Yukon News announcing my presentation for Feb 7th

-Dan

Dan & Jeep 1080 photo mosaic (Click for full size)

-Dan

The Northern Lights and The Big Dipper

The Northern Lights and our campfire

It’s an amazing time of year to be out, and we love every minute.

The full moon at sunset

Sunrise on the mountains

Paddling the river

Sunrise on my tent

-Dan

Brett and I head of in his faithful 4runner, primarily looking for Caribou that have been known to cross the highway at this time of year. We’re hunting to stock the freezer for the winter, and going for an amazing camping trip.

After bacon and eggs at the Dempster Corner turn we turn onto the gravel highway, which at this point is wide and good quality. Only 70kms North we come to Tombstone Territorial Park, an extremely beautiful mountain range chock full of various animals. It’s a beautiful blue sky day, and we’re eager to keep moving North.

Tombstone Territorial Park, 60kms North on The Dempster Highway

The kilometers tick away, as we pass beautiful mountains, rivers, lakes and untouched wilderness. The highway itself is mostly good quality gravel, though it has patches of nasty sticky mud that would be a handful on two wheels.

We push on to the small lodge at Eagle Plains, the sole outpost on the entire 740km highway. The gas is expensive, and the coffee stale, though we happily buy both and try to strike up a conversation with the suffering-from-isolation proprietor. 40km further North sees us arrive at the boundary of The Arctic Circle, the second time I’ve crossed the imaginary dotted line on the ground. We stop for the obligatory photos, and while glassing the slopes Brett spots the biggest grizzly bear either of us has ever seen. We watch him for 20 minutes, as he wanders around a large grassy clearing, enjoying the warm midday sun as much as we are. Due to the distinct lack of Caribou, we discuss the idea of stuffing the bear into the freezer. While I feel OK with hunting game animals, I have no desire to kill a beautiful bear. Not to mention he’s enormous and the potential for trouble is high.
We continue North, and the bear keeps eating flowers & berries.

The Dempster is mostly good gravel, with the occasional mud patch

The Arctic Circle, for the second time in my life

Immediately before the border with the North West Territories we start seriously looking for Caribou, and see absolutely nothing. It seems they’re not crossing the highway just yet, so we’re unlikely to get one. We set off on a hike that takes us high above the road, where the tundra and grasses are quickly changing to flame red.

The Dempster winds in the distance

The colors on The Dempster Highway

We camp a couple of nights on the highway, constantly looking for Caribou, but seeing nothing. A highlight early one morning is a grizzly sow and cub right on the side of the road. The sow watches us closely, while the cub romps around chewing everything he can find.

Grizzley sow on the side of the road

The cub she was watching out for

The Dempster Highway is spectacularly beautiful, I already can’t wait to return. Maybe in winter.

Watching the watcher

-Dan

The view from the stern of the canoe

Brett caught the biggest Lake Trout we've ever seen - "Troutzilla"

Rain across the lake

We found this little cabin on the side of the lake

Brett paddling solo

It’s great to be up here.

-Dan

About 45 minutes from town in the Takhini River, with turquoise water and amazing mountain scenery.  The river is very sleepy, except for one rapid called “The Jaws”, where the river constricts as it flows around a corner and over many large submerged boulders, creating a large wave train. Class 2 is a fair assessment. Despite the name, it’s actually a great learning rapid. It has a really easy portage route on shore, so it’s easy to walk back and run the rapid time and time again, and directly below the rapid there are large eddies on both shorelines to catch any swimmers and gear. It’s also a common hang out spot, and on more than one occasion we encounter fellow paddlers who have lit a fire to warm any swimmers.

Many a sunny weekend is spent on the Takhini, enjoying the amazing views, and attacking the waves in The Jaws for practice.

Lone kayak on the Takhini River

Entering the Jaws

The Approach to The Jaws

Dan in the thick of the Jaws

Hitting the waves (they swam)

On the Takhini River

-Dan

In the May 2012 edition, the conclusion to the story was published, which I’m again really excited about.

