diarios de bicicleta

The end of the road

2009-10-01T07:48:00.001-07:00

As they say in this part of the world, j'ai craqué. I've hit the wall. It was one morning a week ago, near Zweismmern in the Swiss Alps, that I pulled myself out of my tent for the last time and decided - it's time to call it a day. Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Asia can wait for another time.

To be honest, I hadn't been all enthusiastic about continuing when leaving England after my few weeks of rest there, when previously during this trip I'd always been itching to get back on the bike after much shorter breaks. Somehow I thought I'd get my enthusiasm back after a few days.

But that morning, despite the glorious Autumn weather and the picturesque mountains all around me, I couldn't even muster the enthusiasm to ride the next 100kms to Grindelwald, where I'd arranged to meet some friends the next day. I went to the station and took a train.

So, after meeting up with Martin & Paola and spending a pleasant weekend hiking with them and their friends, staying overnight in their cabin and being treated to a traditional fondue, I returned to Grindelwald and checked into a mountain lodge for a week to give myself time to come to terms with my decision, and to reflect on 16 incredible months of adventure. While other guests went out hiking, paragliding, canyoning, biking and climbing in the mountains, I was, for once, more than content to gaze out at the pine forests, 4,000m peaks and glaciers from a comfy chair.

Looking through photos and reading my journal, I tried to distil some of the highlights. It wasn't easy, but here goes.

Most overwhelming natural beauty
Without a doubt, the frailejon-covered paramo of the El Angel Ecological Reserve - Bitterly cold, but truly amazing. Coming face to face with a great horned owl was icing on the cake.

From Ecuador 1

And an honourable mention for Perito Moreno Glacier in Patagonia - After the hoards and their tour buses had left, I sat alone late into the night entranced by the moonlight shimmering on the ice-blue behemouth, with the constant thunder from car-sized chunks of it calving off into the turquoise lake below.

From Patagonia

Greatest challenge
The crossing from Chile to Patagonia via Lago Desierto - Having to push 40kg of bike and gear for 15 km up a steep, muddy horse track, crossing fast-flowing ice-cold rivers, not knowing if the ferry would be operating at the other end or whether I'd be able to find food there.

From Patagonia

Most fun
Cusco, Cusco, Cusco - I don't know whether it was because of all the great people I met, or meeting up with friends and family from home, or the fact that it was the festive season, but my six weeks in Cusco were a much needed and hugely fun break from the bike (apart from getting giardia and bronchitis) .

Scariest moments
Very few. Quito, where I saw and heard of so many foreigners being violently attacked and robbed in the few days I was there that I couldn't leave fast enough - a shame because it was a treasure trove of Andean/folk music.
Oh, and running out of food and water crossing a salt lake in northern Argentina, and then having to climb over a 4,200m pass to get back to civilisation.

From Bolivia & NW Argentina

Best ride
Climbing Mont Ventoux with Tom for the deciding stage of the Tour de France, being cheered on (and given beers) by the 500,000 people lining the road, the spectacular views from the top, and traffic free descent the other side at over 70kmh. The Tourmalet wasn't bad either.

From Europe 1

Wonderful people
What really made this journey special were the people I met along the way, their warm hospitality, and their stories. It seemed the poorer the people (and the fewer foreigners), the more welcoming and generous they were. I always felt bad about not being able to reciprocate, but hopefully it's taught be to be more open and welcoming to strangers.

My very first day in Colombia, a balmy and humid evening in Cartagena I met Elger, a busker, who taught me to play Romance Anonimo. As you can see I am still trying to perfect it over a year later.

In Medellin I was fortunate to be taken in by Nati's family and friends, who housed me, fed me, showed me around and generally looked after me for a month while I found my feet on South American soil and got to grips with Spanish.

Learning Spanish was challenging for me but worthwhile, and I was lucky to meet Erika, a Spanish teacher who gave me free lessons in exchange for my efforts to help her with her English.

All the staff at the Intiq Samana hotel in Cusco where I stayed for six weeks. They seemed to adopt me, looking after me when I was sick, and inviting me to their Christmas celebrations. And thanks to Ari, Paula, Simon, Helen and the rest of the gang, I had just about the most fun Christmas and New Year ever.

Spencer and Amy, who were great company on the Carretera Austral.

It was really nice to spend my last evening in South America with Alejandro and Pia. That steak was so good I don't know if I can ever go back to being vego.

Laura and Maria, who looked after me so well in Spain.

Paola and Martin, my wonderful Swiss friends.

And all the people who welcomed a stranger into their homes, fed me, let me camp on their land, offered me a cold beer.

Thanks finally to Dad and Teresa for giving me somewhere to take a break from the privations of life on the road.

Welcome to the United States of Fear

2009-05-06T07:40:00.000-07:00

"Think you'd better be movin' along now, or I'm callin' [the police]. I'm callin'!".

I was returning to my Dad's home in rural, redneck North Carolina after riding into the nearby village of Rosman to post a few packages, and I thought I'd try to find a shortcut home through the network of lanes and trails.

The gravel road twisted and undulated for a kilometre or so through the springtime forest of oaks, flowering magnolias and mountain laurel, until it came to an abrupt end with just a couple of driveways. I could see the road I needed up on Blue Ridge a few hundred metres away, but there was no way through with a bike, so I turned round and started back the way I'd come.

It was then that I realised I was being watched by a couple of women in the doorway of a nearby house. "What do you want?" "Hi, I'm trying to get home, do you know the way to..." "Think you'd better be movin' along now...".

Yes, I think I had better be movin' along now, before they set the dogs on me or get the shotgun out or something.

Continuing home, I reminisced about the hospitality of South America that I'd recently left behind.

Walking through the coffee plantations of Colombia, and being invited into farmhouses for a café tinto or a thirst-quenching agua panela.

Asking a campesino family If I could camp by their house, and then being invited in for dinner.

Camping in a pasture in the Peruvian altiplano, and being discovered early the next morning by a campesino who, rather than telling me off for trespassing on his land, sat down to share a coffee with me.

So was this woman's reaction simply a case of not wanting her privacy invaded? Or was it, as my Dad later suggested, symptomatic of a general state of fear and paranoia amongst the US population, whereby years of neo-conservative government and a complicit church and media have helped to cultivate a fear of just about anything. Fear of socialism, fear of terrorists, fear of drugs (except alcohol and nicotine; these are ok for some reason), fear of gays, fear of foreigners, fear of Islam, fear of other ways of life or of anything unusual.

But what does anyone have to fear from a skinny guy on a bike? It's not like I was wearing an Arab headscarf. Or Hispanic-looking. Or black.

It's true that a person on a bicycle, or walking even, is a rare and unusual sight around here. Even the banks have drive-thru ATMs so you don't have to get out of your SUV.

But then I must have also been an unusual sight to most South Americans, many of whom would have never seen a foreigner before, let alone one on a strange and colourfully painted touring bike. Ok, sometimes small children would hide amongst their mothers' skirts, but otherwise the people everywhere were welcoming, curious or, at the very worst, indifferent.

Oh, my final reply: "Please do call the police. Maybe they can help me find my way home".

Photos - The last few weeks

2009-05-04T19:08:00.000-07:00

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Carretera Austral

2009-03-21T17:17:00.000-07:00

Well I haven't got around to writing anything since embarking on the Carretera Austral - internet has been a rare and expensive luxury - so now that I've finished it I thought I'd try to sum things up.

The Carretera Austral, Chile's Ruta 7, links a number of remote settlements in Chilean Patagonia, extending 1,200km between Puerto Mont and Villa O'Higgins. Construction started during the brutal Pinochet/CIA regime in the 1970s, with the last 100km to O'Higgins completed in 2000. Along the way you can see memorials to soldiers who lost their lives during construction. Despite the difficult terrain, the overall design and construction is poor, with many sections subject to flooding and landslides, and with apparently little attention paid to environmental and aesthetic impacts.

Most of the road is unpaved ripio, mostly not too bad but it does get a bit bumpy in places, which takes its toll on body, soul and bike (I met other riders with broken rims, spokes, racks etc). It passes through vast tracts of pristine wilderness, some of it protected as national park/reserve but much of it that they simply haven't got round to colonising. The region was inhabited mostly by the indigenous Mapuche until waves of European settlers arrived in the early 20th Century. Now there is a pattern of large cattle/sheep estancias (estates) surrounding the towns and villages, though these can be separated by 100s of kms and so there are large sections of untouched wilderness in between.
The mountains, the southern end of the Andes, don't reach heights of much more than 2,000m, but they are nonetheless impressive and snow can be seen all year round on southern slopes, as well as a number of glaciers. There are waterfalls and cascades everywhere, often right next to the road. You never have to carry much water, sometimes you don't even have to get off your bike to fill up a water bottle.

