ENTRY 7: Cusco, The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, and a return to Colombia

From Arequipa, another overnight bus delivered me to Cusco in the early hours of the morning. I had planned my arrival so that I would have two full days in Cusco before departing on the 4-day Inca Trail trek that I had booked the month before. While in Cusco I chose to stay at the Loki hostel - a popular chain of backpackers’ hostels in South America known for their party atmosphere (a fact I had cause to regret when trying to get to sleep), but good for meeting new people, and the staff were extremely helpful in all things.

One of many churches

Cusco is another town of well-preserved Spanish colonial architecture, although perhaps not as charming as the old town in Arequipa. Because of the constant influx of tourists seeking to visit Machu Picchu and the other Inca sites of the nearby Sacred Valley, the centre of Cusco is almost exclusively geared around tourism, with endless street vendors hassling you to buy anything and everything from oil paintings to massages. In contrast to my previous experiences travelling in South America, Cusco is literally swarming with foreigners, and higher prices reflect that fact.

I had intended to spent the two days sightseeing, but the first was occupied with various bits of admin for the trek including various “extras” the company (SAS) insisted on charging me for. The second day I resolved to at least see some of the sites, but discovered that to visit any of them, foreigners have to buy a tourist ticket which costs 130 soles (about £35) - I felt this was extortionate so went for a walk up into the surrounding hills that overlook the city. Here I found the Inca fort of Sacsaywaman, and was also able to discover a way in which avoided the ticket booth. I amused myself for a couple of hours before crossing to another nearby hill from which a large statue of Christ on the Cross (with rather creepy eyes) looks down over Cusco. That evening the trekking company held a briefing to explain our route and the various arrangements for the next 4 days.

Walls of the Inca fort Sacsaywaman, with Cusco in the background

On the morning of my third day I roused myself at 0400 and was collected at 0500. I had already briefly met my fellow trekkers at the briefing the previous night. After an hour or so of driving we stopped at a shop/cafe to have breakfast, and the tour guide exhorted us to buy various “essentials" such as rain ponchos, coca leaves, and Gatorade (this would be a frequent feature of the trek, as there were a surprising number of “last” stops to buy such necessities...). I did buy some coca leaves for the novelty value (although I ended up not using them). Over breakfast I got to know a few of my group a bit better, discovering a mix of British, Australians and Americans, and one Caribbean. After another hour or so by road we reached the starting point of the trail (“Kilometro 82”). The 13 trekkers and the 20-odd porters all set to work sorting packs and bags, and I noticed that I seemed to be the only non-porter carrying anything larger than a daysack. It seemed I was the only person in the group not to have paid an extra $50 for a “personal porter” to carry a (heavy) sleeping bag, mattress and various other items for me. As it was too late to worry about that I decided to just crack on and see how things went.

In recent years the Peruvian government has brought in strict guidelines in order to preserve its most famous tourist attraction. Only 500 visitors and guides/porters can start on the Inca Trail each day, so before we could start, we had to have our passports and tickets checked, which meant queuing for half an hour or so, as the porters went on ahead to set up camp for lunch.

Trekkers (14) and most of the porters (about 18 in total)

We set out along a relatively flat path following the course of the Urumbamba River, on the opposite bank to the train line to Aguas Calientes, which follows the route of the original Inca trail. Our guide periodically stopped us to give us some historical bits of information, about the history of the trail both in relation to the Incas and in more recent years as its popularity has grown and how this has impacted o it.

As we went on, the path began to climb, until we crossed a small stream and then climbed a fairly steep path cut into the side of a hill to reach a lookout point over the valley below. From here we continued to climb until we overlooked the first Inca site along the trail, the religious centre of Patallacta. Along with several other tour groups we paused here for 10 minutes or so to take photos, and it was at this point that I noticed my group seemed to be the only one not made up exclusively of people in their teens/twenties... We carried on for another hour, descending on the other side of the hill until we reached the site for lunch, where the porters had pitched the dining tent, and laid out basins of water for us to wash our hands (which was a bit of a surprise as I was expecting a more rough-and-ready style of camping). We sat down to the first of what would prove to be excellent meals considering they were all prepared with ingredients and equipment that the porters had to carry every step of the way. After lunch we set off again, and I found that I was outpacing the rest of my group, aside from the front guide who I suppose who had no choice but to keep up with me. This would become a frequent feature of the trek, as the advantage of being at least 5 years younger than anyone in the group, and a naturally quick walking pace ensured that I would always be some way ahead of the group.

Inca terraces at Patallacta

The rest of the afternoon was spent steadily climbing, stopping at another checkpoint. We reached our campsite about 1700 to find the porters had already made camp and those with their own porters had had their mattresses and sleeping bags laid out. We settled into our two-person tents; I was sharing with a 26-year old Geophysicist from Trinidad, who had studied in the UK (we had gotten talking as it turned out he had been rejected from Cambridge). The only downside about the accommodation was the toilet facilities, which were squats, and by the end of the evening seemed to have presented a number of people with problems...

That night (and the second) was fairly uncomfortable, as due to the elevation at which we were camping the temperatures plunged during the night. I had decided against hiring a sleeping bag as I had brought my own, and didn’t want to pay another $40. Unfortunately it was nowhere near as thick (or heavy) as the ones the company provided, and even with all my clothes on I was still woken up by the cold. I realised that I should have packed more warm layers, but when I had initially packed for my three months away I hadn’t really considered how cold it  might get...

View from campsite No. 1

The next morning we woke to the spectacular sight of the mountains around us, and the knowledge that today would be the hardest of the four days in terms of effort required, due to the fact that to reach the next campsite, we would have to ascend and descend two different mountains, the first of which is home to ‘Dead Woman’s Pass”, the highest point in the Inca Trail, at 4200m, and named after the mummified body that was discovered there when the trail was first cleared in the 1920s. From the campsite to the Pass was an unbroken climb. We set off after breakfast, and as had been the case the previous day, I was soon ahead of the rest of the group. The first hour or so of the climb was through “cloud forest", with the path following the course of a river that ran down through the valley. At the first rest point, from where one could see the Pass, I waited for the rest of the group to catch up before we got going again. The next hour was extremely hard work as the climb steepened (something the photos really don’t do justice to, but most of it is essentially a stone staircase), and which acted as a bottleneck on the various groups going the same way. The last 15 minutes or so were particularly unpleasant, as one could see and hear the people who had set out earlier and had already reached the summit, while I was still climbing. I eventually hauled myself to the top, and settled down to a half hour wait until the next few members of my group arrived, rapidly donning more layers as the warmth from the climb wore off, and I realised how icily cold it was. 