Head out and buy a copy if you’d like to see the story in all it’s glory.

Jeep Action Magazine spread

Jeep Action Magazine page 2

Jeep Action Magazine Page 4

-Dan

It was obvious I needed to learn a lot in a short time, so I signed up for a White Water Raft guide course, and had a fantastic weekend paddling on the very famous Tatshenshini River, or “the Tat” as it’s known locally. There are a couple of great class III rapids on the river, and we had a fantastic time blasting right into them with a raft full of guides in training. When given my chance to command and steer the boat, I managed to flip it in less than a minute, giving myself a long swim to safety in the process.

Back in a canoe, my tandem skills were progressing slowly, and it was suggested I try a solo canoe in whitewater. I now hold the record for the fastest time-to-swim on the Wheaten River, flipping over in the first 0.1 seconds. Multiple frigid swims and a meltdown later, my solo canoeing career came to an abrupt end.

My kayak on the Jarvis River

Feeling defeated, it was suggested I attempt a whitewater kayak, a craft I had a very limited amount of experience in. A short float down the leisurely Watson River and an afternoon practicing my far-from-dependable roll on a lake was apparently all the experience I required to navigate the very remote Jarvis / Kaskawulsh loop in Kluane National Park.

Setting out just past Haines Junction the crew consisted of Brett in his solo whitewater canoe, Jim and Noreen in their tandem tripping canoe and me feeling very small and inexperienced in my now heavily loaded kayak. I had rolled the empty kakyak a few times in a lake, and was not feeling overly confident about my skills in this setting, loaded with all my precious camping gear, which had to stay dry at all costs.

Brett in his solo canoe

For the first couple of hours the Jarvis river is extremely beautiful and not overly challenging, with some small rocky sections rated class I or low class II at a stretch. Gaining confidence, we all paddled around a corner and immediately found ourselves in a horrible mess of logs, branches and other nasty hazards that did not look at all friendly. Lots of yelling and back-paddling had my heart rate up in an instant. For the next few hours we slowly and carefully picked our way down, doing our best to stay away from the nasty hazards. I lost my nerve on one particularly nasty bend and decided the best thing for me to do was walk overland dragging my kayak while the others paddled down to me without incident. Dry land felt great.

Noreen and Jim navigating a beaver dam

Brett lining his solo canoe

We had been warned of masses of beaver dams and endless chest-deep swamps to wade through, though the reality was not nearly so bad. Two or three times the river was completely blocked by massive log jams, and we had to detour around, pulling our boats over beaver dams and down trickling streams until we could re-join the main flow. Entering the current on a nasty looking corner provided some heart-thumping moments for everyone, especially Jim and Noreen in their much larger and difficult to turn craft.

We pushed on and on, as the river grew sleepier and sleepier until finally spotting a small river joining in, where we had been told was very good camping. Staring too long at the upcoming rapids did nothing to calm my nerves, though there is nothing like exhaustion for a good night’s sleep.

My kayak and tent camping on the Jarvis River

In the morning we immediately found ourselves in a continuous stretch of rocky class II rapids, with swift water thanks to the impressive and continuous grade of the river. I found this stretch challenging and immensely fun at the same time, grinning like mad. Though a swim here would not have been enjoyable thanks to all the rocks, I liked my prospects better than the logs and sweepers of the previous day.

Again the river mellowed, and again we pushed on, until finally coming to the mighty Kaskawulsh River, a giant muddy river full of braids draining the Kaskawulsh Glacier further into the park. Apparently just for fun we paddled to the far side, then front ferried back again, something I did not at all enjoy or feel comfortable about in my tiny kayak.
We camped here at the confluence and in the afternoon hiked up a nearby peak for impressive views of the surrounding beauty.

The confluence of the Jarvis and Kaskawulsh rivers

My tent at the Jarvis Kaskawulsh confluence

The Kaskawulsh is large, swift and muddy, though it does not have any difficult rapids. I had a few close calls thanks to the nasty whirlpools that form when braided streams re-join and did not particularly enjoy this stretch, feeling very exposed and small on the enormous river.
After many hours, we spotted the Dezadeash River joining the flow – our exit point.

