder how many accidents this sign alone has caused. A couple of guys explain that driving on the left puts both drivers on the outside edge of the road, making it much easier for them to get within millimeters of the cliff edges. Riiiight.

Jeep waiting for The Road Of Death

After a few tame kilometers of standard gravel road I find myself right in the thick of a vertigo-inducing track seemingly glued to the side of the mountain. It’s barely wide enough for my little Jeep, has extremely tight curves and absolutely zero guard rails to protect the thousand-meter cliff edges. While I’m taking a few photos thinking it’s not all that dangerous by South American standards a fully loaded truck comes blazing around a hairpin bend with absolutely no warning of any kind.
Oh. Now I see.

It's a loooong way down

Driving through heavy fog amplifies my already on-edge nerves, so much so I play a tune with my horn around every hairpin, hoping like mad someone on the other side will hear my approach and actually pay attention. At various times waterfalls cascade off the mountains above directly onto the road, causing me to fumble for the wipers. Ominously, many of the sharper curves are marked with plaques remembering those who have died. I descend further and further, leaving high mountain tundra for dense jungle, humidity and every conceivable kind of biting insect. At times the fog is so thick I can barely see the road in front of me, before clearing to reveal the upcoming curves for the next couple of hundred meters.

I'm sure that fog makes it safer

After a solid half hour of nail-biting tension the road mercifully yields, becoming wider and straighter before eventually turning into a standard gravel road once again. I didn’t have to deal with much oncoming traffic on the day of my visit, though I an easily see how just a handful loaded busses, suicidal motorbike riders and the odd clueless tourist would make this a very dangerous place to be.

View into the distance

Checkout the short video below for my driving perspective of “The World’s Most Dangerous Road”.

-Dan

Camping by Lake Titicaca

About 200 meters along the road I arrive at the Bolivian side and get things moving. At Immigration I fill out a Tourist Card and am stamped in for 30 days. Next door at customs a friendly guy takes a copy of my passport and registration, types up the Jeep details, has me sign my copy and I’m all done in less than 5 minutes – a new record.
I ask about required insurance and am told I absolutely need it by law, but can only buy it in La Paz, about 150kms away. I should drive very carefully from here to there though, because there will be serious problems if I get in an accident without insurance. To ward off Police bribes I should just show my Peru insurance (actually from Ecuador), because they won’t know the difference!
I leave smiling and shaking my head at the same time.

Welcome to Bolivia

At the actual boom-gate two customs/military guys look over my papers before we walk together to their office to stamp and sign things before they’ll let me through. One of them is not happy about the crack in my windshield, telling me it’s illegal in Bolivia and he simply can’t let me pass. I explain I’ve been trying to buy a new one ever since Ecuador, but can’t find just the right glass. The Jeep needs a perfectly flat piece of glass, you see, and they just don’t have them around here.
He’s quite shocked by my completely made-up explanation and can’t do anything other than let me through.

I’ve been playing this game so long, I think I’m getting too good.

I drive ahead into Bolivia, without the border guards so much as glancing at anything inside the Jeep. Just past Copacabana is a Police checkpoint where they “register” vehicles by checking that papers and drivers licenses match. After stamping my papers the officer says I need to pay 10 Bolivianos (about $USD 1.50), which I’m of course happy to do, if he’ll just provide a receipt.
Surely, you guys are the Police, this is an official charge, there must be an official receipt?
He mumbles something to himself, so I take my papers and walk out.
I do, however, pay the 20 Boliviano “Copacabana Tourist Fee” that I’ve been warned about, which does come with an official receipt.

The floating pile of boards I caught across Lake Titicaca

By the second Police checkpoint I’m already familiar with the process, and it is reassuring that if someone stole the Jeep they would not get far at all. Interestingly a couple of the younger guys point out a sign showing I need two emergency triangles, a first aid kit and fire extinguisher to drive in Bolivia. I genuinely think they’re pointing it out because they want to make sure I am somewhat prepared for the roads that lie ahead, not because they want to bribe me.
When I’m about to leave the older officer says I can pay a “voluntary” charge of 10 bolivianos for the stamp he just gave me. He says this in very roundabout Spanish, so I play the “I don’t understand” game for a minute or two before he is so sick of me he shoos me out the door in disgust.

A little further on a huge group of Land Cruisers, Pajeros and Pathfinders with lift-kits, big wheels, spotlights, winches and more lead me to think I’ve bumped into a 4×4 club on a tour.
On closer inspection it turns out they are just taxis waiting for a fair. Oh.

Something tells me I’m about to find some pretty serious roads…

-Dan

The owner of the campsite has this little guy

I set out early one morning and drive through The Sacred Valley, passing Pisac, Ollantaytambo, Santa Maria and along a very narrow little track to the village of Santa Teresa. I’m amazed at the dense jungle and feel like I’m right back in Central America – complete with torrential rain, humidity and thick clouds of ferocious biting insects. I camp for the night at the “Inka Tour Hospedaje” where the friendly owner charges next to nothing and lets me park the Jeep while I go hiking for a few days. Walking the 40 minutes at dust to the Hot Springs near town is very worthwhile – an evening soak with just a couple of other people.

The remote road to Hydroelectrica

In the morning I hike two hours along a windy gravel road to Hydroelectrica, the heat and humidity climbing steadily the entire time. This is actually the last stop on the famous railway, and while I could catch a train for USD$8, I opt to walk the tracks for a further two hours to Aguas Calientes. Impressively, Machu Picchu Mountain is directly in front of me for most of the hike, and ruins are visible high above on Wayna Picchu to the left.

"Please, walk on the tracks"

The town of Aguas Calientes is the very definition of a tourist trap, everything is over-priced about 400% and we are all quite literally stuck there for the night. After meeting up with a few friends and grabbing a “happy hour” beer we can’t help but make fun of the advertising – people are trying to lure us in left and right, we’re even told it’s 6-for-1 drinks right now. Upon closer investigation it’s nothing of the sort, and even the Argentineans with perfect Spanish can’t get the proprietor to explain how it even remotely resembles the claimed 6-for-1.
The beer is expensive, cold and great

Jungle and train tracks

I’m up at 4am in the morning, not content to pay the USD$8 one-way for the bus to the actual site of Machu Picchu. About 50 people have opted to walk the very steep ascent, which takes around 90 minutes. When I arrive soon after 5am I’m about the 15th person in line, clearly guaranteed to get the all-importatnt stamp to climb Wayna Picchu, of which there are only 400 issued each day.

Amazed to be there

Seeing the site for the first time is surreal, compounded by the fact I am one of the first through the gate, so there is not a single person wandering the ruins. Staring for half an hour does little to change my feeling of disbelief. Over the course of the day I hike up the nearby Wayna Picchu Mountain where the views are spectacular, hike the final section of The Inca Trail to Intipunku (The Sun Gate) and finally hike up Machu Picchu Mountain for superlative views of the whole area.

Climbing to Wayna Picchu

The view from Wayna Picchu

By the end of the day I am extremely hungry and thirsty, though not willing to pay the outrageously inflated prices for food and water on the mountain. I walk back down to Aguas Calientes, drink two liters of expensive water and collapse after a very big day.

The view from Intipunku (The Sun Gate) Inca Trail on left

The superlative view from Machu Picchu Mountain

For my final day I’m on the trail at 5.30am, hike the four hours back to Santa Teresa, then jump in the Jeep to drive the six hours back to Cuzco. Another big day.
Extremely tired and foot-sore I find the energy to walk into town and I’m pretty sure I make money at the USD$5 buffet.

The stonework is extremely precise

-Dan

• Driving through a heavy snowstorm near Cerro de Pasco. For the first time I see Peruvians drive with anything resembling restraint or diligence.

• Watching an enormous thunderstorm roll right in front my campsite, with a beautiful sunset as the backdrop.

Sunset in the mountains

• Wandering into a shopping centre in Huancayo that is bigger, brighter and all-round ‘more’ than anything I’ve seen before. These guys have copied the North American model to the letter, complete with suits walking around taking copious notes about everything and anything. My appearance is apparently significant, as they all go crazy writing and following me around to see where I go.

• Randomly meeting a friendly local in Ayacucho, hanging out with him all day and having a great night with all his friends. Staying at the ‘Discoteca’ until 3.30 necessitates an extra day in Ayacucho.

Just another Peruvian highway...

• Seeing Peruvian road construction in full-scale action – I know this doesn’t sound like much, but it really is a sight to see. Around 100km at a time is worked on, and each corner I round I see at least a hundred workers digging, drilling and jack-hammering, not to mention the hundreds of pieces of heavy machinery of all kinds. In a few hours I see tens of thousands of Peruvians working hard to surface these crazy mountain roads. And the best part of all? The entire area is lit, so work continues 24 hours a day.

• Discovering my camp stove gets hot enough to cook popcorn. I see a lot of popcorn in my future.

I arrive in Cuzco right on sunset and find my way to the amazing Quinta Lala campground, essentially dedicated to overland travelers. Checkout their Previous Visitors page to get an idea of the kind of vehicles people are driving around down here. With wifi, a laundry, kitchen, dry area for camping and plenty of green grass only 15 mins walk from the center of town it’s going to be hard to leave.

Cuzco

Jeep in the main square of Cuzco

-Dan

Day 7 – 1700 meter ascent / 1350 meter decent / xx km / 9 hrs
Very cold night. Am happy to see daylight. Leave at 6.40am, up to Mirador San Antonio by 8am. Wow. Unbelievable. Never imagined would be here to see all this – site of Joe Simpson’s ‘Touching The Void’. Siula Grande spectacular.
On real trail at 9am, make great time on flat. Pack feels very good, like normal hiking weight. Arrive at town of Huayllapa at 1pm expecting 1hr climb to campsite. Push on and on, uphill whole time for 2.5hrs without lunch. Utterly exhausted. Hardest day yet. Zero energy. In bed before dark.
Feet wet & worse. Boots literally falling apart.

Siula Grande (6260m) - Joe Simpson's mountain

"Touching the Void"

Loving the view at Mirador San Antionio

The immense views

Sunset at the Tapuish campsite

Day 8 – 500 meter ascent / 1200 meter decent / xx km / 7.5 hrs
Cold again overnight. Hours awake. On trail at 7am. Push past first pass (Punta Tapuish, 4800m) in good time. Through valley to second (Punta Yaucha, 4840m). Not too steep. Again good time. Finally keeping up with suggested times in guide. Lunch on top. Down lush valley to familiar campsite (Laguna Yahuacocha from day 1).
Somehow easy day. Feel good. Feet same.
Last night feels strange.

View from Punta Yaucha (4840m)

Day 9 – 700m ascent / 600m descent / xx km / 4.5 hrs
Good sleep. Out at 7am. 2.5hrs up to Pampa Llamac Pass (4300m), 2hrs down to Llamac. Jeep safe.
Final victory Oreo with bag of chips and cold Coke.
Exhausted & jubilant.

Laguna Yahuacocha from above

-Dan

Day 5 – 500 meter ascent / 400 meter decent / xx km / 5 hrs
Very low cloud & overcast in morning, away at 7am. Cruise up to pass (Portachuelo de Huayhuash, 4750m), snowing at top and quickly very cold. Arrive at hotsprings at 12, light rain. Soak all afternoon, then explore. LOTS of hot water around. Nighttime soak. Into bed very warm.
Short, easy day.

Cloudy start in the morning

The campsite at the Huayhuash hotsprings

The Huayhuash hotsprings

Tons of hot water in valley

Day 6 – 525 meter ascent / 500 meter decent / xx km / 5 hrs
Almost all blue sky at 6am – move! On trail at 7.10am. Slow and steady to Punta Cuyoc (5000m), highest on trail. Feel much better. Pack lighter, moving very well. Only short rests now. View from top amazing, a little cloudy. Cut day short, camp ready to hike to Mirador San Antonio first thing.
Again very short, easy day. I feel good.
Camping alone. Solitude is BIG here.

Extremely close to Cuyoc

Up hight on Punta Cutoc (5000m)

Solitary camping under Cuyoc

The Guanacpatay valley, where I camped

-Dan

Day 3 – 570 meter ascent / 960 meter decent / xx km / 9 hrs
Up early. Less ice on tent. Away at 6.50am. 2hrs 20 mins to top of pass (4685m). Pack feels better – lighter and re-arranged. Take short-cut, arrive at Laguna Mitacocha, finish for day, at 11.30am. Decided not to cook lunch from now on, possible fuel shortage. F**k it, keep going. Another pass (Carhuac 4650m), 4 more hours. Extremely slow. Arrive at Laguna Carhuacocha after 9 hours, setup tent in rain / sleet. Crawl inside, wet, muddy and exhausted & find big bloodstains on both socks.
Damn.
Old boots rubbing badly. Eat two Oreos to cheer up. After fixing feet (wash, dry, disinfect, cover, dry socks) eat two more.
Oreo ration for tomorrow gone.

There's a hotspring in this valley... somewhere

The cloudy campsite at Laguna Carhuacocha

Day 4 – 500 meter ascent / 200 meter decent / xx km / 7.5 hrs
Heavy rain overnight & very overcast morning, slow start. Away at 8am. Walk down valley with most active glaciers I’ve ever seen, cracking and avalanching. Sounds like a jet flying overhead. Past beautiful lakes (Lagunas Siula & Quesillococha) to highest pass yet (4800m). Extraordinarily slow going up, am proud to be only 5 mins behind guys wearing day packs. Mind-blowing views of Yerupajá (6634m) and Siula Grande (6344m). Beautiful sunny spot for lunch (still no cooking). Can walk almost normal speed now on flat, still painfully slow up and down. Soak in afternoon sun at Huayhuash campsite (3.30pm). Throughly warm up & dry out. Sunset unbelievable.
Feet same.

Enormous Yerupaja (6635m)

Laguna Siula

Laguna Siula HDR

Another enormous glacier

Loving the glacer views

Glaciers, glaciers everywhere

These glaciers are very active

Sunset over Huayhuash

Sunset over the Huayhuash campsite

-Dan

I have to give this a try!

The hike is commonly organized in a group of about ten people, with a guide, cook, donkey train and enough gear and food to supply a small army. During the day hikers only wear a small day pack, all meals are cooked and tents are even setup by the guides.
As you might have guessed, this is not my style at all. For me, the only way is with everything on my own back, completely solo.

After a few days resting and gearing up in Huaraz, I wind along bumpy mountainous roads to the tiny town of Llamac, both the start and end point of the hike. I park the Jeep in a secure lot and camp on the town soccer field for the night, organizing and re-organizing my gear, barely able to contain my excitement.

——-

Here I record the notes I scrawled at the end of each day before crawling into my sleeping bag…

Day 1 – 1000 meter ascent / 250 meter decent / xx km / 6.5 hrs
On trail at 8.30am. 1000m climb to Pampa Llamac Pass with heaviest pack of life. Food for 10 days. Very hot, dry canyon with sunburn and cacti. Camp at beautiful lake (Laguna Yahuacocha). Get good info from couple just finishing. Discover hole in Thermarest in the night, wake 5 times to blow it up.
Damn cacti.

The Llamac valley

View from the Pampa Llamac Pass (4300m)

Campsite at Laguna Yahuacocha

Laguna Yahuacocha at sunrise

Reflections on Laguna Yahuacocha

Day 2 – 700 meter ascent / 550 meter decent / xx km / 7 hrs
Thick ice on tent at 6am, walking at 7. 700m climb first thing, above a glacial lake (Laguna Solteracocha). Very hard and slow going. Legs and back very sore. Punta Rondoy (4750m) beautiful. Very slow down. LONG walk down valley after lunch, small concern when km markers on road don’t match, 10 mins later at Matacancha campsite (2pm). Lots of time left in day. No energy.
Big group of Israelis arrive with all the gear, who will be shadowing me from now on.

View from Punta Rondoy (4750m)

Glacial views

Infront of Ninashanca (5607m)

Matacancha campsite, day 2

-Dan

Jeep and Huascarán (6768m), Peru's tallest mountain

Mountain views

The following morning I hike for six hours up to Punta Yanayacu (4850m), just to enjoy the view, before coming back down and camping another night in the middle of nowhere.

The view from Punta Yanayacu

My campsites are getting more beautiful by the day

The little valley I called home for a couple of days

-Dan

My campsite below Laguna 69

Laguna 69 with Chacraraju (6001m) behind

Mountains in all directions

Huandoy (6000m) on the left, Pisco (5752) and the Peru Refuge

More mountains

Having a good look at Peru's tallest mountain, Huascaran (6768m)

My submission for craziest switchbacked road

Glacier-melt rivers are in all directions

-Dan

The mountains around Parón

And more mountains

After a steep, bumpy hill climb I reach Laguna Parón, 4185 meters above sea level. It’s a beautiful glacier-fed lake and I enjoy the hike down to the end and back so much I decide to camp the night. In the morning, the mountain at the end of the lake, Piramide (5885m) is extremely clear and looks to be smoking (it’s not).

Laguna Parón and Piramide (5885m)

The views around the Cordillera Blanca are jaw-dropping, so I think I’ll let the photos do the talking for a while.

My HDR attempt at the lake

-Dan

The start is nice and mellow...

With a wide, rocky canyon

About 10 or 20kms North of Chimbote on the PanAm the turn for Huallanca is (surprisingly) very well marked from both directions with huge green signs. Fumble your way through the little town here (ask directions), and leave on the asphalt road, which  is horribly torn up in a few places. After about half an hour the pavement ends at a police checkpoint, tell them you are headed to Carez/Huaraz (where all the tourists are going) and the friendly guys will tell you to continue straight ahead, not turn left over the bridge. You can safely follow that advice for the next 3-4 hours, always staying near the river, on the major road. Keep your eyes out for some great camping spots right down by the water, a couple of which are very well hidden from the road.

The water is 'sliding' down the smooth rocks, not 'falling'

One of the many hand-cut tunnels

The road is gravel, and extremely corrugated and dusty, which is fine because you’ll want to drive slowly to take in the views anyway. The canyon walls climb higher and higher and you are soon passing through tunnels that were hand-cut through solid stone. After the town of Huallanca, things get really crazy at Cañón del Pato. The huge hydro plant is wedged into the narrow canyon which rises over 1000 meters in a few places and the road gets narrower and the tunnels get longer making you wonder just how this is all possible.

Daybreak at my campsite in the canyon

Spectacular morning views

When all is said and done you’ll wind up driving straight into Carez, which is exactly where you want to be

The views continue...

An amazing road, well worth a look. Thanks JF!

-Dan

Photo of a photo of Laguna de los Cóndores

One of the original mummies

In need of gas, I go hunting for the station I was told about numerous times. Somehow I can’t find it, even though there is only one road out of town. After being escorted by a friendly guy on a motorbike it turns out I couldn’t see it because it’s not a gas station at all, merely a guy on the side of the road selling 5 gallon containers, for the crazy price of US$5.25/gal. I’m a little concerned when I see him wiping out containers and funnels with a dirty old rag, though he assures me his homemade funnel has two different filters, and it’s all good. Riiight. After bypassing the little security latch on the filler in the Jeep, I hold the funnel steady while he slowly adds gas with a soup ladle, slowly being the key to actually make it go in, not all over my hands and flip-flops.
I think this takes the cake for the most expensive gas so far and also the most amusing.

The mountain road, stuck to the side of the mountain

To swap to the other side of the Andes I take a crazy mountain road, apparently glued to the side of sheer cliffs. The views are breathtaking, though I try hard to keep my eyes on the road, a little gun shy of the inevitable suicidal truck drivers on the blind corners. Dropping down out of the mountains to sea level for the first time in many months is a crazy feeling, and I move from lush vegetation, through arid, barren mountainsides all the way down to lush green valleys where rice and tropical fruits are bountiful.