Then there are the numerous lakes and wild rivers, always nice to stop to fish or swim (on the warmer days anyway). The forests are dominated by southern beech, with a dense understory, sometimes with large ferns giving the impression of a temperate rainforest. Actually it reminds me a lot of Tasmania and New Zealand's South Island, amazing since they've been genetically isolated for millenia (though I never saw anything resembling a wombat or kea). Birds are numerous, from petite hummingbirds to elegant waterfowl to giant condors. Frogs can often be heard ribbiting away close to the road. I loved the large dragonflys which sometimes seem to fly alongside you like a fairy godmother. There are no dangerous animals to worry about, though there are mosquitos in places: unlike the somnolent ones we get in Australia that hover around lazily and will maybe come and bite you if they can be bothered, these ones don't hesitate to make a beeline (or should that be mosquitoline?) straight for any piece of exposed skin.

Add the fact that there is little traffic, and you begin to understand why the Carretera has become such a popular place for cycle touring. Some days I met about 6 or 8 other riders, from countires as diverse as Estonia, Japan, Israel and South Africa, though the majority from Europe and especially Germany.
Unfortunately this unique place is under threat from plans by foreign corporations (among them Xstrata (Switzerland) and E.ON AG (Germany) to construct a number of megadams in the region to harness energy from the various rivers, with the world's longest high tension transmission line to deliver this energy to the north of the country where it will be used to fuel an acceleration in mining growth. The proposals have the support of the Chilean government (no doubt thanks to generous "political contributions"), though are strongly opposed by the local population, with whom consultation has been minimal. Chile's people are being sold the idea that the dams are needed to satisfy future energy demand, but there are a host of less destructive alternatives, chief among them improved energy efficiency and demand management. But who ever made money out of reducing demand?

And so, to the actual journy. I started in the South, in Villa O'Higgins, but first I had to get there from El Chaltén in Argentina, which was an adventure in itself. There is no road connecting the two towns, but there is a route involving a horse track and a couple of lake crossings. From El Chaltén it was 50km of ripio to get to Lago del Desierto, some sections of which were underwater and had to be waded through. I arrived at the jetty with five minutes to spare before the evening ferry left, pretty cold and wet and so not able to fully appreciate the journey along the long, narrow lake with steep forested mountains on either side. At the other end I got my exit stamp from the border police and set up camp before going to fish off the jetty. In just 10 minutes I had caught a good-sized lake trout, which I fried up with some mashed potato. (My first and, to date, only success in the fishing department.) That evening I met a Swiss couple who were coming the other way. They had a five year old son who they towed in a trailer, and had been biking for the last 3 years. I did wonder how fair it was on the kid, as he would have few possibilities for steady relationships or friendships other than with his parents.

From Del Desierto there was a horse track to the Chilean border, the first part of which was so impossibly steep and muddy that I had to make two trips - one with bike and one with luggage, and even then it was hard work. I started to think that I should have hired a horse to help me, as many others opt to. Looking back from the top of this climb the Lago was a spectacular sight, which helped to restore my motivation. From then on the climbing was more gentle, but still tough going with lots of mud and tree roots. I was pushing the whole time, a couple of times slipping in the mud and having the loaded bike fall on top of me. This would be a moderately difficult hike - what was I doing hauling 35kg of bike and baggage with me?

There were about five creek crossings, where I had to unload the bike and make multiple crossings (either wading or using a makeshift bridge). Some were narrow enough for me to throw the bags across and just make one crossing with bike. It would have been much easier in a pair or group, but I enjoyed the logistical challenge and by the fifth had a pretty smooth routine going.

Some people manage to get to Lago O'Higgins in one day, but I'd given myself two, and a good thing too because by 5pm I hadn't even made it to the border and was pretty much spent, so set up camp for the night.

The next day was much easier. After 30 minutes I got to the border and from there the track widened, virtually all downhill, and I could finally ride again. All was going well until I got to the washed out bridge. I'd been warned about this by a hiker I'd met coming the other way, who told me there was a makeshift bridge 100m upstream. Well I walked 150m upstream and didn't see anything, and tried downstream just in case, but still didn't see anything (I later found out that it was more like 300m). Only one optiopn presented itself: to wade across. The water was freezing and deeper than I anticipated, up to my thigh at its deepest. On my first crossing with the bike on my shoulder I was almost toppled by the powerful current. For the remaining four crossings I used a stick but it was still tricky. Any deeper (or had I been shorter) and I think it would have been way too dangerous and I'd have had to have waited until the level dropped. Anyway, I finally completed the task, shivering with cold but exhilerated at having conquered it.

After a few more kms, including some very steep and rocky descent that I chickened out of and walked, I arrived at Candelario Mancilla on the southern shore of Lago O'Higgins, in plenty of time to get the 5:30 ferry. But when I went to get my Chilean entry stamp, I was told that the ferry wouldn't be coming until the next day (due to flooding preventing the fuel truck from arriving) . Fortunately there was a campsite with hot showers, so I had the opportunity to relax and try some more fishing.

Waiting for the ferry the next day, two other riders arrived, Spencer & Amy from the U.S. I liked them instantly and we ended up riding most of the next few weeks together until Coyhaique. They were telling me about a Brazilian guy they'd met at Lago del Desierto who was planning to do the horsetrack on a motor scooter. We were just discussing how impossible it would have been, in particular the washed-out bridge, when we heard the noise of engine. Somehow he made it but to this day I can't imagine how.

The ferry was late and didn't get to the other side until 11pm, I ended up hitching a ride for the 12km to Villa O'Higgines, sharing the back of a truck with half a dozen dead sheep.

After a rest day we started for real on the Carretera, together with Dutch couple Robin & Nicky, and made about 60km before the weather got the better of us. We asked a farmer if we could camp in his field, but he wanted to charge us $7 each - the first time in S. America I'd been asked for money (I guess he gets lots of reuqests). So we ended up camping under a bridge a few 100m up the road. The farmer came along later and invited just the girls into his home for a coffee - what a creep (they declined).

The next day we had to get to Rio Bravo 40km away by 1pm to get the ferry to Puerto Yungay. I got a puncture on the way and, despite going flat out afterward, only arrived in time to see the heart-sinking sight of the ferry leaving. I settled down for a six hour wait for the 7pm ferry, but then was offered a ride in small RIB with some oceanographers who had been surveying the channel. Even though I hadn't lost much time, I only made it another 10kms after Puerto Yungay as I'd spent all my energy racing to catch the ferry.

For the next couple of days riding to Cochrane the weather improved dramtically and I was able to enjoy the Carretera in its full glory, stopping to relax/eat/swim/fish every now and again by a lake or river.

I met up with Amy and Spencer in Cochrane, staying a few nights in a really homely hospedaje. The owner, Ana, lived there on her own and seemed to really enjoy the company her guests.

After a few days I set off again with Spencer (Amy hitching because she was sick). After a forgetable morning of ups and downs in foul weather, the afternoon was a delight, riding alongside the dazzling blue Rio Baker (one of the rivers under threat of being dammed) in warm sunshine until we reached Puerto Bertrand, a real gem of a place on the shore of Lago Bertrand. There was a free campsite right by the lake with plum and apple trees - heavanly.

We had a rest day at Villa Cerro Castillo, where it was decided we'd have a feast on the way to Coyhaique (it was only two days' ride away on pavement so weight wasn't too much of an issue). Spencer suggested lamb so, as we were walking back from the nearby Cave of the Painted Hands, we stopped at an estancia and asked the farmer if we could buy some from him. He was a real character, sitting on his horse with a warm toothless grin and a wrinkled weather-beaten face. He offered to go and slaughter one of his lambs for us but, when we clarified that we only wanted half a lamb, he asked, still grinning but in a more bemused way, what he was going to do wit the other half. So we ended up having to buy a frozen lamb leg in the village, but it was nonetheless a priceless encounter.

And so we rode out of Cerro Castillo the next day on wonderful smooth pavement (felt so good after weeks of ripio), the lamb leg bungee-corded to Spencer's rear rack. By early afternoon we arrived at the national reserve campsite, and within a few hours were enjoying roast lamb and vegetables, accompanied by some porcini mushroom that Amy discovered in the forest, washed down with Chilean merlot. It certainly made a nice change from the normal staple of pasta with tomato sauce. The next day we had a pretty strong headwind, but with the three of us drafting off eachother it wasn't too tough and even quite fun.

Coyhaique is only a small town but it seemed like a bustling metropolis after so much time in the wild. While Amy & Spencer left after two nights, I spent a pleasant few days there recuperating, restocking supplies, making bike repairs, and meeting with activists campaigning against the dams.

My next stop was Villa Ortega. There was no campsite or hospedaje, but the lady who ran the local store, Alicia, invited me to stay and then proceded to feed me and fuss over me. Again she lived on her own so probably just wanted company. I was tempted to accept her invitation to stay another night but decided to make the most of the nice weather and hit the road. As I was leaving she presented me with a big tub of homemade jam made from the plums in her garden - as always in these situations I felt bad about not being able to return her generosity.

