The doorstep of Machu Picchu

Cusco (Peru) – Hidroelectrica (Peru) - Agua Calientes (Peru)

14 MAY 2015

There’s a danger to sitting on the back of a minivan for 6-7hrs without having the security of your body functions. It makes you desperately uneasy and ever vigilant as to the potential of catastrophic events, because you know, the explanation never negates the act. If you crap yourself or if you throw up, the people your immediate vicinity can’t un-live that moment. No apologies and no degree of their understanding make things ok. Whilst I laboured gallantly at the back of the minivan I tried to hold off as best as I could.

The run from Cusco to Hidroeléctrica is a fair 6hr drive, mostly on asphalt but when it hits the mountains then things get ‘oblique’. Roads become large pot holed tracks and the once placid Peruvian driver that you met at 4am turns into a wild gun totting cowboy that dices with the lives of his passengers at every corner. A lot of the road is ‘sketchy’ and makes the ‘Camino de la muerte’ in Bolivia look somewhat pedestrian. There are hair raising moments, places where the road has been washed out or just slipped away.

I found this post from a guy named John Hastings, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jon_eTobTU

This looked liked the right path!

Just had to make sure that we had a good lead time on the train - you don't want to be stuck in the middle with Peruvian rail lining you up from the other end!

Agua Calientes - Peru

Agua Calientes - Peru

The video is accurate of the manner in which the drivers take on the conditions and also the nature of the track itself. Typically, as is the case with me, instead of rocking the boat you kind of just hold your breath like all the other tourists and ‘think’ everything will be ok, because this is ‘just the way they do it’, but as John’s blurb professes, ‘…I wonder how many deaths there have been in 2016 & 2017…for me this was worse than the Death Road in Bolivia’. I can attest to the fact that he’s right on the mark.

Arriving to Hidroeléctrica briefs unsoiled and not so much as a dry heave, I was feeling kind of cocksure about my place in the scheme of things. In fact, even with a 45min Peru Rail cruise from Hidroeléctrica to Agua Calientes at our fingers tips, Inga and I opted to take the more ‘scenic’ route – also known as the ‘povo route’ via the rail tracks to the overnight stop.

No doubt, the jungle walk amongst the towering mountains and the lush vegetation is a pleasant introduction. What you recognise over the ever so gradual climb to Aqua Calientes is that no matter how hard you look, there are no traces of the citadel that are readily visible. You really would never know what existed 500m-700m above your head unless you specifically knew how to detect the clues.

For those wanting to know the $ count for this type of ride, I can say that a return to and from Hidroeléctrica from Cusco was $30 AUD.  From memory park entrance was $47 AUD and overnight accommodation in an ordinary hostel was $30 AUD per night. For something like $140 AUD you’ll be able to get in and back from Cusco, have accommodation for 2 nights and obtain park entrance.

Agua Calientes

Surprisingly this is an attractive town. I had visions of rabid tourist endeavours, harassing, cajoling and earnestly disarming your resolute stance to not purchase anything tacky, but, there was less of that than I imagined. In places its tranquil. Of course it bustles with tourists and with 1500-2000 new entrants a day you feel its touristic pulse.

The town itself is has interconnecting lanes, alleyways and bridges, all of which are taken up by restaurants, bars, massage parlours and stores. The setting of this town on the slopes of these mighty jungle peaks makes this entity unique in its own right.

Also we found that the hot springs are a more than pleasurable sojourn for the afternoon. At the northern end of the town are a number of hot baths that charge a minimal amount for access. Locals and tourists alike make their way here at the end of a hard day of hiking, soak their weary bodies and steal a brew or too.

So here we were, resting on the doorstep of one of the great engineering accomplishments of humanity. This had been a while coming for me. A false start five years earlier had stopped me in La Paz, Bolivia when I was probably only a week away. Now all I had to do tonight was sink a few hours of sleep, wake up at 4:00am and get cracking.

Cusco - navel of the world

Puno (Peru) to Cusco (Peru)
11 MAY 2015 – 13 MAY 2015

I wasn’t entirely present for our stay in Cusco. Whatever virus or food poisoning had attacked me in Puno had somehow lay dormant for a day and then attacked me once again with a vengeance through various ‘outlets’. Perhaps I was ambitious in my desire to defeat this interloper, notwithstanding, it was cunning in its continuous deception, biting back and causing nuisance at regular intervals.