Looking up the trail to Dead Woman’s Pass, the highest point on the Inca Trail

View looking back along the trail from Dead Woman’s Pass

After about an hour or so we were all accounted for, and after a snack break and some photos we set off down the opposite side of the hill towards our lunch spot. The opposite side of the mountain seemed steeper than the one we had just climbed, and was heavy-going on the knees. Eventually, I decided to follow the example of the porters (who seem to be part mountain goat) and risk running down, which was much easier, but again left me far ahead of my group. After an hour and a half I reached the lunch site, 600m below Dead Woman’s Pass, where the porters had once again got everything ready, and I settled down to wait for everyone else with my book. My haste was rewarded as while I was waiting it began to rain extremely heavily, if only for a short while, and meant many of my group arrived soaking wet and were visibly steaming during lunch.

After lunch it was time for the second of the day’s mountains. As we climbed we looked back to see the lunch site was completely engulfed in thick cloud. We stopped at an Inca guardhouse for a break and another lecture from our guide. As we set off again the members of my group under 30 began a game seeing if they could catch me on the uphill climb, so I dutifully put on a burst of speed to prevent the gap from closing. After passing a small lake formed from rainwater (the Cochapata lagoon), we eventually reached the summit at 3950m, which was entirely shrouded in cloud, with visibility of around 10 metres at the most. We took shelter in a natural cave formed from fallen boulders as we waited for the rest of the group to arrive. From there we descended, getting caught once again by the rain. From this point the scenery began to change from relatively bare mountain and scrub to lush foliage as we entered the high jungle, and it became noticeably warmer.

Temple of the Rainbow

As we neared our campsite for that night, several of us took a detour to visit some nearby Inca ruins, which our guide told us was originally the “Temple of the Rainbow”, as apparently the Incas believed rainbows to be symbols of fertility. The cloud gave the ruins a brilliantly spooky atmosphere, and deadened the noises of the nearby jungle. After half an hour or so we set off after the rest of the group who had carried on ahead, passing another Inca watchtower before reaching our campsite. The second campsite was spectacularly located on a rocky bluff overlooking jungle-covered valleys, and with a view back towards the temple which was visible from the tents when the cloud cleared.

View from campsite No. 2 in the morning - you can just make out the temple perched on the rocky spur

The third day was to be mostly descending to reach our last campsite. We set out on a winding path along the side of a mountain with views down into the untouched jungle valleys below, which we could actually see for once due to the absence of excessive cloud. Around mid-morning we stopped at another pass, from which it was possible to see the mountain (Huayna Picchu) which rears up behind Machu Pichu. Just below this was a complex of Inca buildings called Phuyupatamarka, which our guide informed us had been part of a temple devoted to astrological study.

Phuyupatamarka - apparently this was the Inca equivalent of an observatory

From the ruins the path plunged down into the valley below (dropping 1000 m), down steep rocky steps hewn from the rock, which were perilously slippery. Along the way I ran into a herd of Llamas that were grazing on the vegetation along the side of the path, and saw a number of brightly-cloured Butterflies. Eventually I reached the third and final night’s campsite. After an hour the rest of the group arrived, and following a chance to unpack and relax, we went for a late afternoon walk to visit another Inca site nearby. Our guide told us that the convex terraces at Wiñay Wayna were used for experimental crops and for the development of new agricultural techniques, and the remains are in remarkably good condition. We had also hoped to see fireflies as darkness gathered, but no such luck.

“Experimental” convex terraces at Wiñay Wayna

That night the porters prepared for us a final dinner (complete with cake!), and we bid them farewell, as this was as far as they would go with us. The next morning(ish) we were woken at 3am to get ready for the last day - the gate to the last section of the trail would open at 0500, and we had to be queued up beforehand. From the last campsite it is 2 miles to the “Sun Gate” (Intipunku), a high pass with spectacular views overlooking Machu Picchu. People I had met along my travels who had done the Inca Trail had recommended moving quickly in order to get to the Sun Gate for dawn and to beat the crowds. With this in mind, I told the guide my intentions and as soon as I had got my ticket stamped, set off at a run, over 2 miles of uneven and wet ground, passing all but one of the groups ahead (unsurprisingly I got plenty of odd looks from those I passed, but I was particularly pleased at being mistaken for a porter due to the fact that I was running and that I had a rucksack twice the size of everyone else’s). However, when I got to the Sun Gate I felt an utter tit - rather than the spectacle of Machu Picchu laid out before me, what I could actually see was a wall of impenetrable grey cloud. I therefore had an excruciatingly embarrassing half an hour as the people I had passed caught up, and I did my best to act nonchalantly...

What I had hoped to see from the Sun Gate... (apologies for having to cheat and steal a photo from someone else)

Feeling rather crestfallen I waited for the rest of my group to catch up and we began the descent from the Sun Gate to the Machu Pichhu site. Having been denied the view from above we had no real clue where we were in relation to it, so it was a surprise when I came out of a stand of trees to find dozens of people milling about on the edge of a hill overlooking another cloud. I recognised the hill from other photos I’d seen as the slope overlooking the city, and realised the wall of grey was in fact hiding the site entirely.  By the time the rest of the group arrived the clouds had cleared slightly, so one could make out the indistinct shape of buildings amidst the greyness. Thankfully, after a while the cloud dissipated enough for some decent photos and the hundreds of people who had been waiting began to frantically snap away with their cameras. After at least an hour of this, we moved down to the entrance where the day-trippers (people who have not come in via the Inca Trail) enter the site, and our tour guide began to talk us through the various different areas of the site.

