La Paz and the Death Road!

The border crossing into Bolivia, for us went without much trouble, just a bit of hassle with trying to figure out where to go and in what order, nobody tells you where to go, so we just followed the crowd! We were introduced to Bolivian buses however, and Bolivian toilets, which, if the trend continues, are likely to give us Hepatitis.

However, we arrived in La Paz at around 5pm on the 30^th December. The ride in was a bit, well, interesting. The road takes you through the outskirts and surrounding Barrios of La Paz which are dirty, grimey and really feckin’ poor. So I assumed of course that all of La Paz was going to be like this and immediately wanted to turn around and head back to Cusco. But all of a sudden, the motorway opened up to reveal spectacular mountains in the distance and La Paz, sitting comfortably down in the mountain valley and it was a real gasp-inducing sight! We checked into the Wild Rover, which was already buzzing with people in prep for the New Year’s celebrations. New Year ’s Eve was set to be a black and white masquerade ball, so Kev and I combined sightseeing in La Paz with searching for tat to wear at the party.  The party itself turned into a crazy one, with pretty much all of the acquaintances of the last 3 months all showing up at once at the bar so we had a major catch up and a subsequent piss up! So, as is predictable enough, we had a great night and the following few days were spent alternating between taking “the Cure” and nursing our sore heads.

Our main piece of blog-worthy news over the past few days is our mountain-biking adventure down the notorious “Death Road”. A good few of us from the hostel signed up to do the trip with a company called “Altitude”, at a slightly bargained-down price of 450Bs (about €50).With my fear of heights slightly quashed, I was still only feeling 60% brave, 40% violently ill. I had heard so many horror stories that it was enough to make me an insomniac for the night and I was awake long enough to count all the church bells nearby notifying the world of the approach of 6am, the dreaded wake up time.

We were all bundled into a fairly old and unstable-looking Hiace van for the 30 minute drive to our starting point, yet again at altitude. Is there anywhere in this continent NOT at altitude?! We were decked out in our protective gear and jackets, grabbed our bikes and off we set down the first part of our journey, a 24km cycle down your average asphalt road, through some really great scenery. And damn it was cold! I assume this part of the cycle was to allow you to get a feel for your bike, test the brakes and the gears etc. before the daunting Death Road began. We had some breakfast at an eatery at the side of the road and then, after visiting the bleak toilets, hopped into the van again, where we would be driven uphill to the start of the Death Road cycle. Greeting you at the start of the road is a giant Caution sign, which contained too much text for me to read from a moving vehicle, but I’m pretty sure it was saying “turn back now, you crazy, crazy people”.

Our group before we set off on the Death Road

The Death Road is now relatively unused by cars, trucks, vans and buses now since a newer, safer road was constructed a few years ago. This road, winding its way through the mountainside is only 3m wide in some places, with a dizzying, stomach churning 1000m drop to your left. And, when you’re a cyclist, you’re obliged to keep to the left at all times and in the case of meeting a vehicle, the vehicle is obliged to keep to the mountainside, therefore, leaving you, on a bike, standing on the edge of a massive drop as the car passes. If you managed to find yourself teetering towards the edge, a fall would lead to certain death; the drop is so sheer that there isn’t much chance of you hitting a gentle undulating slope where you would eventually roll to a stop! All this considered, and with copious amounts of Holy Water later, I was rearing to go. The gravel and sizeable rocks on the road, combined with little channels cut into the road by rain and waterfalls meant that the cycle was hair-raising at the best of times and it was difficult to build up an great speed without risking your life. I found myself, not shitting myself like I had imagined, but actually becoming so exhilarated by the ride and when you had the opportunity to take your eyes off the road for a second, there was some amazing, dramatic scenery to be had, especially once we descended below cloud cover. Our guides stopped us at several locations on the road, the most dramatic and treacherous parts of the road, for photo ops.