Pure madness

Arriving at the Pan American highway is like a huge slap in the face – one I had no idea was coming. All around I see row upon row of crumbling shacks scattered with enormous piles of trash (some of them burning unattended), trucks and tuk-tuks spewing smoke and people throwing trash out car and bus windows. Even the trees and shrubs are collecting plastic blowing in the wind and where the earth has been turned over for farming, it’s also thick with trash. The air, too, is choked and disgusting – a combination of exhaust fumes, dust and burning trash. Each town I pass through is the same – an enormous dust bowl of crumbing buildings, overflowing with trucks and virtual mountains of trash.
Maybe being off the road for so long has made me soft, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen outright poverty like this since … well, … ever.
This is not the Peru I’ve heard and read about for so long. Somehow this part seems to get left out.

Lush green, to arid mountains

There are, however, a couple of benefits to driving the Pan-Am – gas is noticeably cheaper, it’s almost impossible to get lost (The Pan-Am is by far the biggest road around) and I can comfortably sit on about 90km/h, a speed I’ve not seen for a while. After a couple of hours of extremely flat, windswept desert landscape I turn off and happily head back up into the mountains.
As I climb up once again, the scenery plays out much like the morning in reverse; from dusty filth, to lush green valleys, to arid mountain rockiness.

What's that I spy in the distance?

-Dan

The enormous perimeter wall

The grand entrance of kuélap

I spend about three hours wandering around, at first in awe of the massive perimeter wall, then the tiny detail on the house buildings. Excavation and restoration work is still underway and it’s especially cool to see the sections that have been restored alongside the original decaying ruins.

Working on the wall

A house building

All the employees are extremely friendly and happy to chat about anything and everything. It’s obvious they are very proud of the city and the work being done there, and rightly so. I wind up having lunch with a bunch of the workers and it’s really interesting to see more of what goes on ‘behind the scenes’. About 10 ladies are painstakingly cleaning, sorting, labeling and boxing everything unearthed, from tiny fragments of pottery to entire human skulls.

The unrestored sections are really cool to see

The setting high in the mountains is unbelievable

After I’ve climbed under, over and around everything in site I camp in the parking lot, a grassy area high on the mountainside where I watch both sunset and sunrise – beautiful.

Two snakes carved into the rock

Lots of houses in the middle part

-Dan

Looking inconspicuous in the main square of Chachapoyas

We more than succeed in sampling the Peruvian beer, and are up early, though not so bright the following morning. Our first adventure has us winding through tiny villages high in the mountains, a few hours of driving then half an hour hiking down into a deserted valley. At this burial site, called Karajia, six painted tombs stand high on the cliff face, watching over the beautiful valley below. It’s extremely peaceful and we hangout in the morning sunshine, happy to have the entire place to ourselves.

The Karajia tombs lie on this cliff face

The Karajia Tombs

Not entirely sure where to go next, we detour though a few other small towns and stumble across a little museum and tourist office, exactly the place we need to be. The friendly staff provide directions and a key so we can gain access to Pueblo De Los Muertes or, The Village Of The Dead. Again we drive out into the wilderness before hiking down into a beautiful valley to find a crumbling village perched on the side of a mountain.

The Village of The Dead

It’s dark by the time we make it back to town, and after a big meal for about US$1.25 in the local market I fall straight asleep.

The mighty Gocta Waterfall (771 meters)

The following morning we head off in search of more adventure, this time provided by the Gocta Waterfall, (apparently not) the third highest in the world at 771 meters. After another friendly information office and small entry fee, we set out hiking, barely able to see the falls in the distance. We walk intermittently through dense forest then break out into clearings where we catch glimpses of the falls growing as we get closer and closer. After a couple of hours, the beautiful forest parts and we find ourselves at the base of the falls, hardly able to believe our eyes. From where we stand it’s not even possible to see the very top, and it’s still absolutely enormous. We sit around chatting, still not believing our eyes and soaking in the peace and quiet.

The trail to the falls

By the time we wander back to the Jeep and drive back into town, dusk is fast approaching and so I decide to stay “just one more night”. The enormous plate of chicken and chips we’ve been talking about all day has absolute nothing to do with my decision.

Just the lower section, up close

It looks like Peru will mostly be gentle to my budget, things being quite cheap. A hotel room is about USD$3.50-$5, lunch at the market just over $1, and a big beer at a bar about $1.75.
Gasoline appears to be the huge exception. 84 Octane is about $4/gal ($1.05/liter), 90 Octane is $4.80/gal and there are two grades of Diesel that are about the same ($4.80/gal). It does seem to vary wildly, even when two stations are literally across the road from each other. My plan is to avoid any back-and-forth driving, essentially sticking to the straight and narrow to try and keep expenses down.
Let’s see how well that works out.

Driving a great road in the mountains

-Dan

Military check-point on top of the world

The little town of La Balsa itself consists of a handful of buildings sitting immediately before the bridge to Peru, again blocked by a ‘boom gate’ made from a tree trunk. The immigration guys are having breakfast, so I wait half an hour and chat to a lady about exchanging some money. The exchange rate doesn’t appeal to me, neither do her stories about how dangerous it is to travel (in general), with many a story about this and that person getting mugged.

The international border at La Balsa

Once breakfast is finished I hand over the paperwork for the Jeep to Aduana (customs), get a stamp in my passport and drive under the gate in about three minutes flat. The immigration guy did carefully check my visa was still valid – I’ve heard it’s a USD $200 fine if you over-stay.

On the Peruvian side, about 20 meters away, I park in front of a very similar gate and start the process of entering the country. I’m the only ‘guest’ for miles around and so am immediately helped by everyone. I fill out a tourist card at immigration, walk down the hill to get it stamped by the police and wander back to immigration to have it finalized and my passport stamped, good for 90 days. Next door at customs I hand over a copy of my license, passport and registration and the slightly deaf guy on duty has me fill out my own paperwork, with all the mundane details about the Jeep (color, year, make, VIN number, etc.). Half an hour later we stick a giant customs sticker on the windshield and I drive under the gate, officially permitted in Peru.
An extremely simple and friendly border crossing, and free across the board to boot.

Waiting patiently for a ride at the border, I pickup Fabricio, a friendly french guy who made the trip down to extend his stay in Peru. It’s always nice to have someone along and his stories about what to see and do in Peru keeps us chatting in Spanish for hours. The road gets worse and worse, turning from an extremely potholed mud pit, into very flat and slick clay and mud. At one particularly steep hill all the vehicles without 4×4 are stuck at the bottom or waiting at the top, too afraid to try and come down. Just to make things interesting, one large truck is stuck about half way up, right in the middle of the narrow road. I don’t have too much trouble with grip in 4×4, although going around the truck means I put two wheels into the sloping ditch on the side. It’s not a huge problem, going as slow as I am, and the locals are delighted to watch as I slide sideways up the hill with my front wheels on the road and rear wheels in the sloping ditch, all four wheels spitting mud the entire time. Coming down the slick parts reminds me a lot of driving on snow and ice, something the locals have obviously not had too much practice with, evidenced by the number of abandoned vehicles in the ditches.

Looking back to Ecuador

Somehow this part of Peru feels very much like parts of Central America, maybe southern Mexico or Panama. The cities we pass through are very dilapidated, dirty and packed with busses, trucks and thousands of tuk-tuks. The countryside is very tropical, with bananas, pineapples and even rice growing in the fields surrounding the road. It seems like another place where everyone is going to stop and stare as I move past, and the men again feel the need to shout something at me, just to maintain their dominance. After crossing into Colombia I immediately noticed a stark contrast to Central America, a theme that continued right through Ecuador. It’s hard to pinpoint, though I think it’s mostly about complete buildings, concrete footpaths, vehicles that look relatively safe, (somewhat) sensible road intersections and things like that – maybe I’ll sum it all up as ‘more developed’. It’s a really strange feeling to go back to ‘less developed’ again, almost like I’ve progressed backwards, not forwards at all.
I had thought more or less developed was a South America vs. Central thing. Obviously not.

Forward, into Peru

Hours later, after dropping off Fabricio at a bus terminal I’m winding along a beautiful river when the Police pull me over. The three of them are obviously excited to see me and clearly think they are on a winner. Nobody mentioned insurance at the border, so I completely forgot to ask if it was mandatory. These Police are straight onto it, not letting my Ecuadorian papers pass. Quick as a flash one of them whips out the law book and even has the passage highlighted and underlined:
“If you are a tourist traveling through Peru, you must have insurance… If you do not, the penalty follows…”
I’m happily conversing in Spanish, forgetting my usual routine of not understanding (oops). Eventually we wind up over at their car, where one of them has an ‘infraction’ sheet and is about to start writing it out. All three of them are trying to convince me I really don’t want him to write it out, though I say it’s OK, I’ll take the fine down to the next town and pay it, buy some insurance and get on with things. “Oh, no”, they say. “You have to pay it here”. (surprise, surprise) Not phased at all, I explain I don’t have any money on me, only credit cards, my protection against being robbed, you see. This comes as a huge shock and they don’t hide their disappointment one bit. “No money?!” they all exclaim and burst out laughing while handing back all my paperwork and wishing me a safe journey.

New country, same games

-Dan

The road to Peru

I move south to the familiar town of Baños, where I spend a couple of nights at La Casa Verde, an extremely peaceful eco-hostel run by an Aussie and a Kiwi.
Further south I checkout the Incan ruins at Ingapirca, a site Ecuadorians are extremely proud of. It’s a wonderful lazy afternoon wandering around in the sunshine and striking up a conversation with some locals I learn of a planned road-closure for tomorrow. The local indigenous people are again unhappy with the government and are going to blockade all roads in and out of the area for 72 hours, starting at midnight. I’m told they will make no exceptions for me as a foreigner and my tires will be slashed if I try to push my way through.

The ruins at Ingapirca

In the morning I’m almost disappointed to see no signs of any road closures whatsoever after such a big build up. Maybe next time.
Late in the afternoon I arrive in the sleepy village of Vilcabamba, famous for ‘trapping’ visitors with it’s beautiful scenery and friendly atmosphere. After hanging around the town square for a while I learn of The Rumi-Wilco Eco-Reserve, an extremely beautiful place to camp, and go there immediately to setup my tent.
The following day I hike way up into the cloud-forest that surrounds the town, very close to the remotest of all National Parks, Podocarpus. Every statistic I’ve ever heard about this place blows my mind. For example, there are more species of orchids in the park than the rest of the world put together. The list goes on.

The cloud forest near Podocarpus

To avoid getting ‘trapped’ I leave early the following morning and even still strike up an hour long conversation with the guy who runs the book exchange. When he invites me to stay I all but run to the Jeep, him laughing and telling me about how great of a place it is the whole time.

Over 50 years old, going strong with the original motor

For my last night in the country I find a beautiful little spot by a river, not too far from the border to setup my tent. I’m amazed when I look in my passport and see I’ve been in Ecuador just over five months. Wow, that five months went really quickly.

The final campsite in Ecuador

Time for a new country

-Dan

The waiting is over. Now it’s my turn.

It’s a beautiful sunny morning when our guides arrive, sometime after my tenth cup of tea and fifth banana, an attempt to silence my growing nervousness. In all there are four of us attempting the mountain, split into teams of two, each team with a licensed, professional guide. I feel like my Canadian winters have prepared me well for the expected temperatures and am not surprised at all by the sheer amount of gear the guides have with them.
As we’re trying everything on for size we pepper the guides with questions, some of which we wish we could take back:

How many times have you been to the summit? More than 100 each.
How many people make it? Less than 50%.
How long will it take? About 5-6 hours from the refuge to the summit, more if you’re slow.
How much sleep will we get tonight? A couple of hours, if you’re lucky.
How cold will it be? About -10°C for the hike, maybe -25°C at the summit.
What happens if we get altitude sickness? Headache, dizziness, vomiting. We go back.
(and me) What’s for dinner?

The José Rivas Refuge (4,800m) dwarfed by the mountain

At 4,500 meters I’m again staggered by the immense size of Cotopaxi, this time clearly more imposing that ever. Each of us is lost in our own thoughts as we make the slow trudge up to The José Rivas Refuge at 4,800 meters carrying our huge packs full of food, climbing and sleeping gear. After a short break we make our way across to the glacier at 5,000 meters to practice moving about on the ice. None of us has ever used crampons or an ice axe before, so we start from square one, walking up, down and sideways, all the time a little unsure about walking on steep, slippery ice. We practice and practice until we’re all satisfied with our abilities.
Well, until the guide tells us to stop so we don’t tire ourselves out, that is.

Practicing glacier travel with ice axe and crampons

The refuge is an enormous building accommodating day-trippers to the glacier and summiters alike. Upstairs, bunk beds are stacked three high, with wafer-thin mattresses and no heating of any kind. After a delicious carb-loaded meal of pasta carbonara and a brief look at the stars above Quito, we climb into our frigid sleeping bags at around 7:30pm, nervous, excited and scared all at once.
I hope like hell for at least a couple of hours of sleep.

Quito by night

I drift in and out of sleep, at times not sure if I’m awake or asleep, a feeling compounded by some pretty demented dreams that slip just out of reach when I think I’m awake. My eyes are wide open when Franklin, my guide, comes in at midnight to wake us up. We’ve all been listening to the wind howling outside are are certain our hopes have been dashed by the always-hostile weather. I put on two pairs of socks under two-layer mountaineering boots, fleece pants covered by waterproof pants, a thermal long-sleeve shirt, regular long-sleeve shirt and fleece top all covered by a waterproof jacket, two pairs of gloves and a balaclava and helmet with my headlamp attached. I just need to grab my backpack with food, water and extra warm clothes, ice axe, crampons and climbing harness and I’ll be ready to go.

A trip outside to the bathroom reveals a perfectly clear, starry night, absolutely ideal conditions for climbing. I wash my face in a bucket of icy water which succeeds both in waking me up and making my hands numb for the next 20 minutes. We’re excited over breakfast, though our guides remain non-commital about the weather, “Anything can happen up here”. A final bathroom break and we all get harnessed up before heading out the door a little after 1am.

The bottom of the glacier varies in altitude and we want to stay off it for as long as possible for safety and speed. The first hour is a slow, single-file trudge up a slippery gravel slope without our crampons. The night is clear and moonless and everything outside the small circle of illumination provided by my headlamp is utterly black. A couple of times I stumble badly while trying to walk, take in the view of Quito and stargaze simultaneously. Time to get my head in the game, I realize.

We step up onto the glacier a little over an hour after setting out and sit down to have a short rest and attach crampons to our boots. We’re all feeling comfortable after our practice session only yesterday until the guide brings over a rope and ties us together. Like a slap in the face we know this is no Sunday stroll. The first section of glacier is exposed and extremely steep, so much so it’s not possible to walk straight up as normal. We face side-on to the mountain and walk sideways, constantly crossing and uncrossing one foot in front of the other, using our ice-axe like a walking stick for balance the whole time. It’s soon obvious that my team is faster than the other, so we overtake and in a short time their headlamps have faded into the background, leaving each of us alone with only our thoughts and the wind howling across our faces.

Eventually the steep trail gives way to switchbacks, which provide a nice little relief at every turn – I have to swap the ice axe from one hand to the other and walk “sideways” the other way each time we double-back. I entertain myself in this manner for what seems like hours, concentrating hard on my footing and using the ice axe in the correct hand when needed. In a couple of places the guide plays out about 10 meters of rope while we take a giant step across a crevasse.  He’s going to catch us if we fall, right?
After pausing to look down and around one of the larger ones the concept of a bottomless crevasse keeps me busy for the next half an hour.
I step a little bigger and a little more carefully over the next one.

We enter a region full of ice formations and like a switch being turned off, the wind stops instantly. Franklin says we can take a short break, a concept that somehow hadn’t occurred to me yet. While eating a chocolate bar and sipping some water Franklin tells us we are at around 5,400 meters and making good time. It takes me about two minutes to calculate we are more than half-way, a fact that boosts my spirits immensely.
This is not so hard after all, I naively muse.

For the next hour or so we traipse on through the strange ice formations that I can only see towering above when I avert my gaze from the ice/snow directly in front of my feet, something I’m doing less and less. At some point my level of skill with crampons and the ice axe increases above that needed for any serious concentration, leaving my brain free to think about whatever it wants. Immediately, before I’m even aware that I’m thinking again, one thought pops up that just won’t go away.  Why the hell am I doing this, anyway? Somehow, it had never occurred to me to wonder why I might want to climb up an enormous, glacier covered active volcano in the middle of the night. Surely, this is pure madness – I can think of no other explanation.
This thought, and my ever-increasing headache do little for motivation.

It’s obvious, at least in my mind, that my partner Mike is having a much harder time than I am, making me think of ways to motivate him and just what options I might have if he wants to turn around (none, really). We finish a particularly narrow, exposed, nasty sloping section and we both completely sit down on the ice/snow for the first time (a big no no, apparently). I’m a little shocked by my tone of voice when I reply to Mike’s comment of “This is f***ing hard”. “Tell me about it”, I shoot back, a comment loaded with emotion and anger, though I’m too exhausted to do anything about taking it back.
Franklin can see how exhausted we are and allows a long rest break while we assess our situation. We’re still moving well, about an hour and twenty minutes from the summit and the sun will start to brighten the sky in about fifteen minutes, though we won’t feel it’s warmth until much later.

After a break of about 10 minutes my feet and hands are completely numb and even Franklin is beating his chest to stave off the cold. We slowly get moving and soon things get ridiculously steep and tough. We’re on a very exposed section, creeping our way up an incline so steep that even the “shuffle sideways” technique is a lot of work. Here we are moving so slowly I resort to counting my steps in the hope of ignoring my splitting headache and things become comically slow:

For over an hour, my life has only the following four steps:

1. Move ice axe forward about one foot and lean heavily on it (count one).
2. Move right foot up slope, crossing in front of left foot (count two).
3. Move left foot up slope behind right foot (count three).
4. Rest on ice axe for a three count, and repeat.

Total Exhaustion

During all of this, the sun makes an appearance doing wonders for our motivation. Although Franklin doesn’t say it, and there are many false summits, we know we are close to our goal and somehow continue to shuffle forward and upward. Soon the horizon is glowing blood-red and we can see how clear the day actually is – breathtaking beyond words. As the sun climbs higher we see the huge triangle-shaped shadow cast by Cotopaxi and even find the energy for a joke – “The sun rises at 9:30am when you live behind Cotopaxi”. To help things even more we see three headlamps bobbing along through the gloom below us – our companions are still climbing.

Counting my steps is a great help to keep my mind busy and breaks the task down into manageable pieces. Slowly, slowly as we near the summit the mountain finally levels out and I’m soon counting to ten before resting, then twenty. I think my brain has as much trouble as my body when I count one hundred steps without a rest and I collapse on the spot, unable to comprehend one hundred and one.

After a short break we march on again, and only two minutes later I’m standing next to an enormous crater, with nowhere higher to walk. I watch in a daze as the guide unclips my carabiner, before I crumple to my knees, overcome with exhaustion and emotion. It’s hard to know if I’m happy, exhausted, relieved, scared for the trek down, or all of the above and for twenty seconds I just stare open-mouthed, not really thinking much of anything. A little while later we all embrace and tramp around taking photos and pointing to landmarks we recognize. The weather is so clear we can easily see every major volcano in Ecuador and I’m especially excited to see Volcano Chimborazo, the highest mountain in Ecuador at 6,268 meters, a sight I have literally been dreaming about for months. All told we’ve made it to the summit in five hours and fifteen minutes, a little faster than average says Franklin. It’s extremely cold due to the strong winds, and Mike quickly gives up and walks fifty meters down to shelter. I’m a little more stubborn and talk with Franklin, naming every mountain and city we can see. Upon close inspection, I can actually see a little smoke coming out of the crater, again something I am very excited to see.

Victorious on the summit

The crater of Cotopaxi and Chimborazo (6,268m) in the distance

All too soon the cold becomes unbearable and so we begin the arduous task of walking down the same route. My legs are like jelly, my head splitting open with a headache that threatens to floor me and I’m walking down a steep, icy slope. What could possibly go wrong? I keep thinking to myself that most mountaineering accidents happen on the way down to keep my concentration up, and it seems to work – I never put a single foot wrong.

