Linares [Chile]

I've officially reached the Patagonia region of Argentina/Chile!

It really has been a dream of mine to visit this area for many, many years.  And now, I've arrived!  There are big gorgeous mountains and rivers and lakes and pine trees... actual pine trees!

Yesterday, while talking with a friend, he asked me how it was here.  I began to describe the mountains and pine trees and... then I started laughing.  Not fully understanding what was going on, he asked what was so funny.

I told him the area was just like home... I'd just traveled all this way to see what was just down the street where he was... he began to chuckle also.  Ahhhh, the ironies of life.

Las Loicas [Argentina]

Ahhh, the twists that life takes...

Las Loicas is the small town, almost exactly 100 km from Malargüe, where I turned off the road to head to a small homestead along the "Rio Grande" to work as a gaucho.  And it's two weeks later before I return....

Life as a guacho was interesting.  I'm accustomed to farm work, having spent a good portion of my childhood working on a farm.  But this seems somehow more glamorous and mystical... It only takes a few days for the glamour to wear thin... although, I have to admit, that every time I think that I'm actually working as a gaucho, a smile cracks my lips.

The day is pretty straight forward.  Wake early, drink mate (a herbal tea made from a alfalfa-like grass; an Argentine must), herd the goats into a corral where we fed the motherless chavatos (baby goats) milk from mothers that have only one child or are childless, drink mate, go to the other corral, slaughter a goat for lunch, drink mate, eat lunch, drink mate, siesta (hell ya!), and back to the motherless chavatos.

The routine repeats itself everyday.  There isn't an exception.  There can't be an exception.

The spice of each day is a little different.... one day, we listen to the River vs. Boac futbol match (I'm told that I MUST cheer for River); one day, we go to the neighbors for dinner (only a 25 minute walk away.... after crossing the river in a small cable/cage contraption); one day we fish with small crayfish thingies used for bait; several days we work with horses, using lassos to bring them to the ground before we begin; one day, I repair a lasso destroyed by a horse in one of our aforementioned battles (who knew I had those kind of skills?!?!?).

Malargüe [Argentina]

Malargüe is a beautiful little ski town at the foot of the Argentine Andes.  It's amazing how much it looks like it's right out of the US.  There is a classic main street with shops lining both sides.  Immediately off the main drag are residential areas with homes... real homes, homes with yards and fences and gardens.  Gone are the apartments and wrought-iron fences and window bars.  People are small-town friendly... It feels like home...

I find myself a quaint hostel run by a middle-age couple that treats the guests like part of the family.  We talk and eat until late at night, enjoying siesta the following afternoon.  I have a nice little patio to work on the bike and the views are stunning.

Uspallata [Argentina]

Now, it's been a week of moving quickly through the low desert to reach Mendoza for my one-year anniversary (and birthday).  It's been warm and amazing!  There are bugs (it's been too cold for bugs for the last several months) and oxygen and trees, all a very welcome change!  The desert air is warm, and for the first time in several months, I can sleep without wearing all my clothes.  I tell ya, it's the simple things that make life soooo good!

I rolled into Uspallata at about 9 pm on the evening of my birthday, hoping to make a few posts on the incredibly-difficult-to-find internet of Argentina.  Alas, is wasn't to happen.  Truthfully, I was just ecstatic to find somewhere to eat... an all-in-one convenience store/pizza shop that also sold ice cream!!!  I managed to get in just before they were to close, ordering two pizzas and two double-scoop ice creams.  I'm sure it was my appearance that gave the store owners enough pity to stay open a little while longer.

Fiambalá [Argentina] - aka Climbin' the Mountain (Ojos del Salado)

It's been five days at low-altitude and it feels great.  Life here is warm and easy and I can actually breathe.  I want to sit and rot for a week, maybe two.  Food and rest and water... it all sounds too good to be true.  And it is.  My body is quickly acclimatizing to low-altitude and that isn't good...  

The problem is quite a large one, and the reason for the rush; the next point of interest is Ojos del Salado (translates as "Salty Eyes" or "Origins of the Salado river").  This is a massive volcano that we (Shane Hutton, current bike traveling companion and I) would like to climb.

At 6,900 m (22,600 ft), "Ojos" is the second highest peak in South America (behind Aconcagua) and the highest volcano in the world.  This is a massive peak!  The frosting on the cake is that it also has the highest lake in the world.  We've been eyeing this bad boy for three months since first hearing of it's existence.

Herein lies the difficulty.  By now, we are very well-prepared for a summit attempt.  I've been doing hard physical labor at high-altitudes for several months.  However, each day spent at "low-altitude", our bodies begins to acclimatize, growing accustomed to the rich oxygen and warm temps, making us weaker and less able to get to the extreme altitudes.

So, reluctantly, we begin preparing for "the" mountain.

We spend two days in Fiambalá, the last town before climbing back to the mountains.  It just enough time to be able to walk again and buy supplies.

We talk to the famed "Jonson", the dude in town that knows all the mountains and has the route info that we need.  It appears that we are the first people for the season to make a summit attempt.

We talk to the local police and register.

We spend a day buying 15 kg (35 lbs) of food, rent a cold-weather tent, and then we pack everything into our small 40 L day packs.

We eat as much as possible, trying to put some "meat" on our skinny frames.

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The weather report shows two major storms moving-in during the next ten days.  There is a small break in the weather that will allow just enough time for a summit attempt.  It's now or never; final preparations are quickly made, full of anticipation.

Jonson drives us halfway up the pass, turns into the vast desert, and drops us... pointing to a gulch.  "That way" he says, and turns around.  So it begins, again...

We walk 35 km (20 miles) with a "waaay too heavy pack" that day and camp next to the headwaters of a small spring at 4,000 m (13,100 ft).  We begin stacking rocks to add to a preexisting rock wind-break trying to add as much protection as possible.  Then we stash some food to eat on the way down.  It's howling cold... I'm back in the Andes.

The next day is more of the same.  But now, we are away from water.  We walk through sand and rock, navigating through several dry gulches, to make it to a large boulder at 5,000 m (16,400 ft), a journey of 20 km (12 miles).  This is camp for the night.