That night I experienced the other side of Chilean hospitality: I made it to Mañihuales where there is a campsite in the national reserve, but it was $9 so I decided to camp in a nearby wood instead. Unfortunately I was discovered by a group of boys with catapults who then encircled and bombared me. I retreated into the shelter of my tent, hoping they'd get bored and leave, which they did after a final salvo. But I had a restless night anxious about further mischief.

I continued north, passing through the spectacular Queulat National Park until I reached Puyuguapi, where I was stopped in my tracks by another bout of gastro. But it was the ideal place to recover, a small village originally settled by Germans at the head of a forested fjord, and boasting a warm, comfy café serving great cakes and espresso. On the day I left I stopped at the café for lunch and the most wonderful thing happened. I saw that a hummingbird had got stuck inside the glassed-in veranda. It was getting quite distressed flying into the glass and not having any perch to land on. I tried guiding it out the door but this didn't work, so I held out a finger for it to land on and, to my surprise it did, and I was able to take it outside and release it.

The Carretera continues north to Chaitén, which was evacuated last year becuase of the volcano erupting, although a few people have chosen to remain. Water has to be trucked in and electricity is only avaialble a few hours every evening. Plans are underway to build a new settlement in a safer zone. I decided to turn off at Villa Santa Lucia and cross back into Argentina. My adventure on the Carretera Austral had exceeded all my expectations in terms of natural beauty, just a shame that the government and foreign corporations are hellbent on destroying it in the pursuit of profit. I would definitely do it again though.

Photos - Patagonia

2009-03-07T13:10:00.001-08:00

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Photos - Lago Titikaka and onto Argentina

2009-01-29T09:25:00.000-08:00

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The making of a cycle tourist

2009-01-13T09:25:00.000-08:00

Fighting for breath, pain searing through my legs, and with the wind and sleet doing their best to impede my progress, I finally make it to Abra Lay Raya - the 4,350m pass between Cusco and Puno - after 50km of relentless climbing. Could this be the same guy who, 12 years before, could not even ride the 15km to work without getting off and pushing whenever he got to a small hill?

As a kid I was probably no less active than most, playing ball in the street and whizzing around on my scooter and bike. I looked forward to PE at primary school, although I seem to recall being the worst at just about everything. Even my younger brother could run circles around me at football.

Then came high school and the sadistic games teachers. Sitting in the freezing cold for half an hour for registration (no tracksuits allowed). Playing rugby on frozen pitches where every tackle felt like being run over by a particularly heavy goods train. The cold showers.

I did enjoy basketball though. That is, until I was politely asked to leave the under-12 squad in the second week of training - my advantageous height sadly not compensating for a complete lack of skill and coordination.
So I started to lose interest in sport, and then a car accident put me out of action for about a year.

I was not totally inactive for the rest of my childhood. I always rode or walked to school/work, played a bit of football, and got involved in competitive table tennis. Even so, by the time I reached 18 I was very unfit, I could not even swim 200m freestyle.

At university I continued playing table tennis and got into hiking, rock-climbing and badminton, but there were greater diversions at the time, mostly centred around the student union bar. Then within a few years of starting work my bike was stolen and physical activity disappeared from my life almost completely.

The turning point came during a visit to see my Dad in the US one Christmas. I was walking past a local bike shop and saw a shiny new Gary Fisher mountain bike in the window. I had never done any mountain biking before, but this bike had front suspension and 21 gears and was on sale so, on a complete whim, and not even knowing if the bike was any good or not, I went in and bought it. (It turned out to be a pretty decent bike, I still have it and it is my most treasured possession).

That summer I started doing short rides on the trails around my home in Chippenham. I was really enjoying spending time outdoors in the countryside, and starting to feel fit and healthy again for the first time in years. Then one day I had the crazy idea of riding to work, a whopping 15km away in Malmesbury. Not being sure I could make it that distance, that first day I put the bike in the car and drove to a village half-way, parked in the pub car park, got the bike out and rode the rest. It was a beautiful, fresh & sunny summer morning and the sights, smells and sounds of the Cotswold countryside came to me like they had never done during the 100s of times I'd driven the same way. There was a small hill where I had to push, but otherwise I made it to work quite comfortably, feeling great and looking forward to the ride home.

From then on I was converted. I rode to work more and more often, got some slick tires for the bike and, before long, I wasn't having to push up the hills anymore and my trip time went from 50 to 35 minutes. During the long summer evenings I'd go home by ever more diverse routes, exploring more of the countryside and stopping in village pubs for an ale or two. I continued through the rains of autumn and the snows of winter, each season bringing a new set of sensory delights.

I hadn't felt so good for years, and I wanted others to experience it, so I started trying to encourage more people to ride to work: promoting the health, social and environmental benefits; organising an annual Bike to Work Week; lobbying the management for decent changing and parking facilities. Before long they were having to install new bike sheds, and there was a group of us riding in from Chippenham each day. It was great fun - and sometimes very fast - with six or seven of us drafting off each other. Great days. Work now seemed like just a small interruption in the day's cycling, though I felt more enthusiasm for it and I'm sure my improved physical and mental state helped with my career.

Cycling took over my life more and more, going for rides at weekends with friends, doing charity rides such as the 100km London to Brighton, and then my first ride with panniers: 150km to visit my sister in Portsmouth.

It was moving to Australia though that really got me into cycle touring: building up from short weekend rides exploring the National Parks and isolated beaches around Sydney, to two weeks doing the coastal route from Newcastle to Brisbane, to a month exploring wonderful Tasmania.

These days I couldn't imagine travelling any other way. And my fitness? Well, it'd me running circles round my little brother now (though I'm still hopeless at basketball).

Photos - Christmas and New Year in Cusco and on to Puno

2009-01-10T14:41:00.000-08:00

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Water

2008-12-15T12:44:00.000-08:00

Smug chuckles rumble around the Coca-Cola boardroom. The latest global sales figures for Dasani bottled tapwater have just come in. "I still can't believe our stupid customers actually buy this stuff." "We should get a box of donuts sent down to those geniuses in marketing." "And while we're at it, I think we execs deserve another payrise and performance bonuses all-round."

How irratonal it is that so much effort and investment in [so-called] developed countries has gone into providing a potable domestic water supply, only for 99% of it to be used for flushing toilets, watering the lawn etc. And then people still go out and buy bottled drinking water, most of which is just packaged tapwater anyway. (Ok, maybe the bottled variety doesn't have the chlorine, but it's no big deal to let tapwater stand in the fridge overnight and let the chlorine escape.)

Imagine the feelings of a Zimbabwean family who'd just lost two children to cholera because the only water available to them is contaminated with sewage, if they were to see someone hosing their driveway with pure, clear, drinkable tapwater whilst swigging from a bottle of Dasani that would have cost them half a day's pay.

The way we in Western countires take potable tapwater for granted has really come home to me on my travels through Latin America, where millions of people are not so fortunate. I've met other cylists who drink the tapwater wherever they are, though I have not been quite so cavalier, tending the follow the example of the locals - if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me, although I may get sick occassionally as I don't have their level of resistance to any bugs that may be present. As I can get through 8 litres of water day, this approach has saved a lot of money and plastic waste.

Colombia
Here the tapwater in towns and cities is generally fine, despite what the guidebooks say (they're covering their backs, I suppose). I say fine because I never got sick, although it's quite possible that it contains heavy metals, pesticides and other organic chemicals that may pose a longer-term health risk. Certainly there appeared to be a lot of cultivation and development in cathcment areas, and a lot of untreated industrial and mining waste and sewage is dumped into rivers. I'm not sure how effective the water treatment facilities are in dealing with these contaminants. Water quality monitoring data is not readily available to the public.

In more rural areas, the domestic water supply often comes from a communal tank supplied by a creek or somesuch. The water is not treated, so typically a family will boil up a few litres of agua panela (water with unrefined sugarcane) every morning in a large pot and this will be used throughout the day as a drink on its own and as a base for the ubiquitous tinto (black coffee) or chocolate.

Standalone properties sometimes have their own tank. Otherwise water is collected in buckets from a nearby source. I'm surprised that there are so few rainwater tanks, as there is plenty of rainfall throughout the region.

Ecaudor
The water quality here is not always so good. In many of the mountain towns and cities, including popular tourist destinations such as Quito, Cuenca and Otavalo, the tap water exceeeds international standards (according to the WHO). But then there are places like Ibarra which has good catchment protection and water treatment facilities, but the reticulation and sewerage systems are so antiquated and badly maintained that cross-containation occurs, and local advice is to boil first.

In El Angél, a village high up in the northern highlands, I asked my new friend Balmer if the water was ok, and his answer was that it was 70% ok and that, while everyone in the village drank it straight form the tap, I probably shouldn't. But later he introduced me to his father who was the healthiest 96-year old I have ever met and who had lived in El Angél all his life, so I figured the water couldn't be that bad.

