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The 2011 Vuelta is over!




¨But why had we come, if not to depend on our own resources and in so doing, discover more about them? There are circuits and juices in every person that are the heritage of millions of years of evolution and survival in wild country. They need exercising- add a twinge of fear and wonder, and they can bring the world into focus with astonishing clarity.¨  - James Baldwin
                           

Our final leg along the coast of Peru was a surprising stretch of uninterrupted desert; forgotten surf towns, and developing tourist stops. With each passing day the reality of arriving in Lima and completing the tour became more tangible, more imminent. But despite several days of anticipation of the final day, the final breakfast, the final dinner, the final convoy and the final night together all seemed to catch us by surprise. We´ve arrived in Lima, and we´ve known all along that this time was coming, but there really isn´t anything one can do to prepare.



From the Rio Plata to the Rimac, we´ve traveled through a myriad of landscapes. We found our legs on the Pampas, and tested them in the Sierra Chicas. We climbed among the snowy peaks of the Andes and snaked our way into sunny Santiago. We followed a dynamic coast of heaving waves and jagged boulders to the empty canvas of the Atacama. But this was all just a warm-up for the heights of the alti-plano and the otherworldly sights of the salt flats, Lake Titicaca and Macchu Piccu. A devastating week of big ups and downs was a prelude to the most epic descent of the tour into Nazca, then a final stretch of desert and sea led us to Lima. Along the way we´ve battled sun and wind, cold and snow, hills, gravel and sand. Yet everyday held its own reward, surprise, joy or thrill.



It has been a trip of superlatives and important world destinations. The list of landmarks and highlights is a lengthy one; from the worlds largest salt flats to the highest navigable lake in the world, and from the solitude of the world´s driest desert to the bustle of every major city along the way. We´ve stared in wonder at the mysteries of Macchu Piccu and pondered the Nazca lines. We even dared to cycle the world´s most dangerous road. But if we wanted a list of highlights we would have taken the bus, because nowhere is a place, and as the people of the continent continue their migration to the urban centres, the desolate farming communities and forlorn fishing towns gain even more importance. Words cannot describe the feeling of arriving at a place, surrounded by rumbling volcanoes, scoured by wind, marked with the remains of an abandoned mining community and wondering- ¨how else has been here?¨ or the joy of camping next to a restless sea with not another soul in sight.



It is a strange mixture of emotions that one experiences after completing such a tour. It feels slightly disorienting. This lifestyle has become so familiar and, in a way, comfortable. Eat, ride, sleep, repeat; the scenery changes by the day, but the regiment stays the same. But now we´ve been set free, to continue traveling or return home to family and friends. No set time for breakfast, no daily rider meeting, no set destination for tomorrow. Jason summed it up nicely when he said that ¨it feels kinda weird to be at loose ends.¨



Many elements combine to make a tour truly wonderful. The scenery, the weather, the food, among many other factors all contribute to the joy of the journey. But the single most important factor on any trip is the people. Indeed the locals have treated us with warmth and hospitality in each and every country. But the locals come and go, while daily we are faced with each other. The group of 20 some odd cyclists that departed Buenos Aires nearly three months ago has morphed into a nomadic family. We´ve stormed and we´ve performed, and together we´ve enjoyed the good days, and worked through the hard. It is hard to imagine that each of us will now return to our respective homes; every one of us a part of a collective experience that we will hold forever. As Dennis put it this morning ¨the end is as surreal as the beginning.¨

Posted December 15, 2011 by James McKerricher
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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 week in La Paz




Due to the potential for strike in Oruro province the town has been forced to skip a few days of riding and drive straight to La Paz. Our difficult decision indeed, but ultimately the wisest, given all the factors at play. With mixed emotions we loaded into the trucks and a rental van and made the long drive from Salinas Garci Mendonza to La Paz. It was with no small amount of relief that we finally squeezed through the suburb of El Alto and with darkness quickly descending lay our eyes on  La Paz.  

Is there a city in the world that lays before the visitor with such an awe inspiring sweep of display as the city of La Paz? Most cities are entered at eye level; the alignment and scope remain a mystery to the first time visitor before the city is properly explored. But from El Alto we were treated to a Condor´s eye view of the city; a spreading cluster of brick and metal  climbing the steep cliffs of the valley, before making the dizzying descent into the core.
 

The lasting impressions and images of the city are only made once entered. From a distance the city seems almost entirely composed of brick, but that brick holds surprising colour; political grafitti wishes Evo long life, and vivid murals portray some of the country´s social issues. Aymara women in bowler hats and Easter egg pink and blue shawls share their toothless secrets as they peddle fresh squeezed orange juice and designer shoes.
 

The sensory overload is by no means limited to the visual. The smells of roasted chicken and deep fried potatoes taunt us on every corner. The smell of the market with it´s pungent cheese and fresh fish wafts through the streets and blends with the smell of fresh sticky saltenas. And the sounds! The valley transforms the city into a natural auditorium and at all hours the sounds of the city can be heard; honking horns and sirens, fireworks and live music. There is no excuse for boredom in this city that never seems to stop.
 