Shane begins breaking and boiling crazy, knife-shaped ice pinnacles for water and I work on the rock wall.  We leave another food and water cache.  I leave the already frozen water bottle positioned to catch the afternoon sun so it will hopefully stay "less frozen"... we hope to return to this camp the same day as the summit attempt and I want everything ready as possible.

If all goes well, we'll camp tomorrow at high-camp (6,100 m/20,000 ft), and then have a summit-attempt the following day.

We hunker-down early.  We are making good time, very good time... and everything is going according to schedule.  The every present wind has picked-up a notch and is howling with all it's might.  Today should be the worse of the first storm system with winds of up to 100 km/h (60 mph).  According to the weather forecast, things should begin to settle tomorrow.

We wake the next day, boil more ice pinnacles (my water bottles have long since frozen solid) for the daily breakfast of oatmeal.  As soon as the sun hits camps, we are ready to go.

We work our way through several small ice fields, careful not to slip with our tennis shoes (the only shoes I have).  By noon, we make the final pass at 5,600 m (18,400 ft).  There is great news, good news and bad news:
-The great news is, that from here we can finally see the summit!  It is a spectacular volcanic cone.  The sky is clear and it looks like the weather is good.
-The good news is, the altitude hasn't been bothering us.  I do have some labored breathing, but my heart rate is good and I'm making very good time!  I'm quite accustomed to being above 13,000 ft and it feels good to not have the typical "low-oxygen" problems.  Simply amazing for this altitude.
-The bad news, is really bad... the wind hasn't died down, at all.  All morning there have been gale-force gusts up to 120 km/hr (70 mph).  It is cold, about -15* C (5* F), and wind chill drops it to about -25* C (-15* F).  I'm wearing all the clothing I own and I can't keep warm.  My nose is very cold, and I haven't been able to feel my fingers for the last couple of hours (I only have thin cycling gloves).

I quickly take one hand out of the glove for a quick photo and get off the windy ridge.  We move as fast as possible.  We don't talk.  The wind is strong enough to push me back and forth, nearly causing me to lose balance several times.  We continue for about 45 minutes, when my heart drops.... clouds are pouring over the top of the summit and the entire sky is filling with clouds.  There are snow flurries and I feel a few flakes on my cheeks.

We walk another 10 minutes to a knee-high rock wall and hunker down against the increasing winds.  By now, the summit is no longer visible and I know what is happening... the second storm has moved-in early... there won't be a break in between the two storms.

I can't just turn-around without giving every opportunity for a change.  So, we decide to wait a little... there are still have a couple of hours before we absolutely must leave.  I'm only semi-hungry, a change from the usual ravenously hungry.  Loss of appetite is one of the effects of high-altitude and I know that I need to eat something.  We decide to cook something while we wait.

We struggle with the stove for 45 minutes in the increasing wind and cold.  By 3 pm, the cut-off time, things have only gotten worse.  The temperature is -20* C (-5* F) and -35* C (-30* F) with wind chill.  Winds have increased to 130 km/hr (75 mph)  Thinks are not going to improve... temps and winds can only get worse as the sun has passed the maximum heat for the day.  People die at these altitudes for minor changes in weather and this is a BIG storm coming in... it's time to go!

I quickly thrown-on my pack and get the hell out of there!  The winds increase as we drop in elevation.  We hustle back to the "big boulder" camp of the night before, grab the food and water stash, and hike another 15 km (10 miles) for camp.

The next morning, we wake to snow-covered mountains on everything above 5,000 m.  I know it was the correct decision to back-off the mountain, but still feel minor regret as I turn and continue down.

My body aches with each step as we begin the 35 km (25 mile) hike to the road.  It was been four absolutely brutal days with a pack that is extremely heavy and very high elevations.  And, I'm still not sure what the weather has in store... I pull my hood down-low and start walking.

We drag ourselves to the highway that night and we camp in an emergency shelter on the side of the road.  We have seen a single vehicle in the last 6 hours, the only one we'll see in nearly 24 hours.  We'll try to hitch a ride down the pass tomorrow.  Now, I incredibly grateful to have four walls to protect myself from the wind.

We wake the next day, and begin walking down the road.  It takes 20 km (12 miles) of walking before we see the first vehicle in 20 hours.  I stick my thumb out and we gladly jump in the back seat of the car.

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Fiambalá offers a cooked meal and a bed.  We check-in with the local police and Jonson to let them know that we are off the mountain.  They are both very relieved.  They have been watching the weather closely for the last several days... today there were gale-force winds in the valley, including a tornado that killed several people.  Another bitter reminder that we had indeed made the correct decision to get off the mountain.

Not to waste time, we begin cycling again the next day.  There are still powerful headwinds, but we'd really like to get to low altitude and warmth.  We go a crushing 120 km (75 miles) that day and collapse.

Salta [Argentina]

The big downhill drop from the altiplano to Salta (4,500 m/14,700 ft to 1,100 m/3,600 ft) should have been sweet.  But, there was wind....

If I've learned anything in the last year, it is to respect the wind.  Without exception, every major downhill has had significant wind.  It's usually blowing straight uphill, making the downhill stretches a challenge.  Nothing worse than grunting all the up a climb to then have to pedal downhill.

Even worse, are the sidewinds on downhill sections.  These throw the heavy touring bike back and forth, making any type of speed very dangerous.

Today was no exception.  A relatively easy 2+ hour climb to the top and then six hours of tough pedaling into an incredibly strong headwind just to move downhill.  Nonetheless, it could be much worse, and... I'm stoked to be a "low-altitude".

I can't believe how easy it is to breathe... and it's warm!  Warm enough to only wear a light jacket well after the sunset.  And there are birds and trees and people and flowers and buildings and no howling wind to scurry from at night.  Life is good!

San Antonio de los Cobres [Argentina]

Up, down, over, and through; the mountains never stop.

The rest break in Chile was far too short-lived.  We want to make a summit-attempt on the second largest peak of South America and means moving quickly through the low-altitudes before the body acclimatizes back to "normal" living.  By now, it's been over four months above 10,000 feet, and it looks like it will be a few more weeks...

After a significant pass (and crossing into Argentina!), we bike for several days in the altiplano to arrive to the first real town we've seen in several weeks.  Right as we roll in , a dude in a large delivery truck offers a ride.  We ask a few details and then agree to the welcome change of pace.  He'll be leaving in approximately 3-5 hours, so we settle-down for a wait.