“the” standard Machu Picchu photo. Note the absence of blazing sunlight - you should be able to see another mountain in the background.

The “lost” Inca city of Machu Picchu is without a doubt South America’s most famous historic attraction. Its exact purpose is the subject of continued speculation, with the two most popular theories being that it was either a sacred religious centre (this was the version our guide told us), or that it was an estate for the Inca rulers before their fall. During the Spanish conquest of South America the invaders never reached Machu Picchu, and with the fall of the Incan empire knowledge of it was reduced to a few locals who had no reason to shout about it. “Re-discovered” (publicised) and named by the American academic Hiram Bingham just over a century ago (1911), its fame has since grown exponentially, and it continues to draw visitors in their thousands each day (2500 per day). 

Although several hundred people arrive by the Inca Trail each day (the trail only closes in February to allow for repair), the rest come in from Cusco, or from the nearby town of Aguas Calientes. If anyone reading this ever finds themselves doing a day-trip to Machu Picchu at some point in the future, I cannot stress strongly enough to please KEEP OUT OF THE WAY OF THE TRAVEL-STAINED PEOPLE IN WALKING BOOTS CARRYING LARGE RUCKSACKS - there is a real resentment of day-trippers by the trekkers, as they feel they have earned the right to get there as early as possible, and not have their photos ruined by hordes of chattering tourists and school  children. Originally, the Inca Trail was the only way to reach Machu Picchu, but its popularity led to the construction of a road to bus tourists in from Aguas Calientes.

It is almost impossible to take a photo at Machu Picchu without  other tourists getting in the way

Although the buildings are extremely well-preserved considering their age, the site is heavily reconstructed, using the original material from the site itself, and the work is still ongoing. For an idea of what the site looked like before reconstruction work, have a look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Machupicchu_hb10.jpg

After a couple of hours of being shephered around the site, myself and another member of the group went to climb Huanay Picchu, the mountain that looms above the city itself. Although more of our group were also supposed to come, problems with tickets (thanks to our tour guide’s incompetence) resulted in some frantic running about in order to fulfil the endless red-tape required by the site administrators, who dictate that only 400 people per day can ascend the mountain. Eventually we got through the gate and started the climb. The next 45 minutes were far more challenging than anything the Trail had thrown at us. The ascent itself is extremely steep (and slippery), up flights of narrow and irregular steps carved from the rock. Indeed, the steepness is such that most of the climb has various wires and ropes alongside to cling onto (“Via Ferrata”), without which the ascent (and descent) would be perilous. Unfortunately, I’ve already used the "Stairs of Cirith Ungol" analogy in a previous blog post, but it would have been more appropriate for this, as even the rock looked similar. Near the summit (2700 m, 350 m higher than the city) we reached the first of the Inca buildings. It is staggering that they went to the trouble of building in such a remote and innaccessible spot. The guides maintain that it was the home to the priests of the city below. To reach the summit, we had to crawl through a cleft in the rock and through a small opening on the other side, which I wouldn’t recommend for anyone with claustrophobia, as we had to remove our rucksacks and push them along in front if us to make it through the gap!

Looking down onto Machu Picchu from Huayna Picchu. As you can see, cloud was a big part of my Inca Trail experience

The top of Huanay Picchu affords spectacular views over the city below, as well as the imposing mountains and valleys that ring Machu Picchu. The drama is heightened by the steep drops on all sides from the summit. Indeed, the way down was, if anything, more nerve-racking than the climb, as one could see the drops off to the sides, and the steps were so narrow that one felt in constant danger of slipping. By the time we reached the bottom it was nearly time to go, so we made our way to the main gate and caught the bus down to Aguas Calientes, where we rendezvoused with the rest of our group for a late lunch and a few well-deserved drinks, before we went our separate ways.

Our motley crew

The journey back from Machu Picchu was pretty unremarkable, except rather than walking back to our starting point we took the tourist train, which follows the course of the river from Aguas Calientes. This is in itself an extremely pleasant ride through some beautiful scenery, although the tracks themselves could do with some work as it was the wobbliest train I’ve ever been on! I arrived back in Cusco around 2200, checked back into my hostel and attempted to get to sleep, only be woken up by the Israelis in my dorm returning drunk at 5 in the morning.

With Machu Picchu ticked off, it was time to start thinking about the homeward journey. I had a week and a half to get to Bogota for my return flight to Europe, so I began planning my journey North. From Lima I had originally intended to travel by land through Ecuador into the South of Colombia. Unfortunately, the proximity to Easter limited the availability of buses and flights, and I decided as I was already overbudget I could survive without seeing inland Ecuador (it was always my intention to return at some point in the future to see the Galapagos Islands). Without any need to rush, I therefore returned to Lima via a pretty epic 22-hour bus ride rather than forking out for a flight. The windiness of the road coming out of Cusco (in the pitch-dark) ensured it was impossible to get any sleep for the first few hours, and I once again had to deal with the ridiculously irritating game of Bingo the bus company insists on providing.

Another awesome sky in Lima

Arriving in Lima, I once again got in contact with the British mother and daughter I had stayed with previously, and spent the weekend in the city, venturing out to do some more sightseeing, but generally just lazing about and welcoming the chance to relax for a few days. From Lima I booked a flight to Bogota (the prices of which had risen due to the Easter holiday), where I would be meeting up and staying with my dad’s family for my birthday before flying home. 

For my birthday I was treated to a meal at one of Bogota’s best restaurants, Andres Carne del Res, which is actually an hour’s drive from the city itself. The restaurant was bizarrely decorated, with various bits of paraphenalia littering the walls and ceilings. As it was Easter Sunday, there was an odd religious element to the atmosphere, with “halleluia” being played across the sound system at various points, and a troupe of masked figures in white were capering about the place with instruments. A mortifyingly embarrassing performance of "happy birthday" also left me draped in a sash and cardboard crown which I discarded as soon as possible. However, none of these incidents could detract from the food, which was fantastic. The restaurant specialises in meat so we all ordered steaks. The meat was incredibly flavoursome, and was pretty-much perfectly cooked. Aside from the courses themselves, one quirk of the restaurant was the continual stream of free fruit that kept appearing; from first coming into the restaurant and being offered strawberries to the small bowls of various grapes and other fruits, it all added a nice extra note to the meal.