A couple of weeks later I was in Papallacta, a mountain village surrounded by national park and numerous natural springs. I assumed the water would be ok but, to be on the safe side, asked a restarant owner my usual question, "El agua aquí es potable?" (Is the water here potable?). She said that it was, but on further discussion it turned out that it had to be boiled. I guess the word 'potable' has a dfferent meaning to someone who's probably never been able to drink water straight from the tap. From then on, I modified my question to be, "Se puede tomar el agua aquí, sin hervirla?" (Can you drink the water here, without boiling it?).

In the coastal and and jungle regions, the water is best avoided. In Guayaquil, Ecuador's largest city, there had been such underinvestment in water infrastructure over the years that disease outbreaks were common. When the Inter–American Development Bank offered to lend thew government money to improve the city’s water service, they accepted (no doubt persuaded by generous 'campaign contributions'). Of course, the loans came with the condition that Guayaquil hand over the control of its water to an international corporation - the infamous Bechtel. It is no surprise to learn that, while Bechtel has been earning about $300 million a year from the deal, there has been little improvement and, under the the private system, households who can't afford to pay for bills have had their supply cut off. (See http://www.foodandwaterwatch.org/world/latin-america/water-privatization/ecuador/bechtel-in-guayaquil-ecuador.)

Peru
Here the water is generally not too good. In the few places where I've been told it's ok, it's tasted pretty bad. Then I picked up giardia somewhere along the way, which has disrupted my trip a fair bit. So from now on I'll be boiling or filtering all water, or buying bottles of San Luis (Coca-Cola's local brand of bottled tapwater).

Daylight

2008-12-06T16:47:00.000-08:00

5.45pm. The Sun has dropped behind the mountains to the West and there are maybe 30 minutes of light left in which to find a campsite.

I am riding through a corner of Sumaco National Park, descending through cloud forest on my way to the selba (jungle) in Eastern Ecuador, and had been enjoying the rugged forested terrain so much that I'd lost all track of time.

The road (such as it is) is cut into the side of a steep valley and so there is no flat ground either side on which to set up a tent. It is so rough and rocky that I won't be able to ride with just torchlight - it's tricky enough in daylight. I haven't seen a truck or bus for hours so probably no chance of hitching a ride. Camping on the road itself is out of the question in case any vehicles do come along. I should have stopped at the summit half an hour before, where there was a small flat that would have been ideal.

Mild panic starting to set in.

The Sun sets and it seems to be getting darker with every second. Just as I'm beginning to despair, I see a small flat on my left, overlooking the valley to the East, by now just a canvas of obscure shapes and ridgelines - I can make out the sillhouette of a large volcano in the distance. It is pretty close to the road and more conspicuous than I'd like, but it will have do in the circumstances.

I pitch the tent in the darkness. I have performed this task so many times that I could do it blindfolded. Similarly, I manage to get my dinner prepared and cooking away without the aid artificial light - it's amazing how much you can see in the darkness once your eyes are accustomed to it.

Eventually I switch on my headtorch, and see straght away that I'm not alone. There is a large spider apparently enjoying the warmth next to the stove, many small beetles are busily going about their business, and swarms of colourful moths are flitting around my head - a couple have already boiled themselves in my soup.

After dinner my thoughts turn to water. I should have enough, but it's always nice to have some in reserve. I prick my ears, and hear the faint sound of running water coming from the other side of the road. On going to investigate, I discover a small trickle of water flowing down the mountainside. Should be ok to drink. This is turning out to be a pretty good campsite after all.

Though I am still concerned that the tent is visible from the road. I doubt that there will be any ignoble persons passing by, but to be on the safe side I remove the reflective guy-lines and hope they won't be needed later in the night.

5am. Suffocating heat. The equatorial Sun has risen and is now cooking me alive inside my warm sleeping bag. Half-asleep, I quickly fumble around to unzip myself and get outside, where I am greeted by the sight of the sun rising above the volcano, and the mist clearing to reveal an immense expanse of forest descending toward the selba in the distance. I can't find any shade from the intense Sun so, after a quick breakfast and a wash from the trickle of water across the road, I am on my way again.

Twelve hours of daylight left in which to find my next resting place.

Back in Peru

2008-12-03T09:07:00.000-08:00

Lucho's Casa de Ciclistas in Trujillo. There were 5 other riders staying at the same time as me so space was a bit tight but it was nice to meet some fellow tourers and exchange stories and advice.

Limatambo

Moments after this photo was taken, he answered a call on his mobile phone.
Inca baths at Tambomachay.Cristo Blanco, who looks down over Cusco.

The Sacred Valley, seen from the Ollantaytambo citadel.

There were many school groups visiting Cusco at the same time as me, and for some reason they all wanted a photo taken with me. I should have charged 1 Sol a picture like the locals do.
The summit of Huaynu Picchu.

The same place 7 years earlier.

More government terror in Colombia

2008-11-22T17:02:00.000-08:00

Earlier this year the Colombian army kidnapped 11 young men from a poor Bogota suburb. A couple of months later their bodies were discovered in a mass grave near the Venezuelan border. The reason: to inflate success figures in the fight against 'terrorist' rebel groups. Hundreds more extrajudicial killings are under investigation. See http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7709073.stm.

The government has finally bowed to pressure to dismiss a number of army personnel, though criminal procedings seem unlikely at this stage. And it is a fair bet that President Uribe won't be organising nationwide marches with free music concerts to protest against these kidnappings, as he did to stir up public discontent at those carried out by FARC.

Chicha

2008-11-17T15:10:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the best thing about this adventure has been the people I've met. Riding an unusual bike into a village off the beaten track you do get some hostile/suspicious stares, but on the other hand it can be a real ice-breaker, and I have been able to socialise with a diversity of people, despite my normal shyness and poor Spanish.

This afternoon, for example, I was a quarter the way up a 1,500 climb, struggling with the steep gradient and the intense Andean sun, when I passed a group of people sitting under the shade of a straw canopy at the front of a mud-brick house just outside Limatambo, and drinking what looked like turbid fruit juice. They invited me to join them and, with my throat as dry as a (insert preferred idiom here), I didn't hesitate. One of the women poured me a glass of the beverage from a large plastic petrol can, explaining that it was chicha, made from fermented maize. It is a drink originating from pre-Colombian times, and it is a daily ritual for many indiginous people to gather in the afternoons to enjoy a few glasses. Of course they waited until my glass was half empty before explaining that the preparation involves someone chewing on the maize (saliva helps the fermentation). There wasn't much I could do except shrug my shoulders, offer a toast, and accept a top-up.

Faced with a choice of continuing the steep ascent, or staying and hanging out with this friendly group drinking chicha, I opted for the latter, hoping I'd be able to find somewhere to stay in the village. A few of them didn't speak Spanish, only Quechua, but the others were able to translate. And my concerns about finding somewhere to stay were short-lived. Within half an hour I'd been offered a room in a finca just outside the village.

(Later I wondered whether the chicha tradition would survive. In Colombia, the government has introduced strict hygiene laws for the production of panela (a sugarcane drink), under pressure from agri-businesses keen to shut down small-scale producers, and now soft drinks like Coca Cola are slowly replacing the tradititional beverage (see http://benjaminball.blogspot.com/2007/06/aguapanela.html).)

However, not all my meetings have turned out so well. Last week in Trujillo I met a couple of guys who said they were from Lima and were in town with their salsa band for a festival. We went for lunch and then to a bar on the outskirts of town, where one of their friends joined us. After a while, one of them asked me if I could exchange some Soles for US dollars for them, as they were continuing on their tour to Ecuador (where the dollar is the official currency), and they couldn't get a good exchange rate at the bank or from local money changers, whereas I, with a foreign ATM card, could withdraw US dollars from a local ATM (and they would even pay my transaction charges). There was no way I was going to go to an ATM with them, and I flatly refused, at this point realising something was amiss.

He subsequently told me he collected foreign banknotes, showing me some from Vietnam and Cambodia, and asking if I had any Australian money. I lied and said no, and showed him instead a Colombian 20,000 Peso note (worth about $10 or 30 Soles) that I've been trying to get rid of. He offered to buy it, but said he only had a 100 Soles ($33) note on him, and so suggested exchanging it for the 20,000 Pesos plus 70 Soles. I again lied and said I only had 40 Soles on me, but he said that I could give him the rest later and handed me the 100 Soles note. I took one look at it and saw that it was a fake.

It was now very obvious that they were trying to scam me by exchanging fake notes. I felt a bit stupid to have spent the previous couple of hours with these guys believing their story, and that they were just interested in my company, but I was quite happy with my riposte: I handed the 100 Soles note back, saying I wasn't sure if it was genuine or not, announced that I had to go and meet some friends, thanked them for the beers (implying that they could pick up the bill), and hurried away. (In retrospect I think they may have seen me coming out of the bank earlier when I'd gone to change some money.)