Eventually, everything is in order and we are off for what turns out to be one hell of an adventure.  We load the bikes and lay on the hay in the back.  Mid-route we stop to load diesel (in a highly-irregular road-side stop), unload the hay, load adobe bricks, and upload adobe bricks.  We stop in town to say hello (and ask how much we charge to load and unload items) and eat dinner with some old dude that lives 10 hours away... by walking!  Eventually, we (four grown men) stop at the house of "the old man" and sleep the night on the dirt floor of his kitchen/shed/wind protection for the flocks.

The early-morning finds us looking for food (sounds like all I ever do) in San Antonio with a big ride in front of us.

San Pedro de Atacama [Chile]

Any idea what it's like to roll into town after six grueling days of crossing the Atacama desert?  Good... damn good!!!

Luckily, the last 50 kilometers into town were downhill, a substantial drop from 4,400 m (14,400 ft) to 1,800 m (5,900 ft); down a perfectly-angled volcano so that braking isn't necessary.  If it weren't for this downhill slide, I don't know if I would have made into town until the following day.

The accumulation of several weeks of minimum food and water have taken it's toll.  The last six days, were particularly difficult; pushing the heavy touring bike through ankle-deep sand, fighting sandblaster-strength headwinds, drinking 200 mL of water a day, and today, the final punishing 4-hour uphill push over a volcano to make it to pavement.

I can't believe how warm it is, and then realize that its' the first time in over four months to be below 3,200 m (10,000 ft).  "Wow, life at low-altitude is pretty nice." I think to myself, and then laugh.  I'm still at 6,000 ft... not very low-altitude.

I'm absolutely starving!!!  But there are other things that must come first, including immigration.  We walk up to the window, exhausted, for the fairly quick entry.  It certainly helps that the officer is jammin' hard to Bob Marley.

Then we ask about food... the officer informs us that it is Independence day in Chile and there is food everywhere.  Good news, but also the certainty that there won't be much sleep tonight.

I want to eat anything and everything in sight.  I know I look a disaster with dirty clothes, severely chapped lips, greasy hair, and sun-cracked skin all over my ears and hands.  But, it must be the smell that keeps even the restaurant barkers from talking to us.... never had that happen before.

Driven by hunger, we quickly settle on a place that is large and open-air... that way our stench won't offend people.  Dinner?  Peruvian-style ceviche, large salad (with ham, cheese, avocado and olives), bread, and two massive pizzas.

Eduardo Avaroa National Reserve [Bolivia]

This national reserve is the fancy name for what cyclists call the "lagunas" route.  Lagunas are the high-altitude lakes, in this case the puddles of water trapped in the high-altitude valleys of the Bolivian altiplano.  And they are spectacular!!!

These lagunas come in ever color imaginable... red, green, turquoise, white, black... one just can't imagine the kaleidoscope of colors the water takes on.

The landscape has an incredibly surreal appearance.  It feels like I'm on another planet.  Or perhaps another dimension... One section is titled "Salvador Dali Desert", an incredibly accurate description of the bizzare landscape.

I'm very surprised to find flamingos in all lagunas.  They are nearly the only living thing that can tolerate this harshest of environments.  One night, we sleep next to one of the lagunas to find that these long-legged birds actually freeze themselves into the water at night.  I suppose it's to protect themselves from any possible predators... even though I can't imagine there could be any other animals willing to live in these extremes.

We battle sun and desert cold with a near constant headwind for six grueling days.  The trip made all the move difficult with limited food and water.  Ankle-deep sand and no roads only add to the excitement.  But all worth the incredible views and isolation!

Isla Incahuasi [Bolivia]

I'm sure that almost no one has heard of Isla Incahuasi, and for good reason; but we should know about.  This is a small peak of an ancient volcano that rises up from the middle of the Uyuni salt flats, the largest salt flats in the world (at 10,600 square kilometers/4,100 square miles).  And it is absolutely stunning.

One enters the "island" by aiming in its general direction and then driving/riding out into the great unknown... literally.  There is nothing but white, flat salt for as far as the eye can see.  I pedal for 30 minutes, then 60 minutes, then 90 minutes... finally, as I'm beginning to really wonder if I'm anywhere close to anything, a small dark triangle appears on the horizon.

Over the course of the next 30 minutes, the triangle mystically grows and becomes an "island".  Details don't become evident until the last kilometer.  It's unnerving how quickly my perceptions have changed and how bizarre my world has become... but that is the magic of the Uyuni salt flats.

Of course, we take a few of the 'mandatory' depth-perception' pictures, but the greater magic happens after the few tourist jeeps leave in the late afternoon.  The try, and seldom seen, enchantment is when the sun begins to set.  This is when vision and perception change radically.

Slowly and suddenly, everything above me is filled with a rainbow of colors.  There isn't a single cloud in the sky, but somehow the colors hang against the sky in a way that I have never seen.  The sun lowers it's sleepy head, but it looks like it is within arm's reach.  My shadow finally has nothing to stop it and it grows and it stretches, for the first time in it's short life.

This continues for an hour, the world morphing in ways that I've never seen before.

Then the nearly full moon rises and my new world looks like a stunning frozen ice crystal.  Everything glitters and twinkles and reflects.  I run straight out into the flats as far and as fast as I can until my lungs fill like they will pop (we are still at 3,700 m/12,000 feet) and then spin around, staring at the sky.

Slowly I return to the tent and sleep, but wake again at 3 am to look at the wonderfully clear, and now dark, sky... feasting on the billions of stars until the cold drives me back into the tent once more.

Challapata [Bolivia]

This will forever be known as the place that I slept above a video game arcade.  Don't judge, sometimes these things must be done...

To understand, one must appreciate that most everything is quite difficult to find in Bolivia.  The entire region is altiplano, a flat, high-altitude (4,000+ m/13,000+ ft) desert.  Almost nothing grows here; the lack of water and oxygen make it difficult for life to thrive.  There is some tuft grass that manages to keep a few sheep and alpaca alive.

And so it is, that I roll into a town of 10,000 people and can't find any type of lodging.... nothing.  After four hours of looking, I accidentally come across an all-in-one video game arcade/auto service/computer repair/lodging establishment.  Do I mind sleeping above the racquetball court and next to a pinball machine?  Not at all!