Volcano Cotopaxi crater (tiny amount of smoke on left)

Not far from the summit we pass our companions and offer a few brief words of encouragement, the complete exhaustion on their faces acting like a mirror for ours. Now the sun is up we can see the amazing ice formations we walked passed earlier and stop often to take photos, secretly thrilled for the rest breaks. While lazing about in the sun taking a solid rest, our friends wander around the corner and we’re all jubilant at our success, while cautiously mentioning we still have a long way to go. We all try our best to soak in the view and recharge in the early morning sunshine.

Ice formations surround us

Amazing views from the side of the glacier

The remainder of the trek down is uneventful, though my headache continues to get worse to the point I am struggling to function. At the end of the glacier we again pause for a long rest break, full of smiles and awe at what we have done. The final stretch involves walking directly down the slippery gravel, or scree-running, something I usually thoroughly enjoy. I’m so exhausted and my legs so used up I slip and fall ten times in five minutes, throwing a dark cloud over my mood. By the time I arrive at the refuge half and hour later my headache is so bad it overpowers my bad mood, and I manage to smile and laugh with the whole group, already lazing about in the morning sun.

Narrow paths are scary paths

Enjoying the sunshine

We pack our gear, stumble down to the car and struggle to stay awake on the hour-long ride home where we know we’ll find hot chocolate and our warm beds, a fact we are all happy to mention more than once.

Coming down through the enormous icefield

The crew at the base of the glacier

Climbing to the summit of Volcán Cotopaxi is by far the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life, the view from the top was possibly the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life and without a doubt, it was the single most rewarding thing I have ever done.
I honestly don’t know if mountaineering is for me, but I’m extremely happy about my first taste.

Dan on the summit of Volcano Cotopaxi

With extremely experienced guides, new gear and tons of local knowledge, I highly recommend booking CarpeDM Adventures for a summit attempt.

-Dan

Amazing morning views

After we all thaw out for the morning, the activities for the day start to take shape – everyone is extremely excited to go for a hike to find Chiwilas – an extremely sweet fruit that will take some getting, I’m told.
We’ve only been going for 20 minutes when a hilarious game of horse and bull breaks out, based around an old bull horn found on the ground. Kids ride on the shoulders of an adult and someone gives chase pretending to be a bull holding the horn on their head. An hour and a half later the game continues, even after we’ve hiked many kilometers over difficult terrain, everyone still smiling and laughing whenever the “bull” spontaneously decides to give chase.

The whole camping crew

Over the mountains and far, far away we arrive at our destination – a scrubby outcrop of brush and trees, rare at this elevation. Everyone dives right in, attacking cacti left right and centre. It turns out the highly sought after Chiwilas are the tiny fruit of the cactus which grow right down in the middle, past all the spiny leaves. With only my bare hands and a small stick, I quickly wind up with fingers full of spines and no desire at all to get more Chiwilas, which I’m not all that impressed with anyway (they’re extremely small and contain barely a drop of sweet nectar after biting through the pulp-like crust). I nap under a tree and can’t believe my eyes two hours later when everyone is still energetically going at it, lugging around sacks full of the tiny fruit. Even after my little nap I’m exhausted on the walk back, though none of the locals show any sign of fatigue, happily eating left-over potatoes retrieved from coat pockets and drinking out of every muddy ditch we come across.
Lunch, as you might guess, is rice and potatoes, now that we’re run out of trout.

Cotopaxi from an angle I've never seen before

I’m struck time and time again by how happy and playful these Ecuadorians are. Not just the kids either, even the adults get right in on the fun. Even after cramming into a car for a long, bumpy ride, eating the same plain food for every meal, sleeping in freezing conditions, traipsing for hours through mud and drinking out of muddy streams, every single person is still beaming, extremely happy to be surrounded by family doing exactly as they please.

Always happy

The guys illustrate this perfectly by donning moss for their best Gandalf impersonations – much to the delight of everyone.

The "Mountain Men" having fun

I know for sure now I’m ready to get back out in the wilderness for some serious camping & hiking.

-Dan

My Ecuadorian friends couldn’t understand why I was asking how much emergency care might cost, simply shrugging their shoulders and saying “Medical care is always free, you just have to pay for the medicine”.
Surely this can’t apply to a foreigner, we all reasoned.

With no idea what might be required, patient, passport, travel insurance paperwork and a small fortune in cash were loaded into the 4×4 and driven down to the small town about an hour away.

Upon arrival at the emergency department of the hospital, he was greeted by extremely friendly staff who apologized for his four minute wait due to another patient being seen. A very friendly and professional doctor sized up the situation and after some local anesthetic, had the cut cleaned out and stitched up with eight neat little lines of thread, eagerly asking questions about foreign lands the whole time.

The doctor wrote out a prescription for a week-long course of antibiotics and wished his new friend well as they walked to the door of the hospital. A little confused about the need for payment, the patient tried to show his insurance and passport, to which the doctor said with a broad grin, “You don’t need that here, everything is free”.

At the local pharmacy (drug store), the prescription was filled in thirty seconds and the total bill rung up – $7 (USD) including tax.

Raise your hand if you wish health care worked like that in your country.

Sitting around the dinner table that night while the story was relayed were looks of surprise, shock and outright disbelief. Stories about healthcare in homelands were told by people from all over the world, from similar accounts, to people declaring bankruptcy due to nothing more than a broken arm, an injury that will probably happen to most of us in our lifetimes. After some rough translation, the Ecuadorians couldn’t believe the cost of health care in some countries, and were downright scared when told how much one couple had paid in medical expenses just to have a baby.

I think it’s pretty clear those of us living in the “First World” have a lot to learn from those in the “Third World”.

-Dan

P.S. No, mum. This story is not about me. You can stop worrying now

While in Quito recently I met another cyclist coming down from Canada and after a few minutes I had news of Seth and Parker – and most importantly found out they were close. Really close. A few emails and days later, I watched them ride into The Secret Garden Cotopaxi on a sunny morning, grinning from ear to ear. It’s great to see how fit and healthy they both look, their bodies now very used to the punishment of riding 100+ kilometers every day for a year. All of us talk simultaneously and try to ask three questions at exactly the same time.
There is lots of laughter.

Seth, Dan & Parker

We spend hours over the next couple of days telling stories about the adventures that have transpired since our last meeting, loving every minute. It’s amazing to spend time with guys I can relate to so well – they understand my journey so completely I feel like they’ve been with me the entire time through the good, the bad and everything in between. More than a few times in the middle of a story we finish each others sentences, more than well-versed in life on the road in Latin America.

The guys & the gear

On more than a few occasions thinking to myself “If Seth and Parker can do this on bicycles, surely I can do it in a Jeep…” has helped me push through difficult times, and it’s cool to get a boost from seeing them for real. To know they’ve now ridden 18,000km and are still loving every minute and going strong is a huge boost to my energy and I’m more excited than ever to get back on road. It’s awesome to know they are now forging the trail in front of me, and we know we’ll see each other again before the journey is done.

Riding off into the sunrise

Good luck guys, seeya down there

-Dan

Sunrise with some fog in the valley

The photos here show how much the enormous, ever-present Cotopaxi can change over the course of a day and all but one of the photos was taken from The Secret Garden. Even after two months I do a huge double-take every time I see the mountain and can’t help but stop and stare.

Sunrise

Not long after I arrived, the owner offered me the position of Manager, which has been a great challenge and learning experience. I’ve never worked in a restaurant or hotel before and it’s great to keep busy every day making sure things run smoothly.
I’ve recently spent some time in and out of Quito getting my visa and paperwork for the Jeep extended, so I can stay in Ecuador for a few more months if I want to. I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll stay yet, though two more months sounds nice.

Midday sunshine

Hanging out in the hostel and meeting all kinds of people has boosted my energy so much I now dream every single night about the adventures ahead of me. I’ve met people here from so many different walks of life, some who’ve traveled all over the world, and some who are just starting out on their first adventure. If you ever want to meet some amazingly adventurous people and get seriously and permanently infected with wonderlust, I highly recommend spending some time in a hostel somewhere.
My dreams are getting bigger. Lots bigger

Taken from close up

It took playing the hostel’s “share guitar” non-stop to realize just how much I missed my guitar that was stolen so many months ago in Mexico. To remedy that I just bought a brand new guitar for all of $60 and I’m already playing better than any time in my life. Photography, too, is a huge talking point here and I’m constantly asking questions and learning more about my future setup. All in good time.

Sunset is unreal

All in all, some extremely worthwhile time to get my head centered and back in the game.

Taken in the dead of night, with a full moon

The llamas enjoying the view

-Dan

Fine Print: Some of the photos here were taken by Alex Kane.

When I first dreamed of this adventure and decided to write a blog I really wanted to capture my feelings and emotions along the way. I wanted to make sure I wrote about the good and bad times to paint an accurate picture of solo life on the road and my state of mind along the way. I don’t think I’ve done a good job on that so far, because I’ve been so busy visiting places and taking photos to share it’s just been easier to write about happy times.
Here goes.

To be honest, I feel the need to stay put for reasons more important than winter. The last couple of months have been the hardest of the journey for me, mostly due to loneliness and a bit of monotony has crept in. Constantly going new places and seeing amazingly beautiful things is great, though not being able to share it with anyone is getting kind of hollow and meaningless. On top of that, things are starting to feel the same day-to-day and I think I’m stuck in a bit of a rut.
I haven’t seriously thought about giving up, mostly because I have nothing else to do and nowhere to go, but it does cross my mind from time to time. I’m definitely not enjoying myself as much as I was for the first six or eight months, so I want to change my setting for a while to break out of the ‘funk’ I’ve found myself in.

By staying in one place I hope I can get my fill of things I miss from the ‘normal’ world, to recharge my batteries and get me back on the road full of excitement for the final stretch through about four more countries to Tierra Del Fuego.

In no particular order I’m looking forward to:

• Lots of fitness related stuff.

• Eating really well.

• Learning more Spanish, which might be tough with so many English speakers around.

• Meeting a ton of travelers and potentially a new friend to jump in the Jeep for a while.

• Waking up every day and knowing that I’m already where I will goto sleep at night.

It sounds like I’ll be doing anything and everything; painting buildings, setting the table for meals, manning the phone, taking guests hiking, working on ‘projects’ around the place and anything else I feel like doing.

By the time you read this I will have already started, and have no idea how long I will stay. A month sounds great right now, and I’ll see how I feel after that. There is no electricity or internet out there so regular updates here are going to be tough.

If I don’t update the site as often as normal, please don’t worry – I’m perfectly safe living the simple life.

-Dan

• Because of the bulge in the Earth at the Equator, the summit of Chimborazo is actually the furthest point from the center of the Earth.

• There is no mountain higher than it anywhere north in the Americas.

The mighty Volcán Chimborazo

The highest paved road in the country passes right next to the mountain, which I obviously can’t pass up. I’m greeted by a sunny blue sky day, which makes for some stunning volcano viewing.

I’ll let the photos do the talking, safe to say I get some breathtaking views as I drive almost the entire way around the mountain, well above tree line the entire time.

Jeep loving the view

The road way up high

Maybe these guys are wild llamas?

Loving the blue sky view of Volcán Chimborazo

This side was almost entirely glacier

-Dan

The stunning views in Parque Nacional Cajas

In the morning we’re off to Parque Nacional Cajas, an amazing spot on the side of the highway high in the mountains between Cuenca and Guayaquil. We hike for a couple of hours into the amazing wilderness, well above tree line, passing only a few locals moving supplies around on horseback. When the rain sets in we move down to the refuge to cook lunch and chat to the park ranger guys before hiking around Laguna Toreadora, which again is peaceful in a way I can’t adequately explain.

Laguna Toreadora in Parque Nacional Cajas

More views in Parque Nacional Cajas

I wave goodbye to Jena and settle into the refuge for the night as the temperature drops lower and lower. I’m wearing all my thermals and am barely warm enough to sleep – It must be quite a way below freezing. I drive up and over another mountain pass towards Guayaquil and find myself in a tiny little village in the middle of dense jungle. Now that I’m down from the mountains the temperate has gone up about 20 degrees and the humidity is through the roof. The vegetation is extremely green and dense and banana plantations stretch into the distance as far as I can see.
Ecuador continues to amaze me with it’s diversity.

There is an amazing amount of nothingness

I find the nearby hot spring, another overly concrete affair perched on the side of a beautiful little river in a lush green valley and the owner lets me camp under a roof for only the price of admission ($2). While soaking I meet some locals, Engel and his wife and young daughter. He’s a really cool guy and before the night is done he invites me to hang out with him in his little town tomorrow. Cool.

Engel's farm in the jungle

In the morning we meet up and quickly head out to his farm in the Jeep, because the roads require 4×4 and his little VW will not make it all the way. On the road Engel tells me about his time in the US about 15 years ago; he caught a ship to Guatemala, hitchhiked to Mexico City and paid $12,000 USD for fake papers to get him across the border. Once in Los Angeles, he moved all over the country and finally settled around New York City. For the next seven years he lived and worked illegally in pretty much every borough around the city, to save money to bring back to his family in Ecuador. After the seven years he flew back to Ecuador (“nobody checks your papers when you are leaving”) with enough money to buy a really nice house, farm, car and still have enough left over so he doesn’t have to work too hard now. Hearing him talk about his time there is really amazing and when I ask if he wants to go back or live full time in the US he says “No, people in the US work to hard and are only interested in money and things, not family.”
His words, not mine.

Engel, proud of his machete

Cocca cut open and growing

The farm is possibly the most green, dense jungle I have ever seen and he proudly shows huge amounts cocca growing in the lower lands and young trees up higher that will be exported for timber. In five years one tree will sell for $30, which is a lot of money here. For the rest of the day we hang out in his town, meeting friends and family who are all extremely friendly and welcoming and want to hear all about my travels and life in other countries. The next day we drive into the enormous city of Guayaquil with another friend to buy parts for the bus Engel works on as a ticket collector. The city has a reputation of being very, very dangerous and they tell me time and time again I would not be safe on my own. In fact, I get the distinct feeling neither of them would feel comfortable in the city alone. It’s interesting to watch them roll up the car windows and lock the doors as soon as we get near the city – clearly they are aware of what happens here. It’s a huge city, complete with pollution, traffic and massive billboards plastered with western brands and slogans.
We drive all over town twice, and eventually end up with what we need late in the day.

The Hot Spring complex where I camped

Hanging out with Engel is a really great time and only serves to increase my liking for Ecuador.

-Dan

Parque National Llanganates

I pay $5 for entry and am told I can go anywhere I like, for as long as I like, hiking and camping my little heart out. Sweet. Upon arrival at Laguna Pisayambo I find it fenced and guarded, apparently because it’s an important hydro-electric generating station. My Spanish is clearly getting better as I not only convince the guard to let me in without a permit, I soon find myself hanging out in the guard shack chatting away. The two guards are posted here for five days at a time and obviously enjoy the distraction I provide. Over the next two days we go hiking and fishing, cook together, watch movies and talk for hours about all kinds of varied topics.

My campsite at Laguna Pisayambo

My arrival in Baños is on a beautiful sunny Sunday, the first time I can remember seeing sun worthy of shorts and flip-flops in more than two weeks. The town itself is absolutely packed with Ecuadorian tourists and I have a blast walking around checking out all the stalls and people watching for a few hours. After getting the scoop from the tourist information center I head up into the mountains directly behind town to find Casa Del Arból, a beautiful grassy area with a stunning view where I setup camp for a few days. Tons of Ecuadorians visit throughout the afternoon and I have a great time chatting to some university students, they speak English and I Spanish.

My campsite at Casa Del Arból

I head off the next morning for the the scenic drive down to Puyo, on the edge of the Amazon jungle. The road winds along a huge gorge carved by the Rio Pastaza in spectacular fashion – there is an enormous waterfall every few hundred meters dropping to the river far below. In about five places huge tunnels, up to 900 meters long, have been carved into the rock for the highway to pass through. Trying to get the best views of the river and waterfalls I take the much narrower track perched literally on the edge of the gorge. At one point I drive directly through a sizable waterfall which drops directly onto this track. The town of Puyo brings back memories of coastal Colombia and Panama – extremely hot, busy, and in various states of decay.

Jeep getting in on the waterfall action

Infront of some pretty mighty falls

I have half a mind to hike a good way up the now very active Volcán Tungurahua, which caused the evacuation of 20,000 residents in 1999 and has been on Yellow Alert ever since. After going only a short distance I am quickly deterred when I discover there really is no trail up my side and the thick clouds prevent any kind of views. Instead I hike down into Baños from my high camping perch and am rewarded with beautiful views of the town completely surrounded by huge mountains.

The town of Baños

I crawl out of my tent at sunrise each morning and am not disappointed by the spectacular views of the nearby volcano. On a couple of days fresh snow is clearly visible and I get my fill before the clouds soon close in. Cooking breakfast each morning with stunning views in all directions I wake up to the realization of exactly where I am; throughly in the Andes, camping, hiking and checking out every square inch and peaks my interest.
This is what I dreamed about for all those months

My campsite at Casa Del Arból with snow-capped Mt. Tungurahua

Baños is famous for hot springs and I of course make a visit early one morning. It’s a concrete pool affair for $2, complete with three pools; very hot, perfect soaking temperature and freezing cold.

On top of the world at Casa Del Arból

If you hadn’t already guessed, I really like it here.

-Dan

My 'friends' who joined me for lunch at Papagayo

I set out on the famous Quilotoa Loop not entirely sure what to expect and am immediately in awe of the scenery and little villages I constantly pass though. This tiny road winds it’s way through communities high in the the Andean mountains which I imagine have been much the same for hundreds of years. The highlight is by far Laguna Qilotoa, formed in the crater of an enormous inactive volcano at 3,800 meters elevation. A local guy lets me camp on his property about 5 meters from the edge of the rim, one of my better campsites for sure. Hiking around the rim the next morning takes about four and a half hours with some seriously impressive views along the way.

The endless green hills of the Quilotoa Loop

The full Laguna Quilotoa

I drive further and further along the deteriorating track, to the little town of Chugchilán. There are a couple of tiny stores, two hosterias and some street vendors selling suspicious looking meat on the one and only street in town. I check-in to one of the hosterias, with a private room, hot shower, dinner and breakfast all for $10 and set out to explore. After walking the length of town twice in five minutes, I venture up into the surrounding hills with no exact destination in mind. As I’ve come to expect the thick clouds roll in around lunchtime and there is a steady stream of rain for the remainder of the day. Although there is nothing to do per se, I come to like this little town and the friendly people going about their lives.

Iliniza Sur and Norte snuck out for just a minute

The trail around the entire rim

I finish the loop the next day by wandering around Saquisili, reported to have the ‘most authentic’ market in Ecuador. Indigenous people hike into town from miles around often using Llamas to pack their produce and hand made goods in and out. It’s not at all geared for tourists and is the lifeblood of the many communities in the area.
At least, this is what I’ve read.
The market is a Thursday-only affair and I’ve arrived on a Saturday. Maybe I’ll come back.

Just hanging out on the side of Laguna Quilotoa

On the rim of Laguna Quilotoa at my campsite

I still don’t know what that suspicious looking meat was, but it tasted pretty good

-Dan

At the border I asked about insurance and the guy kind of, sort of said it was mandatory to drive in Ecuador, but didn’t know where I could get it?! After pushing the issue for a while the guy helpfully suggested I just show my Colombian insurance because the Police wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway.
Under the pump in Quito I really have nothing to lose and give it a shot. The Police frown at it for thirty seconds then tell me in the future to show that first when asked for ‘documentation’. Sweet.

La Basilica in Old Town

I somehow manage to get all the way into The Secret Garden Hostel in Old Town using only the Lonely Planet maps for direction. It’s a grand old building positively packed with westerners and I immediately strike up friendships with anyone and everyone. There are constant warnings about how dangerous the city is, so I stay in at night and walk around with nothing in my pockets during the day. I wander all over Old Town looking at endless churches and squares before making my way into the much more commercial New Town. Western brand names are extremely prominent and every second sign is in English advertising a tourist trip to destinations like the Galapagos. It’s a very beautiful city with a really cool vibe, if not a little crowded and busy for my taste.