The entire road is about 40km and by the time we had mercifully reached the end; my hands were calloused and bruised from pulling so tightly on the brakes! We were hot, sweaty and our hearts were thumping, but we had the best bike journey of the trip. I am so thankful that I decided not to listen to the scare-mongering and do the trip, yet I am equally delighted never to have to do it again. It’s one thing I can tick off the list of things to do before I die. 

a popular photo spot!

many crosses on the route marking the spots where people died

Where we stayed: The Wild Rover, La Paz 

How much: 150Bs (about €15) per room per night, double room, shared bathroom

Christmas in Cusco and Lake Titicaca!

Christmas, it’s fair to say, was a bit of a write-off, with the entire few days pretty much spent holed-up in the Wild Rover hostel, and catching up on the partying we missed out on over the previous few weeks. The Wild Rover, is, as the name suggests, and Irish-run hostel and is very, well, wild. I couldn’t as much attempt to keep up to date with the blog before someone shouted “Happy Hour!” and a Jagerbomb was thrust into my hand. We were received by the owners Colm and Liam with typical Irish hospitality and we were promised a whale of a time, which would include a Christmas dinner and pretty much party after party. We had heard rumours and friends’ reports of the legendary parties, so this was gonna be our bit of tacky “Oirishness” over the Christmas hols; hell, if we didn’t have a piss up, it’d make us even more homesick!

Our room was a little like a brothel / dungeon with its lack of outside windows and dark red walls. But for the amount of time we planned to stay outside the bar, this didn’t really matter to us. We, party we sure did, 4 days on the trot of White Russians, Mojitos, Rum and Cokes, combined with cheesy Christmas music and random banter with strangers, who would later become good friends. Of course, we met many an Irish person but we had great laughs with some Kiwis, some Yanks and Canadians, as well as bumping into Hannah and Ellen again, from Britain.

Market ladies

Christmas Eve markets in Cusco

On the 4^th day, we were broken, shadows of our former selves and suffering severe cases of beer blues. We booked ourselves a night bus to Puno, right on Lake Titicaca, our last stop in Peru before crossing the Bolivian border in time for New Years, where it was set to be another Irish piss up in the Wild Rover in La Paz.

Puno is, well, a shit hole, but people generally just stop off here in order to see the Floating Islands of Lake Titicaca. We did just that, booking a 2 day, 1 night tour with our hostel, the Walk On Inn. It cost us 90 Soles, which was almost half of what the tour company in Cusco were quoting us. We arrived at around 5am in Puno, with enough time to leave our bags at the hostel, pack a small overnight bag and grab some breakfast before we were picked up by our tour minibus to the lake at 8am. Here we were shuttled on to a small boat, with an engine the size of a pea, which would, very slowly take us across to the Floating Islands of Uros. It took about an hour of sailing to get to the islands, set among a vast amount of reeds. We were immediately struck by how Disneyland-ish it looked, very much geared towards tourism, as that’s their only way of making money. There were brightly-coloured souvenirs to be bought and large, elaborate reed boats, reminding me of some kind of organic Royal Barge, which could take you around the island for a small fee, if you fancied something more manual powered than our diesel boat. It all looked like a kid’s playground, and we stopped off at one island and disembarked, to have a wander around and to learn more about the islands. There were 4 families living here in small reed and wooden huts. Our guide gave us the low-down on how the islands are made, how they build their huts and how the inhabitants can even pull the islands together and anchor them in the event of a wedding or something similar, in which many people would be congregated together. I, an eternal skeptic, wasn’t sure how much of it I was believing, and whether it was all nonsense or not. It seems like it would be very hard to live on such a tiny island, when each of them can sustain only a small amount of vegetation and food.  The only meat source scuttling around too are the guinea pigs, who even have their own cute little reed huts. As we sailed away, I could quite clearly see the reeds growing from the lake-bed below, so im not sure as to how deep the water actually is in that area of the lake. Hhhhmmmm, I don’t know!

Local Floating Island residents

Disneyland!