Oruro [Bolivia]

I love the way that Oruro just doesn't roll off the tongue, not at all... each time I say it, I feel like my lips are numb and my tongue is swollen.  I'm confident that I sound like a blubbering fool, but... each time people seem to understand what I'm saying.

I have to say, that I found Oruro to be much more charming that the pronunciation.  This was a wonderful break from the barren isolation that we've seen so far in Bolivia.  There are trees and murals and statues and food and art.  It's a welcome reprieve from the road.

We take advantage of the services to start preparing for the rapidly upcoming crossing through the Atacama desert.  We eat great food (don't believe what everyone seems to say about Bolivia having horrible food... it is rather difficult to find most of the time, but very good once procured), buy supplies, and wash clothes (always an amazing opportunity when I can have clean ropa, for everyone involved).

Batallas [Bolivia]

It doesn't happen often, but every once in a while, I actually find a camping spot.... a real honest-to-goodness camping spot that is scenic and proper and everything else.  Such was the camping location for my first night in Bolivia.

This particular evening concluded a day of riding along lake Titicaca (supposedly the highest navigable lake in the world, whatever that might mean).  It really was a day of beautiful riding.  It had been relatively flat terrain with enough ups, down, and curves to be enjoyable.  It was chilly (the lake is at 3,800 m after all), but the sun was shining and a good pedal kept me warm enough.  There was wind, but then again, there always is...

About an hour before sunset, I found a small dirt road that turned off the undivided highway.  It looked promising, but turned out to be next to some houses, and even worse, dogs (these buggars have the annoying tendency to bark all night and keep me awake).  About 500 m along the lake shore, I saw a grove of Eucalyptus trees that looked even better... and it was!

In between two small clumps of trees was a wonderfully flat stretch of ground that had a couple of large logs on the ground to make a perfect place to sit.  On the upwind side of the grove was a built-up river bed to provide a perfect windbreak.  Gorgeous!

Puno [Perú]

Good to be back on the bike, very good!

It's been over two months since I've been biking.  The work has been good, but it's time to get moving.

To make matters even better, I've reunited with cycling friend, Shane Hutton.  We "take it easy" by only cycling 100ish kilometers per day.... we know that it's been a while and we have hard roads ahead, no need to push ourselves.

Along the way, we take a "rest" day to hike up to 5,200 meters (17,000 feet).  It's a gorgeous view of  Ausangate, one of the sacred mountains for the Inca and the Montaña Colorada (Rainbow Mountain).

Now, it's a true rest day in Puno (full of eating and internet and eating and resting and eating) before heading into Bolívia.

Cusco (II) [Perú]

I decided to stop for a a couple months to work with teenage groups from North America and Europe that are part of service/adventure programs.

The work is good... we wake-up at 6 am every day to go to our work site, a small village outside of of Cusco called Mayrasco (found at 4,000 meter/13,000 feet).  Our goal is to build fish ponds in which the local village can begin to raise trout.  The trout will provide an additional source of nutrition for the local children and potentially an additional source of income for the village.

Over the course of a few months, we dig three holes that are each 10 meters (30 feet) long by 5 meters (15 feet) wide by 2 meters (6 feet) deep.  It takes about 5-weeks of solid digging with picks and rock bars before we have the holes complete.  Then, we begin pouring a cement floor and lining the walls with rocks (previously broken into manageable pieces with sledgehammers).

The final product is complete with plumbing and running water!

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One of my favorite parts of each program is the four-day trek around Nevado Verónica (Mount Veronica).  This involves hiking and camping around the beautiful mountain at altitudes up to 4,400 meters (14,000 feet).

It's wonderful to escape the city and spend time in the mountains.  We walk past llamas, high-mountain villages, and see condors on each trip.

The final piece of the trek is a visit to Machu Picchu, the stunning mountain ruins of the Incas.

Cusco (I) [Perú]

The road to Cusco is full of literal ups and downs.  I'm in the mountains!!!

I leave Nazca with a MASSIVE day of climbing... in the first day alone, there is a vertical gain of 3,600 meters (nearly 12,000 feet).  The next several days are full of the same... 1,500 meters, 2,000 meters, 1,800 meters...  In a single week, I climb nearly 13,000 meters (42,000 feet).

In that week, I spent five entire days above 4,000 meters (13,000), climbing to a maximum height of 4,500 m (15,000 feet).  It's cold and windy and lonesome, and I love it.

One night I slept with alpacas to keep warm.  Another night, I ask to sleep on the concrete floor of a farmer's shed.  It's bitter cold at night dropping from 20 degrees to -15 degrees Celsius (70 degrees to 5 degrees Fahrenheit) in just a matter of minutes once the sun goes down.

And that's how I roll into Cusco.  Tired, but strong.  In fact, the strongest I've ever been.  It feels good... and I'm ready for a break.

Nazca [Perú]

After a week of rolling through the desert, I realized that I've cycled right into the famous Nazca lines.  What to do?!?!?  I take a few stops to appreciate these ancient and mysterious designs.

Upon arriving to Nazca, I'm exhuasted.  I've cycled over 500 kilometers (300 miles) since leaving Lima, four days.  Even more importantly, I have some massive climbing to do to reach Cusco... I have to cross several Andean mountain ranges, and I have a time-line.  But first, I need a rest day, my first in two weeks.

So, I start to rest doing the most natural thing possible... I find a pizzeria and order a massive "family-size" pizza.  The waitress looks at me strangely as she questions whether it's all for me.  I laugh...

"Don't worry," I tell her.  "I'll be able to eat it."

"Are you sure?" she questions again.

I just wink and ask for an ice cream also.

Lima [Perú]

A long downhill from the Andes mountains finds me on the coast again.  It's good to be in thick, sweet, sea-level oxygen. I can breathe deeply and without problem.

I roll into Lima in the morning and make it to the Plaza de Armas (the name for the central square on all Peruvian cities).  I take some time to view the royal palace and national cathedral (and eat two amazing home-made ice creams).

As I'm getting ready to roll out of town, someone stops me.  We begin to talk and he invites me to watch the fútbol match at his house.  Before you know it, we are eating and watching the game.  That evening I play in a local fútbol match and dance my way into a neighbor's birthday party... Life is good!