The city seems to stretch forever down the narrow valley

I’ve struggled to get decent maps since Guatemala and happily to make a visit to The Instituto Geográfico Militar, high on a hill overlooking downtown. The guys in uniform can’t contain their curiosity about my hair and I wind up with an excellent map of the entire country for $4.

Close up of La Basilica

Ecuador might just be the cheapest country I’ve been to yet. Gas is USD $1.47 per gallon and diesel is $1.07. Just to emphasize, that’s USD$ 0.39 per liter for gas. I’ve been buying a standard meal of soup, chicken or beef, rice, beans, salad and juice in markets for $1.30 and I can barely eat it all.

Looking North along the valley

I enjoy my three days in the city, and am thoroughly ready to get back into the mountains.

-Dan

It’s a very touristy place and there are half a dozen museums, a planetarium and who knows what else buried in all the restaurants and souvenir shops. I wander around looking at all the different displays and reading all the information boards. There is tons of really interesting trivia about the exact spot I am standing on and how it relates to the Earth as a whole and the Solar System.

Pretty happy to be on the magical line

I really want to get the Jeep up on the line, but the security guards have other ideas. Maybe if I cross it again over near the Pacific I’ll get another chance.

As close as I could get the Jeep

I can’t wait to see The Southern Cross in the night sky, a star constellation that reminds me so much of home.
I have not seen it in almost four years.

-Dan

The hedge garden in Tulcan

We drive under the obligatory “Welcome to Ecuador” sign, flanked by about ten impressive looking Police in full riot gear. We park, fill in an immigration form and wait in line for about twenty minutes to be stamped into Ecuador for 90 days. In a small, clean office just around the corner we hand over copies of our registration, passport and license and half an hour later the friendly guy has everything typed up and we are on our way. Interestingly, I’ve been using my Canadian drivers license for the entire trip. I do have an international drivers license, though I’ve never been asked to show it once.

This is by far the friendliest, easiest, cheapest border crossing of the journey.

Dan in the hedge garden in Tulcan

-Dan

Grand idol at San Agustin

Another idol at San Agustin

While staying in town I get two more flat tires repaired and have a great time chatting to the shop guys in Spanish. They are very interested in my Jeep and where I have driven from and are genuinely curious about other countries and want to know what it was like through Central America. It gets really hilarious when a bunch of school children show up and want me to help them with their English homework. Their English is a little below the level of my Spanish so I have a great time explaining past tense and helping them through various exercises. For an unknown reason almost every English student I’ve come across has been very shy to actually speak in English and these guys are no exception. For all my prodding and encouragement, I barely get a “Hello” in reply.

Jeep / Land Rover hybrid

We wave goodbye to my hitchhiking backpacker and move south towards the border. We’ve been told the road through the mountains to Pasto is one of the worst in Colombia, and it doesn’t disappoint. Extremely bumpy, rutted, narrow and windy, we spend five hours driving 120 kms with more than a few close encounters with huge trucks and busses. Often we have to reverse back out of the way when we come face to face around a blind curve.

"In winter it's preferable to drive during the day"

The crazy road widing into the mountanis

Crossing a river in the mountains of Colombia

After camping another rainy night by Laguna de la Cocha we move further south to Santuario de las Lajas, where an immense church has been built in a beautiful canyon. It’s a very peaceful place and we find a huge parking lot just above to camp for the night.

Laguna De La Cocha

Colombia has been noticeably bigger than the countries I’ve passed through recently and I’ve really enjoyed moving from North to South. The price of gas has varied quite a lot, usually between $3.20 and $3.80 a gallon and significantly cheaper near the Venezuelan and Ecuadorian borders. There have been many police and military checkpoints, which have all been friendly and gone smoothly. At one I’m asked to take every single item out of the Jeep while they search, a process that takes over an hour, but ends in friendly handshakes and wishes of good luck for the future.
Car insurance is mandatory here and the $40 I paid for two months is well worth it as I’m asked for it time and time again.

The valley of Santuario De Las Lajas

Santuario De Las Lajas

My time in Colombia has been fantastic, and nothing at all like the stereotype would have you think. I’ve constantly met the happiest, friendliest people of my entire journey in Colombia and my only regret is that I only asked for 30 days on my visa, which means it’s time to leave. I won’t make that mistake again.
Just like the marketing brochure says:

Colombia: The only danger is you’ll never want to leave

-Dan

Camping on the side of the road

After a couple of days I collect another hitchhiking backpacker and move east intothe mountains past Parque Nacional Puracé, a spectacular road that winds past a sulphur mine and a few hot springs and waterfalls. I don’t feel like paying the $10 park entrance fee, so don’t hike Volcán Puracé or visit the hot springs. The road gets steeper and narrower the further we go until we are literally winding our way along a single lane track with a 40 meter drop to a ranging river below. A massive truck approaches from the opposite direction so I move over as far as possible, while he advances in the very middle of the road. He does not move over at all, and even yells at me when we are level. As he roars off he hits the back of the Jeep, luckily only catching the very end of the rear bar, denting it and bending it off square.
I don’t know what that’s all about.

Waterfall behind Tierradentro, flooded with recent rain

We camp on the side of this small road in the middle of beautiful green mountains and move on early the next morning to the tiny village of Tierradentro. After paying the $8 entry fee for foreigners to enter the archeological park we set out to hike a loop that joins five sites dotted around the valley and surrounding hillsides. Very quickly we appreciate what a great place we’ve found – it’s a beautiful sunny day and we’re surrounded by lush green mountains dotted with farms and little houses.

The green valley of Tierradentro

The area was inhabited by agricultural precolombians from 1000 BC to 1900 AD with the main evidence of that being various tombs dotted across the landscape. At each site a caretaker escorts us around the various tombs, which are reached by insanely steep concrete stairs that descend into the darkness. Some of the tombs have faces carved into the stone and patterns painted on the walls making them extremely beautiful.

The stairs down into the tombs were insane

Looking out of a tomb at Tierradentro

The highlight for me is the hike to the site called ‘Alto del Aguacate’, which winds through countless little farms on the side of mountains and after some serious climbing ends at the top of a ridge with 360° views. It’s a huge day of hiking and we love it. I bumped into Vince & Marie, my friends I shared a shipping container with, in Salento and find their Land Rover here in Tierradentro as well. Before long we are enjoying laughs over dinner and set up our tent in torrential rain.

Painting inside a tomb

We thought the faces were transformers at Tierradentro

On top of the world at Tierradentro

The next morning we head out in a convoy along the narrow, windy roads only to find the road to civilization has been washed out overnight. After chatting to a bunch of locals we come up with a plan and set out on some very crazy roads. Over the next few hours we cross a couple of impressive and sketchy bridges and drive on some of the most remote roads of my entire trip. It’s great to be so far off the beaten path and locals are genuinely amazed to see us as we roll through tiny little villages.

They build some impressive bridges in these parts

The remote roads in Colombia

The road through the mountains we drove down

Driving through the mountains of Colombia

It’s great to travel with Vince and Marie again and I feel like anything is possible when we are together.

Pet vulture and child, together ?!?

-Dan

Salento in the early morning

Nearby is the beautiful Valle de Cocora, which actually touches into the western side of Parque Nacional Natural Los Nevados. I set out on a small hiking loop, following a river up a lush valley into the mountains. At the end of the trail a family farm has taken advantage of the tourist potential and for $1.50 I get a drink of my choice and viewing of the hummingbirds that are too numerous to count. I sit and watch as the father and two sons load a horse with gear to take down the trail, which they do in the most untroubled manner.

Hiking along the river in Valle de Cocora

Hummingbirds in action

From the farm I hike up to a lookout on a mountaintop which is totally socked in with clouds before looping back to the start. On the way I pass through an extremely green valley filled with the famous wax palm trees – some are over 200 years old. A torrential storm rolls in complete with thunder and lightning, an event I get used to over the coming days. Every morning I get up at sunrise to beautiful blue skies and warm weather and by two or three in the afternoon a huge storm moves over town, dumps enormous amounts of rain then clears again by nightfall.

The amazing wax palms in Valle de Cocora

Wax palms in Valle de Cocora

I love the atmosphere and friendly people so much I stay for five days, wandering around town and the surrounding hills. The farmers here are a dedicated bunch, farming hills so steep it’s a challenge to walk up and down them and it’s great to see the mixed agriculture in the area. In one plot I spot coffee, bananas, pineapples, avocado and bamboo which is used a lot for construction here.

We all loved it when one of these guys had a try at the carnival game with a pellet gun. Hilarious.

-Dan

The temperature drops quite quickly and I smile when I have to wind up my window due to the cold and not long after I turn on the heater, a novelty. I climb and climb and climb and take the turn-off to Parque Nacional Natural Los Nevados. Before long I roll by a sign announcing I’m at 4,000 meters, clearly the highest I’ve ever been in my life. The sun is falling fast so I find a quiet spot off the side of the road to pitch my tent. My only visitors for the night are a herd of cows that are very curious and seem to like hanging around. Once the sun disappears it’s not just cold, but freezing, my little thermometer showing below zero before the night is done.

Guerilla camping in Colombia at 4000 meters

Early in the morning I move up into the park itself which is already busy due to the Easer holidays. All of the rangers are extremely friendly and try exceedingly hard to help me as I move from an orientation session (in extremely fast Spanish) to filling out a basic form to enter the park. Entrance is quite expensive for foreigners, I pay (in $USD) $19 for entry, $12 for a mandatory guide, $6 for the Jeep and another $6 to camp in the official campground for a night.

Rock formation in the National Park

Our guide, Michelle, jumps in my Jeep and we form a convoy of four vehicles driving up high into the park. Every five minutes or so we jump out to have a look at the beautiful scenery while Michelle explains the geological features around us. While we drive together I practice my Spanish which again improves a lot in a very short time. We drive up and up, until we reach 4,700 meters where we have to climb the rest on foot. Michelle explains how quickly we’ll run short of breath at this elevation and so we hike up as slowly as physically possible. I’m careful to make sure I don’t have to breathe really hard, though I can feel my heart rate racing to keep up.

Road to the top

In just over an hour we reach the glacier, at 5,125 meters. It’s stunningly beautiful and everyone is really excited to see ice and snow, the first time for many of the locals. It’s surreal to be up this high in the Andes, the first time of many for me I’m sure. After an hour of hanging around and walking on the glacier I make my make back down to the campground, at around 4,200 meters. By this time I have a mean headache that doesn’t go away until late the following day.

At the summit of Nevado del Ruiz, 5125 meters

At the campground I meet some locals who are crazy about hiking and camping, and even crazier about showing off their fantastic country. We quickly pour over my map of Colombia, talking excitedly about all the places I need to see. The night is again frosty cold and I have out all my cold weather gear, including thermals and two sleeping bags. A couple of times in the night I can feel my heart rate skyrocket just from the exertion of rolling over.

Driving up into the mountains, at about 4500 meters

Interestingly the Jeep performs really well at such high elevations, only take-offs are a little sketchy and need a lot more accelerator than usual. I can think of no better way to relax and cure my headache than a soak in a Hot Spring, and as luck would have it there is one just on the outskirts of Manizales, which I make use of for a couple of hours.

Crater La Olleta, the inactive volcano

-Dan

The sleepy fishing village of Taganga

Cruising

Eel hiding

Some kind of eel thing

All OK diving at night

I move around to Parque National Tayrona, an extremely beautiful reserve with an abundance of white sand beaches. I have to hike in a few kilometers and camp just back from the beach at Arrecifes.
The highlight for me is a serious jungle trek to the ruins of the ancient city of Pueblito with a few friends I made along the way.

The Arrecifes campground in Tayrona

Beach in Tayrona

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona again

The runins of Pueblito in Tayrona and again

-Dan

Skip a few days to Colombia and the port in Cartegena is not far from our hotel, so on another blisteringly hot & humid day we walk down to our customs agent, hoping to start the paperwork game on the Colombian end. We’ve heard all manner of horror stories from paying many hundreds of dollars to vehicles being impounded to waiting weeks for customs clearances. Sounds like fun in any case.

The agent working for Marfret knows all about us and has our paperwork ready and waiting. Again there are stamps and signatures, this time even a really fancy one that makes the paper bumpy, and us say ‘Ooohhh’. The agent wants us to pay $35 each for a ‘Documentation Fee’, which we try to get out of. When we show the original quote that included a $50 fee, the agent happily raises the price to $50. Damn. After a good deal of negotiating we end up paying $35 each and then split the other $15 (?!?). We’re OK with this as we think it partly makes up for paying less in Panama City.

We move just down the road to customs and get the process happening there and are more than a little amused to once again run into our French friends. It’s great to see familiar faces and we catch up on all the news since we saw them.
I’m impressed when a customs guy checks our container number in a database and immediately knows exactly when the ship docked, when our container was offloaded and exactly where it is. After filling out a standard vehicle form and making certain we have just the right number of copies of everything we’re told to wait while it’s all typed up. The office is extremely professional, clean and air conditioned and I’m really happy with how things move along, not at all stressed. Unfortunately it’s now time for a two hour lunch break, so we settle in for some waiting. After lunch we discover the only person that can give us the final signature is in a meeting and we wait a further two hours for that one signature before we are all set to collect the container.

Around the corner at the port itself we a given security passes and move inside and meet a guy that has been waiting for us. He speaks great English and obviously assists tourists through this process regularly, making things much simpler for us. I don’t have life insurance so am not allowed to enter the actual port to collect the Jeep. I want to go in, but hand the keys over to Vince to keep the process moving along. They seem pretty serious about safety here, actually checking up on his insurance and giving him a vest and hardhat to wear.

Vince playing workman

Vince moves the two vehicles out of the container and parks them in the port, a service we have to pay for. It must be our lucky day as we are not selected for ‘random’ inspection so the process can continue and we don’t have to pay extra for the inspection. A few hours later I watch Vince drive the Jeep out of the port, before he returns for his Land Rover.

I’ve never heard of anyone getting their vehicles from this port in only one day and most people end up paying around $115 after the inspection fees. Talk about a lucky break.
It’s 9:15pm when I drive out into the streets of Cartagena, more than a little dumbfounded to be driving my Jeep in South America. It makes my head hurt

Final Price (per car, sharing a 40′ High Cube container):

• Actual Shipping (inc. Ocean Freight, Bunker, Stuffing & Unstuffing & Lashing) $554
• Documentation Fee for Bill of Lading paid to customs agent Mario $100
• Bribe for Mario’s guy to correct paperwork at customs $10
• Port Fee in Colón: $5
• Documentation Fee in Colombia: $43
• Port Fee in Colombia: $58
• TOTAL: $770

(A regular 40′ container is the same price as a High Cube)

Our shipping agent

Rozo / Marfret:
ROZO & CO. (PANAMA) S.A.
URB. NUEVO PAITILLA
DUPLEX NO. 38
PANAMA CITY
The man in charge who helped us immensely was Mr. Martinez (gmartinez@therozogroup.com.pa)
I would take his advice on which customs agent to use (maybe Mario, maybe not)

Feel free to ask any questions about the entire process, I’m more than happy to help anyone attempting this.

-Dan

1. Sailing is about $375-$400 and takes 3 – 5 days.
2. We couldn’t leave Panama City until the ship with our container departed allowing us to collect our “original” Bill of Lading. This makes timing difficult and we would have to pay for container storage if it sat in Colombia more seven days after arrival.
3. Sticking with Vince and Marie wasn’t 100% necessary, though it kept things a lot simpler.
4. We got plane tickets for $150 each (inc. taxes), see http://www.aires.aero/Home/Default.aspx

Late in the afternoon we catch a city bus for two and a half hours through downtown Panama City rush hour traffic. It’s obvious everyone else on the bus makes this trip daily and they zone out after no more than two minutes. Security at the airport is similar to elsewhere I’ve been in the world, and we soon find ourselves loaded into a little dash-8. I haven’t been in a plane with a propeller for a long time and I somehow feel like I’m back in small town Australia.

The flight itself feels like it’s over before it even begins, barely an hour in total. I step off the plane onto the tarmac with an enormous grin on my face as do Vince and Marie. We’ve made it to South America and couldn’t be happier.
The guy at customs is very friendly, simply asks if I am on vacation and happily stamps my passport and waves me through.

The old "walled" city of Cartagena

We find a cheap hotel in the Getsemani neighborhood of Cartegena and head out to explore. Immediately things feel different than in Central America – it’s very busy and more motorcycles and tuk-tuks give an Asian/Indian feel. Wandering into the old walled city is really cool, the whole area is very clean, well patrolled and heavily touristed making it feel very safe. Outside the old city is a lot more raw and dirty, though I have no reason not to feel safe and quickly get the hang of things.
Cartagena is a very beautiful city.

Buildings in Cartagena

When my friend Mike’s trip to South America was unexpectedly cut short his ‘wish list’ of activities sat uncompleted – until now.
I’m not going to make this the focus of my journey, though it will be fun to see how many I can complete along the way:

• Bathe in the Amazon (but do not get a parasite).
• Have a fresh cup of Colombian coffee.
• Go to Carnival in Rio.
• Go to a soccer game in Brazil (but do not die in a riot).
• Visit the ancient ruins of the Incan city Machu Picchu.
• Stand on the Equator.
• Find penguins at the southern tip of Argentina.
• Ride an alpaca.
• Shear an alpaca.
• Eat chili in Chile.
• Learn five new swear words and say them to people.
• Spelunking.
• Go to a beach in Argentina.
• Helicopter tour of the Nazca Lines.
• Go to Lake Titicaca.
• Visit the Galapagos Islands (swim with iguanas).
• Visit Iguaçu Falls, if possible kayak or barrel roll down them.
• Visit the Patagonia glaciers.
• Meet a gaucho.
• Eat a guinea pig (Jess Baran highly disapproves of this).
• Eat world’s hottest pepper from Chile.

Feel free to leave a comment with your own suggestions

Castillo do San Felipe in Cartagena

-Dan

Panama City "The Miama of the south"

The number one attraction in town is obviously The Canal and before visiting I make a stop at the museum in Casco Viejo which is amazing considering the tiny $2 admission price. My engineering background means I’m fascinated by the surveying work that was undertaken before construction began. One map in particular shows proposed routes through Tehuantepec in Mexico, through lake Nicaragua, through a couple of different places in Panama and finally one using a river mostly in modern-day Colombia. The decision didn’t actually come down to the “shortest” distance to dig as you might think, but primarily on how the mountain range through Central America would be dealt with. The final location chosen meant it was possible to create a huge in-land lake and use locks to elevate the ships 28 meters to that level.
One French guy proposed digging deep enough to eliminate the need for locks, though it was decided this would be too great a task.

Panama City by night

On a sunny morning Mike and I head out to Miraflores Locks, the main set of locks close the city. There are three lock chambers here to elevate or lower the ships as required and the Pacific Ocean is just around a bend. It’s a very busy place with another “museum”, theatre and viewing platform.
We sit for a couple of hours while two enormous tankers make their way through, a sight to behold for sure.

Looking out into the Pacific

There is lots of information here about the handover at the end of 1999 when control of the Canal was handed to the Panamanians from the USA. Soon after the government announced a huge proposal to allow the passage of bigger ships, which was approved by about 78% when put to a national referendum.
In layman’s terms they are dredging some parts a bit deeper and building entirely new locks next to the existing ones. When finished the new and existing locks will continue to be used and ships about 50% wider and longer will be able to pass through.
Reading online there are already ships in existence that still won’t fit.

Looking along the Canal to the Atlantic

We also spend a good deal of time in and around the city, nicknamed “The Miami of the south – only with more English spoken”.

Tanker entering the locks

Central America has been good to me and I’ve really enjoyed myself.
It’s time for something new

-Dan

We finally negotiate with Mario to send along his customs guy who clearly does not want to and proceeds to drive like a maniac as we follow him along the toll road to Colón and the port we will ship from. We stop in at the Manfret office to get more copies of paperwork and more important-looking stamps then move to the ‘free-zone’ and customs. Here we hand over everything we have and receive a permit for our vehicles to exit the country. Again everything is in triplicate, including stamps and signatures. The stamps in our passports that prevent us from leaving are also cancelled here.
It’s funny when we bump into the French travelers once again, who somehow talked their way around their paperwork problem and are back in the game.