Cusco, the once mighty Inca capital sits at an elevation of 3400mtrs, not quite where La Paz is situated in terms of altitude but high enough to literally be breathtaking. Of course it’s the gateway to the fabled citadel of Machu Picchu which lies some 80kms to the north-west. The city itself is cloaked in Inca legend. Legend has it that the Sun God directed Manco Capac, his son, to go and find an area of land of fertile and good quality. This he was able to do and this is the place that become the capital of the Inca Empire for some 300yrs.

 Plaza de Armas - Cusco - Peru

Cusco - Peru

Cusco - Peru

The city is built in colonial style but still contains many pre-Columbian structures, a reason as to why is became UNESCO heritage listed in 1983. With that said, I can say that I didn’t fully immerse myself into the city and  was only capable of moving in small, non-expansive circuits where the proximity to a bathroom was equivalent to personal safety. In my down time however Inga did manage to do a lot more exploring especially around Plaza de Armas, the place where Francisco Pizarro proclaimed the lands for Spain after capturing and killing the Inca emperor Atahualpa.

Some of the best quesadillas I've had - keeping them down was the issue!

Cusco - Peru

Plaza de Arnas - Cusco - Peru

We did however manage to organise our ‘expedition’ to Machu Picchu from here. Not via the well known Inca trail, or in fact other trails that are now being utilised for 3-4 day hikes but via a simple mini-van through the Sacred Valley. The trail itself has been placed on a ‘bucket list’, to come back to at the right time. Still, one of THE highlights of the South American continent was only a few short days away. The burning question, would my body be in order to make it there?

Lake Titicaca - The sound of violent illness –‘kombucha’

La Paz (Bolivia) to Puno (Peru)

08 May 2015 – 11 May 2015

If you’re like me then with the onset of a rancid, dirty bout of viral gastroenteritis…or is it food poisoning…whatever it was, there’s an internal dialogue that progresses from early detection, through denial, trade-off and then finally, begrudgingly, acceptance. In the end whatever ‘it’ is and whatever ‘it’ was just becomes too great for all your good will and internal fortitude, but, lets check that carry bag in here, we don’t need to be walking through security with this story just yet.

We were on the way out of Bolivia, slinking our way north west around the waters where the Sun was believed to have been born (according to Andean legend). Desolate & austere, the landscape looks just like what a daze feels like when your eyes glaze over, your mind wanders and you linger in those moments of blank comfort with no thoughts. Ephemeral and transient, moving through these ancient lands of legend we stop on the shores of Lake Titicaca in the town of Copacabana, just as the sun is taking its last bow for the day. The waters shimmer in burnt orange as the small crowd stands on the shoreline, clapping as the gold orb disappears from sight.

Sunset on Lake Titicaca - Copacabana - Bolivia

Lake Titicaca - Peru

 Lake Titicaca - Peru

Was feeling absolutely wretched in this shot

After crossing into Peru we made our way up the coastline under the blanket of darkness, spotted with the most incredible starlight we had seen, equivalent to what we had experienced in the Elqui Valley (Chile). Arriving in Puno mid-evening we checked into the Kuntur Inn and quickly set ourselves up for an excursion onto the Lake Titicaca the next day, specifically to see the floating Uros islands. Again, this had always been on my wish list and was probably inspired by a few travel documentaries hosted by Greg Grainger – who, as a side note, Inga and I ran into whilst staying on the Great Barrier Reef that same year – a story for a later blog however.

Inga and I headed out to downtown Puno that night for some food and a few drinks, and one pesky, errant, subversive Tom Collins. This one non-descript drink. This one small insurrectionist. This dangerous subversive. It was to hold my life for ransom for the next few days with a vice like grip on my well being….and you know…when it strikes, just when the death knell is sounded, what it was that brought you to your knees. That model citizen of the cocktail world, the one that never causes trouble and quite likely would be a very good neighbour, on this morning, took out a baseball bat and hobbled me. I woke up on a bright Puno morning with the violent sounds of ‘KOMBUCHA’ shattering through the walls of the homely Kuntor Inn. How in the world was I going to make it to the front door, let alone the shores of Lake Titicaca this morning?