Conoconcha [Perú]

A long beautiful uphill brings me to Conoconcha.  It's 85 km directly south from Huaraz and a perfect uphill angle to still be able to move at a good pace.

Along the way are big, beautiful snow-capped mountains.  I put my energy into a consistent pedal and focus on the stunning scenery that surrounds me.  I ride up to 4,200 m (13,800 ft) and still, the mountains tower over me.  I'm in awe and I love it.

Huaraz [Perú]

As I've cycled through northern Perú, several people have told me about Huaraz and the mountains.  After two weeks of heat and desert and continual headwinds, I'm ready for a change of pace and turn east into the mountains.  I am not disappointed!

I arrive well after dark into Huaraz and find a cheap hostel for the night.  I'm hoping to make it to the mountains for a bit of cool weather and hiking the following day.  I ask the hotel manager if he knows how to get to Laguna 69 (so named by the government who numbered any lakes that didn't have a proper name).  I'm in luck... he is from Yungay, the town that is closest to the lake and give me detailed instructions on how to arrive.

The next day, I wake early and take two different local buses to Yungay.  There I wait for another local taxi-bus that will take me to the top of the pass from where I can begin trekking to Laguna 69.  I wait for several hours before there are enough people to fill the van.  And we are off!

An hour and a half later, we have traveled the 30 kilometers to my drop-off point.  It is later in the day than I hoped to start and I start walking quickly.  I'm told it is still four hours up to the lake, at 4,600 meters and about two hours back... no time to waste!

I make it up to the lake quite quick, breathing very hard, but enjoying the change of being off the bike.  I jog back down the trail to start hitchhiking my way back to town... got to get back before the last cars go down.

Trujillo [Perú]

I arrived to Trujillo mid-afternoon.  I'm quite excited to take a shower and nap after several days of pushing through the desert.

I cycle into the center of town and find a reasonably priced hotel, but the room in on the seventh floor.  I take the room and start lugging my heavy bike and gear up the narrow stairs.

I take a wonderful shower, the first in several days.  Even though it's only lukewarm, it feels amazing.  While showering, I wash my two changes of bike clothes and set them out to dry.

I've been told there's some interesting ruins outside of town.  I'm exhausted and decide to take a nap before exploring any more.

After a nap, I jump on the bike (always a little weird to ride around without all the gear) and quickly cycle to 10 km to the ruins of Chan Chan.  I arrive to find the ruins closed for the day.  But, I can't resist trying to enter... I start cycling through the massive complex in the desert as the sun sets.

Chiclayo [Perú]

The last several days find me on the coasts of Perú.  There is a continual coastal headwind that significantly slows progress.... but I enjoy the vastness and beauty of the desert.

I bike for hours at a time without seeing anything but sand and the occasional plants.  Perhaps there is a house every 60-70 km.  If I am lucky, they will have water and a little food... if I am not, I continue to the next building.

I make it to Chiclayo on my last drop of water.  I take advantage of the mid-morning arrival and eat a hot breakfast and fill-in on water before moving on.

Máncora [Perú]

Upon crossing the border from Ecuador to Perú, the landscape changes drastically.  Everything has become a desert.

I begin traveling along the coast, happy to have sun and heat and dry and flat; a major change from the constant rain and elevation and wet of Ecuador.

After a couple days, I don't feel well.  I figure it's from the change of climate and temperature and my body needs a few days to adjust.  So, I stop in the little surf town of Máncora for a well-deserved rest.

Well, my anticipated 2-day rest for shopping, bike maintenance, and physical rest quickly turn into a major stop after I begin peeing blood my second night.  Turns out that I have a major kidney/bladder infection... an unwelcome souvenir of the physical extremes I've been pushing.

No worries, some antibiotics and several more days rest have me up and biking again.  South we go!

Machala [Ecuador]

My arrival to Machala marks many firsts.  This has been my biggest day to date with 151+ km.  It was also the day that I dropped from 3,500 m (11,500 ft) to sea level.  I imagine that sounds like a long, beautiful downhill ride, and it was.... sort of...

Over a length of 150+ km, I dropped from the rain and green and mountains to the dry, agricultural coast.  Much of the ride required some significant pedaling to power through the significant headwinds.  Starting almost precisely at 11:30, the warmed air from the coast shot it's way up through the valleys and gorges, collecting moisture to dump at the "mid-elevations" above 2,800 m and, in the process, creating a significant deterrent for me.

The road was also rather rough.  Almost without fail, as soon as I reached a good cruising speeding of 50 km/h (30 m/h), I would have to hit the brakes to avoid major potholes or rocky road or attacking dogs or other obstacles.  Oh well, who wants easy anyway?

Cuenca [Ecuador]

After several days of rolling up and down endless mountains, continual mist and rain, and very simar food, I arrive to Cuenca, a welcome respite.

This is a cool city that has a great vibe.  It is a mix of European style with Latin flair.  People are relaxed and enjoyable to speak with.  There is lots of murals and street art.  Rivers run through the town and there are frequent parks and walk-ways.

Sadly, it also marks the beginning of the end of my time in Ecuador.... from here, a major drop to sea level and on to Perú.

Quito [Ecuador]

Quito should be like any other big city: loud, dirty, fast.

And it is all these things.  But, there is also something different.  The population (approximately 3 million people) seem a little more friendly, a little more solid and genuine.  They are mountain people and they still act like it.

Perhaps it's the altitude, ranging from 2,800-3,100 meters, making it the highest official capital in the world.  Perhaps it's their idea of preservation (Quito is considered to have the best-preserved, least altered historic center in Latin America).  Perhaps it's their heritage (the city was founded on the ruins of an ancient Inca city).

I can only say it has been an enjoyable time in Quito.

Ibarra [Ecuador]

I seldom stop pedaling before dark, but this was an exception.  I arrived to Ibarra at 3:30 and had already put in 120 km with 1,400 meters of climbing.  The next town was some distance and I was tired.  So, I decided to stop early.

That was it... I stopped early, took a nap and started getting caught up on e-mail. I enjoyed walking around a bit and finding some groceries.  Nothing like a normal, relaxing evening.

Ipiales, Nariño [Colombia]

Ipiales is my last stop in Colombia.  It's a small town on the border of Colombia and Ecuador.

