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Published: December 3rd 2010
The moon on my astrology night
picture via my camera via the telescope"geez these blogs are getting long"....and here's another one I'd set aside 20 minutes for this one....
Howdy folks, I hope this blog finds you happy, healthy and not on a bus where it seems I've been for a good portion of the past week. Bus rides are not that bad though. Sometimes while in the midst of foreign lands and foreign language, chaotic, polluted big cities and looming uncertainty a comfortable, sheltered and scheduled bus ride is like a safe haven away from the 'outside'. However, as I found out, that is not always the case....I'll save that story and keep you on the edge of yer seats for now.
Che and I parted ways in Santiago as I was north bound on a jet airplane for the city of Calama and then a bus to the town of San Pedro de Atacama. I stepped off the airplane and onto the tarmac in Calama to be greeted by a warm blowing wind and vast, horizon expanding desert views. Funny to think I was just in the lush green Shire like environment of Pucon, Chile. (2 points for you if you picked up on The Lord of the
Rings reference). The hour and a half bus from Calama to San Pedro de Atacama is beautiful barren desent into dusty canyons and rolling, almost lunar-esque landscapes. The horizon is out there, but wayyyyyy out there.
San Pedro is a very small town, more Spanish-looking than is usual in Chile. I dont believe there is one 2 story buliding and all of the streets are dusty, hard packed adobe mud. The Inglesias de San Pedro is supposedly the second oldest church in Chile with a roof made from cactus. Other than the church the real attractions of San Pedro are found outside the town.
I read in my guidebook that the clear atmosphere, isolation and expansive nightsky make San Pedro a stargazers delight. I have always enjoyed the night sky, can rip off a number of constellations, stars, mindless facts, and bizarre greek stories about why Orion, Cassiopea, and others are in the heavens. (Hey Santa, how 'bout a kick butt Jupiter viewing galaxay identifying telescope huh?) My first night in the SP had me visiting a property outside the town owned by a wacky French couple. They have a number of telescopes pointed towards galaxies, nebulas, planets,
etc and taught us all about the night sky. It was a lovely evening which concluded with a cup of hot chocolate and star facts. Did you know that if we were able to send a message at light speed to the star Sirius (the closest one to Earth) it would take 8 years to get there and another 8 for the response? Holy delayed message Batman!
I slept that night at the Hostel International and opted for the second bunk, yes, this room had a bunk bed 3 beds high! What if you have to take a whiz in the middle of the night huh? It wasnt a very impressive hostal and they charge more for the tours than other places. I ended up switching the next day, took my pesos elsewhere yo.
I did a tour to the Lagunas Cejar which are small lakes in the Salar de Atacama, the 3rd largest expanse of salt flats on the planet. The first laguna has crystal clear water. Crystal clear and with an 8% salt content. I swam, floated really, out to the middle and literally put my hands behind my head, stretched out my body, one foot
over the other and relaxed, floating in the dense salt water. Fully reclined and floating in a laguna, what a cool sensation, I almost took a nap.
We jumped into another set of pools, sans salt, and it was a good rinse off. The last laguna we visited was already beginning to dry up, the shores a bright white dotted with pink flamingoes. Unfortunately, those birds know the game and moved further out upon our arrival.
Small world story time. As I was approaching the salty shores preparing to set up one of my self photos with my handy dandy tripod I ran into Tanner and Monica, the Canadian couple who were backpacking for their honeymoon (very awesome idea aye?). I last saw them on Day 5 of my trip in Buenos Aires. It was nice to have someone to talk to as in San Pedro I didn't meet anyone. We chatted it up, had a Pisco Sour and watched the sun set before joining our seperate tour buses back. Turns out they are on the same bus up to the northern Chilean border so I'll see them again.
The next day I weighed my options and
Entrance to the Canyon
can you find the two faces etched into the adobe clay/mud? time as I had a bus that evening to Bolivia. I talked with a local bike guy and he made some recommendations for me to have a killer half day on a mountain bike. I visited Pukara de Quitor, a pre-Inca fortress restored in the 80's, I did a little uphill riding and bike pushing (again, really?) up an abandoned road to a tunnel, and finally I ended with a really cool ride to Quebrada de Chulacao. Here I found myself riding through twists and turns in a carved out canyon. It led me to a rise which I hiked up to providing me great views of the distant volcano and the barren landscape all around me.
That evening was the beginning of a very, very long relationship with Chilean busses. The final destination was La Paz, Bolivia but first I had to get a bus back to Calama, change busses for one headed to Arica and upon arriving in Arica catch a bus to cross the border and arrive in La Paz, Bolivia.