The mountains bordering the Kaskawulsh River

On the Kaskawulsh River

From here, we only had to paddle a measly 8km upstream which is normally not overly difficult. In this day we paddled straight into a howling headwind and the massive waves it whipped up. I’ve surfed waves on a board many times, but I was not particularly happy to be surfing down the face of these waves, far from safety in the frigid river. Brett had the most difficult time of us all, tasked with providing steering and power with his single blade paddle.

The crew on the shores of the Kaskawulsh River. Note the atire in the middle of summer

Many hours later we all dragged ourselves to shore, extremely exhausted and happy to have arrived at Brett’s truck which we had stashed in the bushes a few days earlier.

A spectacular paddle and an full-on introduction to out tripping in the Yukon.

-Dan

During my journey, one place in Canada stood out from the rest. The people I met, the adventures we had and the spectacular beauty kept bringing Whitehorse, Yukon to the front of my mind. With adventures like The Chilkoot Trail, Chillin’ Yukon Style and Whitewater Canoeing, it makes perfect sense to call Whitehorse home for the foreseeable future.

After staying with my brother Mike and his girlfriend Les, I borrowed his car and felt extremely happy to be driving North on the Alaska Highway once again. I called my friends Brett and Eva, who were once again extremely welcoming and hospitable, and we picked up right where we left off almost 2 years ago.

In the coming weeks and months I’d like to show you the adventures we have up here in the north, and just how beautiful it really is.

My brother Mike biking

Grizzly on the side of the road

Soon after my arrival I joined Brett and Eva on their annual Atlin Lake camping trip, a spectacular few days of boating, fishing and relaxing right next to the spectacular mountains.

Brett and his lake trout

Trout for dinner...and breakfast... and lunch

Cruising on Atlin Lake

-Dan

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.

Camping Gear

Kathmandu Mountain Tent
A 21st birthday present, this tent has been with me for every adventure of my life. Thousands of hours in the sun destroyed the fly, and half-way through the adventure Kathmandu sent a new one all the way to Ecuador, no problems. Free.
After an estimated 1000 nights of use, it was finally falling apart and I left it in Argentina.

Petzel Headlamp
I can’t fathom how I ever camped without one of these. Recharging the AAA batteries while driving was great.

Trangia Cook Stove
I’ve had this alcohol burning stove kit for 4+ years and it’s still going strong. Completely indestructible, I’m confident I’ll have it for years and years to come.

Therm-a-rest Sleeping Pad
A Christmas present to my brother something like 8 years ago, the trusty Therm-a-rest is a must have. I sleep better on it than in a bed these days.

MEC brand -7°C Sleeping Bag
I saw something close to -20°C at Yellowstone in this bag, which I’m still using every weekend, as good as new.

Raichle Hiking Boots
I bought the boots a couple of years before setting out and finally destroyed them on the hike into Machu Picchu after many thousands of hours of hiking. I’m buying a new pair ASAP. (Raichle is now owned my Mammut)

Electronic Gear

Fuju FD6000FD Camera
Four years and tens of thousands of photos later, I still use my camera all the time. Even after a huge tumble in Ecuador, and a large amount of sand inside from windy Patagonia, the camera is going strong.

Dell Mini 9 Netbook
Over two years and a $35 replacement screen later, I’m typing on this tough contender right now. All the connectors and inside are rusty from the salty sea air in Central America, and it’s still going strong.

Jeep & Gear

Dunlop Radial Rover RvXT Tires
77,700km on one set of tires.

Jeep Wrangler TJ
After 65,000km without a single mechanical problem, my Jeep was by far and away the best piece of equipment I had.
By very definition, it was the perfect vehicle for the job.

-Dan

Checkout the Diesel-powered AEV J8 below. Yup. That’s what we want.