About 20 km outside of town, a car pulls over and a man invites me to stay at his house that night.  I'm tired, soaking wet (and have been for several days), and gladly accept.

I hurry as fast as I'm able (its hard to move when so wet and cold) to his house.  I'm greet with a warm shower and place to dry out my gear.  Nothing could possibly be better at that point!

After a short rest, I head to see the impressive "Lajas" cathedral.  This is a relatively new building that is built across a large river gorge.  The setting and architecture combine for a stunning effect.

I take my time, enjoying the sunset and evening in this unique place before heading back.

Tomorrow, Ecuador!!!

Mocoa, Putumayo [Colombia]

Mocoa provided me two things: waterfalls and one of the world's craziest roads.

I arrived mid-afternoon to Mocao.  I've been anticipating this for many weeks as the starting point for was is considered to be one of the world's three most dangerous roads.  But, that would start on the following day.... today I wanted something to do to change my focus.

So, I asked around and was told to check-out the "Fin del Mundo" waterfalls.  But I better hurry...

So, I hurried.

I biked quickly the 15 km out of town and crossed the suspension bridge.  I arrived to the entry gate, but they wouldn't let me in.  I sweet talked and I pleaded, but no luck.  So, I appealed to reason.  I explained that I was biking through and had to leave to tomorrow to cross the "Trampolín del Diablo" in a single day.  If I couldn't enter today, I wouldn't ever see the waterfalls.

This was enough... they would give me two hours.  I assured them that would be plenty.

So I ran what would be the normal 90 minute hike in about 25 minutes.  I relaxed and swam and enjoyed seeing all three amazing waterfalls.

---

I woke up early... I had a big day and wanted to get start.

The day's work is to ride "El Trampolín del Diablo" (The Devil's Trampoline).  This is Colombian "Death Road", one of the world's three most deadliest roads... 85 km of single lane dirt roads with straight cliffs and 2,800 m (9,000 ft) of vertical climb.  Most people go from the top down... I've decided to go from the bottom up.

It is a brutal day.  Without a doubt the most difficult day of the entire trip to date.  Most of the time it is raining.  I am soaking wet and exhausted for most of the day.  But, I have committed and there isn't anywhere to stop.

I struggle and push for nine hours.  I lost my brakes at one point and had to stop by dragging my feet before going off the edge.  Only to make hasty brake repairs in the middle of the road, avoiding being hit my the cargo trucks that frequent this route.

Finally, I reach the top... a short 45-minute ride downhill and I'm in town.  I can barely walk into the hotel for night.

Pitalito, Huila [Colombia]

On of my favorite things to do while traveling, is to ask locals what they enjoy doing in the area and where they go.  I did this exact thing in Pitalito and avoided nearly cruising past an incredible site.

The local I asked was incredibly surprised (I'm still not) that I hadn't heard of San Agustín.  It's a quiet little mountain town with lots of ruins and waterfalls.  I decided to take a detour the following morning to go for a visit.

I wasn't disappointed.  I got up early... well, a normal "biking" morning of 5:30 am.  Got dressed and started hitching a ride up the mountain.  I had arrived the 25 km by 6:30 and found a place to eat a quick breakfast before going to the ruins and museum.

I arrived much earlier than the area was open.  So, I walked around and saw some of the statues in the "garden".  Once the gates open, I purchased a ticket and enjoyed being the first person in the national reserve.

Aipe, Huila [Colombia]

Aipe is small town that serves as a the gateway to the Tatacoa desert.  I've been looking forward to wandering around into the red sand.

To get the desert, I have to cross a major river.  So, I start asking around..... I'm told to take this trail and the end of that road and there will be a boat that will cross the river.  Enticingly vague, and without other options, I start down the trail, bike in tow.

I continue down the trail for 30 minutes and come to the river.  It does look like a place where ferries have been used.  The problem is, there isn't a ferry... I walk along the river and see ferries on the other side.

So, I wait.  Wait and walk, walk and wait.

After over an hour, I see somebody on the other side of the river and yell across.  They respond and then walk away.

After another hour I see a dude walk down to one of the ferries.  I wave my arms and he comes to me.  This is my ride across the river....

I get out of the dug-out canoe and make arrangements for a ride back.

La Palmita, Tolima [Colombia]

The places I find myself....

After several nights of staying in hotels, I decided to get back to "my roots" and camp, even though I didn't really have camping gear (no tent, no sleeping bag, no stove, etc.).  The weather has been sunny and hot for over two weeks and I should be fine "sleeping out under the stars".  So, I look on the map and find what looks like a good place next to a river.

I waited until dusk (to make my exit off the road less noticeable) to move off the road and up the river bed.  After a solid 30 minutes of pushing, carrying, and dragging my bike (a mere 35 kgs with gear) over rocks, under fences, and across fields, I find a nice spot on the river to camp.

The sun had completely set and it was twilight when I had set-out my gear and gotten my stuff ready to go down to the river for a quick wash.  I had just sat down on a rock next to a nice thigh-deep pool when I noticed two men walking along the distant shore.  All I could see was the outline of their silhouettes and the occasional glow of a cigarette and they inhaled.

They came closer and closer, and then stopped directly across from me.  After a few minutes, they walked directly towards me.  I had remained motionless for the last several minutes, hoping that they hadn't seen me and would continue down the river.  But now, it was obvious that they had seen me and were coming directly towards me.

After a few more moments, they were close enough that I could see they both had guns...

They identified themselves soldiers and began questioning me... for 15 minutes... and I was only in my underwear (I was getting ready to bath at the time).  At the end of it all, they informed me that I was in the middle of a military exercise and should, no, make that shouldn't... yes, I should find another camp spot.  They left telling me that I shouldn't move... there was a lot of changing of opinion...

I, of course, stayed to see what would develop...

Well, the entire night carried on, with several troops moving through the area.  No one else found me (my camp was well hidden in the trees), but there was a lot of cursing and tromping and crashing in the bushes and water and everywhere.

The night I camped in the middle of military exercises...

Girardot, Cundinamarca [Colombia]

It doesn't happen often... in fact, in over 10,000 km of biking this may be the first time...  I found a near perfect bike road.

What exactly makes a perfect bike road?  The answer is tricky...