Lake Titicaca - Peru

After downing a cup full of cement for breakfast I handed over all my valuables, all responsibility and all direction of my motor skills to Inga. I must have looked like a dead man walking in a fait accompli. Arms limp by my side, head bowed, shoulders drooped, I was shattered at 7:00am and there was nothing I could do. Those first few ours on the boat out of Puno were brutal. Occasionally I stuck my head up and looked around in order to appreciate where I was, but I had nothing, I was the one in the pack that would have been picked off out on the plains of the Serengti.

The sun here is piercing, it prickles your skin. The waters are a deep, rich blue and the equally magnificent skies are punctuated by cotton like puffs of white cloud, painting like. This lake is sacred in Peruvian legend and there is the belief that the Sun God, that was born on this lake, created Manco Capac, the first Inca King. Completely aside from  that, but as interesting, are the Uros Indians that life on great floating read islands. They are effectively the guardians of the lake and have inhabited this corner of the world in their unique and ingenious style for generations, utilising water reeds that grow in the lake to make their own floating terra firma. It’s quite incredible and really, not matter what my state, I felt absolutely fortunate to have both seen and set foot on a couple of these islands.

 

The best I could muster - its the most fake smile in illness that I could muster - Lake Titicaca - Peru

Uros floating islands - Lake Titicaca - Peru

Uros floating islands - Lake Titicaca - Peru

Uros islands - Lake Titicaca - Peru

From what I understand the reeds need to be replaced constantly, or indeed, islands need to be rebuilt frequently. The groups are generally small but with that said, even here the ever forward marching band of technology has made its way. TV’s, mobile phone, electronic devices, they are all common places and well utilised through the assistance of solar powered batteries. The children head out by boat to local floating schools and the elders, either do what they do, or, cater to tourists such as us. It makes the whole situation feel a little contrived but that, to me, is affecting me less and less these days. That’s the nature of necessity and human interaction, so if cultures adapt and pander to what we bring, then OK, if it’s beneficial for all I can accept that.

La Paz - Nuestra Señora de La Paz

La Paz (Bolivia)

08 May - 11 May 2015

Welcome to the jungle. This urban sprawl has liquid mania coursing through its veins with every coloured mini-van, every honking horn and every screaming ticket tout whose destination sounds about as recognisable as the lyrics of a Lil Wayne ‘song’, or should that be a cerebral vasospasm? It’s an exciting place that can take some time to get use to. It cajoles you, almost taunts you into scaling its steep roads, only to smack you down to size with its own innate knowledge that ‘the air up here is thin man’. The home town experts have adapted but for those of us that have simply popped into La Paz, the trick at operating at 3500mtrs + is what the change in atmospheric pressure does to the body. Less pressure equals less oxygen which means that the heart and lungs up their capacity to do the very same thing that they would need to do at sea level. It’s exactly the reason why Bolivia fought so hard to have all their home games played at the Estadio Hernando Siles. The likes of Messi & Neymer are often brought to their knees in games where any sort of physical exertion can cause dizziness, headaches, loss of breath and loss of the very skills that they own.

Diesel, soot, detritus. Masked gunmen cleaning shoes on the street corner. Zebras guiding you across Av.6 de Agosta. Bank guards with machine guns. Shadows. Light. Heat. Cold. Conflict and resolution, that’s kind of what La Paz seems to be. This is also where the urban skyway comes into play. In order to beat the congestion and find the most practical way to get the city moving the Mi Teleferico was built. This is an aerial cable car urban transit system and it zips people above the jumble of houses and terrain, to points that sit above the bowl. Back in 2015 we saw a few lines operating but from what I understand the plan is to have a network with an intended reach of somewhere close to 35kms.

The amazing La Paz - Bolivia

Making our way up to El Alto via the teleferico on one of our days we gazed in awe at the vast jumble that spread out before us. It’s not practical but it’s certainly impressive, and from a few metres above, and more specifically, from the view points at the end of the line, you get to see what this city needs to contend with on a daily basis.

