¨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.¨

We have arrived in Macara, Ecuador - our final country. Upon crossing the border, the first sign we saw was - Quito 868km. After 11,000km what is 858 give or take a few as we are not taking the most direct route.

Today was a lovely 60km ride on a great newly paved road, little traffic and great scenery. The crossing was the type many Canadians remember wistfully from the past between Canada and US. Friendly, quick and polite. Oh those were the days.

Yesterday I wrote that I wish I was a better writer or a poet in order to describe our month in Peru, today while cycling I wish I was a naturalist or even a bird watcher so I could describe the plants and trees that we saw today like the similarly looking Baobab tree that we see in Southern Africa - except this is not baobab. It just looks like a young baobab. Or the many beautiful birds I saw today, whose names I do not know or the colorful lizard we saw at lunch three days ago.
But alas, I am not a poet, nor a birdwatcher and certainly not a natuarlist.

So this will have to do.

We have reached Las Lomas our last stop in Peru. Tomorrow we enter our seventh and last country of the Vuelta Sudamericana Tour. We spend more than a month in Peru and have memories to last a lifetime. Cusco, Titicaca, Machu Pichu, Nazca, Lima, the Altiplano, Huarez, Canion Del Pato, Chan Chan, the Incas and Chimus sites, wonderful valleys, haunting deserts, amazing descents and spectacular climbs. To do justice, each day should be described by a better writer or better yet a poet than can capture not only what eyes can see and what the skins feels, but also what the soul feels, talents that I unfortunately do not posses.    

What I do posses right now, what I do feel right now is a great sense of joy and accomplishments that comes when you have done something extraordinary, something uplifting, something that whenever someone mentions Peru, I will have that secret smile that will say, Yes, I have felt it in my soul.

Since leaving Cusco, it´s been tough! We've been cycling well over 3000m and 4000m reaching our peak of 4600m. We have camped alongside altiplano lakes where the temperatures have dropped below zero and there have been up to 4 days with no showers! So I find myself in Lima, initially shocked by the traffic, grime and size of the city, it was an easy decision to check in to a grand old colonial hotel, enjoy a G&T with ice (without thinking I would get sick), and a comfortable taxi ride to the San Isidro area. I enjoyed a delicious sushi meal (London standards) washed down with a chilled chardonnay, and followed by a session at a hair and nail salon, I feel like I deserve it!! So one might say but that is not the real Peru! Well we have been immersed in the rural life of Peruvians for 2 weeks and I am quite enjoying some western comforts right now! Dammit!

So less about my indulgences and more about the riding in Peru - the ups and downs!

We climbed out of Cusco and cycled through farmland, overtaking pigs being herded on the road, and enjoyed a stunning scenic descent with a brief stop for lunch and then dropping over 1000m into a wall of heat in an isolated river canyon. After crossing the Apurimac river (for the first time) we climbed a further 1000m to our basic hotel (bucket of cold water for a bath).... a tough day with hills, heat and a huge feeling of accomplishment to finish the full 130kms!

The trend continued with ascents of over 1000m, a summit of 4000m (pity the view from the summit was cloudy) and a cool descent through mist and clouds, extremities of hands and feet frozen, and then peeling off layers of clothes at lunch in the sunshine. A further ascent in the afternoon was a gradual and relaxing ride up river (crossing that Apurimac river several times) and a green campsite and cold beer to greet us at the end of the day!
We continued cycling upriver, it felt like a casual ride enjoying the canyon and river, a langorous lunch and stop in one of the larger villages for refreshments. We escaped the worst of a storm, riding through rain for about 10kms, whilst other cyclists had rail, hail and sleet! It was chilling but with a climb ahead, we were soon warm. Camp was at a Toll booth where the guards challenged us to a game of volleyball (closing the one lane in the process) which detracted from the horrendous litter and cold of the exposed camp at 3500m.