AEV built diesel J8

Don’t forget to sign the petition! – http://JeepDieselPetition.com

-Dan

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

I grew my hair out for 2 years, and had the dreads for 2 years, making this my first haircut in 4 years.

Bring the pictures…

2 years of dreads

Before (that beard is out of control!)

Half way there...

Just 10 minutes later...

Animation

-Dan

Jeep Statistics

Dan Statistics

Feel free to ask for clarifications or more stuff.

(Costs are coming in another post)

-Dan

If you have any questions you would like answered in real time, please head over to the discussion!

-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.

• Spend almost two weeks in and around El Bolson & Bariloche. Many Argentineans want to buy the Jeep, though the paperwork is never going to happen. There are also a lot of foreigners here, so I wait expectantly for something to turn up.

Los Alerces National Park

• Hike to the top of Cathedral Alta, the ski resort in Bariloche. There is no snow yet, but that doesn’t top me from imagining snowboarding all the different features.

Cathedral Alta

• Drive across to Buenos Aires, where there is a solid buyer on the line. I make around 800km three days in a row, which is too much.
• Hang around BA again, moving from Customs offices to attorneys and back to customs.
• Take a ferry to Uruguay because the buyer doesn’t exactly have a “legal” status in his passport, so we head over and back just to get a new stamp in his passport. From the little I see it feels like a really beautiful, friendly place. Country number 17 for the journey, although without the Jeep, I’m not sure it counts.

Beautiful sunset at the final campsite

Things are very close now.

-Dan

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

SOLD

Amazing overland vehicle perfect for one or two people.

Front

• 2000 Jeep Wrangler (TJ) – Excellent condition
• 4-cylinder 2.5ltr engine (20 MPG . 13L/100km always)
• 72ltr gas tank for 600km range
• 5-speed manual transmission
• 192,000kms
• Soft Top
• STRONG 4×4
• Canadian (Alberta) Registration / Number plates (easy for any foreigner)

EXTRAS:

• Security storage box to keep all your stuff safe (no backseat)
• 160 piece Mastercraft tool kit (as new)
• Haynes repair manual for the Jeep
• Box of spares (new radiator & heater hoses, fire extinguisher, emergency triangle, filters, oils, hose clamps, fuses, puncture repair kit, rope for towing etc, etc.)
• More tools (12v compressor, multi-meter, hacksaw, maglite, jumper-leads, etc, etc.)
• Two person, three-season tent (with spare poles, it’s getting old)
• Everything else I don’t take with me (camping chair, 20ltr water jug, tarpaulins, maps, guidebooks, etc.)

77,000kms in two and a half years of ownership without a single problem. I’ve always followed the book for oil changes / etc. and it’s never let me down.

Over 50% brakes front and rear.Needs new tires soon.

$USD 6000 or best offer.

Interior

Side shot

Jeep from the back

-Dan

SOLD

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

Hey! I'm walking here

Penguins to the horizon

I drive down an oceanside gravel road for the purpose of exploration and find myself at the nondescript little village of Camarones, where I spend the night in the Municipal Campground. In the morning I do a double take when I see the little Suzuki of Rossi and Trond, overlanders I bumped into a few times in Peru. They’ve been down to Ushuaia (they started in Vancouver, Canada) and are now heading North, uncertain of how far they will go. I’m overjoyed to see friends and we spend the entire day, night, and next morning catching up and throughly enjoying the company. They are also a little burnt out like me, and it’s amazing how having people I can relate to makes me feel a hundred percent better.

Just one of the guys

Trond, Rossi, Dan & new friends

Seeing Rossi and Trond is a great boost to my energy, and the information they share about the adventures I can look forward to fills my dreams at night.

I've got my eye on you

Wild camping with Rossi and Trond

Sunset in Camarones

-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

Free campsite in Parque National Sierra De Las Quijadas

The views in the National Park

A local guy at a gas station admires my Jeep and tells me about a windy gravel road used by the WRC, just the place for me! The mountains to the south of Córdoba are extremely green and beautiful, and all the little towns and villages are bustling with friendly Argentines on tour for the weekend.