One of our highlights in La Paz on this occasion was the afternoon we spent jumping out of an open window some 16 floors above the city centre. This was another of those mental v.physical challenges that I inevitably place myself in when opportunities of this nature arise. A psychic civil war, a fight against the accepted laws of my mind, Urban Rush in La Paz is the ticket you buy to trigger that internal conflict of fight or flight. You need a couple of chugs of ‘harden the f**k’ up to be able to conquer this one but abseiling or rappelling down a building in this city just felt like the thing we needed to do.

As commonly is the case between Inga and myself, the process by which we settle on an activity like this is as follows;

Henry: “Oh wow, URBAN RUSH. You can jump out of a building over the city”

Inga: “That looks cool, lets do it if it doesn’t cost too much”

The idea to invest in our stupidity then sinks into that section of unspoken conscience. We have the awareness of the activity, our plan and the spoken desire to execute. I say spoken desire, as for me the bravado of mentioning what we can do is surpassed by the internal fear of what may happen if we do what we said we would. My role now, as seems to be the case, is to let the idea slide out of sight and then somehow manufacture an excuse as to why we couldn’t continue with our plan but at the point where the requisite time we would need to do so had passed. This however was not one of those occasions. This time…this time Inga called me out on an afternoon when we were looking for something to do.

Inga: “So, are we going to do Urban Rush?”

Henry: “Hmmm, maybe, I don’t know”

Inga: “What price would be too much? What would be your top price?”

Now this last question give me an opportunity. It allows me to ‘seem as though’ I’m interested but also give me the escape clause all in the one response. What I need to do here is work out a price that sounds reasonable and rational, one not too low so as to show that I want to back out, but also, one not so high that commits me to the task either way. I run the numbers in my head like a Phd student on the verge of a mighty breakthrough in string theory and come up with the number…

Henry: “250 bolivianos”

Now, I know this is expensive, for Bolivians. Actually, it’s extreme for Bolivians. For Australians though, $50AUD is a fair deal and not at all an issue. My hand is now played. I’ve banked the cost being over 250 bolivianos and knowing Inga, if that price is higher, at say 350 or so, then we will cancel the option. I know that for a fact. For right now we commence the walk and head to Urban Rush headquarters.

We arrive at the reception area of URBAN RUSH.

Inga: “Hi there, we are interested in knowing how much the abseiling costs?”

Reception person: “250 Bolivianos”

F**K!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I’d just signed by own death warrant.

Inga hanging out in La Paz - Bolivia

That's called an 'ultimate leap of faith'  - Inga - La Paz - Bolivia

Twenty minutes later we were high above the city, dressed in fluorescent orange jumpsuits staring at a gaping hole in the wall of this perfectly solid structure.

Now I have abseiling experience. Back at camp in Year 7 I abseiled down a rock ledge that might have been 6 mtrs high, so no problem right!? Just multiply that by 8 or 9 and reversing your rear out of a building with some supportive staff and partner watching should be an absolute piece of cake.

I put on my ‘big boy pants’, regressed back to year 7 and backed out high above the cacophony and madness of what was going on below me. It was a little surreal. An endorphin filled sail through the Bolivian stratosphere. Mini-jumping down the dirty green façade of the Hotel Presidente, apparently ‘La Paz’s finest’, quoting the Urban Rush Bolivia site.

La Paz - Bolivia

Urban Rush - coming at you - La Paz - Bolivia

Then it was Inga’s turn and she stepped up without hesitation. Feet on the edge, back to the city, 50mtrs above the ground, 10 mins training in her back pocket. I’m not sure what it is with these Latvian women. Absolutely fearless. I was very impressed as she sailed down the wall as the gaudy Urban Rush sign framed her orange outline.

ALL FINISHED RIGHT >>>> EVERYTHING PROVEN >>> OR SO THEY’D HAVE YOU BELIEVE.

NOW, TIME TO GO DOWN FACE FIRST!?!? ABSOLUTELY, THAT’S THE RULE!