One of the most rewarding days for most of the riders was a horrendous day for me. I was motivated and feeling strong, but a few kms into the 14km climb to 4300m, I was exhausted, stopping many times to get my breath, take photos and it was hard to push out the negative thoughts knowing the day ahead had plenty more climbs. I was determined to overcome the exhaustion and after the monster climb we had rolling hills, reaching our peak of tour at 4600m (earlier riders got a taste of whisky left by the crew to celebrate). It felt like the longest and hardest morning and after crawling into lunch late, I called it a day, missing out on further peaks but also strong headwinds in the afternoon. The reward was a stunning campsite next to some lakes at 4400m - there wasnt going to be any relief and disturbed sleep from the altitude - and only stunning once the wind died down, and the flamingoes appeared at sunset. It was also bitterly cold with frost on our tents in the morning!
Our route continued past lakes, descending over 1000m in 50km which entailed some amazing switchbacks, down a scenic river valley and then the road climbed up again - I enjoyed the afternoon section from the truck not wanting to relive the previous days experience - quit while you're ahead was my philosophy! An overnight stop overlooking the valley with vicunas grazing in the distance was peaceful and beautiful unitl the road work vehicles parked next to our tents!
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The next day we descended from 4200m down to Nazca at 600m - an awesome day of cycling (okay, cruising) with farmland, desert and river valleys, stopping at times to look out over the clouds with mountains peaking above them. The fertile Nazca valley and petroglyphs were our reward - best viewed in Cessna 6 seater and then rest at the Nazca Lines hotel pool for the rest of the afternoon! Tough life!



The Nazca to Lima stretch took us back to the Pacific Coast, first passing the Nazca lines (not so easily appreciated at ground level), fertile valley, desert mountain crossing and Pisco grape growing regions. The actual coastline is barren desert terrain, and quite polluted with rubbish dumped on the side of the road, an unidentified smell I call dead dog (sad but true), and an unbelievable number of chicken farms, hence the Peruvian speciality - Pollo y Fritas (Chicken and chips - good healthy grub, unlikely to give you any stomach bugs!)
We stayed at some beautiful places - Paracas - a nature reserve where you can appreciate marine life from boat trips (I was saving myself for Galapagos).

Cerro Azul - rather depressing in rainy conditions but we were treated to a delicious fish bbq and prawn and salsa dinner by resident chef, Miles ably assisted by Hatitia and Alfonso, followed by a few Pisco sours (Peruvian national drink) in town at the smallest bar in the world (well, in my limited experience of bars)! Pucusana was a welcome sight after the dusty, dirty highway ride, a colourful fishing village where we enjoyed fresh ceviche (another Peruvian speciality and so fresh our stomachs would be safe) on the docks!

And then Lima, where I started this epistle and where I choose to experience the wealthy Peru life - shopping, restaurants and even a bit of salsa!!!

--
Posted By Natasha Barker

There is only one way to know the taste of something, and as every small baby knows, that’s by sticking whatever the curiosity may be directly into your mouth and hoping for the best, which on a side note, explains why if babies could write, they would make our societies best, and least pre-judgmental food writers.

 

This somehow applies to a first experience eating Cuy, the specialty of Peru.  Sometime ago between the cities of Cuzco and Nazca, in a deep valley we camped along a river where a Peruvian of Italian descent lived with his family.  His home straddled a small agricultural plot, and possessed a dark room full of white and beige spotted Guinea Pigs.  Outside of their home they had an adobe, wood burning oven whose embers glowed with warmth and whose cavernous belly called out for a feast to be born within.   

Our host, lacking nothing in hospitality, approached 4 of the fattest Guinea Pigs, and readily prepared them for cooking.  The process involving a quick end to their short lives, skinning, bleeding, seasoning and, well, that’s about it, no dismemberment, even the little teeth get included in the roasting process.  If there is any issue with eating Guinea Pig from a foreigners standpoint, it’s probably that Guinea Pigs are kind of cute, but don’t worry, once skinned and gutted they really aren’t very cute anymore, however another issue arises which is that they suddenly look extremely similar to a rat.  Anyway, who’s to say one rodent is better than another…

 

Sitting on the porch of our home for the night, spotting vultures high up in the hot valley air, sipping the local beer and contemplating the little sand bugs biting my legs, our host then arrived with the finished product, a glazed, petrified looking version of the previous furry beast.  With a calm smile he broke off a leg, so tenderly cooked that it appeared to detach of its own will, and handed me the prized morsel.  Delicately gripping the little femur, and smelling the beautiful roasted meat smell, I took a hearty bite of muscle, fat and crispy skin…  Salty, high fat content, easy to chew and calling for one to use their teeth to grab all the little bits of meat left on the bone… yummy.  Safe to say that foreigners pre-conceptions of eating such an animal, similar say, to eating a dog perhaps, are misguided. 