Incidents like this make me more cautious about opening up to the people, but will not stop me from trying. I guess that in popular tourist towns like Trujillo you are more likely to be targetted and should be more guarded.

Llamas and volcanoes

2008-11-09T13:30:00.000-08:00

One evening in Baños while eating dinner in my hostel, Jose, a Quichua artist from Quilatoa, turned up with a collection of his paintings and carvings that he was trying to sell. I liked his work, but didn't want to add to my payload, so asked if we would be able to add to the artwork on the bike, and he agreed.

So I turned up the next morning at his home/workshop/studio and left the bike with him for the day, a little concerned about leaving it in the care of someone I hardly knew. My fears seemed justified when I went to collect it at the agreed time of 6pm and there was no sign of him. After waiting half an hour I went back to the hostel and found him waiting for me - he thought he'd surprise me by delivering it to me in person. I was very relived and also very happy with the work.

I wondered how he and his family survive - it takes him about a day to produce one piece of work, and then he spends the evenings visiting various hotels and hostels trying to sell them to local and foreign tourists. He wan't much of a salesman, just seemed to want his work to sell itself, and hadn't made a sale in over a week when I first met him. He said they were better off than when he'd worked as a farm labourer in his village, though he's concerned about President Correa's planned crackdown on ambulantes (street vendors).

Photos - Recorrido al Oriente

2008-11-01T09:43:00.000-07:00

Wonder if this would make a good tourer. The lack of gears may be a problem.
Thank Mary I made it to the top of the Papallacta Pass (4,080m).

Hotel Sumaco (National Park between Baeza and Tena)

Crossing the Rio Napo to the jungle town of Misahuallí. The Amazon is 1,000 or so kms downriver.

Cheeky monkeys. After stealing my water bottles, they set to work on the pannier.

One of the many tunnels along the 'Waterfall Way' from Puyo-Baños.

Fabric softener

2008-10-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

A few years ago a good friend of mine, a very successful investment banker, and I were discussing the relative merits of capitalism and communism, and he was telling me these stories of surplus and inefficient production under the Soviet economic system (where most production was under state control).

But since then I've begun to ask myself if the neo-liberal system of free market capitalism and economic freedom and deregulation is any more efficient in balancing consumption and demand with the means of production (labour, resources, machinery etc.) and, more importantly, doing so whilst sustaining a happy, healthy, and equitable society, and a habitable environment.

Consider an everyday supermarket shelf product: fabric softener. Millions of bottles of this chemical cocktail are produced every year, consuming vast amounts of natural resources and energy in their manufacture, packaging & transport, contaminating wastewater, consigning tonnes of plastic bottles to landfill, and adversely affecting the health of consumers (http://www.ourlittleplace.com/fabric.html). And what's more, global sales are increasing as the growing middle classes of developing countries aspire to 'western standards of living'.

Is having soft clothes a worthwhile justification for depleting our planet's ever-dwindling resources and contaminating our fragile environment, when one considers that, for millions of years prior to this product's introduction, humans were able to live without fluffy soft clothes? And especially when there is a natural product - ordinary vinegar - that does just as good a job of softening fabrics as the chemical product, and does so at a fraction of the cost and without the same levels of resource consumption, waste, health risk and environmental contamination? (Fabrics feel less soft after washing because of detergent residues binding to the fibres. As detergents are normally chemically base/alkaline, then any mild acid, such as vinegar, added to the rinsewater will react with the detergent to produce salts that are easily dissolved and rinsed away. In fact there are many other household products for which there exists a cheaper, safer and more natural alternative, see http://www.safersolutions.org.au/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=1&Itemid=136.)

Despite all this, millions of people are still willing to spend large amounts of money on chemical fabric softeners every year. Why? The simple answer to this question is 'capitalism'. Chemical companies, just like all other corporations, are expected/obliged by their shareholders, not only to make a profit every year, but to make a bigger profit every year in order to maximise dividend income and capital growth. To serve this growth, new products are developed and brought into the market. It is inconsequential to a company and its shareholders whether or not a new product benefits society in any useful way whatsoever, or what impact it has on the environment and health. The only thing that matters is that the company is able to manufacture the product at the lowest cost possible, and to conjure up enough demand to be able to sell it at the highest price and in the highest volumes possible.

How does a corporation create high levels of consumer demand for an essentially useless, inferior or overly expensive product? It uses highly skilled psychologists known as 'advertising consultants' to develop marketing campaigns that will make so many people think that they need to buy the product, that doing so becomes a social norm. Then it sits back, lets human habit take over, and watches the profits roll in.

Likewise, costs are minimised by placing the pursuit of profit above any duty of care to society and the environment, for example by exploiting workers and natural resources as far as regulations will allow - although governments can always be persuaded to relax regulations by bribing them with 'campaign contributions' or, thanks to free trade, they can be avoided altogether by moving production/waste disposal to other countries.

Arguably there are many useful products that have been developed through the capitalist/neo-liberal economic system (iPod?). But can not human ingenuity and invention exist without being driven by greed? Was the wheel invented in the pursuit of wealth?

In any case, the neo-liberal/capitalist system is inherently doomed. It is predicated on indefinite and exponential economic growth, and therefore on ever increasing levels of resource/energy consumption and waste production. But the Earth's resources are finite (we have already used over half our oil reserves) and its ability to assimilate waste products is limited (we are already beginning to suffer the consequences of pumping too much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere). At some point, in the very near future, we will have exhausted the Earth's resources to such an extent that, not only will we lack the means of production for further growth, we will lack even the means of survival. (Furthermore the system is inequitable because, invariably, the fruits of economic growth are enjoyed by the rich, while the poor continue to struggle.)

But none of this matters to today's corporate leaders. Their huge salaries and obscene bonuses depend only on the next financial quarter's growth. And even if they don't achieve the results expected of them and are forced to step down, their failure will be rewarded by their boardroom buddies with equally obscene golden handshakes and guaranteed pensions.

The financial crisis we are witnessing today, although more a consequence of inadequate financial regulation than of resource scarcity, is just a small taste of the problems the world faces in the near future. A complete rethinking of the global political economy is urgently needed. While the invisible hand of the free market arguably does a more efficient job of matching production to demand and providing consumer choice than, say, the Soviet system, much of this demand is artificially and unnecessarily generated through advertising - as in the case of fabric softener. And the cost in terms of resource/human/environmental exploitation is unsustainable, socially undesirable, and way beyond our means to repay.

What does this have to do with a cycling tour of South America? Nothing really. Just something I wanted to get off my chest, although I note that many people in Colombia and Ecuador do appear to have unreservedly and unquestioningly embraced the household products that multinational chemical companies, in their pursuit of global growth, have convinced them that they can't live without.

Panacea

2008-10-09T16:31:00.000-07:00

With unemployment in Colombia around 12%, more than half the population in poverty, and not much of a welfare system, people hatch all kinds of schemes for making a few extra pesos. For example, you can rarely take a bus in Medellín without someone getting on and trying to sell you something: sweets, packs of biscuits, fruit, CDs of special Fathers' Day songs, DVDs, medicines, toys... you get the picture.

The usual modus operandi is (1) Board the bus, jumping over the turnstyle so not having to pay the fare. (2) Move through the bus, handing out your wares to every passenger. (3) Return to the front of the bus and give a 2-4 minute speech about your hardships, and the merits and outstanding value of what you're selling. (4) Move through the bus a second time retrieving your wares, or payment from those who want to keep them. (5) Give the driver his cut, jump off the bus and await the next one. I found it curious at first how most passengers would accept the product being handed out, even if they had no intention of buying it - politeness I suppose - but soon found myself doing the same.

I heard a great story of a guy who got on a bus, handed out blister packs of tablets, and proceeded to reel off a list of diseases and ailments that they could be used for. When he did his second pass through the bus, an elederly male passenger drew him aside and asked in a low voice, 'Can they be used for impotence as well?', to which the vendor replied, 'Si señor, certainly!'. The passenger bought two packets.

PHOTO COMPETITION!!

I need a photograph to accompany this story. Please submit entries via email before 31 October. The sender of the winning photo will win a packet of 24 blue miracle tablets which I'm assured will treat just about anything.

Photos - chivas and frailejones

2008-10-04T16:21:00.001-07:00

The amazing Santuario Las Lajas near Ipiales. Apparently someone a few years back was walking home from the pub and saw an image of Mary on the wall of this deep gorge. So naturally they built a cathedral inside the gorge, with the rock face where Mary was seen forming the back wall.

Rural public transport in Colombia, the chiva. These brightly painted, wooden buses can negotirate the steepest, muddiest, roughest roads you'll ever see. Quite handy if you're trying to ride up a steep, muddy road in the rain.
There was a recent referendum in Ecuador over changes to the constitution that will make for a fairer society. It was overwhelmingly supported, though rich landowners opposed it so much that they turned the walls of their haciendas into political billboards.

While indigenous farmers were in favour.

Australia has giant fruits along its highways. Ecuador has prehistoric animals.