Awesome meat

After my birthday I had two more days in Bogota until my flight home, which brings me up to the present moment (the first time my blog has caught up with me!). I’ll save conclusions/reflections on my trip as a whole until I get home, as this post is already too long. Suffice to say, I was extremely glad I left Machu Picchu until the end of my trip, as it made a suitable high point upon which to turn homewards.

NEXT TIME: 3 MONTHS AWAY - SO WHAT?

ENTRY 6: Lima, Arequipa and the Colca Canyon

My flight from Iquitos carried me out of the jungle, across the breadth of Peru, and gave me my first ever sight of the Pacific Ocean, on the coast of which sits Lima, Peru's capital. Lima is also strangely located at the edge of a desert, and is known for its perculiar microclimate that often leaves it shrouded in fog. I would only be staying one night, before catching an overnight bus south to Arequipa, Peru's second largest city.

While passing through Lima I was lucky enough to be able to stay with Denise and Poppy, a British teacher and her daughter who live in Lima. I had met them briefly on the boat to Providencia, and had kept in touch, and they were kind enough to offer me their spare room for the night. Although I don't consider myself a person who craves creature comforts, I can't deny the indescribable pleasure of the first hot shower since I'd left the UK - it was heaven. That evening we went for a walk down to the seafront - Lima perches dramatically on a series of cliffs overlooking the Pacific - and we were in time to catch the sun setting.

Sunset on the Pacific

Lima has a poor reputation amongst tourists who complain of its lack of charm and grime (which is undoubtedly an issue - the very air sometimes seem choked with dirt), but like any city it has its own distinct character and appeal. My bus to Arequipa the next day wasn't until early evening, so I had time to hop on a bus to the city centre and play tourist. My first port of call was the Plaza de Armas (main square), which is home to the Cathedral and the Presidential Palace. Although quite pretty, the large amount of traffic and people rather spoiled it, as well as making it extremely difficult to take any photos that weren't cluttered with cars or tourists.

Inside the Cathedral was impressively opulent in the way most Catholic churches are, but I was far more keen on the nearby Franciscan monastery, complete with a catacombs several hundred years old, which had served as an ossuary or the city, which are estimated to contain the remains of over 60,000 people (I'm not sure if I'd ever seen real human skulls before, and certainly not so many).

Having returned from my sightseeing, I bid goodbye to my hosts and that afternoon I took a taxi to the bus terminal, where I was bemused to find a pseudo-airport setup, requiring me to check in my bag, then proceed to a "departure gate". The company I was travelling with, Cruz del Sur market themselves as a luxury service, meaning rather than the normal seats and lack of leg room one is used to back home, you have an extremely large and comfy seat that fully reclines allowing you to lie flat. Meals, beverages and movies are also included in the ticket (as is an irritatingly loud game of Bingo). As my 16 hour journey was overnight, I was extremely glad of for once being able to get sleep on a bus, and be able to get off at the other end without feeling that I had been crushed into a small space for hours on end. The scenery we passed through was the most part pretty desolate (the aforementioned desert) but with the odd interruption of irrigated valleys and field systems. 

When I arrived at Arequipa (the furthest South I've ever been), I took a taxi to a hostel, then felt much of the afternoon feeling ill (possibly due to the altitude, as Arequipa is at 2300m). I eventually roused myself and set about arranging a two-day tour to the Colca Canyon, arguably the main tourist attraction in the region. Having arranged a trip, I then went for a wander around Arequipa itself. The heart of the old town has a large amount of extremely well-preserved colonial architecture, in a distinctive pale stone, and churches and religious foundations seem to occupy every street corner, but lend the town an other-worldly quality similar to that of Cartagena in Colombia.

By the time I get home, I think I will have had enough Churches to last me quite a while...

Having bimbled aimlessly for several hours I turned in early in anticipation of an early start. The next morning I was the last person to be collected by the coach, so the only seat left was the front passenger seat - I later found out that several people thought I was one of the tour guide on account of this (the first of several occasions on which I was mistaken for Peruvian - clearly I was looking a bit more tanned than I had in Colombia where I stuck out like a sore thumb...) We departed Arequipa, driving for several hours as the scenery became more and more dramatic, with hills giving way to snow-capped mountains, as well as the volcano that overlooks Arequipa.

Spot the difference?

As we climbed through the mountains we were able to stop to watch herds of Alpacas and Llamas by the roadside, always accompanied by herders/vendors trying to sell us "genuine Alpaca" clothing and various other products. Alpaca is supposed to be superior to wool in various ways that I can't quite remember, and I caved in and bought one of the standard conical hats with tassles that all the "gap yah" crowd seem to sport back in the UK. At about midday we stopped at a place our guide informed us was the highest point in Peru accessable by road, at a height of 4500m. We all trooped off the bus in order to add a stone to the hundreds of cairns that seemed to stretch on forever, although some members of the group were looking a little unwell due to the effects of altitude.

Headache central

After about 5 hours in total we reached the town of Chivay, which sits at one end of the Colca Canyon, where we would be having lunch and staying that night. After a chaotic buffet lunch (the result of several tour groups arriving at the same time) we deposited our bags at the hotel and hopped back in the bus for a couple of hours hiking further along the valley. By now I had gotten to know a few members of my group, and found them to contain a pair of Americans, 3 Peruvians, 2 Austrians and 7 Germans. As we were walking our guide explained how previous inhabitiants had built the numerous terraces for farming throughout the valley and pointed out the variatious irrigation techniques that allowed the valley to remain lush and fertile.

Typical scenery overlooking the Colca Canyon

By the time we finished our walk it was beginning to get dark, but we still had time to visit the local baths which were fed by a hot spring (unsurprisingly smelling strongly of sulphur). While we were relaxing in the pools we were able to see flashes of lightning and hear the thunder from a storm some way off in the mountains. That evening we all went for dinner at a local restaurant, where we watched a local band and some dancers demonstrating some supposedly "traditional" dances into which various members of our group found themselves hauled. After this we all turned in, in expectation of yet another early start.