Back at the port a random guy is asking for us and calls us in to get a security pass. He explains in great detail where we must take the cars, which sounds easy enough. Back outside Mario’s customs guy tells us to stand in line X and hand over our paperwork before he bids us farewell and disappears.

Time is rapidly ticking down and we’re starting to get a little anxious about the closing time of the port.
Forty five minutes later we’re still waiting in the scorching heat and summarize our position:

• We have no idea why we are standing in line.

• We have no idea why we gave all of our paperwork away.

• We have no idea why we must pay $5 each.

• We hope like mad we are in the right place doing the right thing.

We eventually get everything back and jump in our cars, excited to actually load the container. The directions we got earlier turn out to be useless and we are quickly driving aimlessly around the port with no clue where to go, even driving along a muddy gravel road that negates our car wash plan. At one point I follow Vince into a security check point where the guards furiously yell and wave their arms at us before we can even ask directions.

On a complete guess we try to walk into a yard with a lot of cars around and a guard takes our passports and hands us another security badge. We realize we are at the extremely busy RORO section where people are furiously getting cars inspected for importation. Still with no idea if we are in the right place we ask a lady who takes half of our paperwork into an office then gives the other half to another man, before they tell us to wait with the 25 guys importing cars.

We both have doubts we are in the correct place and now we don’t even have the paperwork we’ve invested so much time in.
We stand around in the hot sun feeling lost and helpless.
Heat, exhaustion and frustration make losing it look like a valid option at this point.

Finally we get an indication of progress when the guards from earlier are alerted to our permitted entry. We drive into the yard and wait for an inspection by the K-9 unit. The dog climbs in and on everything, never once looking more than downright bored. Again we wait, with the clock approaching 4:30pm, knowing the port closes at 5. Finally a customs guys says he can take us to our container so he jumps in with Vince and away we go deep into the port.

The K-9 unit throughly searching the Jeep

I’ve never been to a major shipping port like this and can’t help but be in awe. We drive right down to within 20 meters of the water where enormous cargo ships are slowly gliding by. Directly overhead is a crane that is simply too big to be real and shipping containers are stacked high all around us. When we park in front of our container we both know we’ve made it and begin to smile and joke around at our success against all odds.

Photo of the dock I was not supposed to take

A few minutes later we get another K-9 inspection that also walks through the empty container before we drive inside. We got a 40 foot ‘high cube’ container so Vince can drive straight in with his roof tent and we have plenty of room to spare lengthwise and about 40cm on each side. While waiting for the lashing crew to show up, I sit quitely on the concrete at 4:45pm, feeling happy and exhausted at the same time.

Waiting to drive into the container

All four wheels are chocked and the four corners are tied down. We do a quick inspection, take a few photos, and sign a few forms as customs close and put a special seal on the container, now ready to go.

Vince driving the Land Rover into the container

At 5:30 we are back at the entrance to the port and I sit on the gutter to eat my ‘lunch’ of fried chicken, fries and coke, the first thing I have had to eat or drink since 7am. We catch a taxi into downtown Colon, the express bus to Panama City and another taxi back to our hotel.

Home for the next few days

This is by far the biggest, most insane few days of paperwork I’ve gone through in my life and as I drift off to sleep I can’t help smiling at the enormity of it all.
32000kms, nine months and ten countries down the adventure continues to grow.

Lashed down and closing up

-Dan

This story concludes in Shipping across The Darien Gap Pt. 4

Seaboard Marine: The well known favorite of tourists offer a good service for a fair price that includes all the little extra costs and annoyances. The detailed quote we are given is for $1880 for the two cars, showing all the various items. It’s confusing why something like unstuffing would be per vehicle, which is not adequately explained to us. Of course it’s not supposed to make sense. After a lot of back-and-forward they won’t budge so we move on, using this as our baseline.

Barwil: The second favorite of tourists is obviously used to dealing with foreigners. A lady speaking good English ushers us into a very nice air conditioned office and hands us a very simple piece of paper showing $1900 with no breakdown of the costs. When we try to clarify we’re told everything is included except the customs charges in Colombia which they can do nothing about. We ask them to get back to us and are assured they ‘will not be more than $200 – $400 per vehicle’. Hmm

While sitting in the Barwil office Marie picks up a small newspaper all about ocean freight. It shows all the shipping companies in Panama City so we quickly get in contact with as many as possible.

Marfret (Rozo): Marfret is a French company so partly as a joke we decide to stop in and get a quote. The quote is low at $1460, but appears incomplete. When we try to clarify the details with Raiza, an assistant, it’s obvious she doesn’t know the details and doesn’t want to commit to anything.
We leave the office with more questions than before we arrived, but we are excited about the possibility of such a low price.

At the end of the day we still think Seaboard Marine is in the lead, and will continue to investigate the options at Marfret and other companies we have emailed.

Day Two – The search continues
We receive an email from Marfret that doesn’t really answer any of our questions so we jump in a taxi and head back to the office. Again Raiza is incapable of answering our questions and mentions her boss will be in the office shortly should we wish to talk with him.
When Mr. Martinez arrives everything changes immediately. He’s extremely professional, speaks excellent English and clarifies every question we have and then some. He even makes the quote lower because unstuffing is per container, not per vehicle. Now we’re down to $1233 and feeling much happier, with only one small hick-up to go. Marfret is purely a shipping company and as such don’t handle any of the paperwork, for that we’ll need a customs broker.

We move across town to the office of Mario, who can help us out. After he’s clarified exactly what we’ll need and some serious bargaining from Vince the price drops from $250 down to $100 each, with a guy to help us along the way. The ship we’re aiming for sails on a Sunday, which means we’ll have to load the container on Friday, leaving not a single day to spare.
We’ll make it

Day Three – Customs, Inspections & Insanity
We must get permission take our temporarily imported vehicles out of Panama, which is quite a task because we are not going with them. Our first stop is a customs inspection, only open from 10-11am where they will check over the paperwork we recieved at the border when entering the country. Waiting in the lot becomes quite amusing when another two French couples with vehicles show up, and then four guys on motorbikes. The police warn us this is a very dangerous neighborhood and we should be extra cautious, especially of children. We’re all dumbfounded considering we are standing in the parking lot of a police station, but keep a lookout all the same.

Waiting for inspection in Panama City

The inspection guy looks at the VIN number of the Jeep for about one second before he circles a mistake on my paperwork and walks away. The VIN number is correct, but at the border they only put the first half of it under “Engine Number”, which is not acceptable. My Jeep doesn’t even have an Engine Number, so apparently the entire VIN again is required. With no time to spare our customs chaperon and I race down the road to customs, get a new form, race back and get re-inspected. During this time Vince and Marie went back to the hotel and now a problem is found with their paperwork (a mistake in the VIN). Again we race down the road, I forge Vince’s signature on the form and we race back in time to get our papers in. While getting a new form I bump into one of the French couples and two of the motorbike guys, all with mistakes on their entrance paperwork.

Vince posing with his Land Rover

At 2pm an office of the police over the road opens that will finally approve our paperwork. We’re told our customs guy will meet us there so we wait, and wait and wait. Stress levels slowly rise and person after person runs out of the building and down the street to get a copy of some piece of paper or other. Everyone I talk to requires different copies and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the madness. After calling twice our guy finally shows up and we find we can not enter with shorts or flip-flops. After much shuffling and loaning of clothes and shoes everyone except me makes it inside. As time ticks down one of the motorbike guys gives me his pants and boots (he wears my shorts and flip-flops on his motorbike) and I walk into the office at 4:57pm, just as the lady says she will not process the paperwork for anyone else.

I somehow scrape through and get a hold of a single piece of paper that for some unknown reason has become the focus of my life. At one point there are three identical copies of my eight pieces of paper, each with at least three or four stamps and signatures. I shake my head.

A problem is found with the paperwork of one of the French couples’ and so everything for them grinds to a halt. The office over the road is closed and nothing can be done until 10am tomorrow when the whole process is started again. They are also short on time and have already booked non-refundable plane tickets, which is all falling apart. Stress levels are through the roof for all of us and one guy completely loses it and starts yelling and screaming, not helping anything.
Vince and I have survived to progress another day.

Dan’s handy advice to others:

• Firstly, give yourself plenty of time. If your ship is sailing on Friday, get the inspection done on Monday and relax for the week. Almost all of us had a short timeline and it was pure madness for no good reason. Running your heart out to a photocopier and back is not very fun.

• When you enter Panama and get a piece of paper for your vehicle, make certain, and I mean 100% certain that every single piece of ink on that paper is correct. Nothing is too insignificant, trust me on that. Of the eight of us trying to get through that day, six had problems on their entrance paper.

• If you later discover it’s not correct, get yourself to customs (Aduana) and get a corrected form before you do anything else.

• For the inspection day be certain to wear long pants, closed toe shoes and sleeves. The guard will not let you in otherwise and you’ll save a ton of hassle this way.

• At a minimum you will need copies of everything you have, probably multiple copies. The one that snagged most people was a copy of the entrance stamp to Panama from your passport.

We’re a step closer to Colombia and South America.
The madness & excitement continue to build.

-Dan

This story continues in Shipping across The Darien Gap Pt. 3

The Wikipedia article for the Darien Gap has all the details, which are pretty interesting. A couple of seriously equipped vehicles have made it across, so technically the Guinness Book of Records is correct in listing the Pan-Am as the longest drivable road, though it’s not something I’m about to tackle.

I hear the current president of Panama is very interested in building the highway through to Colombia, a topic that comes up every few years and has lots of opposition due to political, environmental and economic concerns.
I’m not holding my breath.

There are a number of common ways to cross the gap with a vehicle:

• Load the car into a shipping container and use traditional ocean freight, normally from the port of Colón in Panama to Cartegena in Colombia. Costs just under $1000 for a 20 foot container big enough for one vehicle.

• “Roll-On, Roll-Off” (RORO), similar to a ferry. The main difference is the port workers have the keys and drive the vehicle. This method appears to be cheap, in the $500 range, and is accompanied by many horror stories of theft. There are reports of a service from Costa Rica to Ecuador and other variations.

• “Lift-On, Lift-Off” (LOLO), similar to the above, where the vehicle is lifted with a crane on and off the ship, without handing over the keys. Clearly the best choice for a vehicle that doesn’t fit in a shipping container but expensive because it’s charged by the cubic meter (around $2000 for a big camper).

Notes:

• A traditional ferry used to make the crossing, but it went bankrupt a few years back.

• In all of the above only the vehicle is being transported – it is not possible for people to ride along so that’s a story for another day.

The motorcycle crew have a huge advantage here in that they can take advantage of the numerous small yachts making the crossing. Bikes are man-handled on and off at each end and ride on the deck of the boats covered in tarps. Almost all boats allow the rider to come along for the amazing trip through the San Blas Islands and some even take care of the customs paperwork at each end. I’m told costs are around $700 for bike and rider. Checkout Hostal Wunderbar who have tons of experience organizing this trip for riders and come very highly recommended.

Since meeting Rupert on the Belize/Guatemala border I’ve been thinking about and trying to plan ahead for the Darien crossing. A ton of travelers have ben exchanging emails trying to figure out details and dates and I’ve known about a French couple that have literally been only a few days behind me for the entire trip. Vince and Marie are driving around the entire world in their Land Drover and we’re really excited to share a a big 40 foot shipping container, which makes things slightly cheaper than going alone. More than saving money, it’s great to team up with other travelers I can relate to so well, and they fill my head with stories and adventures to come. Checkout their website, http://www.viamundi.fr/ (in French).
Absolutely amazing!

I very quickly have to learn a lot of new terminology related to shipping and Vince explains it’s all in the details. If we’re not careful and don’t negotiate everything in the price a ton of ‘extras’ will bite us later. We’ll pay extra to have the container moved to a location suitable for loading, we’ll pay extra to have the vehicles “lashed” in, we’ll pay extra for.. well, pretty much everything.

Here is a small explanation for anyone new to the process:
Ocean Freight: The cost of actually shipping the container from A to B.
Bunker: The cost of the fuel for the ship.
Stuffing: Getting the goods into the container and sealing it. The details here are important as this may include moving the container around or not.
Lashing: Physically lashing the vehicles into the container so they don’t move around.
Unstuffing: Getting the goods out of the container, which again may include moving the container from the port to the yard or not.
Documentation Fee: The cost of lodging all the paperwork with customs.
Bill of Lading: The official document describing the contents of the container.
Port Fees: The amount charged by the port to allow the container and it’s contents to pass.

Notes:

• All of the above may be charged per container or per vehicle and may cover both ends or not.

• Everyone seems to have a different idea about having separate Bills of Lading for each vehicle. If you do only get one, make certain it’s clear who owns which vehicle.

• Also make sure the Bill of Lading says “vehicle in transit”. We’re told this will make the process in Colombia much easier.

Lots more to come on this one.

-Dan

This story continues in Shipping across The Darien Gap Pt. 2

We really have no idea what to do on the island, and quickly sink into the party atmosphere for a huge night. Nursing immense hangovers the following day we notice an abundance of SCUBA diving centers offering really good prices. After asking around the entire town we sign up for a PADI open water certification at “The Dutch Priate”, a course of six dives over three days. As part of the package we stay on Isla Bastimentos, a tiny island just a few minutes away from it’s bigger neighbor. The community and vibe are really different here – there are no roads and only very basic shacks for houses. We see only one or two tourists in three days, the polar opposite of Isla Colón.

The Dutch Pirate

The rain we had in Costa Rica has followed us down and it pours endlessly for days, not the best conditions for SCUBA diving. Our first few dives are all about skills where we sit on the bottom of the ocean practicing different things that need to be mastered like hand signals and buoyancy control. A big part of the course is paperwork and study, which we complete in the evenings. Once the basics are under control we move out and explore the coral and sea life, which is absolutely stunning. On one dive we go down to 18 meters for a few minutes, another we explore the wreck of a ferry and yet another we swim along a rock shelf that has all manner of creatures living in, on & under it.

Hanging out at the dutch pirate

The constant rain means the visibility is never great and we are constantly cold, though we’re both grinning like mad every time we come out of the water. I haven’t been SCUBA diving for quite a few years and I’d forgotten how amazing it is.
I’ll be going again soon, I’m sure.

Our house for a few days

Upon arrival back at the Jeep the only problem is the family of very determined little ants that have setup camp inside. Every time I kill off a group of a few thousand and think I’m finally done, another few thousand crawl out of a hole and keep me busy. It turns out the Jeep has a lot more little hiding places that I realized.
Luckily these ones don’t bite.
We camp a night at the beautiful Playa Las Lajas on the Pacific coast before a big day of driving to Panama City. At the edge of the city we drive over The Bridge Of The Americas which spans the Panama Canal and can clearly see enormous container ships coming and going. It’s hard to imagine the heat and humidity could get any more intense, though that is exactly what has happened.
I am extremely excited for adventures to come, more so than any other time of the entire trip.

The Bridge Of The Americas, over The Panama Canal

What might they be?
All will be revealed soon, while impatient readers should checkout this Wikipedia article.

-Dan

Rain comes down in torrents hour after hour and word filters down that the only highway south to Panama has been washed out, so we spend a couple of extra days here, constantly struggling to fit in with the vibe.
On our way down to the border at Sixaoloa / Guabito banana fields stretch in all directions as far as the eye can see.

The line up waiting at a washed out bridge

The actual border is a huge old one lane bridge spanning an enormous river. It really doesn’t look in good enough condition to drive over, though the big trucks are having no problems. On the Costa Rica side we fill out another tourist card, get an exit stamp in our passports and I hand over the paperwork for the Jeep all in about 5 minutes.

Driving over the bridge is kind of a challenge because it’s very narrow and crammed with people walking in both directions carrying their worldly possessions. Every time a person wants to go in the opposing direction I have to stop so they can squeeze by without worry. Immediately in Panama I am directed to park literally in the middle of the road and pay $4 for the usual fumigation. The guy is so intent on doing a good job he sprays a small can inside the Jeep and says not to go in there for ten minutes, making me feel a bit uneasy.

I grab an entrance stamp for myself before getting the Jeep inspected by a military guy who pokes around for a long time, and seems somewhat disappointed when he doesn’t find anything. I walk down a little way and purchase a months worth of mandatory insurance for $15 USD. The guy behind the counter thinks he’s on a winner when he says it’s $30, not realizing I can read the sign in Spanish that clearly says it’s $15.

Questioning everything is becoming a way of life.

Back at customs I exchange copies of the Jeep documents for an official looking piece of paper allowing entry for one month. I have a good look over the form and am satisfied it’s correct before we drive off into country number ten after a very easy border crossing.

-Dan

As soon as Mike hears mention of white water his eyes light up like a crazy man and we quickly find ourselves at Costa Rica Descents, clearly the best outfit in town. The guys are really friendly and down to earth and give us a couple of different options. We can go part-way up the best river in town for a day of class II and III rapids paddling kayaks, or we can jump in a raft to tackle the class IV and V rapids further upstream. We’re really torn on what to do here and finally decide that piloting our own craft is the way to go. Mike has a solid season under his belt and is confident in a small play kayak. I’ve done a lot of flat water paddling in canoes and kayaks, but very little white water and am less confident about the small kayaks. The guides recommend a “ducky”, which is an inflatable kayak they describe as somewhere between a raft and a kayak or a one man raft.

Dan and his trusty little boat

We pile into a mini-bus and set out for the river, nervous and excited at the same time. A couple of other tourists are along and they’ll be in a raft with a guide while two other guides will run safety in kayaks, along with Mike and I. We arrive at the put-in and get a quick briefing on what we should and shouldn’t be doing. I’m told my little craft will treat me fine as long as I keep it straight through the rapids and don’t wrap it around any rocks.

Keep it straight. No Rocks. Sounds simple enough.

Keeping it straight

The water level is controlled by a dam far upstream so we wait around for half an hour for the water level to rise, though I get the feeling it’s just to build the tension in the air. Mike and I opt to walk around the first rapid which doesn’t look very friendly at all and play around for ten minutes in a calmer area getting the hang of things. Our guides are pros, and Mike looks pretty confident in his little kayak, making me feel like the absolute novice in the group.

Mike crusing along

Setting out the guide shouts one final instruction – “Stay close to me, and go exactly where I do.” I’m full of adrenaline and I move into the first set of rapids and very quickly get the hang of things. I learn my little craft can scrape over and bounce off rocks just like a raft. I also learn it can’t maneuver and move across the river like a kayak. In the third set of class III rapids the guide in front of me skillfully moves from river right to left to avoid a series of shallow rocks. Despite my best attempt I find myself going straight down the middle of them and making things up as I go along. I feel amazing when I move along full steam and spot rocks, holes and obstructions and avoid them, all the while grinning like an idiot and paddling my little heart out. Of course I can’t keep it up forever and get stuck right in the middle of some big water & rocks, which turns out not to be a big deal when I wriggle my way off again.

Stoked on that one

We continue in this fashion for what feels like hours, threading around rocks and riding the biggest wave trains the river has to offer. Each one is a new challenge and it’s amazingly exhilarating to be completely in control of my own craft. At the top of a big set our guide laughs hysterically and instructs us – “There’s a huge hole at the bottom of this one – hit it as hard as you can!”. Following instructions yields the desired result as my craft and I almost completely submerge and I just manage to stay right side up and paddle out.

Hitting the hole dead-on as instructed

The only incident of the day comes when Mike grabs the raft during a brief rest break. He’s upstream of it and the current grabs his kayak and pulls him under in a split second. The water is shallow and the raft is literally on top of him, so he can’t roll right side up, causing those in the raft to run around frantically trying to help. He ends up pulling his deck and going for a swim, thankfully only his pride a little dented.

