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Borders





``The religious landscape of the Andes is still a country of supernatural rocks, springs and huacas`` -Ronald Wright
                                                                                                       
Geographically speaking the border between Chile and Bolivia seemed arbitrary. Much of our time in Chile was spent following the coast, and in our minds eyes Chile is a country of crashing surf and desert hills. But for our last few days in the country we put the ocean behind us and climbed up into the Andes. The supernatural energy was palpable well before we crossed the border. The ride from camp to the border was a short 37km ride along a road that snaked among smoldering volcanoes, and salt flats.  

With none of the confusion or drama that can often characterize a border crossing we put Chile behind us and said hello to Bolivia. On the Chilean side we dealt with a stern and humourless official. On the Bolivian side we were received, in a spartan office decorated with posters of Jose Sucre and Simon Bolivar, by warm and jovial officials, It was the firs sign of things to come.  

The contrast that was immediately obvious lay in the people. Stout, round faced and smiling. The luxury of blending into the crowd, if only superficially, that we enjoyed in Argentina and Chile is no longer possible. Now our interactions with locals have taken a curious twist; though who is more curious about whom is not entirely clear.  

A short ride among a maze of indistinguishable roads led us to the tiny village of San Juan, where we were received by an older woman who smiled from within, and exuded the warmth and hospitality that we´ve now come to associate with Bolivia. It´s good to be here.

Posted November 29, 2011 by James McKerricher
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A look back





In a way Antofagasta was the perfect city for a rest day at this point in the tour. We stayed in a run down yet spacious motel, perched on the edge of a surf swept beach. It was quiet, had a pool (with water!) and was a short bus ride from town. The city itself didn't have anything of specific interest, but offered many western comforts; nice seafood restaurants, a scenic and developed waterfront, and a massive shopping center: a final bastion of western comforts before we head off to the hills.

Nov 2:

The morning starts off cool, with a low veil of sea fog sitting over our heads. By 9AM the fog has burned off and the day promises to be hot. A short steep climb takes us alongside a scar of earth; massive machines work away on widening the road. Slowly the signs of civilization diminish.

Shortly after lunch we pass through the hamlet of Baquedano; a strip of kiosks and small restaurants surrounded by rectangular homes topped with corrugated steel. A relatively attractive middle aged woman trolls the streets in a school girl outfit, presumably she does a brisk business out in these parts.

Camp this evening is squished against the road by a steep rocky hill. Trucks honk as they roll past, regardless of the hour. Despite a waxing moon diluting the darkness, the scintillations of a star filled sky seem impossibly intense.

Nov 3:

One road all day, no villages, no coke stops, no plants. Just rock and road. It's a long day of climbing followed by a steep descent- which thrills some and terrifies others. Camp this evening sits in a (presumably innactive) gravel pit. It proves to be a good location, as the high walls of the pit provide an element of protection against the wind that tears through camp until well after midnight.



Nov 4:

Shortly out of camp we enter an otherworldly landscape; hard, salt crusted earth juts up upon itself, like a plain of chunky meringue tops. It's hard to travel far without being tempted to stop and snap a few photos. Gradually a few hardy grasses appear sprouting out of the salty earth, and shortly after that the ground is covered by a short, stiff, brown mat of grass. Goats, sheep and llamas are our first signs of civilization. We roll along under the watchfull gaze of Licancabur volcano, as it smoulders away.

After three long days of riding we see our first green plants and trees. The oasis town of San Pedro de Atacama comes into view, promising two rest days of cold beer and hot nightlife. It's been a tough stretch, despite the short length so It's good to know that we can kick up the heels for an extra day. We're now two riding days from Bolivia, and the rumour mill in camp is working overtime.

Posted November 13, 2011 by James McKerricher
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The First Month




After nearly 4 weeks of riding our group has crossed from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It´s a small accomplishment admittedly, it´s not even the widest part of the continent, yet it´s an accomplishment that we can regard with pride. The days go by quickly on this tour; individual camps and roads blend into a scattered slide-show of foggy memories. But the major landmarks are observed with a sort of reverence, real indicators of the distance that has been covered thus far. Crossing a border and putting a country behind us is always cause for celebration. Our first pass over the Andes was an experience that none on the tour will soon forget. And now that we´ve reached the Pacific it really feels like we´ve made some progress.