After a 5 am wakeup and breakfast the next morning we headed off once again in the bus follwing the course of the Canyon towards the main objective off the tour - the "Cruz del Condor" - a high point overlooking the Canyon where visitors can usually expect to see a group of condors that live in the area. As we drove along the Canyon, we saw it grow ever deeper, and the sides more sheer. A couple of miles from the lookut point, our bus deposited the more energetic of us to walk the remainder of the way, and to appreciate the incredible scenery without having to peer through a smeary window. The Colca Canyon is the second deepeest in the world, reaching a maximum depth of over 4000m (more than twice that of the USA's Grand Canyon), and one of the mountains that can be seen from the Canyon is home to a spring that is one of the original sources for the Amazon River. 

Never pass up an opportunity to pose

When we reached the lookout point, we found dozens more tourists, all waiting for a glimpse of the condors. After half an hour or so a wave of excitment went through the crowd as one flew beneath us, at a distance of perhaps of 50m (too far and too quick to get any decent photos). We continued to wait, hoping for more, and saw another 2 further in the distance along the canyon, but again too far off for decent photos. After about 2 hours of this it was time for us to return to Chivay. Although several of the group seemed quite dissapointed at the lack of condors, for me the canyon was what I had wanted to see all along, and I certainly wasn't let down by the sheer scale and drama of it. 

Not quite a condor...

Following lunch in Chivay, we set off on the return journey to Arequipa, where later that same evening I would be catching a 10 hour overnight bus (again with Cruz del Sur) to the destination of almost every tourist who visits Peru - Cusco, from where I would be going on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

Next time: "Gap yah" fulfilled - Cusco and Machu Picchu

ENTRY 5: The Amazon

From here on my pace of travel increases significantly.

After flying from Providencia to San Andres, and San Andres to Bogota on Friday, and swapping suitcase for rucksack, Saturday saw me catching a flight to Leticia, Colombia's most southerly city. There are no roads to Leticia, it can only be reached by air and water, due to its location in the heart of the Amazon rainforest. What also makes Leticia a fascinating place to visit is that it sits at the junction between the borders of Colombia, Peru and Brazil. Indeed, it is possible to walk from Colombia into Brazil without even noticing it, as there are no controls unless you wish to travel further into the interior.

Approach to Leticia

The flight itself was one a memorable one, as the last hour of the flight is over the rainforest, which is incredibly dramatic when you look down and all you can see is forest (or jungle? No one has been able to tell me which is correct...), broken only by the occasional meandering river. The final approach itself is worth a mention, as the plane comes in low and banks over the river itself before coming into the tiny airport, where it really does feel like you've just touched down in the middle of the jungle (or forest...)

The hostel I was staying at was a quirky place called "Mahatu", built on the outskirts of town on a wooded plot of land which means it's quite easy to forget that 5 minutes down the road is a modern (if poor) city. The owner, a guy called Gustavo was an eccentric individual - on the day I arrived he threw out a group of British students who had been quietly playing Monopoly in the bar, because apparently they had been "too vague about when they were leaving..." All the other guests I met while staying there agreed that he was an extremely temperamental character, and that kid-gloves were required when dealing with him (an assessment reinforced by the locals who said he was a notorious grouch). Thankfully, he was able to arrange for me to go on a 2-day jungle trip up-river to get a feel for the Amazon.

The trip involved an early morning start from the docks at Leticia in a small motor canoe, with myself, 2 guides and a young couple consisting of a Venezuelan and a Cuban (whose Spanish was almost unintelligible). We headed up the Amazon out of Leticia, stopping at a small nature reserve to see some examples of the large lily-like plants called "Victoria Regis" and where there were several tame monkeys and parrots for tourists to pose with.

The water level in the Amazon rainforest is currently exceptionally high (apparently 2 metres higher than average) meaning the base of every tree we saw was submerged, which was extremely odd to see. The one advantage of this was that it meant routes that were not usually possible for small boats to navigate became practicable, allowing us to take short cuts to avoid the busiest and windiest sections of the river, and instead go through the jungle itself, where there was a much better chance of seeing wildlife - on one such diversion we spotted iguanas and several types of monkey.

Further up-river we took a fork to one side which led to a dead end of thick reeds, from where it was possible to see a wide variety of bird life including some eagles, although too far off to get any decent photos.

For lunch we stopped at a series of small wooden buildings held aloft of the water on stilts - this was where we would be spending the night. After a lunch of fresh fish, we went back to the boat and headed further upriver to one of the few bits of dry ground for miles around. Here we met up with a local who took us on a 3 hour hike along a jungle trail, him clearing a way with his machete, repeatedly reminding us to keep a weather eye out for snakes on the forest floor. By the time we got back to the boat, the light was beginning to fade, so we headed back for dinner. We turned in early, as at 3am we were woken to go on a nightime expedition by paddle-canoe to look for Caymans. With no light pollution and no clouds the night sky was fantastic, with a tremendous number of stars visible. Unfortunately, we didn't have much luck on the Cayman front, as the one we did see by the reflection of torchlight in its eye soon vanished as we approached, even though we canoed amidst the trees themselves. We did see a poisonous watersnake, which necessitated some frantic paddling to put some distance between it and ourselves! After an hour or so, we returned to the stilted houses and sleep.

Evening in the Amazon

It may be incredibly hard to see in this photo, but I did actually catch a piranha.

The next morning we again travelled up river to find a spot to do some piranha fishing. Although one of the guides caught the first piranha, I was the first (and only!) member of the group to catch a red-bellied piranha (which are the supposedly vicious ones people think of). Although my technique could definitely do with some work (my line seemed to end up in a tree every time I tried to haul a fish out of the water...) I weas still incredibly pleased with myself. After an hour or so of fishing, we moved on reaching a lagoon-like area we were told was safe to swim in (thoughts of the dreaded penis-fish giving a moment's pause for thought). 