Paddling hard to stay straight

The river mellows a little and moves from mostly III’s to mostly II’s and we have some really fun wave trains to attack and play around in. Our guides also relax a lot and after some encouragement are soon surfing standing waves and trying to spin 360′s off rocks. At the take-out they cut up a watermelon and a couple of the best pineapples I’ve ever had in my life and we eat them right there on the side of the river. They also let it slip they were expecting both of us to swim multiple times, so we’re both bursting with pride at our performance.

Mike looking serious

This is the first time I’ve been in control of my own white water craft and needless to say I’m completely hooked and can’t wait to get out again. The guys at Costa Rica Descents have paddled all over North and Central America and it really shows – they were amazing and I highly recommend them to anyone in the La Fortuna area.

The river crew with fresh fruit

We finish out the day with a soak in the free hot springs just near Tabacón Resort. There is more hot water here than I’ve ever seen, quite literally a rushing river of it, complete with rapids and natural water slide.
This youtube video shows how to find it (easy) and also gives a good idea of just how much hot water there is.

Getting a little wet

Bursting through the waves

-Dan

Hiking up to the peak

A couple of hundred meters further on we find ourselves quite literally on top of the world at 1,916 meters (6,286 ft) and are completely awe-struck by the view. When the clouds part we can see Lake Nicaragua to the North and the Pacific to the West. Close by is the crater of the volcano, which is immense and doesn’t look at all real.

On top of the world at Rincón de la Vieja

We walk a knife-edge trail to the crater rim, and stare in utter disbelief. The first thing to strike us is the color of the water in the crater lake – the strangest milky-white I have ever seen. The next is the far side of the crater wall that has gas loudly hissing out under high pressure from a couple of different places.
It’s hard not to think the earth is alive when confronted with this spectacle on such a grand scale.

From this angle the rock looked like it was floating

There are of course no fences of any kind and while sitting on the rim eating lunch we discuss our chances in the event of even a minor eruption.
Not good, we decide.

The milky-white lake in the crater

A couple of different places list this as one of, if not the, best hikes in Costa Rica and Mike and I throughly agree – the amazing views and alien-like features of the active volcano make this a fantastic hike.

Standing on the edge of the crater

Steam hissing out of the crater on Rincón de la Vieja

Back at the ranger station we take a quick dip in an extremely refreshing swimming hole before setting out on the loop trail, which is full of geothermal activity. We wind our way past all manner of hot springs and steam vents that are bubbling and steaming away in a very aggressive manner. Warning signs say the temperature is between 75°C and 95°C and the couple of places I tentatively test confirm this pretty quickly. The highlight comes in the form of the mud fumaroles, which continuously bubble and gurgle in a very hypnotic manner.

Mesmerising fumarole in the park

Not done for the day, we drive around to the Santa Maria Sector, setup camp for the night for $2 USD and after dinner make the 4km hike to the natural hot springs that are perfect for soaking. The two soaking pools are large, hot, smell very strongly of sulfur and sit beside a beautiful cold stream.

Soaking our weary legs after a huge day of hiking is amazing and we stumble home half asleep a few hours later.

-Dan

We’re not too sure how to find the good stuff without paying through the teeth, when we meet Eric, a cool booking agent. He’s just opened up in the same building as the supermarket and is very happy to tell us about a couple of free hikes & activities around town. It’s really refreshing to have someone so down to earth, who is not trying to get every last penny from us and genuinely wants us to enjoy ourselves. He’s as excited are we are and soon we’re bouncing around ready for adventure.

The hiking road to the cloudforest

Armed with our new knowledge we set out to hike into the cloud forest at the only place in the area this can be done for free. It’s a really steep muddy road that I drive up as far as possible before parking and continuing on foot. Even though it’s much cooler here we are soon sweating like crazy as we climb up and up, right into the clouds. The views from the top are said to be spectacular on a clear day, though we can barely see ten meters through the thick fog which doesn’t diminish the beauty. We move on to the second free hike, and find a massive hollow fig tree that Mike climbs into a long way.

View of the cloudforest

The giant Fig tree that Mike climbed into

Before the day is done we make our way out to the San Luis Waterfall, a beautiful 35 minute walk along a river deep in the jungle. The falls themselves are about 90 meters high (300 ft.) and hugely impressive. Swimming below is freezing, and we grin from ear to ear.

The 90 meter San Luis Waterfall

The main attraction in this area is zipline tours, and with Eric’s help we get a deal on the best outfit in town, eXtremo.
With a name like that how could we possibly pass it up?

We are harnessed, helmeted and harnessed again before being given a 5 minute safety talk. We’ll be connected to cables spanning huge distances and leather gloves are our only brakes. If the guide waves frantically, pull down on the cable, we are told. Simple enough.
Before long we are flying from platform to platform, across huge spans at really high speed. It’s amazingly good fun and everyone is really excited. Braking turns out to be pretty simple and soon I have the technique down; come in at suicidal speed and try to burn through my glove in the last meter or two. Adding a look of complete horror on my face terrifies a couple of the guides whose job it is to ‘catch’ me.

Hanging out in the treetops

The guides take a liking to me and tell me the best way to ride the tarzan swing is backwards, so off I step, completely unable to see where I am going.

Mike about to set out on the zipline

Mike coming in on the zipline

The main event of the day is the “superman” cable where we are harnessed in so we are lying down, superman style. Everyone quickly starts humming the theme song and calls of “Superman!” can be heard echoing all around. The guides let me hold my camera on this one, so I take a video of what it looks like while whizzing along. Really, really fun.

The superman zipline

It’s really hard to judge my speed in the video, so I did some quick numbers; The cable is 1080 meters long and I complete the trip in 54 seconds, making for an average speed of 72 km/h (45 mph).

-Dan

The main beach at Tamarindo

When I goto sleep there is only one other tent in the whole campground, and I think I’m dreaming when about fifty people rock up after midnight and have a huge party while setting up their tents, complete with a car stereo at full volume. It turns out a whole village has made the trek to the beach for the weekend and they intend to party pretty hard while here.

The crazy tent city that appeared at Tamarindo

We spend a few nights here, partly because I’m still feeling sick and party because Mike lost his debit card a few days back and is trying to have money wired to the local bank, with little luck. It’s an extremely beautiful place, if not a little busy for my liking.

The sunset over Tamarindo Beach

A 4×4-only dirt track winds down the west coast of the peninsula, possibly called the ‘Monkey Trail’ and is highly recommended by all. We wind our way down to Playa Sámara and quickly realize we’ve found a slice of paradise. The campground is a very laid-back, Rastafarian affair right on the beach and wandering around the town which has one of everything we need and nothing we don’t is great. At night we go to a little community center full of locals to watch a movie sitting on bean-bags & eating popcorn.
It would be easy to stay here for weeks.

Camping right on beautiful Samara beach

We continue south and spend a couple of nights in the Malpais / Santa Teresa area. Here, a beachside road strings together a couple of small towns that have been overrun by surfers riding the powerful swell on the seemingly endless sandy beach. We catch up with Jamie who we met in Nicaragua who has been living in Costa Rica for six months teaching English. She’s been having an awesome time living the local life, which you can read about on her blog: http://rubiatica.blogspot.com/

Overlooking the Nicoya Peninsula

At the very southern end of the peninsula lies The Reserva Natural Absoluta Cabo Blanco, Costa Rica’s oldest protected wilderness area setup in 1963. We pay $10 USD each for entry and set out on a two hour hike to the beach at the southern tip. Walking through the dense jungle and enormous trees we walk right by a family of howler monkeys and spot a couple of brightly colored birds and giant butterflies. The beach is really peaceful and we both take catnaps in the warm shady area.

Hiking through the jungle to Cabo Blanco

These spikey trees are all over the place

We move around to Montezuma, a very popular spot on the coast. It’s a very Rastafarian place and we are offered drugs twice each on the three minute walk to the grocery store. Neither of us quite likes the vibe here, although nothing bad happens.

Scared little crab

We catch up with Jamie again the next day and walk twenty minutes to the amazing Montezuma Waterfalls, where we swim and jump off a low rock. Using Jamie’s local knowledge we walk around and up higher to another waterfall and series of swimming pools which are almost deserted. This second fall turns out to be perfect for jumping off and we all jump multiple times from the 10 meter (35 feet) height before lying around in the sun enjoying the total relaxation.

Winding up for a backflip at Montezuma Waterfall

We move on and hop the ferry across to Puntarenas an the mainland, excited for our next Costa Rican adventure.

The main beach at Montezuma

-Dan

We drive past a huge line of parked trucks that stretches for a few kilometers and stop at a small shack to pay $1 USD for an official exit stamp from Nicaragua. Ten meters away we drive to another shack where the guard gives me a little scrap of paper with the license plate of the Jeep and the date written on the front, then just points at the next building. Pulling in here is where the real chaos begins – there are cars, busses and trucks all over the place, hundreds of people milling about and about fifty guys yelling at me to purchase their assistance. I’ve learnt the trick with these guys is to pretend you are not interested then listen to them while they tell you the next step in the process. When they’ve finished blabbing I politely say “No thanks” and move along. Whenever I’m pondering the next step, another helper materializes, yells the answer at me and I move along without paying a cent.

I find a customs officer wandering around and give him the little scrap of paper. He glances at the Jeep, scribbles his name and walks away to repeat the process for someone else. Next is a policeman who does exactly the same thing, without even seeing the Jeep. I move inside and stand in a line with about ten local guys who are apparently trying to achieve a similar goal. I strike up a conversation with one guy who assures me I’m in the right place and have thus far jumped through the correct hoops in the correct order. I think he’s impressed.

After about twenty minutes of waiting it becomes obvious that waiting in line is not an important concept here, with people pushing in and out of line all over the place. My new friend sees an opening and together we eagerly get to the front of a newly-opened window, shoving our paperwork through. Here, my very official paperwork for the Jeep thrown on a pile and I get a new scribble and even a stamp on my paper scrap, and am pointed to the next line across. The same process is repeated, a scribble and a stamp.

As far as I can tell, the process for the Jeep is complete and now Mike and I have to deal with ourselves. Apparently a couple of tour busses have just pulled in so we wait about 45 minutes in line, fill out a tourist card and pay $2 USD to finally have permission to exit Nicaragua. I still have no idea if my scrap of paper is complete and can’t believe when the border guard barely glances at it before waiving up through. Gotta love bureaucracy.

After all that, we have only left Nicaragua, and must now enter Costa Rica.

Fumigation is first up and I’m surprised when the guy waves me right in without paying. I hope I don’t need a receipt for that later. We park in front of the main immigration building and stand in another huge line to get ourselves into the country. 45 minutes and another tourist card later we are rewarded with a little stamp in our passports. In the room adjacent I pay $15 USD for mandatory car insurance and get a photocopy of my new passport stamp and policy. Just over the road I hand over my paperwork including copies of the registration (title), my passport and drivers license which are all recorded on a piece of paper. A policeman does a cursory inspection of the Jeep and contents, before giving directions to the next building we must go to.

During this whole process a German guy riding a motorbike has been one step behind me, so we’ve been chatting and helping each other out. At this point his debit card doesn’t work and he doesn’t have enough money to purchase insurance, leaving him literally stranded in no mans land between the two countries. With a huge grin I give him $20 and completely change the color of his day. He’s adamant we should stick together until we find a working ATM so he can pay me back, but I’m not fazed at all.
I feel confident that someone will do the same for me if it ever comes to that.

A short drive away I stand in line at a non-descript white building, apparently the last hurdle for the day. Here, all the paperwork I’ve accumulated so far is taken away, typed up and given back to me in the form of a formal-looking document allowing three months entry.

The now common final guards have a look over everything and wave us through into Costa Rica, country number nine…

-Dan

Volcan Conception on Isla De Ometepe

At the ferry terminal all the different taxes, charges and tariffs quickly get confusing and then I go and loose my ticket, so I have to buy another. All told I pay 480 cordobas (about $25 USD) to get myself and the Jeep over to the island and I drive right onto a ferry ready to go. The ride is really rough in high swells whipped up by the wind and I get chatting to a few backpackers who are mostly traveling solo and have randomly met up. They’re pretty stoked to realize the benefits of having a vehicle and we soon find a place to camp out at Hostel Chico Largo for the night right on the side of the lake.

Volcan Conception in the early morning

We move along and checkout Ojo De Agua, a natural spring on the island. After we pay our $2 USD entrance the guy at the gate gives us a huge spiel about the spring and I’m amazed to hear it’s about 25 °C and doesn’t change temperature no matter what the active Volcán Conceptión is doing. I’ve heard some rumors about hot springs on the island, this guy is certain there are none.
It turns out to big a big concrete pool with crystal clear water welling up from the bottom – a bit of a tourist trap but a really nice place all the same.

Ojo de Agua on Isla de Ometepe

We camp at the night at Finca Magdalena, a beautiful organic farm a little way up the side of Volcán Maderas. It’s obvious they get a lot of tourists through here, with a menu entirely in US dollars and the convenience of running a tab.. All the guys in the group are really excited to hike up the volcano in the morning and we ummm and arrr about getting a guide, which is apparently mandatory, though we’re not certain about that. We decide that if we’re careful we won’t have any problems.

The crew setting out to climb Volcan Maderas

Early in the morning the hike starts dry, hot, dusty and steep just as we had thought, but quickly changes into extremely lush wet rainforest and we begin climbing through mud and slippery rocks. This continues for hour after hour and it takes us a full four hours to reach the summit, unfortunately surrounded by very high trees. We descend an extremely steep section down to the lake in the volcano crater, which is stunning to say the least. We had hoped to swim here, though it’s quickly obvious it’s a shallow mud pit which Ben illustrates by sinking past his knees, a feat greeted with roaring laughter.

Lake shoreline

The very steep descent into the crater

We hang out for an hour or so, soaking in the atmosphere and chatting to other hikers before setting out for the return leg. After a while it becomes apparent we’re not on exactly the same trail we came up on, but using the two volcanoes as landmarks we know exactly where we are and decide to continue down. The trail seems much longer and a few hours later we break out into farm land, first passing through open fields with cattle, then banana plantations and more open farmland. We eventually make it down to the road and have a couple of kilometers to hike back around to Magdalena, where we arrive throughly exhausted. A few people snicker at our “getting lost” and one of the ladies says in Spanish we need to learn how to use our brains.
Ouch.

The lake in the crater of Volcan Madera

The beautiful farmland below the volcano

Almost the whole crew moves on the next morning, some heading south for Costa Rica and some moving North. Mike, Simon and I move around to the other side of Maderes and spend another night lakeside, mostly relaxing for the day after our big volcano hike. I’m feeling pretty sick with another stomach bug and am happy for the rest day.

Hiking through a bananna plantation

Isla Ometepe is an amazing place and the peaceful, relaxed way of life is really infectious. A great way to finish up my time in Nicaragua

-Dan

The Leon Cathedral, from 1747

Another beautiful building in Leon

In the morning I make my way to Jan Juan del Sur, arguably the surf capital of Nicaragua. The town itself does not feel like much to me and the bay seems to prevent swell from rolling in so I make my way north on a little gravel road to Playa Madera, which comes highly recommended. Tourists seem also to have heard about this place, arriving twenty at a time on ‘learn to surf’ tours. A few hundred meters further up the beach is Matilda’s, a great campsite right on the beach. I setup here and wind up staying for a few days, enjoying the surf, sun & monkeys that come right into the campground.

I'm looking at you

I meet up with a bunch of different people, all hanging out around the area and am amused how most of the surfers are depressed at the lack of swell for the last few weeks and aren’t much to talk to. I meet a couple of crazy American guys who drink rum like I drink water and so of course we head into San Juan del Sur on Saturday night to see what we can find. It’s not hard to find drunkenness when beers are $1 USD and rum is equally cheap. The Iguana Bar is the place to go and it’s extremely crowded with both gringos and locals. I finally bump into my friend Ty, who’s car I saw in Antigua. He’s had an awesome drive down and his trusty old Subaru had done just fine, minus a couple of broken windows. He’s moving into Costa Rica soon to sell his car and then continue on foot and we’re both certain we’ll see each other again.

Just hanging around

While hanging out one sunny afternoon two motorbikes roll up that are obviously geared up to ride a very long way. Quickly I recognize Adrian who I met in Stewart, Northern British Columbia many months ago. Riding with him is James, who has come down from Toronto in a few short months. We chat for a long time before Adrian has to move on, so James and I continue the conversation for many hours. He’s had an awesome ride down and we swap story after story, discussing everything and nothing at the same time. Checkout his blog at http://tripdown.regioncoding.com/

Playa Madera

Hanging out on the beach is great for a few days and I’m thoroughly ready when it’s time to move on.

The sunset at Playa Madera

-Dan

At the border I have to cancel my Honduran paperwork for the Jeep before exiting the country. The guy at the final check looks in my passport and tells me about four times this is absolutely the last thing in Honduras, and I won’t have anything else to deal with. He slips in that I just have to pay $10 USD and when I ask why and ask for a receipt he instantly bows his head and waves me through. Can’t blame the guy for trying I suppose.

Welcome to Nicaragua

In Nicaragua I walk up to the immigration window and am told I have to pay $7 USD to enter. Again I question this, thinking my CA-4 stamp gives me free travel. Apparently this is not the case, so I pay and move on to more paperwork. I find it amusing the official fee between two countries is in US dollars, considering neither country has that as their official currency.

The paperwork for the Jeep is fairly run of the mill stuff, and thankfully free. It turns out I did have to pay that $7 fee and need my receipt. The police guy does a thorough inspection of the Jeep, making me pull most of the stuff out of the back. I have to exchange my money for the second time today and have no idea what the exchange rate is, having never looked it up. The guy offers me a rate that I barely even listen to before immediately saying I want a better rate. He bumps it a little. I pressure hard and he bumps it a little twice more before walking away, saying that’s the best he can do. OK. I’ll take that.
The border here is extremely quiet and not a single person hassles me or even begs for money. This is my cleanest, quietest, friendliest border crossing yet.

Driving away from immigration some enthusiastic people come up and I have to pay $3 USD for something I don’t entirely understand before they’ll lower a rope and let me pass. The military guy standing right there says it’s legit and they give me a receipt, I think it’s some local municipal tax thing. The guys run their eyes over my paperwork and passport and I’m free to drive into Nicaragua.

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve picked up some horrendous driving habits since crossing the border into Mexico. Road rules simply do not apply down here and more often that not it’s safer to ignore them anyway. I honestly have not even looked at a speed sign in months, couldn’t care less if I’m at a give way or stop sign and completely ignore double lines on the road. Extremely slow vehicles are a common occurrence and I zip around one on the outside of a somewhat blind corner, over double lines, doing about 90 km/h. Two police are at the bottom of the hill and wave me over, looking very official.

After taking my license it becomes obvious they are going to fine me for all of the above, about a $20 USD ticket I’m told. The catch is they are going to hang onto my license while I goto the bank to pay the fine, and they’ll give it back to me when I return. I was absolutely breaking the law and caught red handed, so I’m happy to pay the price. The problem comes when they want me to back-track about an hour to pay the fine, with the sun already very close to the horizon. After talking around the problem for a while we figure out they need some money for gas, so I give them 100 Cordobas ($5 USD), literally everything I have in my wallet. After this they are my best friends, forgetting all about any ticket, giving back my license and they happily give directions to my destination.
Only the second speeding ticket in my life, and I bribed my way out of it.
I like it

It occurs to me that maybe Nicaragua is a little more strict with road rules and I should watch it more than I have been. That lasts for all of about five minutes before I fall right back to my old ways of doing as I please.

I seem to have over-estimated the distance I would cover today and I drive through dusk for quite a while before it’s completely dark. Horses, bicycles and children materialize out of the darkness every couple of minutes, making me work overtime on concentration. I remember why I avoid driving at night now. On the outskirts of Leon I pull in to a gas station and am surprised to see such a familiar sight – it’s extremely clean, bright and even has the requisite junk food & fast food joint attached. The top 100 music in English helps finish the picture.

Finally, at 9:30pm I climb stiffly out of the Jeep, safely parked in front of the Big Foot hostel in Leon, after driving about 500km across three countries in fourteen and a half hours.
A cold shower and beer put me right to sleep.