It can't just be straight and flat; that would be too easy.  There have to be enough turns and ups 'n downs for an interesting time.

It can't be too long nor too short; that would be satisfying.  It needs to be long enough that something is accomplished.

The weather can't just be sunny; that would be too simple.  There needs to be some clouds and a little wind so that the good weather can be appreciated.

The road can't be all paved; that wouldn't create enough technique.  There needs to be enough rocks and bumps to learn and develop.

The can't be too many nor too few people.  There needs to be enough cars and traffic that you don't feel like you are in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe I haven't found the perfect road after all... maybe after 10,000 km I've learned to appreciate the road in front of me.

Honda, Tolima [Colombia]

The heat continues... It's so hot that I have to stop riding and cool down before I can begin to sweat.  I'm now sure how that happens...

I've starting biking on one of the major highway routes of Colombia.  It's one of two north-south routes.  Several times a day, people pull-over to ask me for directions.  I'm not quite sure why they think that I, an obvious foreigner, would know how to get places... but they do.  Then, I'm asked why I don't know.... not much to say other than, "I'm not from here."  That response always elicits a few giggles from the passengers and a strange look from the driver.

La Danta, Antioquia [Colombia]

"Well, I'm running down the road, tryin' to loosen my load..." when I hear a shout from a roadside hotel.  I turn to find three cyclists hollering at me from the second floor room.

They turn out to be three Colombian dudes that are doing a bike tour for a few days during Easter holiday.  We start to chat and they invite me to join them for a few days.

"Why not?"  I think to myself.

So, we join forces and start pedaling to a little town at the end of a brutal 20 km dirt road.  We bounce along, through the heat and dust, until one of the bikes break down... the rear derailleur moves too far over and gets caught in the rear wheel, putting an end to the bike.

No worries, we continue walking and coasting the bikes through the heat of the day until we reach town.  Then we order a new part and hire a motorcycle for the owner of the fallen bike to reach a gorgeous little swimming hole outside town for a lovely evening swim and home-cooked soup over an open campfire = life is good!

San Luis, Antioquia [Colombia]

Ever wonder what it's like to go screaming down 1,500 meters of vertical over 60 km in the Colombia jungle?  Let me tell you, it's a lot of fun!

All the climbing over the last several days has finally come to an end.  Now, it's time to get a free ride!  I owned the highway for a good 1.5 hours as descended as fast as possible.  I don't get to use those high gears very often and I made up for lost time, pedaling as fast as I could and still not having to put in hardly any effort.  Awesome!

Guatapé, Antioquia [Colombia]

I hated to leave Medellín.  There's something about the city that is amazing.  Maybe it's the location, sandwiched in between two mountains, or maybe it's that the entire city is built of colorful red bricks, or maybe it's the vibrancy and soul and arts of the city.

Either way, I started early to begin the massive 1,200 meter climb out of the city to the high-mountain plateau.  I reached the top in less than two hours and was cold for the first time in weeks.  Actually cold!

From there, I enjoyed the rolling flats all the way to Guatapé.  This is a giant lake that has hundreds of little islands and peninsulas and inlets.   It's simply an amazing place!!!

Medellín, Antioquia [Colombia]

It's been too long since I've been on a bike and I'm not in top-notch bike shape.  My legs are tired and my butt is incredibly sore...  It's only been since I arrived to Medellín that I've started to feel my strength again.

I arrived to Medellín around noon and found a cheap hotel.  I didn't want to waste any time, so I took a midday "escape-the-heat" nap and then started towards Arví National Park.  Most people access this park by taking a series of gondolas, or as the locals call them, "cable metros", to the top of the mountains surrounding Medellín.

Alas, I arrived too late in the day... the daily quota for allowed people had already been met.  So, I decided to take matters into my own hands... I thought I would just hike up the steep valley walls and get there on foot... well....

I began hiking the 3,500 total vertical distance by going through some of the "not-so-good" areas" of the city.  The city is arranged in barrios, with the less-wealthy areas "higher on the hill".  This translates as me walking through worse and worse areas as I got closer to the top of the mountain.  In so doing, I saw less and less desirable things... like a fairly major drug deal.  Luckily, me and the spotter both decided to just play it cool... by the time both of us realized what was actually going on, we both decided it was best to just act like we didn't know what was going on.  Absolutely nobody was expecting a tall gringo to show-up in the middle of the proceedings.  Well, that was one disaster avoided...

After another hot hour of hiking, I made it to the top.  After wandering around a bit, I ran into the Colombian police force.  Again, they didn't fully expect to see a tall gringo to show-up in on the top of a mountain.  They questioned me for quite a while.  I told them that I had hiked up the mountain, something they just couldn't believe, but they didn't have much choice.... there wasn't any other way for me to have arrived there.  They eventually let me go, warning me that I should be safe.  Ya....

Cartagena, Bolívar [Colombia]

For the next month, I decided to bike in "lite" mode.  I won't be carrying the usually camping stuff (tent, stove, cooking items, etc.).  I thought it would be fun to try something new.  So, I've made arrangements to get all that stuff once I reach Quito...

For now, I'm only carrying clothes and a few necessary items.  It also means that I'll be staying in hotels/hostels.  They are supposed to be quite inexpensive in Colombia.  I thought it would be a nice comparison.  But, it does feel like cheating.... taking a shower and sleeping in a bed is quite unexpected.  Taking a shower at the end of each day is very nice!

It's very hot (again).  The last two days have reached 106 degrees.  At least it is a dry heat....  It does necessitate that I rest 3-4 hours during the heat of they day.  It is just too brutal to be doing extreme physical activity during those hours.

Barranquilla, Atlántico [Colombia]

Overnight, I find myself on a different continent... literally.  I left the cold of northern Utah, after an entire day of snowing, and "awoke" in northern Colombia to 100+ degree sunshine.

I made it through immigration and customs without any type of problem.  I expected to be stopped as there was another woman in front of me that was also traveling with a bike and she had to open the box and remove everything.  Nope... I went right through.

I dragged/carried my bike box to the airport entrance and promptly began reassembling "Surlita".  It drew a bit of a crowd over the next hour as I continued to put everything together and re-packed my bags into "cycling mode".

I'm on the road again!!!!

Heber, Utah [USA]... the final departure?!?!?