The WRC Jeep - maybe I should enter?

Los Gigantes mountains

It’s so peaceful and friendly here I decide to pass on the big city and checkout all the little towns instead.

River crossing, Jeep style

-Dan

(The WRC road is route 28 from Taninga to Tanti, just West of Córdoba. It’s good gravel with sharp hairpins and nice wide-open fast corners too.)

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

Living in the middle of nowhere

A few weeks ago Omar, one of the local guys working here, invited me on his annual family camping trip and needless to say I was jumping out of my skin to go. At first we thought I would ride along in his Land Crusier, but when I suggested bringing the Jeep along he couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. Ecuadorians seem to love my little Jeep, and are constantly asking for rides or trying to buy it (for considerably more than I paid for it, too). Pretty soon everyone, including more kids than I can count, are loaded up and we move off for the first leg of our journey into the National Park.

The camping crew

I’ve been gazing at Cotopaxi Volcano day and night for three months now, and even that doesn’t prepare me for just how mighty it really is up-close. For an hour or so we drive across, around and in-between enormous lava flows and house-sized volcanic red boulders, making me feel like the little Martian rover navigating alien rocks on a ridiculous scale.

I’m told that dinner for the night is fresh trout. So fresh are these trout, in fact, they are still happily swimming in the river avoiding our baited hooks. After about 3 minutes of impatient watching Omar says “I have a better system for fishing”. When electrical leads materialize, my suspicions of delinquency are confirmed and I can’t help but join in the laughter. Huge amounts of steel-wool are wrapped around the end of two sticks, wires are twisted around each ball of steel and the whole lot is plugged into an inverter connected to the battery of Omar’s truck. Pretty quickly I find myself “bag man” – standing in the knee-deep river, just down-stream of Omar who has both sticks in the water, eagerly hunting out fish in the reeds. The second the current is switched-on, small trout float to the surface, momentarily stunned. The fast-flowing river makes them pretty tough to catch and the ladies on shore constantly scream “Dan!”, “Dan!”, especially when I miss one. Apparently I ask too many questions about how strong the current is, so Omar happily demonstrates by bringing the sticks within a meter of my submerged hands. Snatching my hands out of the water causes everyone to burst out laughing once again. I happily confirm my long-believed notion that rubber gumboots make excellent insulators.

Fishing system

For a reason I never quite discover the whole exercise is conducted as fast as we can possibly run upstream catching fish, run back to move the truck, yell back and forward about something or other and repeat. I think it’s just more fun this way.
About an hour later we have a collection of trout large enough to satisfy the ladies, and Omar beams when I mention this is illegal in my country, “Here too”.

As we climb higher the road deteriorates until we are guessing our way across green highland fields, pocketed with mud and swamp-like areas. Inevitably Omar’s overloaded Land Cruiser gets stuck up to the axles, only 100 meters from our destination. One of the other trucks is hooked-up, and a lot of wheel spinning and engine revving only results in the Cruiser sinking lower in the muck. An earlier mud patch / river crossing showed the Jeep to be a tough contender, so everyone suggests I give it a go. At just over idle in low-range 4×4, with an absolute minimum of fuss the Jeep easily hauls out the Cruiser, much to the delight of everyone present who gather around and start referring to the Jeep as “El Tractor”.
I look up pride in the dictionary.

Full of pride

Our destination for the night is a farmhouse built entirely from mud bricks by Omar’s uncle 55 years ago. It’s perched 50 meters up the foothills of Volcán Kilindaña, providing amazing views over the alpine meadow below, of which Omar’s uncle runs cattle on his 50 hectares. Within five minutes of our arrival we tuck into a lunch of rice, potatoes and chicken, quickly followed by trout soup with rice and potatoes.

Living wild

The afternoon’s activities involve more legally dubious activities, the details of which I’ve sworn to secrecy. I will say it was a lot of fun

Don't ask why I have a shotgun. It's just best that way.