-Dan

I really am kind of having fun now and the kid knows that he has no chance at all to tell me what he wants. Finally he resorts to blatantly asking me for money, begging for it. He’s so young for a split second I feel like giving it to him, but still continue with my not understanding bit. Eventually he waves me on and in my mirror I see his buddies give him a hard time when he returns empty handed.

The Jeep reading the rules of Honduras

Driving across Honduras was by no means in my plans from the start, though lately it has just felt like the right thing to do. All the books I have read, and the travelers I have spoken to basically say the only reason to go to Honduras is the North Coast, which is only worthwhile if you want to pay to get out in to the Bay Islands. I thought about driving through the heart of the country to check it out, but my books said all of the towns are unsafe after dark and it would have meant a lot of back-tracking. I think it’s a bit of a failure to drive across a country in one go, without even getting out once or meeting a single person.
So be it.

This military bribery routine is repeated twice more, in more or less similar circumstances and always with the same outcome of me being waved through with all my money in my pocket. One guy tries to work the angle of me not having a number plate on the front of the Jeep, another wants to know if I have a jack. One of the stops has more of an official air about it and the guy very politely asks to see all my documentation, asks a few quick questions about my origin and destination and waves me through in less than 30 seconds. I gather this is the “authorized” checkpoint and the others are just military guys doing what they want. It’s extremely hot, dry & dusty here reminding me a lot of Mexico and the thermometer hanging in the Jeep holds at 40 °C (100 °F) for the entire day.

I turn off the main highway, aiming for the border crossing at El Espino and am immediately happy about my decision. The Pan American Highway here is excellent and has almost zero traffic, the convoy of enormous trucks having continued on to the much busier border crossing at Gausaule. The road immediately begins to climb and for 45 minutes I drive up a very impressive windy mountain road, without a single military checkpoint in sight. I thoroughly enjoy this part of Honduras, and briefly think about spending a night somewhere, though no hotels present themselves.

The beautiful mountains of Honduras

I roll up to the Nicaraguan border about 2 hours after I entered Honduras and am so surprised by what I find I have to ask someone if this is the actual border. It’s very clean and quiet and not a single person hassles me. I’m really happy I came up to this border, probably the nicest I have seen yet.

Back towards Honduras at the El Espino border to Nicaragua

Here I go, aiming for country number three in a single day…

-Dan

I drive way up into the mountains in El Salvador to the town of Perquin, where the government opposition force, the FMLN had their headquarters. The town itself is not much to look at, and with the help of an American in the peace core I manage to find a beautiful campsite on the side of the Rio Sapo, which has amazing swimming beaches and rock pools.

The beautiful Rio Sapo

I’m up early the next morning anticipating a big day of travel – just how big it would turn out to be I have no idea. I stop for gas before the Honduran border and the attendants love the map on the hood and we strike up a great conversation. I’ve heard all sorts of horror stories about the military trying to bribe tourists in Honduras, including Rupert who ended up in handcuffs. The guys here tell me the two most common scams are asking you if you have a fire extinguisher and a safety triangle to put on the road in case of an emergency. When you fail to produce them they bribe some money out of you on the threat of arresting you or impounding your vehicle. The gas station immediately before the border sells both and for $16 USD I splash out and purchase them in the hope of avoiding some conflict throughout the day. I actually wanted a fire extinguisher from day one, so it’s about time I got one and the triangle is kind of fun to play with for about 3 seconds.

Camping in the mountains of El Salvador, by the Rio Sapo

Even at the gas station guys are trying to “assist” me with the crossing, saying it will take hours without their help and only 20 minutes with. I repeat “no thanks” about a hundred times. Driving up to the El Amatillo border I pass a very long ling of trucks waiting for inspection and pull over at the little shack to cancel my El Salvadorian Jeep paperwork. I need a copy of a form and as usual, an enterprising person has set up a stand with a photocopier just where it’s needed. The guy seems pretty proud of being able to charge the exorbitant fee of 5 cents a copy.

Moving along I arrive at the actual border, where I park and start the process. For unknown reasons the immigration guy spends quite a while typing in my info to the computer and clicking around just so I can leave El Sal. Then a guy wearing a uniform and with ID says I have to pay $3 USD to enter Honduras and he’ll give me a semi-official looking receipt. I don’t really believe him, thinking that the CA-4 stamp in my passport gives me free travel between Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua. Knowing I’m going to spend most of the day arguing with people trying to take my money and that fact that it’s only $3 makes me pay it so I can move on.

I leave El Sal no problems, drive over a bridge and find myself in a dry, dusty, shady-looking town that is Honduras. Everyone says immigration is immediately on my right, which I don’t see and eventually circle back around and get directions into an unsigned plain white office building. Realizing I’ll have to spend a long time inside away from the Jeep I walk straight over to the security guard with the pump-action shotgun and ask him to keep an eye on things for some cash, to which he happily agrees.

The paperwork trail begins and I almost fall over when the guy asks for the receipt for the $3 I paid earlier – apparently that thing was legit and I really was supposed to pay it. I’m glad I didn’t argue for too long.
Before all is said and done, the following papers are shuffled.

• 3 copies of my passport main photo page
• 3 copies of the registration for the Jeep
• 3 copies of my drivers license
• 3 copies of receipt number one that I pay 135 Lempiras ($7 USD) at the bank
• 3 copies of receipt number two that I pay 500.72 Lempiras ($26 USD) at the bank
• 3 more copies of my passport, with a new stamp and the $3 USD receipt from earlier

A very brief inspection of the Jeep follows, I receive a very official-looking piece of paper and I’m free to move along, which I do eagerly.

Literally a hundred meters down the road three military guys wave me down, which is not unusual this close to the border. I intentionally stop in the driving lane, don’t kill the engine and don’t get out. In the first three seconds the guy wants my license and once he has it demands to see my fire extinguisher. I smugly produce it, still in it’s box and with price sticker clearly visible. Not to be deterred he quickly asks for my triangle, which I once again get out, still in it’s box, price sticker front and centre. He quickly pulls it out and is very happy to announce that I in fact need two of them, and one is not good enough. I decide to play another card and start replying to everything with “No entiendo” (I don’t understand) He goes on a rambling tale for five minutes about how I must have two triangles and I’ll have to goto the nearby bank to get money to give to him for the fine. I interject every sentence or two with more “No entiendo” and my best blank-trying-hard-to-understand look.

He starts to get frustrated and walks off with my license to consult his cohorts. He returns and asks if it’s a copy, saying he needs the original, to which I again reply many times with “No entiendo”, all the while smiling and trying my absolute best to understand. The three of them inspect my license very carefully and can clearly tell it’s a copy, but don’t seem to be able to make me understand that A truck is now blocking the only other lane, so we have a lot of traffic backing up behind us, which is too much for them so they give me back the copy of my license and don’t look at me again as they eagerly move to the next customer.

Another couple of hundred meters down the road I’m stopped again by a friendly guy who wants to see my shiny new paperwork for the Jeep. He needs a copy for his records, which I don’t have. I have three copies of the receipts and many more of all my other documents, but not a copy of the one he needs. I have no choice but to turn around, get stuck in the traffic trying to leave Honduras, get another couple of copies made and come back. As I drive past my military friends I intentionally don’t look at them and have no idea if they tried to wave me down or not.

I hand over the new copy and the guy waves me through, finally free to enter Honduras…

-Dan

I meet a truck with some locals who tell me there is no way to get in from where I am and I’ve gone completely the wrong way. Hmm. I backtrack a long way and spend the night in a nondescript hotel near the town of Ahuachapán. My level of tiredness, hunger, my inability to communicate in Spanish and a long day leaves me feeling really lonely and a bit lost. Probably the loneliest I have felt for the whole trip.
I start to wonder what I’m doing with my life.

I feel much better after a good nights sleep and move along the Ruta del las Flores, a very famous mountain road in El Salvador that is fairly nice. El Salvador uses the US dollar as it’s national currency and things are absurdly cheap, probably owing to the $1.10 minimum wage.

The minute I pull into the Surfers Inn in Playa El Sunzal I know I’ve found a great place. Camping is $2.50 for a night, a big meal of pupusas which are kind of sealed over taco is $1.35 and cold beers are $1. There are a few surfers hanging around, some who have been living here for months and months they love it so much. A hundred meters away is the beautiful beach which has a great point break that rolls into the sandy beach.

The main beach at Playa El Sunzal

I stay for just over a week, attempting to surf, swimming, hanging out with all the guys and eating really well and exercising every day on the beach at sunrise. I also pay $125 for 20 hours of one-on-one Spanish lessons which help immensely. The guy really knows his stuff and we cover an insane amount of material. That’s not to say it all stuck in my head, but with practice over the coming months I really hope to get around a lot better.

Camping at the Surfers Inn

-Dan

I move south east to a small border crossing near the small town of Valle Nuevo. I park a couple of hundred meters before the main building on the Guatemalan side and about ten men literally run at me and surround the Jeep. I’m not entirely sure what is going on and when they ask for my passport and vehicle paperwork I am more than a little cautious. They are not wearing any kind of uniform and look like a pretty rag-tag bunch, so after carefully exchanging my money with them I do my best to ignore them, although they won’t leave me alone.

I drive down and park right in front of the building where I can clearly see the Jeep and ask the first uniformed guard I see for some guidance. One of my followers keeps pestering us and won’t leave me alone until I finally tell him to shut up and kindly ask the armed guard to continue. The guard tells me exactly where I need to go and I get the paperwork for the Jeep cancelled and move on.

I remember hearing stories about the kind of people that were pestering me – they try to get a person’s paperwork and ‘assist’ them to cross the border. All of this for an outrageous fee. My thoughts about this are confirmed when they realize I am not going to take the bait – they immediately move over to the next car and bus pulling in to see if they can hook a prize. I’m happy I handled it the way I did, and will have to remember it for the future as I’m sure it’s going to happen over and over again.

I cross a bridge over a deep valley and officially enter El Salvador. Filling in my own paperwork for the Jeep in Spanish is a little strange, apparently because the official there couldn’t be bothered doing it. I have to walk a hundred meters down to customs, where the guard tells me to walk around to immigration. Immigration, on the other side of the building, tells me they don’t need to see me and I should go somewhere else. Where that might be I have no idea. I walk around the building again and the same guard as earlier lets me in, where all my paperwork is typed onto the computer and I’m given the official paperwork for three months of entry for the Jeep. My CA-4 stamp in my passport means I personally enter free, and the Jeep costs nothing here as well.

Fifty meters down the road I am stopped one last time for a final paperwork inspection and then I am given the all clear to move off into El Salvador.

What’s next? I have no idea.

-Dan

Apparently the explosion level is "normal"

We get picked up from our ‘hotel’ at two in the afternoon and settle into the mini-van for an hour and a half drive out to the volcano. The last half an hour or so we do some serious climbing and are all pretty happy to pile out, ready to hike. Immediately we are swamped by small children trying to sell us all sorts of things we don’t need. A few people in our group succumb and buy walking sticks after the children repeat “is necessary” about 250 times each.

Volcán Pacaya smoking away

We start walking up the steep dusty path and the enthusiasm of the group drops as the realization of the difficult hike sets in. I’m in my element here and love every minute of it, rushing to the front to talk to people, then slowing down and chatting to others further back. The hiking changes from hot, dry and dusty to small volcanic pebbles then huge volcanic boulders with razor sharp bits all over. We quickly climb above the cloud level and are treated to an amazing view of Volcán Fuego (Fire), which can be seen from Antigua and spits out a huge smoke cloud every couple of hours.

Kate & Dan with Volcán Pacaya smoking in the background

The hiking turns into a rock scramble and then a very congested rock scramble as about sixty or so tourists try to make their way to the top. I’m uncomfortable to have so many hikers on the extremely unstable rocks that are constantly being kicked down to rain on those below. As we near the action the rocks under us begin to get hotter and hotter, to the point where I don’t want to use my hands for balance anymore and I’m sweating profusely. Occasionally a strong sulphur smell wafts past, adding to the general excitement. I stop and have a good look up and see heat haze pouring off the mountain all around me. A guide points to some funny colored rocks I’m standing on and says they were lava last week. Cooooool.

The congested steep rock scramble

I reach a point where lots of people are milling around and am stunned to see lava less than four meters away. I climb up on a high point and am then about three meters away from the small flow that is slowly sliding down the mountainside. The heat pouring off is immense and when the wind changes it’s overwhelming on my legs and face and I really don’t want to hang around for too long, especially with thirty or forty more people still climbing up.

The flowing lava was moving a foot every 10 seconds or so

I move down to a lower vantage point which turns out to be an amazingly good idea as more and more people pack onto the extremely hot, uneven rocky surface. A couple of times people slip and panic trying to get away from the heat and have nowhere to go because of all the people – not a good scene at all.

Dan loving the lava flow

I stand around on my little platform chatting to various people and roasting marshmallows.
Yep, you read that right.
I roasted marshmallows on lava.
From where I was standing I could poke a marshmallow on a stick through some cracks towards the lava. It only took a few seconds to have it roasted to perfection & I honestly think they were the best marshmallows I’ve ever eaten. I wonder if I’ll ever go back to regular old flame roasted.

A few of the guys standing around with me are only wearing very thin-soled shoes and they melt and stick to the rocks, making for some pretty anxious faces and a nasty melted plastic smell. As the sun dips below the horizon the sunset is spectacular and the visible lava increases ten fold in the dusk. The majority of people make their way down and I stay to milk the experience for every second, knowing I can get down pretty fast when I want to.

A group of people have gone about ten meters further than the rest and upon hearing a report I know I have to check it out. I make my way further up, through a really hot section were between every rock I step on is red hot lava, a freaky experience. At the top is a good standing area where the temperature is bearable and we’re only about 2 meters from the flow of lava, which is significantly more here.

Getting close now...

I stand and stare in awe at the liquid rock. It really is amazing and hard to comprehend.

There was a lot here and it was really moving

I’m really curious about the consistency of the lava and so I throw a few rocks in to see what happens. It turns out it has a reasonably hard invisible shell and the rocks mostly bounce off or kind of sit on top for a while. Marshmallows and sticks turn to flame instantly upon contact.

Lava all around us

I stay for as long as possible, and in the quickly fading light the lava really comes alive, glowing bright red all around us. I could easily stay up here all night, but my group is far ahead of me, so I make quick time on the way down to catch them up.

Sunset above cloud level

Volcán Fuego spitting out smoke

Hiking up Volcán Pacaya is a really amazing experience and I’m still grinning like mad thinking about it.

Volcán Pacaya glowing in the dark

-Dan

Driving through the mountains of Guatemala

We make excellent time and having Kate to navigate across the top of Guatemala City helps immensely. After a quick lunch break in the big city we move on and roll into Antigua in the early afternoon. We heard about free camping in the Tourist Police compound in the middle of the city, so we head straight there and make it our home for a few days. It’s nice to know we have armed guards patrolling our free campground
I’m really surprised to see Tyler’s beat-up Subaru sitting in the lot and I’m told he’s around the city somewhere. I haven’t seen Tyler since La Manzanilla in Mexico months ago.

Our free campsite in downtown Antigua

Our campground is right next to the main market so we wander over there to buy a few odds and ends we both need. We start out on the outskirts looking through all the junky stores before moving into the middle and getting throughly lost in the endless identical fruit and vegetable stands. The Mercado De Artesanias, a market just for local artists, is right next door and Kate’s eyes light up as she almost runs from store to store perusing the goodies on offer. I’m pretty sure she buys two of everything, to the point that she has to buy another bag to carry it all home.

Kate going crazy in the markets of Antigua

I’ve heard the Cerro De La Cruz, a lookout above the city is really worthwhile and our guidebooks say it’s not safe to go without a free Police escort. I end up climbing on the back of a motorbike with a Policeman and we zip across the city and up the mountain. The lookout is pretty good, and the ride up and down make it great fun.

The view from Cerro De La Cruz

In the compound are quite a few “overlanders” – people driving across continents like myself. I’ve been meeting quite a few lately and have been thinking a lot about vehicle choices. On one hand there are people that are totally dedicated to their chosen vehicle and have enough spares and knowhow to go around the world ten times. Others are driving vehicles they barely know the name of and carry no spares or tools at all – they rely completely on local mechanics. I like to think I fall in the middle somewhere and it’s really fun to see how everyone is doing it differently.

The city of Antigua, surrounded by volcanoes

Here in Guatemala American made vehicles have become exceedingly rare and have been replaced by makes and models I have almost forgotten about since leaving Australia. Everywhere I look I see Toyota Landcruisers & Hiluxes, Mitsubishi Pajeros & Mondeos, Range Rovers & tough looking Mercedes off-road machines. Almost all are diesel.
I’m told the further south I drive the rarer American cars will become.

The steets are full of character

We really enjoy wandering around the streets of Antigua, poking into stores and eating cheap meals. We’re in a bookstore when we feel an earthquake strong enough to make everything in the store sway and rattle for a solid five seconds. A few people mill about in the street afterward, then resume their daily lives.

The markets of Antigua are full of colours

-Dan

Our first stop for the day is the Kan’Ba Cave system, which quite literally goes straight into the side of a mountain. Our guide ties our flip-flops to our feet with string(!), hands us a candle each, and leads the way into the cave.
Note the lack of hard hats, lights or safety harnesses.
Only twenty steps in the Goonies jokes are flying, with Ben letting out a huge “Hey, you guys!” that has us all in hysterics distracting us from the increasing darkness and shin deep water we are walking through. I can’t believe how quickly the light disappears until we are completely enveloped in inky blackness, the only light coming from out flickering candles. We continue in this fashion for a hundred meters or so, passing cool cave formations and walking through a few places where the cave is only two meters wide and the water is up to my waist.

Yep, it's pretty dark

In these early stages we use a series of ladders to navigate around a tunnel where water is ripping through, and I climb a few vertical meters up a waterfall using a rope (most people go around). We get to a spot where our guide climbs up the wall and jumps a couple of meters down into a deep pool, and a few of us copy suit. He shows us a place where you can swim down about a meter and a half, slide between some very tight, sharp rocks and come up on the other side of a rock formation, staying underwater for at least 15 or 20 seconds. I wedge myself in the space  with my head above water to see what it feels like and immediately feel uncomfortable and scared.

No. Way.

The roof is pretty low... (imagine no flash)

We continue further and further and come to a series of sections that are too deep to walk. One at a time we plunge in, half swimming and half treading water with one hand while trying to keep our candles out of the water with the other. The stakes go up a little when out guide loses his lighter, meaning we’ll be in the dark if all our candles go out. We go in about 450 meters, which is as far as tourists are allowed – the cave system continues for 11 kilometers. For the finale we get to a section where the stalactites are literally touching the water and we have to go under for just a second to get through. It’s pretty funny two minutes later when we find out we could have just walked around that section

And now we swim... (imagine no flash)

The highlight on the way out is going down the tunnel with rushing water we avoided on the way in. I go first and the guide carefully shows me where to sit and put my hands and feet. When I pop out at the bottom I’m in complete darkness, my candle having been underwater during the trip. It feels really strange to be in a room with no idea what is around me, and I blindly feel around and guess where to sit to help the next person down.

At times we held our breath to get under the roof

Everyone is pretty happy when we see daylight and step out into the warm sun.

Next up is a huge rope swing into the fast flowing Rio Cahabón. It’s a little different than what I’m used to because it has two ropes with a plank of wood in between forming a seat. Getting out of the seat when you are about five meters about the river is a little strange and one of our group lands on her side, making a huge red welt.

The beautiful Rio Cahabón we played on for the day

We walk upstream a few hundred meters to a raging waterfall, and the guide and I swim over to check it out. The very vast majority of the river water is flowing underground, under the waterfall and the guide and I walk into the massive caverns with seriously raging water down below. We climb around to the top of the waterfall and I have such a great time jumping off the 8 meters (25 ft.) I climb up and do it again

Jumping off about 8 meters (25 ft.)