The curious shape of Chile follows the natural boundaries of the landscape. It is the Andes that push this narrow sliver of land against the sea. This is an observable fact as we make our way up the coast from Santiago. Soft peaks, laden with cactus and scrub, roll down from our right, level of, then crumble into the ocean on our left. Lizards flick under rocks as we pass, and circling vultures float overhead searching for their next meal. Blooming flowers lend a dash of colour to the land that results in a scene of surprising beauty.



Do not, for a moment, fool yourself into thinking that because we´re traveling along the coast that this is some leisurely beach cruise. Each day holds big changes in elevation; one moment we´re looking down on a dark stirring ocean from a distance, the next we´re catching the unmistakable scent of salt spray in the air. ´´Rolling hills´´ is a frequently used descriptor on these tours, but for this stretch the term, again, feels somewhat inadequate. Yet our hard work is rewarded with camps of epic beauty, on secluded beaches, well out of the realm of the guidebook toting crowd. Our evenings are spent wandering around camp, cameras in hand, attempting to capture the magic of the scene, and hold it with us. Tomorrow holds another camp, another adventure, and soon this place will blend into the mists of our memory.

Posted November 04, 2011 by James McKerricher
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Enter the Atacama




A final splash of green on a hillside bid us farewell as we peeled away from the ocean and entered the heart of the Atacama. A steady climb of 2000m over 50km landed us in a barren valley, surrounded on all sides by barren mountains of broken granite.

The Atacama, driest desert in the world. Deserts seem to attract creative minds. Or do they create them? One need look no further than the colourful adobe buildings that sprout out of the American southwest, or the artisans of Namibia to see evidence of this fact.

Perhaps it is the simple fact that there is little to distract the mind here; no foliage to draw from the view, no light to diminish a starry night, no sound save that of one´s feet as they crunch along the rock. It treats every individual differently; some find peace, some are bored to tears, some find inspiration, and others go a little bit crazy.....

Posted November 03, 2011 by James McKerricher
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What a great ride!




The 2011 Vuelta Sudamericana has arrived in Antofogasta, Chile. This completes the Atacama Adventura, the second section on this epic ride.



The cycling has been tough but rewarding!



There is still time to register for the last 2 sections; Inca Highlands from La Paz, Bolivia to Cusco, Peru & The Gringo Trail from Cusco to Lima, Peru.

More photos of this section can be found here.

Posted November 01, 2011 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
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Is Overlanding Dead?




``Overlanding is dead.`` It´s a common lament among long time overland drivers. The expectations have changed, a sense of adventure has been lost. People want the comfort and the adventure without any of the compromise. The days of traveling through the middle of nowhere with a rough itinerary, a few maps and a week´s provisions are over. Or so I´m told.

I posed this question to Jono, the driver, as he swung the truck around another hairpin curve overlooking a vertigo inducing precipice. Something in the TDA mix keeps me coming back year after year, and I´m trying to figure out what it is exactly.

``Overlanding isn´t dead`` says Jono, ´´The industry has changed, people want more comforts, risk tolerance has shifted, but there will always be a certain percentage of people willing to put up with the risks and the discomfort in search of real adventure.´´  He then went on to tell me about a few rogue drivers that are leading crazy trips in the far flung corners of the globe; West Africa, the Middle East, Mongolia. Tours that take people off the beaten track, and allow them to experience something different.

He swings the truck around another corner, and the side-view mirror clips a cactus. I hang out the window to observe the margin for error he´s working with. My hand rests on the door latch, my seat belt is undone. The road we´re traveling on is taking us from an abandoned mining town up in the mountains to Playa Blanca National park. Perhaps the park is a major tourist draw, but I´m sure gringos don´t come via this trail.