La Paz - Bolivia

Inga - 'fly time'

Undertaking your induction into the world of face first rappelling via an indoor 2 metre practice wall doesn’t quite have the same impact as stepping up to an open window and knowing that you’ll be taking a casual stroll down a wall whilst the rest of La Paz watches. For perspective I’ve add a YouTube video of exactly what this looks like;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNT_IW5tcOQ

After the vertigo and the inability to let go of THE BUILDING, you make peace with the fact that a few ropes ‘have you covered’ and thus your walk commences. It progresses all as outlined in the ‘training manual’ mind you, to the letter, until you get about 6-7 floors from the finish line – that’s when they say, ‘Just let go and jump’. Obviously holding on to anything is unnecessary right? Jumping from 6 floors is perfectly sane, especially when wearing a Batman costume!

Still, for anyone reading this and thinking about giving it a go I would say ‘absolutely’ do it’.

If you do, here are the details:

URBAN RUSH

https://www.urbanrushbolivia.com/en/

Calle Linares #940

First floor, Office 5

Two drop special is 200Bs these days / First drop 150Bs

Just remember, signing of the ‘death waiver’ is obliligatory!

La Paz, Bolivia, Urban Rush, South America

La Paz - it's just so dense

La Paz (Bolivia)

06 May 2015 - 08 May 2015

Its been a few years since I've made a visit to these travels. I've moved so much in those years and my need to make a return to once again swimming in my vast sea of memories is being outrun by the hours I have available to me and the size of the task. My challenge now is to delve into the memory banks and studiously, meticulously, craft lines through what I can recall and tenuously trace that line from the now to the remembered without colouring too much of my memories with hindsight.

So I step back onto the salt flats in the Bolivian outpost of Uyuni. Described often as a bleak, unremarkable stop of necessity, it's commonly the point where journeys across the Salar end and where gringo's on the trail make up their minds as to where their finances may take them next. Five years earlier this would have been the next stop on my very first adventure to the South American continent but bad luck and a lack of commitment saw me return home with a pocket full of dreams and a head full of unfinished business...perhaps that should be written the other way around.

Salar de Uyuni - Uyuni - Bolivia

The train cemetery - Uyuini - Bolivia

For all the misdirected angst that Uyuni has absorbed, I'm here to tell you, it's not the Trumpian red state Republican disaster that you'd expect to ghoulishly arise from the the arse end of the Salar . Sure, tumbleweeds, dust filled tempests and lettuce infused sangria, crafted nonsensically by the locals, don't bode for a burgeoning metropolis of curiosity and thriving tourism, but still, as a stop of necessity it not entirely the disaster outlined in travel guides. With that said, its not more than a 20-25 min 'interest maintainer' either, so waiting 9hrs for a bus and chugging back Pedro's Bolivian adaptation of the Castellano love potion was more than just a lesson in tenacity and intestinal fortitude.

As night shades were drawn on Uyuni and we completed our 16th circuit of Uyuni uptown and downtown,  Inga and finally outplayed father time and lined up for the midnight shuttle to the capital La Paz. Five years earlier I had entered La Paz via a different route from Santa Cruz, having busted out of the madhouse that was Comunidad Inta Wara Yassi. On that occasion we were  held up inthe early hours of the morning by what looked to be a Wiphala protest of critical mass. On this occasion, as the early morning rays of light snuck into the aluminum cabin of this Bolivian transit vessel we found ourselves abstractedly drifting across landscapes of  endless corn fields and potato farms, punctuated by the curious glances of bowler hatted men who must have been wondering if their cocoa leaves had been harvested in Colombia. We founds ourselves that morning literally traversing the fields of privately held farming land in the hope of finding a covert way into the capital of La Paz. Apparently, on this day, we had once again unwittingly fallen victim to yet another elaborate protest. On this occasion it was one being lead by disgruntled taxi drivers who had decided to block the main arterial lines into the capital. I'll never forget one encounter that morning, as this enormous commercial vehicle cut through private farming land, stopping by a farmer out to start his day and the bus driver pulled over and asked quite literally "do you know another way to La Paz from here" - he did not, but neither did he look amazed or even slightly amused by the situation, just like he had encountered this scenario hundreds of times previously.