No penis-fish thankfully

After lunch, we began the return journey to Leticia, but via a different route, which allowed us to stop off at the Brazilian port of Benjamin Constant, where we saw the comercial life of the Amazon, with huge barges carrying enormous quantities of lumber downriver to the Atlantic coast.

The tour concluded with a frantic journey from one side of Leticia to the other attempting to sort entry and exit stamps to go from Colombia into Peru, as my plan was to catch the fast passenger boat from Santa Rosa, on the Peruvian side of the border (and across the river from Leticia), at 0400 and go upriver to Iquitos, before flying to Lima the next day. To round this out, I had to deal with an outburst from the hostel owner regarding whether I should stay that night in Leticia or in Santa Rosa. Having decided to stay in Leticia that night, I bedded down for an earlyish night. Of course, I wasn't able to get to sleep until around 0100, so was not in the best of states when the hostel owner woke me telling me the taxi that was to take me to the docks was waiting. The next 40 minutes were amongst the most stressful of the entire trip, as I was convinced I was going to be late and would be left stranded in Santa Rosa, thus missing my flight, etc, The taxi deposited me on the Colombian bank of the river, where I spent what seemed like an age waiting for a water taxi to take me to Santa Rosa.

The crossing itself was fairly nerveracking, as the river was pitch-black, with only the pilot's handheld flashlight providing any illumination. I reached Santa Rosa around 0340, only to be told that I still had to sort my Peruvian entry documents. I therefore had to dash to the small border control hut, hammer on the door to wake up the man who worked there, and hurriedly scrawl my name and details multiple times on various forms before receiving my small slip of paper, and then running back to the quay where the boat was minutes from leaving. I fell into a seat, utterly exhausted, but indescribably relieved not to have missed the boat. The boat got underway through the darkness and I fell into a much needed sleep with an audiobook. I woke to dawn on the Amazon, as the boat made steady progress upriver towards Iquitos.

It's moments like this that make me wish for a better camera

The journey took around 12 hours overall, and having fixed upon a hostel using Lonely Planet, took one of the local motor taxis to the city centre, stopping by at an ATM in which I proceeded to leave my card until the guard came running out after me as I was climbing back into the taxi. I spent an uneventful night at the hostel, taking advantage of the wifi to make plans for my onward travel plans, but too knackered to go further afield than a quick wander to the main town square.

The next morning, a rickshaw delivered me to the airport for my flight to Lima, where I would be staying with a British woman and her daughter whom I had met on the boat from San Andres to Providencia a month before.


Next time: Lima, Arequipa and the Colca Canyon

ENTRY 4, San Andres and Providencia

From Bogota, I flew to San Andres, the larger of the two islands in the San Andres and Providencia territory, which has been administered by Colombia since the early twentieth century. I spent 2 days here before catching an early morning catamaran to Providencia, where I would be spending the next month. 

Providencia (or Old Providence, as the locals refer to it) is a small volcanic island in the Caribbean, about 70 miles east of Nicaragua. It is exceptionally beautiful and unspoiled, with the hills of the interior almost untouched by human activity. All the settlements are clustered around the edge of the island, and connected by a single 10 mile ringroad, which is exceptionally good fun to drive round.

The population of Providencia is predominantly a distinct group of Afro-Caribbean called "Raizal", for the most part descendents of the slaves who were left to their own devices in the late nineteenth century after the Spanish abandoned the island. They speak a unique Creole dialect, but as a Colombian territory, they can all speak Spanish as well, and many are fluent in English. This linguistic mix is the result of Providencia's fascinating history. First settled in the seventeenth century by English Puritans, who were then ejected by the Spanish, but who in turn soon abandoned the island, after which it became a haven for foreign privateers, before once again being retaken by the Spanish, who brought large numbers of slaves to provide manual labour. When the Spanish withdrew they left the slaves, and the island was eventually absorbed into the new Republic of Colombia, despite a continuing existing claim from Nicaragua.

View of Providencia from the plane

I was to spend a month here as a volunteer working with an NGO called "Trees and Reefs", which is concerned with preserving the ecological diversity and cultural distinctiveness of the island. One of the main concerns within the island's community is the Colombian government's desire to impose its own cultural traditions on the islanders and damaging their distinct identity, as occurred in San Andres from the 1970s. For instance, schoolchildren from Providencia do not learn any of the island's history, but instead the history of mainland Colombia, which many argue is of little relevance to them (the islanders are officially recognised by the UN as a distinct ethnic group), and it is feared that over time this may get worse. In a desire to combat this, one of the foundation's projects is to establish a local museum detailing the island's history, specifically with regard to the islanders' cultural heritage. My role was to write the project proposal and to start researching and gathering materials for the exhibition.

The island's history is patchily documented; although the colonial exploits of the English and Spanish survive in documentary records, the intervening periods, and after the departure of the Spaniards, is extremely difficult to recover, as the islanders of those periods produced few written records, and much is dependent on the accounts of visiting ships and outsiders.

The museum is due to open in September 2012, with the intervening time spent gathering the information and resources necessary to mount the exhibition. Trees and Reefs have a continual need for suitable volunteers, for this project and others, and it really is an amazing opportunity - if you're even vaguely intrigued, have a read of this:

http://www.paisatours.com/volunteer-providencia.htm

When I wasn't working on the project, I had time to play the tourist, and enjoy the many delights the island has to offer. As the slow pace of life would make a day-by-day account pretty dull, I`ll try and give a flavour of the place with a few edited highlights that stand out most in my memory.

I was staying with a local Raizal family on Santa Catalina, the small island connected to Providencia by a wooden foot bridge. Although the island has all the modern amenities of electricity and running water, some local problems on Santa Catalina meant that for the month I was there, my showers consisted of upending a bucket of cold water over my head!

View from Santa Catalina to Providencia

The reef that surrounds Providencia is the fourth largest in the world, therefore the snorkeling and diving is excellent, due to the huge variety of corals to be found around the island, which are home to many species of marine life. Some of the best and most easily available snorkeling is to be found on Santa Catalina, where a path runs along the West side of the island to `Morgan`s Head`, a rocky outcrop named in memory of the famous pirate who operated from Providencia for several years, and whose treasure is rumoured to still remain hidden somewhere on Santa Catalina.