``Take this trip for example, look at this road.`` The road drops down below us in a dramatic series of tight turns. ``These guys are doing this crazy road on bicycles, now that is something different.´´ Three hours later and we´re rolling into our camp nestled among a bizarre collection of leaning granite boulders next to the sea. Again I am amazed at how quickly the landscape can change.

The next morning we´re set to leave. I look over the days navigation instructions, as Jono puts the truck in gear. We lurch forward for a second then the truck starts kicking up the fine powdery sand that gives Playa Blanca its name. Jono puts it in reverse but to no avail. Out come the shovels and the sand mats. From the moment we set out to accomplish the task we knew we had to succeed. Two and a half hours later the truck is back on terra firma and we´re covered in sand. We´re ready to find our way to the next camp, and I´m one step closer to understanding what it is that keeps me coming back for more. 

Posted October 31, 2011 by James McKerricher
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Chilean Coast


Are you like me? Sitting in an office looking out the window at the dreary November rain...

We could be with the cyclists on the Vuelta Sudamericana, riding up the coast of Chile. take a look at the photos and then contact us to book a place on the next section.


Posted October 26, 2011 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
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1 section down; 4 to go




The Vuelta Sudamericana tour departed Buenos Aires more than three weeks ago, has passed through Santiago and is now continuing up the coast of Chile.

In crossing Argentina we´ve traveled through an incredible diversity of land and cityscapes. Out of Buenos Aires we followed the Rio de La Plata through the seemingly endless Pampas, rolled over the Sierra Chicas, which proved to be nothing more than a warm-up, descended into San Juan and wine country, then worked our way up and over the Andes underneath the gaze of Aconcagua. Along the way we´ve struggled against long days of sand, gravel and broken pavement, and contended with relentless wind. But our efforts have not gone unrewarded; steep climbs are followed by epic descents, long days on terrible roads often end in wonderful campsites. Rest days have been spent exploring bustling cities with something for everyone, be it a night on the town, a insightful museum, or a leisurely stroll to relax a pair of well used riding legs.



With so many TDA alumni on the tour it is hard not to make comparisons with past tours. All agree that compared to Africa, this tour has been downright luxurious. The riding remains challenging but something about this tour makes it feel like a real vacation. Is it the regular hot showers that are available at many campsites? Or is it the variety of cheap and delicious restaurants waiting for us on rest days? Or perhaps the secret lies in the prodigious quantities of alcoholic beverages the group quaffs on a daily basis. Whatever it is, it´s working, we´re having fun. 



The group has fallen into a rhythm that is syncopated from that of the Argentinians; we´re sitting down for dinner as they´re waking up from siesta, they´re coming home from the nightclubs as we´re getting up for breakfast, restaurant staff look at us funny when we ask if they serve dinner at 7. But the Argentinian passion for life is contagious and has left its mark on the group. Each rider has approached the tour from a different angle, pursuing individual interests and curiosities. Many in our group are working hard every day to improve their Spanish, we have a contingent of students and a professor learning about the agriculture, others are exploring this place through it´s history, while others are exploring the cities through the nightlife, which has not failed to impress. All in the group seem to bring a passion for food and drink; a few bringing a scholarly passion for wine, seeking out the finest Malbecs that never seem to leave the country.

Along the way we´ve learned to travel as a team. We´ve been exposed to so many new things, enjoyed unique experiences and traveled through a myriad of ecosystems. We´ve had good days and bad. We´ve grown stronger. Efforts to learn the language have been rewarded with cultural insights, and fewer frustrations. As we say good-bye to Argentina and welcome Chile we look forward to a new set of pains and pleasures. Ahead of us lies several hundred kilometers of crashing surf, the driest desert in the world, and the lung busting heights of the altiplano. We´ve seen so much, but this is only the beginning.

Posted October 20, 2011 by James McKerricher
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The Andes




There is perhaps no other form of travel that heightens ones awareness of the changes in landscape  and climate than the bicycle. The air traveler can find themselves in a new environment in a matter of hours, the cyclist has the pleasure of observing these changes with each rotation of the pedals.