We float back downstream on inner-tubes through some rapids, trying to have a water fight the entire time. We load back into the truck and drive around to Semuc Champy itself for the main attraction. A 35 minute hike gives us an amazing view of the pools below, which we swim in for about an hour. These pools are on the top of the waterfall I jumped off earlier – the pool water goes over the falls and we go and have a look upstream where the majority of water goes underground. Wow.

The amazing pools at Semuc Champy

The water is amazingly clear

Hanging out of the truck on the way back is immensely fun again, this time everyone is laughing and enjoying themselves, not just me. Again I put in a strong showing at the buffet dinner after such a huge day.

Swimming/lazing in the sunshine is amazing

The beautiful pools are everywhere

Guatemala is awesome.

-Dan

The tree house at Finca Ixobel

In the morning the drizzling rain continues and we move along and find El Paraiso, a hot spring waterfall close to the shores of Lago de Izabal. After checking out the area we find great camping at Finca El Paraiso, with the tent about five meters from the water and then head back for a soak.

The road to El Paraiso

I’m told the water is around 70 °C, which flows down a narrow little stream and cascades over a waterfall about five meters high. The spring water is obviously high in dissolved minerals, as the falls are coated in orange and yellow deposits, forming textured surfaces and even little stalactites. At the base of the waterfall is a beautiful clear river, with a couple of really deep pools ideal for swimming.
There is a lot more hot water here than any spring I have ever seen, and I go crazy exploring the whole area while normal people soak.

The hotspring waterfall at El Paraiso

Looking downstream into the jungle

We soak for an hour and a half in the evening and again first thing in the morning when we have the entire place to ourselves for a while. The guys working here do a really good job of keeping the place safe and spotless and we’re more than happy to pay just over $1 USD each for entry.

Kate at El Paraiso

Dan & Kate in the hot waterfall

On the way out we make a brief stop in the market lining the main street of Rio Dulce, which has the claim to fame of having the longest bridge in Central America. The market is bustling and we buy enough extremely fresh fruit and vegetables to last many meals for $3 USD. Unreal.

Enjoying the spray

We had the place all to ourselves in the morning

Kate brought two travel guides along and somehow the maps in those books and the road map I have from Mexico all disagree with each other more often than not. We choose our route and quickly find ourselves on one of the worst gravel roads I have ever driven on, rarely getting out of first gear. This road is actually marked as a major highway on my road map so we wonder if this is what Guatemalans call a major road, or if a map printed in Mexico in useless for Guatemala. Locals drive up and down and when I stop to ask what conditions are like ahead I’m told “It’s fine, just like this”. The mud and potholes continue for hour after hour, to the point where it’s really not funny anymore. In six hours we cover 90 km for an average of 15km/h. Ouch.

We make it out to civilization and find ourselves on an extremely good sealed highway leading right up into the heart of the breathtaking mountains. Before long we are once again bouncing our way along a tiny dirt track, this time stuck to the side of mountains. Dusk comes and goes, as does Kate’s patience for the day of horrible roads. Hours later when we expect to be at our destination we pass a sign saying it’s another 12km, and it turns out to be so steep I use low-range 4×4 on the downhill sections to control my speed.

Driving through the Guatemalan mountains

When we finally make it into town we’re both too tired to navigate and a very kind local man shows us the way by having us follow him on his moped. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more thankful. We fall out of the Jeep at the hostel El Retiro in Lanquin, right in the heart of the mountains. We’re just in time for the buffet dinner and are both stunned to find about 50 backpackers milling around the dining area. I once again do my best to make sure no food is wasted before putting myself to bed early after an exhausting day of driving.

I smile while thinking about the adventures to come tomorrow for about 10 seconds before falling sound asleep.

-Dan

Sunset over the temples was spectacular

The city here began around 700 BC and peaked in around 550 AD with a population estimated at 100,000. The city collapsed quite quickly around 900 AD, which our guide thought was from a food shortage caused by over-farming the land. It remained ‘undiscovered’ until 1848 and scientists first worked on the site in 1881. Amazingly most of the exploration and restoration was carried out by The University of Pennsylvania, where quite a few of the original artifacts remain today.

Waiting for the sunrise over the jungle

Another grand temple

The ruins are so immense one could wander for an entire day and not see everything, let alone understand half of it so for the first time we splash out and set up a guided tour for the morning. We’re up at 5:30am and catch a bus-like thing to the far side of the ruins, to the tallest temple (61 meters) which is the best for watching sunrises. We sit quietly in the chill morning air and while the cloud cover hides the actual sun itself, a couple of monkeys come over really close to us and we can hear numerous howler monkeys nearby. To imagine what they sound like, think of cross between a dog howling and barking, but with the raspiest, sore through imaginable and make it loud. Really loud. The noise is so loud and unexpected I did not believe it was coming from a monkey until I saw it with my own eyes.

The houses of importatnt people

Views like this presented themselves in all directions

Our tour guide is excellent and was clearly very proud of his native heritage, and of being Guatemalan. We walk around the ruins for three hours, stopping at all the major temples and carvings which are too beautiful and numerous for words.

Perched on a hillside in dense jungle

Many of the ruins have been left un restored

Our guide coaxes a female tarantula from it’s burrow and I eagerly volunteer to hold it in my hand. For it’s size it is surprisingly light (essentially nothing) and it didn’t bother me until it started walking up my arm, at which time I was happy to be rid of it.

What a friendly little tarantula!

One of the big temples in the Grand Plaza

Walking around we see quite a few spider monkeys in the trees and the highlight comes when our guide pauses and says “Hey, watch this.” He knows which way they like to go, and the only way across is to leap from one tree to another, clearing a gap of about 2-3 meters about 5 meters off the ground. The little baby goes first and then mum follows, both with no difficulty at all.

We climbed to the top for an amazing view

The Grand Plaza at Tikal

We move on from Tikal in the early afternoon, passing through the touristy island of Flores, which appears to be one giant unsigned one way street. I drive for quite a while in the wrong direction and nobody seems to care. We poke into all the little tourist shops which Kate loves and sit down for lunch where I have my first Guatemalan coffee. It’s so good I’ll have to be careful not to drink too much.

Looking across The Grand Plaza

-Dan

At the Guatemalan border we pay a $BZ 37.50 ($USD 18.75) departure tax and I have to walk around to customs to have the special stamp in my passport canceled without a problem. On the Guatemalan side I once again pay for fumigation of the Jeep, and make sure I get a receipt for my $3 USD. We stand in line and get our CA-4 stamp that allows free travel between Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua for 90 days. The border official says we must pay 20 Quetzales (about $USD 2.50) each for our entrance, which we know is not true. I smile and politely ask for a receipt, which amazingly he can not give us. This stand off goes on for a few minutes while the line grows longer and longer behind us, with me all the while asking politely for a receipt. He finally hands out passports to his supervisor who scowls sternly at us before giving them back and sending us on our way.
I’m learning.

Kate and the Jeep in Guatemala!

I move to another line to deal with the Jeep paperwork, and 20 minutes and 40 Quetzales ($USD 5) later we are on our way with a new shiny sticker on the windscreen. We haggle with the money exchangers for quite a while until we get a rate we are happy with and dump all of our Belize dollars and some Pesos I am still holding. Immediately away from the border we drive over a bridge and a young lady comes out demanding payment for our passage. Watching all the other cars drive over un-molested I feel like we’re being scammed, but she is wearing a uniform and we do get a receipt for our money.

Towards the border from the Guatemalan side

As I drive into Guatemala, country number five, I feel an excitement I have not felt before – I feel like I’m really into this adventure and loving every minute!

Random lake we stopped at just into Guatemala

-Dan

The road in through the dense jungle

This palm tree looked a thousand years old

We find Barton Creek Outpost without much trouble and can’t believe the paradise we have stumbled into. About five years ago an American couple built this cabin on steroids out in the jungle to get away from it all. They now host backpackers and volunteers for the company it provides. It continues to pour rain long into the night and thankfully we pitch our tent on the covered veranda. As the sun recedes the temperature drops fast and soon I find myself shivering uncontrollably so I dig out all my thermals and -7°C sleeping bag that I put away long ago. It turns out to be by far the coldest night I’ve had since I was snowed on in Yellowstone months ago.

Barton Creek Outpost, right on the water

The river looked ancient

In the morning the rain has stopped and we set out in the Jeep with Mike and Laura, a couple of british backpackers to find a couple of remote waterfalls in the area. We spend most of the day on reasonable gravel roads, with the occasional mud hole or rock scramble to keep things interesting. We pop out at the view point to Thousand-Foot Falls and realize we are literally on top of a beautiful mountain range, with stunning views in all directions. The falls themselves are awesome due to the recent heavy rain and are actually over 1600ft (480m), making them the highest in Central America. After a ton of bushwhacking and aimless wandering and almost-giving-up we find Big Rock Falls, which are less spectacular but fun because we can get so close.

Big Rock Falls

Barton Creek Outpost is so great we spend another night camped on the deck, soaking in the serenity.

Trying to be friendly & I lost a chunk of my finger

The "cabin" at Barton Creek Outpost

-Dan

We spend a couple of hours wandering around taking it all in, sharing the entire zoo with maybe ten other visitors. It’s a really special place so I’ll let the photos do the talking.

Spider Monkey swinging through the trees

I'm happy about the fence keeping the Puma at bay

I've never seen anything like a Tapir

These parrots are amazingly bright

The Ocelot was taking a nap

The tucans were really cool

That would be a jaguar asleep in a tree

By far the biggest bird I have ever seen

A great quote

-Dan

This crew of leaf-cutter ants was moving across a road

We get moving the next morning and I throughly enjoy learning about a new country. Belize uses miles per hour and gallons for gasoline, so apparently they have not switched to metric. Also the Belize Dollar is artificially fixed at 2 to 1 to the US Dollar, which I had no idea about. After being in Mexico for two months I’m a little shocked at the prices which are much close to the US and Canada, it’s obvious this is not going to be a cheap country. I drive for about an hour without seeing a single road sign of any kind, and asking for directions yields the thickest Jamaican-like accent I have ever heard.

The main boardwalk at Crooked Tree

Our first stop is at Crooked Tree Wildlife Sanctuary, an extremely peaceful place where the local community is living in a sustainable way. While we are having lunch the park ranger guys wander over and we chat for a long time about a whole range of topics. Both of us immensely enjoy this ability to just sit around feeling very safe and chat about life. We wander around the sanctuary for a couple of hours, enjoying the peace and quiet while spotting tons birds.

So beautiful

We move along and find the Bermudian Landing Community Baboon Sanctuary, a small town that has lived in harmony with a thriving population of howler monkeys for generations. The visitors centre has just closed so we drive around kind of aimlessly looking for a place to stay. We end up at a tour company run by a funny guy named Shane. He charges us next to nothing for camping and before long we a sitting down to a delicious meal cooked by his grandmother enjoyed with some mango wine we bought from a guy with a stall on the side of the highway.

The lush jungle near Shane's place

We wake to very heavy rain and so the tent and some of the things inside are completely soaked and covered in mud. Not to be deterred we set out on Shane’s wilderness tour and are amazed to find a family of howler monkeys in a tree less than 30 meters from our tent. The really heavy rain seems to dampen their spirits a little no matter how hard Shane tries he can not get them to come down to him. We wander around in the jungle for a while learning about all the plants and trees before calling it quits. Just when we are about to leave Shane coaxes a couple of the younger monkeys all the way down to him. Kate holds out a small piece of banana and the smallest of them all comes down, tugs her hand closer and eats right out of it. It’s an amazing experience, although I’m not sure how I feel about feeding wild animals.
Shane assures me there is no dependance or habit forming behavior. Hmmm.

Kate and the little howler monkey

Kate is quite sick and we’re both cold, wet and tired as we set out for Belize City.

A howler monkey hiding from the rain

-Dan

Lunch in Chetumal

Moving south we come across the border much sooner than I had thought. A very official looking guy in a shirt and tie directs me to pull over and informs me I must purchase car insurance before entering Belize, as it’s required by law. I get a bit flustered and hand over my registration and drivers licence only to watch him walk away with them. I really don’t understand much of what just happened and wish I asked more questions before handing over my paperwork. Of course they are both only copies, but in the next ten minutes my mind goes through all the sinister things he could be doing with my paperwork – like transfering ownership or any one of two hundred other things.

With this going on, we have to line up to get a stamp in our passports from Mexican customs. The extremely scruffy guy sitting in the little shack makes Kate pay 100 pesos (less than $10 USD) and wants me to pay 262 pesos (around $20 USD). When I had over 500 pesos, he throws it on an enormous stack of bills and simply gives me 250 in change – not even the right amount for the price he quoted me. We have no idea why we had to pay this money and receive no receipt. As we sit for a few more minutes we notice it’s only the tourists stopping to pay – everyone else is just going across. I think we got scammed. Scratch that, I’m certain we got scammed.

Waiting for my paperwork to return...

Finally the insurance man comes back and has some paperwork he wants me to sign. After sitting and thinking for a while I’ve finally got my head on straight and spend a long time reading everything even though he is urging me the entire time to sign as quickly as possible. Before I sign I ask about the price and he spits out a really high number in pesos, even though the price is clearly written on the insurance policy in Belize dollars. We argue for quite a while about the exchange rate before he decides to cut the price in half. When I react badly to that, he says “How much do you want to pay?”. I was already suspicious of this guy before, now it’s gone too far. I don’t like that he has paperwork with my name, license number and the VIN number of my Jeep and so right infront of him I tear up the policy into to tiny little pieces. The guy flips out and says he’s going to make customs arrest me, so I ignore him and drive on.

Leaving Mexico

He runs along next to us as we leave Mexico and enter one of those funny places that’s kind of in neither country. I decide I should sort everything out and so stop at the insurance place this guy apparently works for. The lady there is very friendly and I try extra hard to be polite and speak calmly and slowly as as few minutes earlier I was shaking with anger/fear/I don’t exactly know. After we ask the guy not to speak about twenty times I realize the lady is selling perfectly legit insurance policies and this guy is a kind of broker. He had run across and bought a policy in my name for 200 pesos and then ran back to me and tried to charge me 400 pesos. The nice lady is pretty shocked when I tell her I shredded the paperwork and has to call her supervisor. Everything works out OK – she takes the shredded paperwork, gives the man back his 200 pesos and we pretend it never happened.
Her supervisor also told her not to sell me another policy

We drive on and have to stop for ‘fumigation’ of the Jeep – this is another scam I’m told will happen at all the borders, but it is kind of official and I do get a receipt for my 80 pesos ($USD 6). We park the Jeep and walk into Belize customs, where we both get stamps no problems and I move onto customs to fill in some paperwork for the Jeep. It takes a while, but we have no problems and I have one of those special stamps that says I can’t leave the country without the Jeep.
We are finally in Belize and stop to buy insurance, this time from a very legit place that charges the correct price

Easy, huh?

We drive into Belize, 26,600km down really having no idea what to expect…

-Dan

Our room at Barton's place

Up early to beat the crowds we enter the ruins at Tulum and are hugely impressed. The city was built on limestone cliffs overlooking the ocean and the whole area is absolutely beautiful. We wander around in the morning sunshine reading all the information boards and trying to overhear paid guides from time to time.

The oceanside ruins at Tulum

More ruins at Tulum

As the sun get higher and warmer we move on and drive out to the small town of Coba to see more ruins. The drive is supposed to take 30 mins, and in a daydream I miss to turn and we wind up driving twice as far and arrive only shortly before closing time. The ruins at Coba are spread over a huge area, and this combined with our lack of time makes renting bicycles seems obvious.

Riding bikes around the Coba ruins was great fun

We have a great time rolling around, stopping every 500 meters or so to checkout another temple or building. At one stop we come across a little critter that I at first think must be an ant-eater then a couple of locals tell us it’s in fact a very close relative of the raccoon.

The biggest temple at Coba

The main attraction at Coba is a temple 42 meters high, which is plenty enough to get a great view over the jungle canopy, which stretches endlessly in all directions. All manner of people are tackling the climb & descent with varying degrees of success. Back in Tulum we’re in the habit of eating out for every meal, which is going to hurt my pocket for sure – what the heck. We also love wandering up and down the main street poking into all the shops looking at various nothings.

View over the jungle canopy at Coba

One of the major attractions in the Tulum area are ‘centoes’, limestone caves filled with extremely clear water – perfect for snorkeling and scuba diving. There are quite a few to choose from, so on the advice of a cool guy we meet we head out to Cenote Dos Ojos (two eyes) to get the run down. Once we see the photos we’re quickly convinced to hire a guide and do the full tour. The guide jumps in the Jeep for the few kilometer ride to the actual entrance so I ride on the outside standing on the running board holding onto the roll cage while Kate drives for the first time on the right hand side of the road. It’s a riot and might just be the most fun couple of kilometers of the whole trip

Snorkeling in Cenote Dos Ojos

We gear up and head straight into the centoe and pretty soon we’re right in the thick of it. The water is extremely clear and we can see for maybe twenty or thirty meters underwater with powerful flashlights. Seeing the odd scuba diver glide by many meters under us really adds something. Our guide takes us through all kinds of connecting tunnels and small caverns, all filled with massive stalactites and stalagmites.

Outside the cenote

An underwater stalactite

The highlight is going through one section about thirty meters long where the roof of the cave is never more than 30 cm from the water, and not much wider. Quite a few times we have to keep our heads completely in the water as only the tip of the snorkel has enough clearance.

Water to roof height is pretty small

Underwater in the cenote

I’m completely shocked at how beautiful the underwater formations are and walk around with a huge grin for the rest of the day.

Reflected in the surface of the water

Belize is close, really close

-Dan

The ocean off Isla Mujeres

My friend Kate was looking for some exciting travel during her time off work, so we made plans about a month back for her to travel with me for the next three weeks or so. I pick her up at the extremely busy airport in Cancun with no problems and after the sightseeing loop we make for the ferry to Isla Mujeres. We are the last car on with about 30 seconds and 30 centimeters to spare. A note to anyone heading out to Isla Mujeres – this ‘locals’ ferry is about 5 km south of Cancun and costs about $1.80 USD per person. The tourist ferries from the middle of town cost between of $10 and $15 USD.

Actually the most Eastern point of Mexico

Kate is much more organized than me and booked ahead for accommodation, thinking it would be crazy-busy around this New Years time and she was spot on. We find the ‘Poc-Na’ hostel without much delay and I’m really surprised by the sheer number of tourists, all speaking heavily accented English. The Poc-Na hostel is great, with a restaurant and bar, huge sandy camping area and beachfront volleyball court.

Kate & Dan on top of the lighthouse

The island itself is really cool, full of restaurants, shops and street markets selling all manner of tacky tourist stuff and ‘local’ arts & crafts. We spend a day driving around the whole island, which turns out to be a lot smaller than I had thought. It’s possible to rent golf buggies and mopeds here, so suicidal tourists zip about in all directions. We take the roof down on the Jeep and a few people comment when I park next to a row of golf buggies. Mine is clearly the best

Loving the sunshine

There were tons of these guys hanging around

The small tortoise refuge allows for some great photos and Kate falls in love with the little guys.

One of the little guys

These guys look so fake it's amazing

The next day we head out to a small reef just off the island for some snorkeling. I’ve been before on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia and it is hilarious to compare the safety standards – actually there is nothing to compare as they are completely non-existent here. After paddling around for a while I’m impressed by a really close-up view of a spinning boat propeller. Apparently the guy wanted to talk to his friends, so drove right through the middle of the snorkeling tourists.

The number of fish was staggering

There are tons of brightly colored fish in every direction and we also see a small amount of coral, some barracudas and sting rays. Kate’s underwater camera is really great, but it hasn’t done a good job of capturing the colors – it was a lot clearer than the photos look.

We saw a few Barracudas

New Years Eve with thousands of locals is really really huge, and again I’m amused by the ability for anyone to buy fireworks of literally any size. Quite a few sounded like mortar rounds and were being set off by teenagers throwing small ones at each other.

Kate & Dan out snorkeling

The sun shines hot every day and the crystal clear water is just the right temperature. We enjoy eating at all the restaurants and wandering around the stores and street markets in search of bargains.
Isla Mujeres is a really beautiful little place.

-Dan