In the evening I’m amazed to see the gender lines drawn so quickly and clearly. The ladies huddle inside to cook dinner on an open fire with little more than an iron pot and wooden spoon. The fire, lit in the middle of the room on the mud floor, has no chimney or ventilation of any kind, choking the entire room with smoke and causing my eyes to burn furiously and tears to streak down my face. Amazingly, the ladies are laughing and smiling as they stand in a circle and lean right over to stir dinner.
The men stand outside drinking beer and aguadente, and extremely strong, crude liquor made from sugar cane, following the world-wide tradition of fermenting anything and everything possible. There is much joke-telling, talk of ladies and finally even a guitar is produced for some drunken sing-alongs. Long after dark, when the cold finally overtakes our festive mood, we move inside and perch in dark corners to eat our dinner of friend trout, rice and potatoes.

Dwarfed by Volcán Kilindaña

I have no idea what time it is when I worm deep into my sleeping bag and slowly drift off to sleep listening to the sound of complete silence.

-Dan

With the help of a ton of different people I’ve recently managed to get a variety of different relief packages sent to me. Every single package had me giddy with excitement as I tore it open to find new treats:

• New bank cards & needed paperwork.

• A new sleeping bag liner.

• Replacement tent poles.

• A new tent fly (it’s 7 years old and falling apart from the hours in the sun).

• Pieces for the clunky 4×4 shifter in the Jeep.

I want to send a huge, huge thanks to all the people who sent the packages:
Melissa in Canada, Mum & Dad in NYC, Brendan in Canada, Jayna at Kathmandu tents, Mark in New Zealand and Nate from JeepForum.com

-Dan

I’ve been hunting high and low for the oil for the transmission and transfer case for about a month now, without success. A couple of places have had something very very similar, though I’m not one to risk it with something that important. I luck upon a Jeep dealer in Cuenca, the first one I’ve seen for a long time, and am surprised when it turns out they still don’t have exactly what I need. I eventually find the right ATF for the transfer case and swap that out and after reading up I decide the transmission is fine for a long time yet.

Three months of infrequent driving and a lot of music in the driveway found me draining the battery one too many times. Even after a push start and an hour long drive into town, the battery only just spins the starter. Cleaning up the old battery reveals the following:
“Chrysler Motor Corp. Consult manual for replacement procedure”.
I’m pretty happy to be replacing an eleven year old battery, for the seemingly fixed world-wide price of $100.

Since I bought the Jeep the 4×4 shifter has been clunking – not a problem at all – it just drives me insane on the back roads I frequent. A friend from jeepforum.com bought the new washers and bushings I need, and I take a sunny afternoon to swap it all out, for a completely rattle free Jeep (is that an oxymoron?)

Jeep and Cotopaxi

All in all, things are going great with the Jeep, I couldn’t be happier with it.

-Dan

Cowkid

I skip off “work” for the afternoon and race down to town, to find it overflowing with thousands and thousands of people each desperately trying to consume alcohol and street-meat in enormous quantities. I, of course, dive right in and join the fray, with the intention of sampling at least one of everything on offer. It really is hard to beat a cold beer with mystery meat-on-a-stick especially when there is more than one unidentifiable kind.
I miss out on the horse parade through the town, which I’m told is spectacular, so I move down to the bull fighting ring.

Colors everywhere

After opening a pop-top beer with his teeth

Before I say more, let me clarify this is not the kind of fighting where the bull is stabbed and eventually dies – here it’s free to attack as many people as are stupid enough to get in front of it, before it eventually tires and is roped and taken out of the ring.