The timing of my trip at this point is beginning to work backwards. Odd sentence, I know. Allow me to digress, "please do Lucas".
Pre Inca Brunette Chin? I think so
The noticeable Brunette chin goes way back apparently, who knew? So, two things. There comes a point in every a backpackers journey where the end is near. It's no longer what are you doing in the next few days or next week, but where you need to be the day before you leave in order to make that flight, and then where do you need/want to be the day or days before that, etc.; you begin to work your calendar backwards as well as forwards. I am also working my calendar in order to time up an Inca Trail trek with two friends, Scott and Britnay, friends from the cruise ship who are also traveling South America. It's an email game of cat and mouse, where are you, when do you expect to be here, etc mixed in with my backwards calendar.
So that being said, I have some aggressive travel itineraries and hope to not have any major delays.....well, I'm walking a thin line right now. Allow me to digress once again.
I leave San Pedro at 7:30pm and need to catch the 9:30 bus to Arica. No problems there, although I did suffer my first painful loss on the trip. In my haste to move busses
Macheta....and make a wish
I think that's how you spell it, but it´s the thought, the wish, and the prayer that count. I did not secure or double check my seat for anything which may have fallen out or off me. In one fell swoop I lost my Spanish phrase book (must've slipped out my side pocket), my new and nice sunglasses (why did I not put those away? I always put them away...sigh), and last, but not least my Grand Master Book of Suduko puzzles. I was up to puzzle 52 and had noted most puzzles with a date and place of completion dating back to Khong, Thailand. A devastating blow to my 'on the bus arsenal of things to do.' Oh well, they can all be replaced.
Back to the busses....so I catch the 9:30 bus and arrive in Arica at 6:30 the following morning. One moment to note was that an older Bolivian woman boarded the bus and sat down next to me. Once settled she got out her Bible, opened it up, began reading and went into a short prayer. Although I could not understand her I also said an Amen with her at the conclusion of her prayer and she gave me the sweetest 7 tooth smile I've ever seen, "oh bueno senor, bueno, bueno".
Winding Canyon Roads
Great time cruising thru on the bike in Quebrada de Chulacao I found a bus leaving for La Paz that morning around 9:30. Finally on the bus I feel great about my upcoming plans. Originally slated as tenative and one to not tell Mom about, I know now that I will be taking a mountain bike down what was officially labeled in 1995 as the "The Deadliest Road in the World". YAHTZEEE! But first I need to get into Bolivia.....
So, the ride from Arica to the Chilean/Bolivia border is a beautiful one. Again the scenery is majestic with grand rolling yet jagged hills, deep valleys and a winding roadway through it all. Alpacas and llamas stick near the stream running down the, otherwise barren valley. The road straightens as the landscape plateaus and we slowly wrap ourselves around a huge lake and another volcano. Finally we reach the Bolivian border. Every border crossing is different. You always have to fill out the forms and get out of the bus, the border police sternly looking you over. Sometimes you have to pull your bags sometimes you don't, sometimes you have to pay a fee, sometimes you don't, sometimes it's a fast process, sometimes it's slow as molasses, and, (last one)
99% of the time the bus waits for you, but for some dang reason this one did not!!! Yeah, funny Chilean/Bolivian joke to leave the non spanish speaking American white boy at the Bolivian border, 3 hours from anything and 6 hours from La Paz. You see, when traveling abroad most countries issue a visa for x amount of days to visit. Depending on where you're from determines what you have to go through. Since America charges just about every citizen to visit our country some countries are beginning to return the favor. It's $135 bucks to enter Bolivia, thank God I packed extra US dollars for a situation like this, although I thought it was only $100. So anyway, I was the only US dude on the bus and everyone else was processed very quickly while I was hangin' with Mr. Sternface Boliviano in the office. Finally, all cleared and cleaned out of cash they let me walk into Bolivia....umm, donde autobus????? I walked back and forth a bit, there were alot of vehicles passing through, surely my bus is here somewhere. It began to dawn on me that surely it was not and I couldn't help but laugh.