 

Too many of us have lost all touch with what we eat.  Let us stare deep into the eyes of a steer and pet its neck before going to eat at our neighbor’s long weekend barbecue, go feed your goldfish before having an all you can eat salmon sushi night, or at the least attempt to eat an animal that still holds some resemblance to it’s original state (a whole quail perhaps, or a full trout)

 

Anyway, Guinea Pig is a fine animal, and a Peruvian specialty, but from what I have been reading of late, a meatless, nut-based diet may be the only hope for the future of humankinds sustainable food supply.  So as much as I love it, I’m done with Guinea Pig, but like a satiated baby with greasy fingers, I’m happy I stuck it in my mouth.

The section between Cusco and Lima is called the Gringo Trail. I questioned Randy about the name and he gave me a very simple answer (That is where all the gringos go). Peru is the most touristy of all the countries and they go to Puno to see lake titicaca, Cusco for Machu Pichu and they also end up where we are now in Nazca to see the Nazca lines. They also go to Lima which is where we will be in in a week from now. While we do go to most of the places where all the gringos go, we spend most of our time in the space between.

The 6 day stretch from Cusco to Nazca is a half day bus ride for most tourists. The extra time means that we see these parts in unusual detail. Interactions with shopowners in small towns, seeing the animals along the route, cycling up beautiful mountains and along rivers are important parts of our experience. We camp in the desert at high altitudes where temperatures are well below freezing and during the day scorching hot. Along the route we play in a game of volleyball at a tollbooth and are invited to play soccer by the local kids of negro mayo. Experiences few have while travelling.

When we pass through small towns along the gringo trail, the kids always yell Gringo!! It isnt because they are welcoming us to their section of the gringo trail. The gringos who usually pass through are hidden on a bus. We are out in the open and these are likely the only times they have ever seen white people passing on a bicycle. A  mystery and a miracle to them. Sometimes I like to suprise them and yell Gringo as I pass through. They look at me upset like why did you steal my line.

In Puno, Cusco or Nazca you arent going to be called a gringo. Many of the local people have set up their lives to accomodate the gringos and attract their money. So being called a gringo on the gringo trails means you are doing something new. I think of it as a reminder of the challenge of the journey...a type of travelling few ever have done before on this trail.

  -  Ryan Stotland

After the stunning and unforgettable views and days around Lake Titicaca in the Bolivian side we entered into Peru, another awaited country. Personally I did not appreciate the shores of Lake Titicaca in Peru as much as I did in Bolivia, partly due to fish farming and partly due to more intense agricultural activities going on around this coastline. After Bolivia, Peru also seemed a little bit too touristy to me, especially around Puno and inevitably around Cuzco.

Oh by the way, I have to confess I have done none of those real touristic highlights such as seeing the Floating Islands in Puno or climbing to Macchu Pichhu in Cusco. So that would not be fair of me gabbing on them! Let`s leave this to our keen cyclists whom I am sure have a few words to say about their great experiences there.

The rest days are worth of gold to me and I tend just to relax and really rest in these times of constant movement. Thus I end up mostly chilling out with my beloved husband and walking around to explore that is not invaded by masses of gringos (if there is anything still left!) and not to forget lots of eating...I guess this break is going to be the same except the husband part. I am settled in a tranquil and great place for a few days which will hopefully give me the chance to
recuperate till I meet the group back again in Nazca.

   -Hatice Sen

The riders had a three and a half day rest in Cusco. This gave them enough time to take an overnight trip to Machu Picchu as well as time left to explore the many Inca ruins and the lovely streets and squares of Cusco.

Machu Picchu´s breathtaking beauty with its high views and steep climbs were appreciated but truth be told that so many days of riding through high ranges of up and down remote terrains with peaks as high as 4,300m where few tourists reach is the norm for our riders. All the places we ride through may not be famous or well traveled but we are overwhelmed by the striking views and real life scenes of local people working, tilling and planting their quino, potato and corn fields with the help of their children and animals.

The group has embarked on another stretch of bush camp days that will, no doubt, take them past more pristine lakes and villages and as always...just off the beaten track. Only six riding days to Lima.