Cowgirl

Imagine for a minute a rough soccer pitch, half mud and half weeds, surrounded by a two-story grandstand circle made from planks of wood, rope and anything else left lying around. Now put a very large, angry bull in the middle with a few hundred people and fill the stands with thousands of drunk people jumping up and down and screaming for action. Surround the stand with tens of thousands more people, add torrential rain, copious amounts of mud and hundreds of street vendors selling all manner of objects that drunk hordes inevitably crave.
Yep, it’s a lot of fun

The bullfighting ring

I start to wonder if I’m a little too close when the bull slams into the fence not thirty centimeters from my face, but soon realize it’s all worth it when a matador gets tossed like a rag-doll a few times before running away intact. It becomes clear there are two kinds of matador here; the drunk, dared by his buddies, get close and run-like-mad garden variety and the pro. The pro stands more or less still, has his left arm beside him in that funny manner with fingers spread and can easily have the bull running in circles for up to 30 seconds at a time while never once looking scared or the least bit out of control. It really is an art form very close to dancing, and simply stunning to see up close.

Looking pretty mad

As day turns to night I decide to get out before things get really crazy and pickup one more little snack for the road – a bag of french fries with chunks of pork, beef and chicken, cheese and onion all smothered in ketchup and mayo.

Gotta love mystery meat-on-a-stick

OK, fun doesn’t quite cover it.

-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

• I’m currently training to run a 10km fun run through the streets of Old Town Quito at night, and am loving the fitness attained at 3500 meters above sea level.

• Before I move on I’ll make an attempt on the summit of Volcán Cotopaxi, 5897 meters up. This will be by far the biggest mountain I have attempted.

Distant Cotopaxi

• I’ll start moving South again in early September, spending roughly a month in each of Peru, Boliva, Northern Chile and Northern Argentnia on my way to…

• Christmas with my family! in Buenos Aires! Uh-Huh!.

• The plan after that is very hazy, but probably involves going South along the East coast to Tierra Del Fuego, then North along the West for some solid time in and around Patagonia and Southern Chile in general.

• After that, there are a few dreams forming that keep me thinking, but nothing concrete right now.

Love that view

-Dan

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.

I’ll leave you with a few photos of recent times.

The mounatin behind The Secret Garden I hike up twice a week (4200m)

Carrying Mash through a hailstorm

The waterfall I jump off almost daily

-Dan

If there is something in particular you want me to write about, please leave a comment here and I’ll see what I can come up with. It could be about me, my trip, your trip, or really anything you think I might have something interesting to say about.

I know lots of you have been asking about money & my budget, and I promise to write about it after the adventure is finished – I don’t feel comfortable writing about while I’m still on the road. That, and it’s going to take a heck of a long time to write in any intelligible way.

-Dan

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 source of the hot spring at Tufiño

We move south, winding our way through numerous green valleys dotted with lush farmland. I catch a glimpse of an enormous snow-capped mountain in the distance and am jumping about with excitement and eagerness. Over the next few days we camp on the shores of Yahuarcocha Lake after driving around the racetrack that circles it, then on a lookout high above Laguna San Pablo, a beautiful spot that Vince is very proud to find.

Lush green hills of Ecuador

Another impressive Ecuadorian mountain

We make a stop at Parque Nacional El Condor and wander around the impressive collection of eagles, owls, hawks, condors and other birds of prey. The mountainous backdrop when the keeper lets a couple of birds fly around is jaw-dropping and the sight of a condor fully extending it’s wings is hard to digest.

Watching this guy eat dead mice was impressive

Laguna Yahuarcocha, complete with racetrack

The city of Otavaldo hosts Ecuador’s biggest local market and we’re up early on Saturday morning to squeeze as much out of it as possible. We first make our way to the animal market on the edge of town, an amazing mix of people and every animal you can think of crammed into a tight space, with people and animals alike trying to make as much noise as possible. Deals are happening left and right with everything from chickens and guinea pigs to goats and donkeys being traded faster than I can keep up. I thoroughly enjoy sitting at a small local stall for breakfast where we strike up a conversation with some Colombians who have come to checkout the prices.