The church in San Pedro de Atacama
the roof, the roof, the roof is made of cactus For some reason I knew it would be okay, I guess I felt confident in the man upstairs looking down on me, probably laughing too. So, as a master of espanol baby talk and cherades I explained my situation to a few guys waiting for their bus to come through. Yep, they saw my bus already take off and talked more amongst themselves. Fortunately, a young guy who spoke english helped me out and explained to his bus driver my situation. Perhaps I could either stand or sit on the stairwell for 3 hours until the next town and catch a bus there? Well, that barely seemed to work as I sorta just forced my way on. I dont know if standing for 3 hours would've been worse than what I got which was a seat on a thin bar that attaches to the bus door as it opens. Go sit on the crossbar of your bicycle for 3 hours and we can then relate. I was able to finish my book, so I guess it beat standing.
However, I did not want to get off at a town not on my map and buy another ticket to La
Paz arriving at who knows what time....how can I secure a ride all the way with these guys? Through the power of music that's how. There were a total of 4 of us sitting at the very front of the bus and while I was painfully numbing my butt bone it did afford me full driver views of the landscape and access to the music they were listening to. The music was all american but in espanol. For example, Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers in the same tune and beat, just in espanol. Well, they sang in spanish and I sang the english words and didn't we have just a grand ole time hitting the high notes..."IIIIIIIIIIIII neeeeeeeeeddd your love, God speed your love, tooooooo meeeeeeee" There were a few other songs but you get the point. So, when we got to that town 3 hours away, I got, "senor lucas, vamos LaPaz?" "Heck Si", and so I got one of the open seats when a few people left the bus.
So, finally after being stranded at the Bolivian border, riding a bar, and being in a bus for 23 hours I arrive in La Paz. Fun fact
folks, La Paz is the world's highest capital city at 3,500 m. The sprawling city, seemingly all made from adobe brick, rests at the bottom of a steep canyon and ringed by snow peaked mountains. It's quite a sight to behold and an altogether different one to smell. Fortunately my hostel of choice, The Adventure Brew Hostel is located very close to the bus terminal and I'm able to walk there. Unfortunately, the two girls who walked in just ahead of me took the last two beds in the joint! 24 hours after embarking for La Paz and I miss a bed by 1 minute! Back to the fortunately part, there is an Adventure Brew Hostel 2 just down the street and I'm able to bunker up there. One last unfortunately, it's too late to book the Worlds Deadliest Road trip for the next day but I was really tired anyways, so I get to sleep in...fortunately.
Adventure Brew hostals, both of them are pretty sweet, but the main one has better amenties...mainly an upstairs and ouside bar/lounge area. Each evening they cook a dinner for a good price and that's where I ate that evening. The place was
pretty packed and I found a corner of a table to eat at. One of the girls who took the last bed in this hostal saw me and invited me to eat with her and her friend. So began the La Paz trifecta. Both Maria and Kristina were from Madrid, Spain traveling together on holidays. Ahh-haa, fluent in espanol eh? We most certainly should hang out, which we did. I had a few beers with them before calling it a night. After the 24 hours it took to get to the hostal my brain was in a coma and I was pretty tuckered out. We agreed to meet the next day for late morning coffee and to stroll about the city together.
Pancakes, heaps and heaps of pancakes are what I discover in the kitchen upon waking up in the morning. Although no maple syrup, I was pleased with the selection of butter, nutella, and jam to spread the 'cakes with. I met up with the girls and we set off on foot to walk the city. I learned of the local football club (soccer folks) having a game that afternoon and decided upon going since I missed the
Gettin some lovin
With an animal whose name I forget. one in Buenos Aires. Maria and Kristina were happy to go and I was happy to have their local language helping us get to where we needed to get. The game was between the home team, The Strongest, vs the Oriente from Santa Cruz. The police force was out in full force and there was some tension in the air. It was what you expect a South American football match to be, drums and horns, songs and taunts, dance and drama. I am not a huge critic of football but this was not the English Premier league that's for sure. Bad passing, arrant shots, and tired play was visibly noticeable. All in all though, it was a good time with the game ending in a tie.
That evening we booked our trip for "Death Road" and found a really great restaurant that would be an Antique Road Show fan's dream come true. The place was decked to the walls with collections of old guns, clocks, watches, old locks, masks, paintings, etc. I was reinspired to clutter up one room in my eventual house whenever that will be. Not an inch was left uncovered. I had my first llama earlier
in the day so settled with chicken that evening, buenisimo..
Now for the good stuff, the "world's deadliest road". I decided to excercise my 'American Male' card right out of the gates that morning and believed I knew where the meeting point for the pickup was. No reason to check the map they gave me, I'm not even sure if I have it, and why would I check it anyways, I'm certain I know where the spot is......well, take a guess as to how this one unfolded. 12 minutes late and starting to curse myself I do indeed check if I have the map and of course I do. Still cursing myself I am running through the streets of La Paz, the highest captial city in the world. I literally make it one minute before the group left to join the van, thanking my lucky stars and the man upstairs for not missing this trip.