El Angel's Millenium Monument.

Climbing up to El Angel Ecological Reserve, at this point I was starting to struggle for breath and still had another 100m to climb.

The extraordinary frailejones of the El Angel páramo (grassland). They have soft furry leaves (the locals call them rabbit ears) and flowers like small sunflowers. The whole area is a haven for wildlife, I saw wild rabbits, hummingbirds, owls and eagles. And the amazing thing was I had the whole place to myself (apart from the policeman in the ranger hut).

Glacial lake, the water was crystal clear but at 3,800m proably a bit cold for a swim.

In the clear dawn air you could see for miles in every direction, I think this is Volcán Chile, about 30km away.

Walking along the lakefront at dawn, I was startled to see this huge búho (prob. a Great Horned Owl) staring at me from its perch about 8m away and making a noise that sounded like a mix between a hoot and a gargle. It must have measured 0.5m head to tail.

Balmer - El Angel's maths teacher, taxista, bakery owner, photographer, and all-round nice guy - tries my bike out for size.

Hasta luego, Colombia!

2008-10-01T14:06:00.000-07:00

As I crossed the border into Ecuador, I stopped to reflect on my four months in Colombia, and amongst all the wonderful memories of the mounains, the food, the villages and the coffee farms, it was the warmth and friendliness of the people that stood out. A few examples.

While I staying with Nati's aunt in Medellín, I used to take the dog for a walk every morning and afternoon. There was a lady, Judith, who lived a few doors away and always seemed to be pottering around in front of her house. I often stopped to talk to her, she was very friendly but a bit of a chatterbox and it was difficult to get away somtimes, so much so that I'd sometimes cross the street to avoid her. When I took the dog for a walk for the last time before leaving, I stopped to say goodbye, and when I returned home half an hour later, she was waiting on our doorstep with a bag so full of chocolates, sweets and other goodies that I had to give half of them away as I couldn't carry them all.

Riding from Manizales to Santa Rosa, a guy on an old racing bike pulled up alongside me and we got chatting. His name was Fernando and he was returning home from his job in a bakery. We rode together for about an hour and, as we were approaching his village of Chinchina, he first stopped at a fruit stall to buy us some grenadillas, then invited me for lunch with his family. When we arrived at the house I realised they were not the wealthiest of families . There were three rooms - kitchen, dressmaking workshop and one bedroom where he, his brother and his sister all slept. So I felt a little guilty when I was given the largest lunch. Even though I wasn't that hungry, they were watching me so expectantly that I forced myself to finish everything, even the frijoles with the disgusting bits of pork fat in it. After lunch, Fernando insisted on accompanying me to Santa Rosa, where I was able to repay at least some of his kindness with some fruit shakes and cakes.

Heading toward Santander de Quilchao, I had been warned a couple of times to avoid the villages of Candelaria and Villa Rica because 'they were full of Afro-Colombians and I would probably be robbed'. Well, as I was approaching Villa Rica, there was a big storm approaching and I was feeling hungry so I decided to stop there to get somthing to eat while the storm passed over. It was indeed a mostly Afro-Colombian community, and it was the friendliest place I'd been in all my time in Colombia. Just about everyone I passed smiled and greeted me (I tended to get quite a few menacing stares in other places), one guy bought be a coffee, and I had three people offer to put me up for the night. In retrospect I should have stayed, Santander was nowhwere near as welcoming.

And then of course there were Nati's family and friends in Medellín, who went out of their way to make my stay there enjoybale and make my submersion into Latin American life an easier one.

Whom should Colombians fear more: The FARC? Or their own Government?

2008-09-23T10:33:00.000-07:00

Reading local and international media reports about Colombia, it would be easy to believe that the country's problems revolve around of a bunch of Marxist, drug-trafficking guerrillas (mainly the FARC) engaged in a prolonged terror campaign of kidnappings and bombings against a democratically elected government, and that peace will only be achieved through their annihilation.

In fact the country's problems go much deeper than that. While recent increases in security spending and neo-liberal economic reforms have meant that the middle and upper classes are enjoying unprecedented levels of security and prosperity, two-thirds of the population now live in poverty, thousands of peasant farmers continue to be forcibly displaced from their land due to the insatiable greed of wealthy landowners, agribusinesses and drug traffickers (Colombia has the second highest rate of internal disppalcement in the world, after Sudan). Minorities such as Indigenous people and Afro-Colombians are generally the worst affected.

So how can a democratically-elected government get away with ignoring the needs of the majority of the population, and serving only those of the rich minority? Well, the government is dominated by two parties, the Liberals and the Conservatives, but there is little to choose between them. They are both made up almost exclusively of white economic elites, whose first priority is protecting and enhancing the wealth of the upper classes, while the rest of the country's population languishes in poverty. They both support a neo-liberal economy that makes it easy for local and foreign corporations to exploit the country's poor even further.

Anyone who challenges the two party system and the inequitable wealth/land distribution is likely to be silenced. In the past the government/army did its own silencing, but these days, to save being accused of human rights violations, it subcontracts this work to right-wing paramilitary organisations. Between 3,000 and 4,000 subversives (including journalists, environmentailists, trade unionists) continue to be murdered every year.

Actually a Liberal Presidential candidate, Jorge Eliécer Gaitán, did once make the mistake of proposing radical reforms in land distribution, social justice and political participation. He was assassinated in 1948.

This failure of democracy goes some way to explaining why some in the popular movement chose a path of armed rebellion, leading to the formation of guerrilla groups such as the FARC in the 1960s. They have had some success in taking control of large parts of the country, though some of their methods are questionable, especially the bombs which usually kill innocent people, the very people they are fighting for.

Meanwhile, large landowners, drug traffickers and agribusinesses started to create their own private armies, the paramilitaries, to help them to acquire more land through the forced displacement of peasant farmers, to fight the guerrillas, and generally to silence any dissent now that their friends in the government couldn't be seen to be doing so. Of course the government, army and media turn a blind eye to the actions of these groups. In fact there is widespread collusion between them and the army.

The current government, led by 'Liberal' President Álvaro Uribe, has declared all-out war on the FARC (his father was killed by them). The military budget had been massively increased thanks to a war tax and millions in aid from the U.S., for whom the spending can be justified as part of their Global War on Terror (previously it was justified as part of their War on Drugs and, before that, their War on Communism). In exchange, the U.S. is allowed to send in crop dusters to destroy coca crops, contaminating the environment and drinking water supplies.

But even in if the guerrillas are one day finally defeated - and this is unlikely considering Colombian and world history - the more serious problems in the country will remain: the millions of people being forcibly displaced, the two-thirds of the population living in poverty, the repression of Afro-Colombians and Indigenous people, the human rights abuses...

Papaya

2008-09-01T11:53:00.000-07:00

There is a saying here, 'no des papaya' which, translated literally, means 'don't hand out papaya', but essentially means that you shouldn't make it easy for someone to take advanatage of you in some way. (I first heard the saying during a bushwalk back home in the Blue Mountains, when we were climbing out of a canyon and I jokingly offered to carry my friend Ben's backpack as he seeemed to be struggling, whereupon Nati, his Colombian wife, advised me 'no dar papaya!', meaning that he might just take my offer seriously.)

Another way you might be 'offering papaya' might be to make it easy for a pickpocket to get his hands on your wallet, as I did the other day in Armenia. I had taken a bus from my base in Salento to Armenia for a physio appointment and, after arriving at the bus terminal, I waited for a local bus to take me to the medical centre. When my bus arrived and I stepped aboard, the guy in front of me dropped some coins and spent a while picking them all up, blocking my entry and backing into me all the while. I realise now his accomplice behind me would have been trying to rob me, but didn't succeed that time.

So then the same thing happened when I went to get off. As I was moving toward the back door, the same guy dropped a load of coins and bent down to pick them up, blocking the exit, and again backing into me forcing me back against the accomplice. I must have sensed something was going on because I did a subconscious pocket check as I was getting off the bus and noticed my wallet was gone. Fortunately I was able to get back on the bus before it pulled away and confront the pickpockets asking them to return my wallet. They looked hesitant until two old ladies proceded to give them such a ferocious earbashing that they handed it back and fled. I never carry much cash in my wallet here (I have a separate pouch for larger amounts and cards etc.), but it was still a good reminder to keep my wits about me and not to 'dar papaya'.

Photos - Zona Cafetera, Colombia

2008-08-24T15:46:00.000-07:00

I think this was built to channel stormwater to prevent landslides. It reminded me of a terraced Inca settlement.Los Nevados National Park

Camping at 4,200m. So cold.

Hotsprings at Santa Rosa

Salento, my home for the last week

In the Jardín Botánico near Armenia

Sustainable urban transport in Medellín?