With stunning speed, the US Department of State delivered me a brand-new, 10-year passport, door-to-door, in just two weeks!  Great news!!!

Air ticket has been purchased and I hope to be in South America next week.  Colombia!!!!!!!

Heber, Utah [USA].... again!

Waiting...... lots of waiting....

I have successfully returned to the US, not a particularly easy task without a passport....

I've been asked several times, so let me explain how that works:
All US passports (at least for the common-folk like myself) are printed in the US.  If someone needs a passport in another country, like me in this case, one may apply at the local US embassy and then wait for the application to be sent to the US, the passport to be printed, and then the passport to be shipped back to the corresponding embassy.  Not terribly difficult, but not terribly fast either.

In my case, I deemed it easier to just return to the US..... In addition to a passport, I also needed a new bank/credit card, bike gear, and other stuff.... and.... it HAS been an incredible ski season.... so, why not go back and get a few turns while I'm waiting anyway?

So, the embassy was able to print me a temporary, 5-day passport that will only allow me to enter the US (not travel to other countries).  It did get me on and off the plane and there wasn't major drama, but there was a LOT of sweet-talking at the airport and a LOT of explaining why I did not have entry nor exit stamps in passport...  oh well, what's life without some sweet-talking and unexpectedness?

Now, my new passport application has been sent and there's not much to do but wait... and enjoy some winter in Utah!

Panama City [Panamá]

Panamá.... oh Panamá....  I'll start off by saying that every time I say Panama City, the words "Paradise City" (by Guns 'n Roses) pop into my head and it may be quite fitting....

On that note, Panamá is intent on keeping the journey VERY real!  It has been three unbelievable weeks!

It all started with a difficult entry from Costa Rica.  Granted, the difficulties were on the "tico" side of the border, but it was still a difficult time...  let me just say that it involved a shady-looking mini-van in a shadier-looking parking lot and the police eventually got involved....

Since that time, I have been hit by a bus, robbed while sleeping at a fire station, had a stretch of six nights straight without sleep, and been attacked by some sort of tick insect that gorged on my blood for several days.  What can I say?!?!?  Life, particularly on a bike, is a string of unexpected events!!!

On the plus side, I've spent some amazing days at a jungle preserve and hiked the highest point in Panamá, a volcano where I was actually cold for the first time in over three months.

Tomorrow, I'll head back to the US for a few weeks to get everything sorted out from being robbed.... hope to be in the ever elusive Colombia by the first of March!!!

Río Claro, Puntarenas [Costa Rica]

I couldn't have imagined that it could possibly get any hotter.... all that stuff I wrote earlier about baking my brains and drinking 8-10 liters of water was kid's play.... this is true heat.  Before, I could struggle through the middle of the day and still make some progress.  Now, I can't even force my legs to move...

The plus side is that the legs are stronger and I can comfortably push out 100+ km a day, even with large amounts of vertical.

Another plus is to be cycling with Shane Hutton again.  He and I met on a ferry in México.  After traveling together for over a week, our paths parted for a time.  It's fun to have someone to tell stories with while moving down the road.  It's comforting to have someone to help watch gear.

Also, the last day has provided us several spontaneous offerings.  One man, Davíd offered to have us stay with brother for the night (only 50 km down the road... made for a loooong day).  The next day, quite possibly the most excited man I've met, Carlos (and Carlos Jr.) pulled off the road, waved us down, and loaded us up with food, drinks, sugar, snacks, and lots of laughs.  That same day, we ran into Davíd again, and he bought us a large chicken lunch.  Heat be damned!!!!  Life is pretty good!!!

Jacó, Puntarenas [Costa Rica]

Twenty five kilometers on more crazy jungle roads find me arriving at Montezuma Beach, the southern-most point of the Nicoya peninsula in Costa Rica.  I arrive at 8:45 am hoping to take the 9:30 am fast boat to the Coast Rican "mainland".  I was a little concerned that I might not make it because I had forgotten to make my reservations a day in advance as was suggested.... no problemo, luck is on my side (once again) and I also manage to sweet talk my way into a 25% discount because the boat is full and they wouldn't want me to take a competitors boat....

I once again avoid making offerings to the sea gods and land intact in Jacó where I met my fellow cyclist and former traveling companion Shane Hutton!

We relaxed a while during the heat of the day and then pushed off for another 60+ km.

Playa Manzanillo, Puntarenas (II) [Costa Rica]

The last 2+ weeks have been full!  You know life is pretty good when six days out of the week you're chasing waves.  I've filled in the "off-time" with horse riding, farm work, swimming on the beach, and tromping through the jungle.

The little things have also added to the routine... giving a new friend driving lessons, going to barn dances, and destroying then trying to fix the previously mentioned old motorbike without brakes and headlight (and now without a chain).

Alas, all good things must come to an end.  Looking to start biking again tomorrow!  Pura vida!!!

Playa Manzanillo, Puntarenas (I) [Costa Rica]

Even better than rest days, is "chillin' out" for a while.  The last week, I've been relaxing in the house of a good friend, Sam.  He has an extra room and has been a gracious host, showing me around the jungles and beaches where he lives.  He even showed me around a mind-blowing permaculture project that he's working on (cirenas.org).

The first few days are always filled with a list of chores.  This time around, I took a full day to wash laundry; another full day to wash my tent, panniers, and sleeping bag. It's been three months of hard travel and things were absolutely filthy.  Of course, there is a day or two of bike stuff to do... cleaning, tuning, maintenance.

Now, it's all relaxation time.  I've been surfing on a borrowed longboard, enjoying the famous Costa Rican waves, and cruisin' the dirt roads on an old motorbike that doesn't have brakes nor a headlight.  Pura vida!!!

Granada [Nicaragua]

The sun was getting low and I really needed to find a place to sleep, but..... they were playing baseball on the dirt road and I just couldn't resist.  So, I jumped in and started playing pitcher.

After an hour, it was too dark to play any more.  I went to my bike (it was laying in the dirt behind home plate).  It finally dawned on one of the dudes to ask me where on earth I was going.... I told him that I was looking for a place to camp.  They all started to laugh... "Stay with me amigo." came the reply.

And so, I stayed for two days on the shores of Lake Nicaragua.  Thank you!!!