The worlds deadliest road was built by Bolivia and Paruguay as a means of connecting capital cities with a trade/cargo route beginning in 1935. Since then it has seen numerous fatal automobile acciddents, political asassinations (one political group sensed they were going to
lose an election and rounded up the other parties candidates and tossed them off the edge), was the street address for Kraus Barbie, one of the Nazi SS leaders and of course, has also seen its fair share of bicycle tragedies.
As I mentioned, in 1995 the road was labeled as the deadliest in the world and in 1998 the first mountain bikes started blazing down it. The worst automobile accident happened in 1983 I believe when a bus, somehow packed with a little over 100 people, slipped off the edge and plummeted some 200 meters below. Recently, say at the beginning of 2000 a new road was built and finished for all the large vehicles to take as opposed to this back alley wide gravel road and there is very little, if any, non-tour related traffic on the road these days. The last fatal bicycle accident was as recent as April of this year. An Israeli girl was going too fast, panicked, and lost control. There are other sad stories similar to this one and after experiencing the road firsthand I do not doubt there will be more. It is a single gravel lane road at best, how
Postcard Corner on the Death Road
This is one of the corners you take at a careful speed...it looks like this all along the road. traffic would go both ways in its hay day is beyond me. Hairpin twists and turns with no guard rails only sheer drop offs, many well over 300 meters, beckon the careless, the fatigued, and the unlucky bikers into its rocky, jungle arms. This road, I assure you, lives up to its name. It is terrifying and awesome, exhilarating and senseless, safe and completely dangerous all at the same time.
My spaniard chicas, Maria and Kristina, also were taking on the death road and we all booked with the company Gravity. Gravity is one of the first, if not the first, company to take tourists down the road. They have a reputation for top quality bikes maintained in tip top shape and have only lost one biker in over 10 years. They also charge more than other companies I came to find out, but the T-shirt was free.
We geared up, helmet, gloves, reflective vest and more and set out for our first section. We start out on the new road which is paved and got accostomed to our bikes. The weather conditions the first half of the day were foggy and we couldn't see much of our surroundings. Our guides have us go in sections so you ride a bit, pull over so everyone catches up, get details on the next section and take off again. After a bit of downhill shredding on the paved road we pull off onto the gravel and begin the actual death road.
To describe the road a bit further just imagine a winding road with jungle and rock on its right side and straight down nothing on its left making its way from roughly 12000 feet to 4000 feet. I'll let the picture do the rest of the talking.
We go in sections the whole way down, some parts gaining ridiculous speed and riding the brakes quite a bit. Our group had one guy go over the handlebars and eat mountain as he gained too much speed and mistakingly used the front brake instead of the rear brake. Fortunately his crash was into the side of the mountain and not the other side. He was okay, but took it much slower the rest of the way.
As for me, I only had two close calls 😊 and got a full dose of andrenaline in. I really enjoyed it. Once the fog lifted it became even more jaw dropping for both scenic beauty and riding intensity. With the blanketing fog you focused soley on the road but when it cleared you couldn't help but look around which of course diverts your focus.
Our final destination was an animal refugee where local animals are brought when taken from whatever abusive situation they were in. There is a law in Bolivia that animals cannot be released back into the wild so they come the refuge. There were lots of monkees, parrots, saw my first toucan, tortises and a few others. We had lunch there before taking our van back up the death road which is just as hair raising as coming down it, at least on the bike you have some control. But our driver is mucho experienced and received a round of applause once back on safe road.
That evening was another tired one. I had been fighting a small cold for a few days now and even turned down the daily free beer our hostal provides...twice! So, you know I wasn't feeling top notch. All in all though, it was a good time in La Paz. I said goodbye to the girls and got my things ready to say goodbye to Bolivia. Its non stop from here on out and every day is tenatively accounted for....here's to making them count.
If you've made it this far you're probably looking for this week's installment of 'Deep Thoughts with Travelin' LaLuke" and so here you go. Music is an international language in its own right and it was the sharing of music which helped me get all the way to La Paz. Music is also chicken soup for the soul and so I'll leave you with an inspiring lyric from the London band, Mumford & Sons. The album name is Sigh No More, the song, After the Storm.
"There will come a time you'll see, with no more tears and love will not break your heart, but displace your fears. Get over your hill and see what you find there with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."
Get over your hill and, if you can, take a bike blazing down the other side.
ciao chicos
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