Floating Islands

From here, our next stop was Amantani island where we were to spend the night with a host family. When we arrived after an arduous 3 hour boat ride, we were introduced to Gladys, our very miniature host for the night, in whose house we would sleep and eat. We joined forces with a very friendly Brazilian couple and we were shown to our sleeping quarters. The bed had a straw mattress, but all in all, It was less basic than our accomdations in the Colca Canyon! Lunch and dinner were very basic indeed, but you could tell that these people had nothing, so for tjem, this was probably the best thing they could dish up. The kitchen was itself, like something from National Geographic, with its clay walls, one pot on an open fire and a mat for people to sit on. We humbly ate our meal of maize and squeaky cheese, knowing that they’d sacrificed the best rooms of the house for us. That night, a “fiesta” was organised with the locals, where we were once again dressed up in local clobber and attempted to dance with as much grace as we could muster. To be honest, we found it all a bit staged and we were more interested in the massive thunderstorm outside which was lighting up the sky with bots of purple and pink lightening. We left about an hour after we arrived, just in time to tuck ourselves into bed before the rain and hail started, and we eventually dosed off to the sound of rumbling thunder.

Awesome lightening storm!

The homestay's kitchen

The next morning, after our pancake breakfast, we said farewell to Gladys and her daughter and left for Isla Taquile, an hour away and just as picturesque. We walked around the island, about 2km, and had a nosey at some of the local knitted handicrafts. There was a lunch organised for us on a fabulous hilly location overlooking the vast sparkling blue lake. With the quaint little laneways, small brick and clay huts, tall trees and sweeping views, it reminded me very much of Sicily or what I’d imagine Tuscany would be like. We walked down the hill towards our awaiting boat on the banks of the lake and commenced the 3 hour boat ride home to Puno.

our lunch venue!

Taquile island

After the 2 days, I cannot help but think that the tour is a desperate attempt to get people to the islands and thus increase monetary income for the inhabitants. As beautiful and picturesque the islands are, there’s very little of interest to see apart from the scenery, so maybe a 1 day tour taking in all the islands would have been sufficient. I am glad I saw them and the weather was very much on our side during the trip which added to the enjoyment, but I think it’s a case of “OK, been there, done that, now let’s move on”. So we booked ourselves our bus to La Paz, which would include, what we heard, would be an interesting border crossing! 

 Where we stayed in Cusco: The Wild Rover http://www.wildroverhostels.com/

How much?: 70 Soles per double room per night, private bathroom

Where we stayed in Puno: The Walk On Inn http://www.walkoninn.com/

How much?: 60 Soles

The Colca Canyon (or as we called it, the Coca Cola Canyon)

Well, the world didn't end on the 21st December as the Mayan prophecy led us to believe and a good thing at that, or we wouldn't have gotten the change to enjoy our 3-day Colca Canyon trek!

Arequipa, in Peru it seems in mainly a stopover city for those wanting to trek around the nearby Colca Canyon and to the oasis at its base. Despite being the second biggest city in Peru, there seems to be little else to see within the city boundaries except for the usual pretty main-square-with-churches feature that we've become used to. Having heard about the Colca Canyon, being the 2nd deepest in the world (it's neighbouring canyon being the biggest!) and boasting a tranquil main-made oasis at the bottom, we were keen to exlpore. Deciding to go with a tour group rather than doing the trek independently (more for convenience and the bonus of company of other travellers rather than the necessity of a guide), we booked the 3-day 2 night trek with a company called Peru-Schweiz. It cost us 140 soles all inclusive and as we had absolutely no organisation to do, we gladly paid our fare. yet again, another early start was required, this time our bus was due to collect us at 3am - not for the sleep-lover in anyone. So, like  7-year olds, we went to bed straight after dinner and tucked ourselves in for the night.