In many ways the city is a microcosm of everything we´ve come to expect from the continent; colour and noise, political activism, exotic foods, friendly people, adventure and the potential for a great night out. Everyone in the group approached the city differently, each pursuing their own interests. Here´s what rider Bill Clelland had to say about his time in La Paz:
   

There could be much worse big cities to be stuck in than La Paz. The mild unrest in Bolivia has forced us to zip across much of the southern part of the country - a logistical triumph for the staff - missing 4 days of cycling to avoid road closures. We find ourselves in a big bustling city of over 2 million for almost a week - a long time in any adventure travel tour.  

So what do 23 active cyclists and 6 staff do in La Paz for a week. For starters Bolivia's "Death Road" was a day tour that most of us took - 3500 meters of descent through rain and clouds in 60 kms - that's right we only descend (have a look at the images on Google and Michel Savoie's helmet cam video link below). Seven of us climbed Huyana Potosi - a 6000+ meter mountain 25 kms from La Paz - a 2 day climb. Many took a tour to the pre Columbian city of Tiwanaku which predates and rivals in sophistication the Inca Empire's technology. Shopping on the streets of La Paz for beautiful alpaca garments, silver jewelry, fresh mangos... anything at all at the market stalls on the sidewalks that overflow into the streets and the frenetic traffic!
  Here's the Death Road video: 


 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_huIGz568Q  

That's all very well and good for daytime activities, but what happens at night? Could it be that a dozen or so staff and cyclists end up at a local bar/pub to watch an American football game. Then could it be that the bar manager asks at 11:30 "Who wants to dress up as Spiderman?" Would you guess that everyone wanted to dress up as Spiderman? Then would you think that the bar manager announces that he has 30 complete Spiderman outfits. It was a rare night in La Paz!!  

Posted November 25, 2011 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
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The Salt Flats of Bolivia




Not since the Pampas of Argentina have we traveled for any distance on flat terrain. Those first few days out of Buenos Aires were a blessing in disguise; mentally tiring, but the perfect warm-up for the hills ahead. Those days without hills have become a distant memory as every day since has been a day of roller-coaster ups and downs. What a treat it is to enter the Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt flat in the world, where the sensation of riding over a completely flat landscape only adds to the otherworldly magic of the place.

At 80km the ride was a short one, and given that the entire ride was over absolutely flat terrain one could be fooled into assuming that everyone arrived in camp early in the day. But for a completely flat ride it felt surprisingly, well, not flat. From a distance the land looked even and homogenous, but as we  approached a more complex truth was revealed. Every year the salt becomes saturated during the rainy season; as it dries it forms large hexagonal crystals. These hexagonal crystals form an endless puzzle with a little ridge hedging each piece. As the cyclists rolled along, their wheels on the ridges sounded like a drum- thump thump, thump thump; little speed-bumps with every spin of the wheels.

Many riders observed, in amazement, large holes in the salt, deep and glacial blue and  large enough to swallow a bike wheel. But as the local adage states ``you don´t have to know where the holes are. Just where they´re not.´´ At times it felt as if the salt wasn´t salt at all, but miles of crunchy snow. As  Svend put it, the salt felt like ``Spring ice in Canada: hard in the middle, and slushy at the edge.``

But it wasn´t the crystals or the holes or the slush that slowed the riders progress; it was the opportunity to take unique photos that took up so much time. As the salt flats were one of the most anticipated days on the journey, it was great to see that everyone took the time to soak up the magic of the place, and capture it with bizarre and hilarious photos.

Our camp that evening was in  Coquesa, a small town of stone buildings, sitting on a fringe of green grazed by alpacas. Overhead sat a rugged brown volcano, and beyond us an endless sea of salt. It was a place of fairy-tale beauty, and the perfect place to end a day of surreal sights.

Posted November 23, 2011 by James McKerricher
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Salt Flat Fun




Cool & weird new photos from the Salt Flats in Bolivia.

See them and more here.

Posted November 17, 2011 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
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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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Into Bolivia




The riders of the Vuelta Sudamericana are leaving the Chilean coast and heading into the desolate salt flats of Bolivia. See the photos here.


Posted November 08, 2011 by Tour d'Afrique Ltd.
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Transformation




I have watched the transformation of the Vuelta cyclists - from a slightly fit mixed bag of vagabonds to a group of pretty well honed long distance cyclists. Today I watched a group work together to cheat the wind a little and make a crazy trucking road just a little safer. No real communication passed between them to make this happen. Everyone just assumed a role and then took to it without thought or complaint.



I watched Virginia stop for lunch after 60kms. She and her boyfriend Jason had taken an unplanned detour in the morning (not for the first time!) and it was barely even mentioned upon their arrival. Virginia was bouncing around like she had just had a long morning in bed and they commented that it is only another 60kms in the afternoon. I love it when it becomes ‘only 60kms this afternoon.’



Without noticing the tour riders have changed in their attitude as to what they do on a daily basis. Were are all in camp sitting somewhere in the Atacama desert. The temperature is in the high 30`s, the wind is blowing and there is no shade. Still there are no complaints - just the tent, soup and water routine - followed up by  a not very cold beer.

Posted November 07, 2011 by Mark Knight
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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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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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