View from Morgan`s Head over the North side of Santa Catalina

One of the best aspects of my stay in Providencia was that I was working with a local woman named Arelis Howard, who in addition to running Trees and Reefs, also runs one of the island`s best seafood restaurants (`Bamboo`), which served up a diverse mix ranging from conch to lobster. Working with Arelis meant I was able to have all my meals at the restaurant that also doubled as our office, which was an unexpected bonus!

"the office"

Lunch!

A particular highlight was a visit to Crab Key, a small island off Providencia's East coast. This small piece of rock is within the McBean Lagoon National Park, and is home to a large amount of wildlife - on the day I visited some conservation workers were recording the size of King Crabs that were carrying eggs. It is possible to snorkle around the island in around 30 minutes.

Crab Key

The island's summit affords terrific views over the large reef that shelters the Eastern side of Providencia.

The reef

As some of you will know from Facebook, I had a motorbike accident while on Providencia - I was on the way to the airport to collect a book and decided to take a detour via a more scenic route. As I turned off the mainroad, my front wheel hit something (I'm not sure what, but the road surfaces are horrendous). The next thing I knew the bike had flown out from underneath me, across the road and into a ditch, while my left leg was in quite a lot of pain. I was extremely fortunate that on the corner there was a small shop with several people outside who promptly rushed to my aid. Happily, these included a nurse from the local hospital who cleaned the cuts and scrapes on my foot and leg, as well as making sure I had no other injuries. Remarkably, there was also a mechanic present who set to work on the bike, making sure nothing was broken (luckily, only a mirror, which he replaced with a spare he had with him). The icing on the cake was that the shop`s owner, after sitting me down and giving me a beer proceeded to speak at length about life on the island, how it had changed over the course of the 60 years he lived there, etc. This was all exactly the sort of oral testimony we needed for the project. I found his strong antipathy to the Colombian government particularly interesting, and he went to great lengths to stress that the involvement of a large proportion of the island`s population in the drug trade was due to changes brought by the government. When I got back that afternoon, I discovered that he was in fact a well-known drug trafficker, who had spent time in an American prison for murder, which goes to show you never can tell!

McBean Lagoon National Park - view over the mangroves

On my peultimate day in Providencia I went for a hike up El Pico, "the Peak", which is the highest of the island's volcanic hills. This was an extremely pleasant walk, and the steepness of the climb which necesitated scrambling over massive boulders was certainly good fun. The views from the peak were fanastic, as it afforded a panoramic view of the entire island, and the reef that surrounds it.

View from El Pico across the Western side of the island, note the reef in the distance

I departed Providencia by plane. The island's runway is so small that the largest aircraft that can use it is a small twin prop plane that can seat 15 passengers. The views of the island as we took off were brilliant, as you can see from the first photo. A brief stopover in San Andres allowed me to take advantage of the Duty Free, before another flight back to Bogota, from where the next day I would take a flight to Leticia, Colombia's southernmost city, located in the heart of the Amazon rainforest.

Next time... the Amazon!

ENTRY 3, Week 2/3 - “La Ciudad Perdida” and Tayrona National Park

From Cartagena a 5 hour bus journey took me East to Santa Marta, another of Colombia’s northern coastal cities. From here another bus took me to the “ecohostel” where I would be staying in the Tayrona region. Following a mid-day nap, I eventually roused myself and spent some time speaking with the owner about what there was to do in the region - Tayrona is a coastal area of exceptional natural beauty, much of it located within the National Park famous for its exceptional biodiversity, and a few miles inland was my main reason for coming to the region, "La Ciudad Perdida" (The Lost City) of the Tayrona people.

The next morning I was collected at 10 am in a rusting 4x4 and bundled into the back benches with the other passengers who I would be spending the next five days with. I was pleasantly surprised to find that everyone spoke English - a welcome relief after a couple of weeks of muddling through in Spanish. Getting to know the others, we discovered that our group was made up of a Briton, an Australian couple and four Canadians, all of us at various stages of travelling through South America. The next hour was spent being thrown around the back of the 4x4 on an uphill dirt track and trying not to inhale too many fumes, which we came to the conclusion were emanating from what must have been a fairly serious fuel leak.

Team Commonwealth

Around midday we were deposited for lunch at a large hut that serves as the start and end for all the groups doing the Ciudad Perdida trek (it can only be reached on foot). We filled ourselves with fresh bread (a luxury in South America) and mystery meat before starting out on the first leg of the trek. The first hour or so was easy going over relatively flat ground, with a couple of river crossings, before an unexpected break at a deep swimming spot in the river whose path we were following.

After that it was a pretty steep and winding climb up a dusty track for about an hour under a baking sun. We arrived at the top soaked in sweat, but pleasantly surprised to be presented with fresh watermelon which made everything fine again! This would be a frequent feature of the trek, upon reaching rest stops (every 1-2 hours) the guides would produce fresh oranges, pineapple or watermelon for us to gorge ourselves on.

The path that had climbed so steeply inevitably plunged down again to another river crossing, before a more gentle climb to the first night's accommodation - a tin roofed, open-sided hut with two lines of hammocks spread between the beams. These proved to be an aquired taste, with few of us sleeping particularly well. The next morning was a 6am start to a nearby swimming spot, under a waterfall! Behind the waterfall was a small cave it was possible to scramble into, but only by fighting through the raging (and freezing!) torrent pouring from above. The closest experience I had to compare it with was being hit in the face by the high pressure water pumped into the Royal Navy's Damage Repair Instructional Unit (DRIU).

Early morning dip at the waterfall. As you do.

We returned to the previous night's accommodation for breakfast before setting out on the second day's trek. Although nowhere near as steep as the previous day, most of the walk was spent ascending and descending, first across open countryside which afforded spectactular views of the Sierra Nevada, then into lush and verdant forest. Having moved at a good pace, just after 2 pm we reached the second night's accommodation, which was located on the bank of a river. We then spent the next few hours lounging on the boulders in the middle of the river, until the heavens opened and we called it a day. It also happened to be the birthday of one the Canadians in the group, as well as the Australians' wedding anniversary. We therefore proceeded to clear out the camp's stock of beer, and a good night was had by all.