Almost slapping ourselves away the next morning, we were collected, late as usual and thus began our epic 6-hour drive towards the small town of Cabanaconde, from where we would start our trek. Thankfully we were due a breakfast stop in Chivay, 3 hours into the journey, where copious quantities of coffeee were consumed. We made our usual ice-breaking chit chat with our fellow travellers and post-breakfast, we continued on the bus towards Cabanaconde. We stopped at a view point called Cruz del Condor, where any hopes of seeing a condor swoop over the canyon were doused by the dense morning mist. We eventually began the trek, all downhill at around 9.30am, the early morning sun casting aside the low-lying mist in the canyon and warming our faces as we walked. Our guide Luis outlined the flora and fauna we would most likely find on our trek, which was slippy sometimes due to the gravel path but the lack of any uphill section alleviated any ill-feeling we had about the trek due to our early start. We took our time and enjoyed the impressive views as the sun gradually spread its cover over the canyon walls and down towards the river below. About 2 hours later we were at the bottom, and crossed another rickety bridge to bring us across to the other side to a small town called San Juan de Chucco for lunch. After lunch there was an alarmingly steep uphill 45-minute walk to where we would spend the first night at the early hour of 3.30pm. Our accomodation that night was a homestay, in the farmhouse of the guide's uncle. Kev and I laughed in disbelief at the sight of our "habitacion" for the night; once probably a cowshed, it had no floor, just earth yet a very comfortable and warm bed. Dinner was at approximately 7pm and we literally went straight to bed afterwards, for a marathon sleep of 12 hours, it was well-needed.

The next morning we had only a short hike downhill to the splendor of the oasis. Man made, it lies on a meander of the river, boasting several swimming pools, bamboo hut style bungalow accommodation and little or no electricity. So staying the night here was going to be a very "out in the wilderness" experience. We chilled by the pool all morning and afternoon with some other trekkers we met along the way. It was almost 3pm by the time the rain clouds came in, long enough for the majority of us to get sunburned. The evening was spent battling it out on the makeshift volleyball court (Kev playing like he was trying out for the Olympic team), eating our almuerzo-style dinner while watching satellite TV being installed and watching the fireflies twinkle in the trees around us, illuminating them like Christmas trees. We went to bed by candlelight (how very Jane Austen) and got ourselves another relatively early night, awaiting our 5am departure the next morning. Our little bungalow had gaps in the roof through  which the bright moon shone, giving us enough light to see where we were going even after we had distinguished our candle. Had we stayed up late that night, we probably would have seen a beautiful starry sky but for us sleep was very much our priority.

5am came around all too early and after a hodge-podge breakfast of cereal bars, bananas and fruit sweets, we collected water from the nearby waterfall and headed on up the canyon which would take about 3 hours, covering an altitude of 1,200m. While is was undeniably difficult and I was puffing away more than Thomas the Tank Engine, the sun was rising to our east and beginning to light up the canyon gradually. Everytime I stopped for a rest I turned back towards the valley to enjoy the view. One of nature's magical sights, the cactii and the rocky outcrops casting moving shadows as the sun enveloped the canyon walls and floor, like a wave of golden syrup; the pools in the oasis twinkling in the morning sun. When we eventually reached the top, I could just about muster up a "Rocky" style celebrating before I collapsed in a sweaty heap. Not far behind me were the mules who carried everything from  to food, beer, toilet rolls and satellite dishes of all things. Somebody in the Colca Canyon was getting themselves ESPN. We walked through some maize fields of Cabanaconde and we were never so relieced to sit down and have a breakfast of fired eggs on bread. At this point we were all exhausted and to be honest, all we wanted was to get ourselves on a bus and back to Arequipa, the early mornings were definitely starting to take their toll. Our next stop was the Thermal Baths at Chivay where we soaked our aching muscles for an hour in a beautfiul hot steaming pool of 39Degrees. After the baths was the amazing buffet, all-you-can-eat style lunch where we ate 3 times the amount considered polite.

Colca Canyon

Local women selling tat

The oasis at the bottom of the valley

swimming pools at the oasis paradise!

view of the canyon in the morning

canyon valley

Cabanaconde maize fields

The 3 hour bus journey brought us back to Arequipa before we collapsed on the bed for a nap after a great but exhausting trip in a spectacuarly-beautiful part of Peru.

Where we stayed: The Flying Dog http://www.flyingdogperu.com/
How much?: 63 soles for a double room shared bathroom.