La Paz - Bolivia

La Paz is an incredible city. Located in a large natural bowl-like depression, it is surrounded by the high mountains of the antiplano, holding the distinct honour of being the highest capital city in the world at an elevation of 3650 mtrs. This in itself makes walking feel like you've just inherited a continuous asthma attack, which I can confirm is exactly what the feel is. You deliberately grab for that additional half breath of oxygen anywhere you walk with the steep streets pushing your heart into the 200 bpm zone. Still, as your head swims and you take in the surrounds, house of adobe cascade down the hillsides into the city centre. It's dense but not in a claustrophobic way but in a manner that simply inspires awe. A true 'South American'  city in the sense that the population is overtly indigenous, not some Spanish hybrid. It's lively, pulsating, chaotic, exhilarating and foreign, to me. I say 'foreign' in the sense that it's difficult to hang your hat somewhere and find something that relates, it's all so different.

La Paz - Boliva

La Paz - Bolivia

We selected the Rendevous Hostel for our few nights and were not at all disappointed by the choice. A warm, welcoming, quite cosy hotel/hostel in the good part of town. It was run by a Canadian who had transplanted himself to Bolivia after falling for the local produce and planting crops (so to speak), and may I had, also produced the greatest Manhattans that I've had in my life!

In addition to all of this, La Paz was the city where my my first adventure had halted. In the gringo invested backpacker hovel known as the Wild Rover my wallet had somehow sailed out of sight, never to be seen. I had myself a moment of small satisfaction when I stopped by the hostel, placed by hand on the front door and said 'I'm back, and now I'm leaving to finish what I'm left'. I promised myself to do that very thing 5 years ago when I made the choice to go home - to come back to this point, pick it all up and go again. Here I was. 

What to do in this city?

Surprisingly La Paz is filled with options for the curious, for the well heeled and for the stupid. It's an unexpectedly great city to explore and does provide opportunities for the adventurous. Just outside the city are  the mountains that provide it with protection, and past that, and attraction well known around the world as the "Death Ride" along the Camino de la muerte. 

The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia

The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia

I had done this ride previously in 2010 and was indoctrinated to the gang of the 'worried' with stories of cyclists gliding over un-barricaded bends and flights into the abyss via 200mtr sheer drops to the valley floor. Stories both manufactured and embellished to create the myth, and to create profit on the shoulders of legend. This time around I was more 'schooled' in the art of the camino but had promised Inga that we would take on this thrill ride as our first order of death defying business in a city where the art of civil liability, over protection and idiotic sensitivity has not as yet made its way.

The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia

The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia

The 'Death Road' - La Paz - Bolivia

Without so much detail as in previous writings I can add that the anxiety that builds up just prior to the start of the ride was familiar and I could see the thinly veiled nervous excitement coming out with each question directed as me as a now two time participant, "is it scary?", "is it safe?", "how do the bikes handle the terrain?" - and with each nonchalant response of "you'll be ok, I'm living proof", came the equally uncertain answer of "A-ha, ok".

Starting on quite stark, barren landscape at 4900mts, we were greeted with a dusting of snow as we cruised downwards in snake like formation, winding in and out of traffic with the full understanding that the real star was still some 20kms away.

The rally point, the station for final checks prior to the 30+ km ride is a subtle prayer stable. A place we reassurance is sought and blatant lies are accepted. The fact of the matter is that before you head off the uninitiated simply don't know what they don't know. The fear of failure could be broken limbs at best, death at the worst. The understanding being there have been those that have gone before and those that have told stories of their success. Inspiration for sure. A warranty and a promise to defeat the pessimistic among us.

In reality, the most daunting section is the first 200mtrs. The width of the road is a little more than a few meters and the drops are extreme. You realise quickly however that the real fear would lay in the hearts of the poor souls journeying up or down the road via bus where the ability of the driver and their general level of alertness is where the ownership of your future resides.

The ride itself is easy, not particularly challenging, but then you don't really need it to be. Dropping from 4900mtrs to 1300mtrs over 2hrs, from the barren lands of the mountains into rainforest, it's an experience that's worth taken on the mental challenge for, as that's all it is. The ability to allow the body to do something very basic whilst quelling those notes of self doubt and fear.

Worth doing? For sure. 

Scary? Not the second time around but hey, I was living proof for the rest of them that this good be conquered without becoming victim #33.