The ascent out of San Juan took us from warm flat wine country up into a landscape of low hills, straw colored, and soft from a distance. The next morning we woke to find ice lining our water bottles. These low hills, gently etched by years of sporadic rains, gave way to the geological mayhem of the Andes. Sharp peaks appeared slowly, as the hills thrust skyward, transforming into hostile mountains; jagged, and crumbling.



We followed this narrow ribbon of pavement winding through the mountains to Puente del Inca, 30 km from the border, where Winter has been waiting. A brief spell of snow somehow managed to close the mountain pass to the border. There in a ski lodge hostel we waited, with little to distract us from doing nothing. It was a scene of relaxation; napping, reading, walking. The phrase on everyones lips was simply “it is what it is”. There was nothing left to do but wait.


Posted October 19, 2011 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
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Snow




The Andes are one of the greatest challenges on the Vuelta Sudamericana and one of the biggest draws for riders. Ever since Buenos Aires people have been asking questions about them. How high will we be? How cold can it get? What are the roads like? How many days will we be in the Andes?

Seventeen riding days out of Buenos Aires we arrived in Puente del Inca, not far away from our highest point in Argentina.  Puente del Inca has a ski town feeling. It´s just a few kilometers from a ski resort and it´s nothing but a hostel and a few shops and snack bars at 2800 meters of altitude.

Not long after we got there, snow flakes starting coming down. Nothing special, only a few flakes – no one was concerned about it and the weather forecast didn´t suggest anything to worry about. We drove to the border to have a chat with the immigration officers about all the paperwork to be done on the next day and even at the summit (3200 m) the weather wasn´t very bad. A little snow, nothing to freak out about. Riders were drinking wine and listening to the manager of the hostel singing Karaoke at the bar. Everything was going according to what we had planned and what we expected. After dinner, everyone went to bed early to get some rest for the next stage.



At 6:30 in the morning on the next day we were informed by the manager that the mountain pass (and therefore the border) was closed. It was snowing a little bit more than the day before but it didn´t look bad. We tried to drive to the border to find out some more info. It didn´t make sense that an area used to such a rough weather in winter wasn´t able to manage a spring snow fall. There was not one single car on the road and as we got higher it was snowing for real and the road was very icy. As we got to the tunnel Redentor we found it closed. The local police didn´t even know the tunnel was closed, and the only officer we found at the Argentinean aduana had no idea what time the pass would be opened. It could be a few hours, or it could be a few days.



The snow accumulation report showed more and more snow for the afternoon and a lot more for the next few days. At 9 o´clock we invited Mark, our bike mechanic, who lives in Whistler and has a lot of experience with snow storms and avalanche control, to drive with us up there to see if the tunnel was opened. Snow was building up on the side of the road and the road was still icy, but there were already a few trucks plowing the road. The tunnel was still closed but Mark´s opinion was the same as ours. They would open the road soon. “In Whistler, no one would ever consider closing a road because of this. This is nothing”.



It was almost noon and we were already organizing lunch for everyone with the manager in the hostel when I saw a bus driving up the road. A few minutes later, another one. The first vehicles we had seen all day long except for the ones plowing the road earlier. We decided to wait no more and even without being sure that the tunnel and the border were open we put everyone in the truck and started  transferring the whole group towards the border.

It turned out that we were right and as we got closer to the border we drove by a few vehicles coming on the other direction which meant that the pass was opened. After almost 4 hours freezing at the border dealing with immigration and customs, we were cleared to enter Chile.



The epic switchbacks and a total descent of over 2000 meters from the border to Los Andes in Chile was the reward for our hard work and patience. We arrived an hour before the sun started to disappear. Despite the exhausting day, everyone was smiling and happy. “What a day”, said Svend. “I love this, this is a real adventure! This is what I came here for!”.

Congratulations to the staff for their hard work and for keeping calm all the time and congratulations to all the riders for not losing their good mood - not even for a second.

Thanks a lot you all!

Posted October 17, 2011 by Cristiano Werneck
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