2008-08-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

When I first arrived in Medellín, my first impressions were of noisy traffic, diesel smoke and horrendous congestion. Some subsequent research told me that 58% of the city's air pollution comes from road traffic, and that ambient noise levels often exceed 90dB (far above the WHO guidline of 65dB). Not a great example of a sustainable transport system, I thought. But after having lived there a couple of months, I learned that there are at least a few progressive initiatives implemented or underway to tackle these problems, ones that other cities around the world - including my hometown, Sydney - could learn from. However, serious problems persist and progress in some areas, e.g. fuel quality and bus accessibility, remains woefully inadequate.

Public transport
Despite the growing number of cars and motorcycles, this remains the primary mode of powered transport.

Medellín has a modern metro system that would be the envy of many cities (in a comendable act of foresight the land corridor was reserved back in the 1950s, 40 years before contruction started). The services are rapid, reliable and frequent. There are also two metrocable (cable car) lines serving some of the poorer, and very densely populated, suburbs ranging up the steep sides of the valley.

You never have to wait long for a bus. The high population density and patronage levels justify frequent services, and routes are serviced by a large fleet of mid-size buses, rather than a smaller number of larger buses. (I have always thought Sydney's exclusive use of larger buses to be inefficient, because their larger capacity means less frequent services and, in off-peak hours, they are often virtually empty. I guess fewer buses means fewer drivers to pay.) However, many of the buses are old and emit plumes of black smoke, and even the newer ones do not appear to have good emission control. Buses are not accessible by prams and wheelchairs.

There is a project underway to construct a number of express bus transitways that link with the metro. This will make bus transport significantly quicker.

There is an enourmous taxi fleet - about every other car is a taxi. These all run on CNG (but can switch to petrol for steep hills). Like Sydney, there are few taxi ranks - instead they cruise the streets looking for passengers, which is somewhat wasteful, but means you never have to wait long for one.

Medellín's fare structure is simple - 90c for a trip anywhere on the metro/metrocable network, and 70c for a bus journey to anywhere in the city. They even have a smartcard system, something that Sydney hasn't managed in 10 years and millions of dollars of trying. If I were to make one recommendation to Sydney's public transport planners, it would be to simplify the 100s of different fare products available (or even better, make all public transport free).

Congestion control
Because of high congestion levels, the municipal government introduced a congestion reduction system, Pico y Plata (Peak and Plate). All private cars and 2-stroke motorcycles are barred from the streets during peak hour for one day of the week. The day depends on the last digit of the vehicle's licence plate, so it is easy to enforce. (It is also more equitable than congestion charging schemes suich as London's because it doesn't depend on ability to pay (assuming one can afford to run a car/motorcycle in the first place.))

Fuel standards
These currently lag behind European benchmarks. The sulphur content of the diesel (the predominant fuel) is 4,500ppm, compared to 30ppm in Europe. A new diesel refinery is being built that will be able to supply cleaner diesel from 2010 onward. Clearly the government has been dragging its feet in mandating cleaner fuel from suppliers.

Provisions for walking and cycling
Pedestrians are poorly catered for. There are few pedestrian zones, few ramps at intersections, and pathway surfaces are uneven. Pedestrian crossings are not respected by motorists.

There are large numbers of cyclists. There is no compulsory helmet law to discourage cycling, though many still wear them. There are a few cycle paths, all segregated from general traffic. When a cycle path crosses a road, bikes normally have right of way, and this is usually respected by motorists. When cycling in general traffic, drivers will normally wait patiently behind for a safe passing opportunity, a refreshing change from the unpleasant and aggressive attitude of many Australian motortists. (Could this have something to do with the importance of competitive cycling here? Colombian cyclists often feature well in the Tour de France - they have some of the highest and steepest mountains in the world to train on.)

Every Sunday, the northbound carriageway of the main freeway running the length of the city is closed to motorised traffic to make way for a ciclovia, when thousands of people, including many young children, take the opportunity to cycle, skate, walk or run in a safe environment. (Imagine the uproar from the NRMA, Miranda Devine etc if the M4 were to be closed to motor vehicles every Sunday!)
Despite these efforts, air pollution remains a serious problem. I met a number of asthma sufferers and I had some mild episodes myself for the first time in years. People seem to accept foul air and traffic noise as a normal part of city life. It is not clear whether it is an issue the government takes seriously. Investment in public transport is more about providing access for poorer suburbs, while the main objective of Pico y Placa is congestion reduction (and therefore productivity increase).

Some indication of where the government's priorities lie comes from the recent annoucement of plans to build a new major highway through the city. Of course there isn't any more land available, so what do they plan to do? Build it along the top of the river! (Much like the NSW government has been building tunnels under Sydney to sate its road-building addiction).

Obviously neither authority has yet realised that building more roads is not a long-term solution to congestion, as it only induces more traffic and congestion in the future. And, furthermore, it entrenches the economy´s dependence on road transport and therefore oil, a rapidly dwindling and ever more expensive resource. Surely it would make more sense to invest in transport systems that are more resilient to fuel scarcity, which by their nature are also less damaging to human and environmental health & wellbeing.

Some facts about Colombia

2008-08-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

In Colombia they breed cows with two legs longer than the others so that they that can graze on the steep slopes.
The roads are so bendy that they hand out sick bags on buses.
You can fit 25 people in a 1950s pick-up truck.
You are not allowed to enter a government building wearing shorts or sandals.
Street protests and demomstrations are organised by the goverment.
Backpacker hostels cost more than hotels.
All radio stations play the national anthem at 6pm every day. People don't generally stop what they're doing and stand to attention.
There are military checkpoints about every 15km on major roads.
There are no warm showers.
It is customary to play popular music at a volume just above that which your stereo can handle. Especially on Sunday evenings.
Every Sunday morning Medellín's main freeway is closed to motorised traffic to make way for a mass bike ride / skate / run. (Imagine the uproar if the same thing happened with the M4.)
It is impossible to get a decent mug of coffee.

Planes, goats and ice cream

2008-07-26T12:16:00.000-07:00

The goat chomps away, taking no notice of the plane coming into land 20, 30 metres overhead. On the other side of the fence, however, there are excited cheers and waves from the crowd; a couple of young men flap their arms, pretending to give landing signals to the pilot.

We are at the Southern end of Enrique Olaya Herrara Airport's runway. This is the smaller of Medellin's two airports, used for commercial flights to Antioquia's regional airfields, and also by the private aircraft of wealthy businessmen, politicians and, no doubt, narcotraficantes.

Every afternoon, large crowds gather here to watch the planes come and go. Ice cream vendors arrive on their bikes to keep them refreshed. Like everywhere in the city, armed soldiers are never far away. A usual highlight is when a jet aircraft winds up its engines in preparation for take-off, when the majority cling to the fence, enjoying the sirocco-like blast of hot, dry air.

Many are regulars: unemployed or retired men who come to pass the time, catching up with friends. Teenagers and young couples make up the numbers. At weekends, the crowd swells to a hundred or more, including many families on their weekend outing. It is like a festival, with even more opportunistc food & drink vendors appearing.

None of the people that I spoke to had ever been inside an aeroplane before, let alone flown in one. Air travel is the reserve of the wealthy. Even amongst the middle-classes, most would travel to, say, Bogotá by bus (a 10 hour journey on twisting mountain roads), rather than by air. Yet another reminder of how fortunate we are to enjoy cheap air travel.

El Musico (The Musician)

2008-06-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

Elger is a classically trained guitarist from Bogotá. He ekes out a meagre living serenading the many South American tourists, and handful of gringos, who converge on the outdoor restaurants of Cartagena´s Plaza Santo Domingo every evening. Despite his classical background, most of his song requests are for popular music. He charges 50c per song and, by working seven days a week until 4am in the morning (Colombians like to party late), he can usually earn enough to pay for rent and food.

Like the other street musicans and hawkers, he needs a thick skin to deal with the 100s of replies of ´no gracias´ he receives from those he approaches.

I was an obvious target, sitting on my own as I was, looking like I´d just rolled into town an hour or two ago (which I had). I politely declined his offer to play me an Eric Clapton song, but he sat down anyway and asked me what kind of music I did like. When I said classical and Latin American folk, a wide, more genuine, smile appeared on his face and he began to play from his classical repitiore, assuring me that it was for free. We talked for a while, and he explained to me how it was impossible to make a living as a guitar teacher in Colombia. On learning that he had been a teacher, I asked if he could give me a lesson one day. He agreed, naming a price of $10 for an hour, which sounded quite reasonable.

And so he arrived at my hostel the next afternoon with guitar slung over his shoulder. We sat down in the courtyard and he played a piece that he said he was going to teach me in the next hour. I thought he was being a bit optimistic, given that it involved bar chords up and down the fretboard , and I had rarely ventured beyond the 3rd fret before, let alone attempted a bar chord. Add to this the fact that my Spanish was about as good as my guitar playing.

Well, in that hour I learned more than I had in months of trying to teach myself, and by the end of the lesson I could play the first half of the piece. Not well, but recognisable.