                                                  The cultural dimension: indigenous children

The next morning we set out at around 8, passing through an indigenous village, our guide showing us coca leaves which the locals chew for an energy boost (they taste revolting!). After half an hour of following the fast-flowing river, we climbed a series of massive boulders to reach a wobbly rope bridge which spanned the 30m gap, above a perilous drop. Our guide also pointed out the small metal cage suspended from a single wire which ran alongside the bridge, explaining that until the bridge was built, everyone had to cross individually by pulling themselves from one side to the other, as was ably demonstrated by Jack, one of the Australians in our group.

They used to have to get mules across in this...

After more ascending and descending through dense forest, we reached a rest stop, replete with fresh oranges to feast on, before carrying on through one of the most picturesque parts of the trail which wound along the base of a hill through dense forest, past several machete-wielding locals, and crossing several small streams, before reaching another river crossing.

A contrast to the previous crossing!

Another half hour or so brought us to that night's campsite, again arriving around 2pm. As this campsite was also located on the banks of a river, we once again spent a relaxing few hours swimming, and watching some of the guides (successfully) fishing with no more than a pair of goggle and a sharpened piece of wire. The next morning (day 4) was our earliest start, with breakfast at 6am, and by 7 we started on the final push to "the Lost City". Again following and crossing the river, we came to the base of the 2000 roughly-cut (and steep) stone steps that lead from the river to the lower terraces of the city. These took about 45 minutes to ascend, and we all arrived at the top quite breathless.

La Ciudad Perdida - view from the highest terrace

Typical terraces - reclaimed by the jungle

The city itself is lush and beautiful, and rather mysterious, composed of around 17- terraces, which served as the circular foundation for round houses similar to those used by their modern-day descendents. Some 4000 people are thought to have lived there, but are thought to have disappeared some time following the Spanish conquest of the Americas (although they never reached the city). The city was “rediscovered” in the 1970 by a group of treasure-hunters. Originally the surrounding hillsides were cleared of jungle and cultivated as farmland, but after centuries of neglect the environment has reclaimed much of the city, hiding all but the highest terraces from view. Here, where the trees have been cut back, visitors are afforded spectacular views over the dramatic scenery that surrounds the city. On one side a valley of impenetrable jungle, on the other, a waterfall cascades down the side of a looming mountain.

Havin spent around 2 hours at the city, we began to make our way back. On the way, we encountered a group of soldiers from the Colombian army - until 3 years ago, the area was rife with guerilla activity, and it was not unknown for tourists on the trail to be abducted for ransom. Thankfully, things have improved significantly! By lunchtime we were back at the previous night's camp. We then spent the afternoon retracing our steps to the second night's camp. 

The next morning we had to cover all the ground from the first two days if we wanted to make it in time for lunch at the shack the 4x4 had dropped us. Thanks to a ferocious pace set by the Canadians, we made it with enough time to spare for another trip to the swimming spot from the first day. 

As a whole, the trek was an absolutely fantastic experience. Every aspect was well-organised, from the pick-up to the food and accommodation. There are several companies in Santa Marta that organise the trek, but they all offer the same service and charge the same amount (around $300). In my opinion this is well worth the price. We all agreed that it is currently a fantastic time to do this trek, as due to previous issues of safety and security, the number of people on the trail each day is still low - the guide told us about 70-80 during the peak periods, and it was far less when we did it. This means that the route itself is still remarkably unspoiled compared to many other toruist destinations of equal quality - in places the route is far from obvious, necesitating scrambling up rocks and across streams on a single log (one of the reasons tour operators recommend a good level of fitness for those doing the trek). As Colombia's tourism industry in rapidly growing, it is unlikely to remain so untrampelled for long without the same sort of controls present on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, which strictly limits the number of daily visitors.

Typical "path" on the trail

The evening we got back from the trek, I decided to go to Taganga, the town where everyone else from my group was staying, as we would all be heading our separate ways the next day. My hostel, although well situated for excursions to the national park, was an hour's bus-ride from Santa Marta, from which it was then necessary to find a taxi for the 15 minute journey to Taganga, which is located in a small bay to the Northeast of Santa Marta. This was an experience itself, as it was 8 pm and night by the time I got off the bus in Santa Marta, without much of a clue as to where I was, and the only tourist to be seen (parts of Santa Marta are pretty bad for violent crime), and waiting for a specific taxi I had booked earlier. Thankfully, I made it to Taganga, and was able to spend an extremely enjoyable evening there. Taganga is definitely a tourist spot, as it seems like every second building is a hostel, but the "town" itself is tiny, with only one main street along the waterfront. It is known as a party town due to the large number of tourists passing through (most of whom are there to visit Tayrona) - the beer is cheap and the atmosphere lively. Best of all, the price of accommodation is half what I was paying in my hostel in the middle of nowhere, and a meal was a third the price. 

After a night spent on a floor in a borrowed sleeping bag (courtesy of the Canadians who spared me the hour and a half journey back to my hostel in the early hours of the morning) the morning was spent having a lazy breakfast followed by a walk to the nearby Playa Grande ("Big Beach"). Bidding goodbye to my fellow trekkers, I then headed back to my hostel. The next morning, the owner of my hostel drove me the 5km to the entrance of the Tayrona National Park, where I would be spending the day.

One of several pristine beaches in Tayrona

Local wildlife, that I nearly trod on.

The National Park covers a huge area, and is home to a diverse range of flora and fauna. As well as hikes through forests and over hills, it also offers arguably the best beaches in mainland Colombia. The park's $15 entrance charge, and its relatively remote location means it is not overun with visitors, it being possible to find whole beaches utterly deserted. Many visitors choose to camp several nights within the National Park, but I found a day pretty much sufficient to do the coastal walk. The inland trails take visitors to the remains of a town of the Tayrona people, but having just come from the "Lost City" I was told this was by no means as spectacular. Still, I passed an extremely pleasant day lounging on the beaches even though I'd have plenty more of that in the Caribbean!

Next time: San Andres and Providencia