  -- Ruth Schonblum

I left La Paz feeling I hadnt given it a chance! A large sprawling city built in a valley at 3600m with 2mil inhabitants, it is the highest capital city in the world. As we wandered through the cobbled steep streets, to coin a phrase, "it was an assault to the senses" - one can be overcome by the diesel fumes, sewerage and human excrement smells, but also by the crumbling Spanish colonial architecture, the traditionally dressed women selling everything from llama foetuses (good housewarming present), to snickers to fake North Face jackets, not to mention the llama wool jerseys, bright textiles and internet cafes! We were stayiung near "Gringo Alley" so plenty of opportunity to book a tour (jungle, trek, bike the worlds most dangerous road), find a hostal, restaurant or decide on which souveneir to buy (all the stalls sold the same jerseys, bags, toys, jewellery etc). Finding something unique was difficult and came with a hefty price tag!

From a cultural perspecitve, I did manage a visit to the Coca Museum - quite fascinating history and basic exhibitions of the story of the coca leaf and the only musuem open on Sun arvie!

In pursuit of quieter time and to get back in touch with nature, I decided to take a side trip to Coroico, 100kms from La Paz, set in lush tropical mountainous area - advertised for its tranquility and so I had set my mind on a relaxing day by the pool at a quiet hostel with beautiful gardens. On arrival in Coroico, I was pleasantly surprised by annual festival in main plaza with several bands, dancing with men, women and children in traditional colourful costume and copious amounts of beer being consumed!




As a storm and ominous sky was threatening my lazing by the pool, I opted for a cheapy hotel and settled into sheltered ringside seats of procession at pizzeria on plaza and joined in the celebration with several ice cold beers! The festivities ground to a halt when torrential downpours started but I was quite comfortable and dry. A little rain wasnt goint to sopt the party, once the rain dissipated, the bands and dancing resumed. Bolivians sure know how to party!

I had decided to take some time out from the cycle group and set off on a 3 day Jungle tour which entailed cruising down a number of rivers including the Beni river whcih feeds into Amazon basin, walks in rain forest and camping on the banks of the river. We were a small international group of 11 gringos and 7 Bolivian staff. We first started with a long drive along a continuation of the "Death Highway" with stunning scenery and dizzying heights. The boat was a long boat with wooden planks as seats but quite comfortable for appreciating the flora, fauna and birdlife along the river banks and suitable for the shallow sections of the river and odd rapid!




We enjoyed several walks in the rain forest, cooled off with swims in river and waterfall and a highlight was a canopy zip line tour that was exhilirating once I overcame my fear of heights suspended on platforms 200m above ground, the scenery looking over the forest canopy was spectacular! We cruised along Madidi National Park where there are puma, jaguar, wild boar, armiadillo, etc but unfortunately they did not appear for us, only tarantula, capybarra (large rodent like creatures), butterflies, frogs and plenty of birds. Waking up to the sounds of the rainforest was amazing....reminded me of relaxation tapes one hears enjoying a massage / bliss, but no masseur on tour!



We ended in Rurrenabaque where we stayed one night and enjoyed a night with new friends all of which were heading for Pamapas tours in Amazon basin whilst I caught an early morning flight on a 19 seater plant - a surprisingly smooth ride back up to La Paz. I had a few hours to spare and managed to enjoy some more sights, squares and museums (Ethnology a highlight) before catching bus for 7 hr trip to Puno, Peru to join up with cycle group.

I was feeling quite sad to leave Bolivia, a beautiful country with friendly people and stunning scenery and still somewhat untouchedby mass tourism and therefore cheap!


Posted By Natasha Barker

Our riders have been on the hsores of this maginficent lake for a few days now with stops along the shore in Bolivia (which is where 40 percent of the lake lies) and now Peru (with the rest of the lake sitting there). There are many islands in Titicaca and indiginous people have been living on these islands for many many generations.

The riders have taken the opportunity to visit these places.Well deserved calm boat rides and enjoyable stimulation after well done days of riding up the hills of the surrounding terrain.

The Uros islands just off of Puno are man made out of reeds and float. These floating islands house whole communities and feel like walking on a water bed! The homes and boats and lookout towers are al made of reeds that grow in the lake. On the way out there we see these reeds growing and there they are the home to many types of birds.

Well, sightseeing day is over and it is time to pack up and don our cycling clothes again! A few days of bush camp and I am sure more beautiful rides and friendly locals and soon we will be in Cusco-and trips out to Machu Pichu!


  -- Ruth Schonblum