The Land Rover of Vince and Marie into the mountains

We next wander down into the center of town to market central where almost every woman is wearing an extremely colorful traditional dress. Photos of people in Ecuador are a touchy subject, so my camera stays in my bag for the day. The market is so huge the stalls are overflowing out in all directions from the central square with half the streets in the city closed to traffic. There are clothes, trinkets, hats, blankets and more in all sorts of beautiful shapes, sizes and colors to admire. As is usual with these markets bargaining is the order of the day and before long the items on each table all start to blend together and look more or less identical. I’m happy to see that almost every item I look at clearly says “Made in Ecuador”, even if they are obviously made in bulk on machinery. The streets are packed and there is real excitement in the air. It’s obvious many people from outlying communities make the journey into town just for the market and they are having as much fun as I am, laughing and smiling in the warm sun.

After the excitement of the market we’re looking to get away a little and drive up to Lagunas de Mojanda, a huge lake sitting at 3,700 meters. The heavy Land Rover can’t climb a steep, muddy hill so I continue to explore the area on my own while Vince and Marie retreat to our camp site for the night, on the shore of a smaller lake in a beautiful valley.

At 4000 meters above Laguna de Mojanda

No idea how that mud got there

In the morning I push hard and hike to the summit of Fuya Fuya at 4,250 meters in only an hour and a half – a decision I strongly regret only an hour later. Back at the Jeep at around 3,700 I feel fine, but by the time I drive down into town I have a headache more intense than any I’ve experienced in my life. I seriously think about being sick and both Vince and Marie can’t believe how pale I am.
Aspirin is supposed to help by increasing circulation, so I drink a couple down and catch a short nap in front seat of the Jeep, making me feel about a thousand times better.
A few hours later I’ve almost forgotten all about it.
I’ll have to be careful next time I hike at high altitude.

At the top of Fuya Fuya, somewhere above 4000 meters

To finish off our time around the beautiful Otavaldo region, we head up to Laguna Cuicocha in the Reserva Ecológica Citacachi-Cayapas. The guys at the entrance gate seem to change their price a few times before we pay $5 for all three of us to enter the park and camp for the night on a beautiful perch high above the lake. The lake sits in the crater of the inactive Volcán Cotacachi and in the morning we hike the 5 hour loop around the rim – an extremely beautiful walk that includes a huge variety of ecosystems and breathtaking views.

Morning reflections in Laguna Cuicocha

Wow, this place is stunning! I can’t wait for whatever is next.

-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

A few things about the Jeep are worth noting:

• After hunting high and low around Colombia for 10W30 motor oil I finally found some at a garage that threw in an oil change for free. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever had someone else change the oil on my vehicle, which is a little strange. An idea my Dad came up with a long time ago was to get someone else to change the oil so I could have a really good look underneath while on the hoist. I did exactly that and am really satisfied everything major is going great.

• The steering stabilizer I bought soon before setting out has basically crapped out, leaking oil and doing not a lot of stabilizing. This means I get vibrations through the steering wheel that will tend towards death wobble and the Jeep wanders a little on the highway. I’ll keep an eye out for a replacement, though I’m not too concerned about it.

• Ever since I bought the Jeep there has been a really strange hollow clunk in the front end when on rough roads, which I always assumed was something steering/suspension related. It’s been getting worse lately, so I’ve been investigating. It turns out the shift lever for 4×4 is really poorly designed and they are notorious for clunking loudly. I verified this was the case while climbing around underneath. It’s great to know what the problem is and that I can safely ignore it.

• Back in Costa Rica when I was driving on a lot of really bad gravel roads the Jeep developed a really strange clunk/clang noise that was worrying me a lot. After some poking around underneath it turned out where the exhaust bolts onto the headers was not tight, causing the whole thing to rattle. A nice simple fix.

• For the first time ever, I could actually notice a drop in the oil level before the change. The couple of gaskets that weep don’t appear to be getting worse, so maybe she’s burning a little oil now that she’s getting a little long of the tooth. It didn’t drop much, so I’ll keep a close eye on it.

• I’ve finally bought some silicon to fix the ‘water on the front passenger floor mat problem’

These Willys Jeeps are all over Colombia, usually overflowing with people and gear

-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