Music certainly has an amazing power to transcend language barriers, but could it also help to reconcile Colombia´s many warring factions? This is what César López was thinking when he formed the Battalion of Immediate Artists Reaction, a group of musicians who play impromptu street concerts at former scenes of violence, with a message of peaceful reconciliation, playing guitars made from decomissioned guns. His website is http://www.cesarlopez.org/.

The Mall of America

2008-05-18T07:23:00.000-07:00

When you build a shopping mall with 520 stores over 3 floors taking up the area of a small town (4.2m sq. ft.), how do you ensure that enough shoppers visit it to make it profitable?

Put an amusement park in the middle of it, and an aquarium in the basement.
Build it next to an airport so that people can fly in from other cities to do their shopping.

Minneapolis's Mall of America, opened in 1992, was once the largest enclosed mall in the world. It receives 40 million visitors a year. Walking around it, you will encounter some store names 3 or 4 times. There are even a number of Mall of America merchandise stores selling souvenir t-shirts, mugs etc.

The heat produced by the lighting fixtures, other appliances and visitors/staff means that the air conditioning has to be used even when it is freezing outside. There is a light rail service linking the mall with the city and the airport, but it does not appear to be well patronised; there are ample parking spaces (20,000) and a large fleet of airport taxis.

There are plans to extent he mall from 520 to 900 stores.

Apparently guns aren't allowed in Mall of America.

Cornhole

2008-05-16T19:28:00.001-07:00

It's a cool Friday afternoon in Menomone, WI and it's the last day of term at Stout Lumberjack College. On footpaths all over town, cornhole boards, beanbags and crates of Miller High Life have been brought out onto footpaths, and the hours whiled away aiming said beanbags at said boards.

I have taken the Greyhound bus from Chicago to Menomonie to visit my buddy Jeff. (I had been told to expect some unusual company on the bus so, when I asked the guy next to me where he was from, I was not in the least bit surprised when he pointed to the sky and said 'up there with God'. Nor was I taken aback when he proceeded to rant incomprehensibly for the next two hours. I could have done without the overpowering smell though. Fortunately he got off in Milwaukee and his replacement, a 95 year old, was much better company; he even offered to buy me dinner at the layover!)

Over the weekend we join some of Jeff's friends at a cabin on Lake Wissota. And what do we end up doing? Playing cornhole. Of course.

1575 Michigan Avenue, Chicago

2008-05-16T18:55:00.000-07:00

The express train of globalisation does not even allow time to paint over the old signs of the businesses and buildings it consumes along its journey. I wonder what business Frankel & Giles used to carry out at their premises at 1575 Michigan. Music store? Fishmonger? Or maybe they sold doughnuts...

Bike Friday internal gear hub conversion

2007-05-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

For the benefit of other Bike Friday owners...

With a three week break staying at my Dad's place in North Carolina, I've been able to give the Llama a much needed overhaul (the dust from the Carretera had penetrated every tiniest nook and cranny). I also took the opportunity of having access to a well-equipped workshop to upgrade to an internal gear hub.

Originally the Llama had been fitted with an 8-speed cassette, and it required a long-cage derailleur to accommodate the low gear (32T) I need for fully-loaded touring. With a 20" rim this meant that the bottom of the derailleur and the tension pulley sat only a centimetre off the road surface, making it overly vulnerable to rocks and dust. Luckily the derailleur survived up until now, but I did have to bend it straight a couple of times, and I was constantly having to clean the chain, especially on unpaved roads.

One option to overcome this problem would have been to change to a short-cage derailleur, which would provide more ground clearance, but would have meant using a narrower-range cassette and eliminating my lowest gears. I decided instead to convert to an internal gear hub. These have become quite advanced in recent years, offering low maintenance and and an efficiency similar to that of a derailleur system, albeit with increased weight.

My first choice would have been a Rohloff Speedhub, a marvel of Germanic engineering with 14 evenly spaced gears and a whopping 526% range. However, at $1,100 it was more than I could afford. I opted instead for a Shimano Nexus 8-speed hub. It has received good reports and is a lot more economical, but the gears aren't so evenly spaced, and the overall range is only 307%, meaning I needed to retain the front derailleur, which in turn meant I needed a chain tensioner to take up the chain slack.

The first step was to get a new rear wheel built. For this I chose a Velocity Taipan BMX rim (my existing Alex rim had only 32 holes and the Nexus has 36) and ordered appropriately sized DT spokes from Bike Friday. I also ordered a Shimano Alfine RadidFire shifter (a regular 8-speed shifter won't work), a set of no-turn washers for vertical dropouts, a Shimano Alfine chain tensioner, and an 18T sprocket (providing a range equivalent to an 11-34T cassette).

Fitting the hub to the bike and connecting the shifter was a relatively straightforward case of following the instructions. The main difficulty was in fitting the snap-ring that secures the sprocket.

On fitting the chain tensioner, I found that I couldn't align the pulleys with the sprocket, even using the supplied spacers and with the sprocket dished inwards. I ended up fitting a Shimano Sora short-cage derailleur, which has similar dimensions to the chain tensioner but, being a regular derailleur, has a wide range of lateral movement so it can be correctly aligned. It is a bit heavier though. I'm surprised that an Alfine chain tensioner isn't compatible with a Nexus hub, as these are sibling products in the Shimano range.

The final problem to overcome was that, because there is no rear derailleur shifter/cable in this set-up, I had to use the H adjusting screw to position the derailleur in line with the sprocket. This screw wasn't long enough to bring the derailleur far enough inward, so I had to replace it with a longer one (Dad's pot of old screws to the rescue!).

The next step will be to convert from a triple (30-42-52) to a double (30-42) chainring, as the short-cage derailleur can't handle a jump from 30T to 52T, and anyway I found the 52T mostly redundant, only being able to use it going downhill when I prefer to coast and conserve energy anyway. This will give a chainring to sprocket ratio of 1.66:1, a bit lower than the 2:1 that Shimano recommends to avoid pushing too much torque through the Nexus's mechanism. Time will tell if this is an issue or not.

Bike and equipment

2006-08-11T12:37:00.000-07:00

The bike

Bike Friday Pocket Llama Nexus 8sp
The painting was done by my friend Marie in Asheville, using an Australian dot-painting style, later added to by Ecuadorian artist Juan.
Cane Creek suspension seatpost
Brooks leather saddle
The most comfortable saddle I've ever had (once it was broken in). Maybe I should have got the sprung version and then I wouldn't have needed the suspension post.
Bike Friday custom racks front and rear + spare bolts
Cycle computer
Flat pedals with cages
Clipless/SPD pedals would mean carrying another pair of shoes.
Schwalbe Marathon Plus 20x1.75 tyres
Heavy but virtually puncture-proof.
Schwalbe Mow Joe 20x1.95 folding tyres (for off-road and emergency spare)
Very light and flimsy with no puncture protection, but were fine. Lasted about 1,200km.
Cable lock
Prevents opportunistic theft, but could be easily cut with cable-cutters - I rely more on the bike being so unusual that it won't interest thieves.
Repairs/spares kit
Topeak multi-tool, tyre levers, pedal wrench, cable ties, 2 spare tubes, mini floor pump, tube repair kit, chain lube, grease, 4 sets spare brake pads, spare spokes, duct tape, rag, old toothbrush, cotton gloves.
2 bottle cage
Helmet with visor & neck shade
Rear LED light

Baggage

Ortlieb Bike Packer Plus rear panniers & Sport Packer Plus front panniers + security devices
Deuter handebar bag
Daypack + raincover (bungeed to rear rack)

Camping equipment

Vaude Taurus Ultralight
Less than 2kg, nice unconspicuous green colour ideal for wild camping, free-standing, just enough space and headroom for one tall person with gear (2 at a squeeze).
Thermarest Prolite 3 (regular) inflatable mattress + repair kit
Marmot Sawtooth 3-season -10c sleeping bag
Silk sleeping bag liner
Optimus Nova multifuel stove + maintenance kit
Runs on shellite/white gas, diesel & biodiesel, petrol. Fuel filter blocks easily, but seems to run ok without it.
1l pan, lid and panholder
Plastic bowl & cup, metal spoon, large pocket knife
3l water bladder, Katadyn Hiker water filter & purification tablets
Headtorch

Clothing

Scarpa hiking shoes (stiff sole so pretty good for cycling too), thongs
Thermals top and bottom, padded cylcing briefs, t-shirts, board shorts, pants etc
Down jacket (doubles as comfy pillow), waterproof jacket and pants
Floro wind vest, beanie, sun hat, bandana, cycling mitts and waterproof gloves
Small travel towel

Other items

Camera, mobile phone, iPod, USB key, solar battery/USB charger & spare batteries
Sunglasses (dark and clear)
Passport & wallet
Maps, compass & GPS
Earplugs, toilet trowel/paper, first aid kit, lighters & matches
Essential toiletries (razor, shaving oil, shampoo, tootbrush and paste)
Sun cream & lip balm
Books