After an early start, a manic border crossing, a change of bus and a military check point I finally coasted into La Paz, a pretty wee city nestled in a valley with an elevation ranging between about 3600 and 4000 metres. In this town the rich live at the low end.

No problem feeling lonely though as my new found Hungarian, Dutch and Australian friends whom I'd met in Peru were all in town.

  

No piligramage to La Paz is complete without partaking in the mountain bike ride down the worlds most dangerous road and hey it's all down hill isn't it?! So it was I found myself one of only two people standing round in shorts at 4750 metres ready for the start of the ride - the other short wearer was the kiwi guide on the second group. The first 20k's of the ride is on tarseal so was pretty fast and gave everyone an opportunity to get the feel of their bikes. It was on this section that I discovered that it was not all downhill with about 6k's of gentle rises proving real lung bursters at an altitude in excess of 10,000 feet! With that out of the way we moved onto the narrow gravel roads which sorted the group out a bit as people started to slow down, I on the other hand started passing and provided lots of entertainment for the other riders as I charged down the hill. At the end of the day it was a successful ride with no injuries, plenty of dust injested, a few close calls and a couple of cold beers at the end.

  

With La Paz under my belt it was on to Potosi to stay with John an old work mate from Peru now working on a project to build a new process plant which will clean up all the mine tailings from the adjacent hill which is full of silver and like a block of swiss cheese with all the tunnels dug in it which date back to the days of the conquistadors. At 4090 metres Potosi is apparently the highest city in the world and in its day was the largest silver mine in South America in the time of  the conquistadors, needless to say things are a lot quieter these days. So it was a relaxing weekend in Potosi catching up with John over a few drinks plus a bit of a tour of the area including a visit to some of the local hot pools which are infamous with the locals for the whirlpool in the middle which has claimed a few lives. Well we didn't find a whirlpool, just a few bubbles from the thermal activity below so I'm guessing they're probably not the worlds best swimmers although to be fair it is hard work paddling around in a pool at 10,000 feet!

 

Stowing my gear with John I did a little side trip to the east with a night in Sucre which is the old capital of the country and a nice one at that. The next day I opted for the 25 minute flight over a 20 hour bus ride and headed to Santa Cruz which is a warm little place at a nice low altitude of 400 metres. Whilst in town I went to the local zoo which is packed full of jungle wild life from parrots to pumas and the day I went loads of local kids who took a great deal of pleasure in tauting the big cats.

 

Before I knew it it was time to head back to the airport for my return flight. Now an Aerosur flight is something to behold at the best of times as the hostesses never seem to take their seats and manage to serve food and drinks to about 100 people during the 25 minute flight, a feat some airlines fail to do in twice that. The flight was going really well up to the landing where upon we fell out of the air with the pilot finally managing to get the plane to stay on the runway on his third attempt at putting the undercarriage through the wing. By this time I had noted how far we had progressed down the runway and began running through the emergency exit procedure in my mind as I prepared for the aircraft to run off the end of the said runway. Thankfully the emergency exits weren't required as through what little skill the pilot did possess and application of some very heavy braking we managed to stop before this occurred. So with with a ceiling panel or two dangling from the roof and even the hostesses looking a bit shocked we rolled to a stop outside the terminal. Not surprisingly no one clapped after this landing as they were probably still trying to work out if we had crashed or been shot down.

 

With one night left in Potosi it was time for a farewell dinner at one of the local establishments which just happened to have a live band.

Now upon my arrival John had introduced me to Caipirinhas, a refreshing spirit mixed with limes, sugar and ice which hails from Brazil. After a few jugs of caipirinhas we had conquered the dance floor and wooed the local ladies with our moves. The next morning was a different story though with John having a wee lie in and me nursing a dance injury. Fortunately for John he only had to go to work, I on the other hand endured the longest six hour bus rid over a gravel road of my life. So it was that I found myself in Uyuni, the jumping off point for the salar or salt lakes and quite frankly it doesn't really offer much more than that.

 

So having signed up for a three day tour we headed off into the blinding flat expanse of white which is the salar - if you wanted to break a land speed record this is definitely the place you would come. The local people still harvest the salt by hand and without sunglasses then package it up for sale around South America - I'm guessing the cataract rate is pretty high in these parts.

With the Salar done the remainder of the trip was spent driving across the barren expanse which exists above 4000 metres visiting various lakes and seeing hundreds and hundreds of flamingos, a real highlight for all those gravel road enthusiasts out there. The dip in the hot springs on the final day was fantastic. 

 

With my time running out quickly I felt the need for more Argentinian steak so set off on a marathon trip starting with a 5am jeep out of Uyuni and finally arriving in Salta at 1:30am the next day - trust me it was well worth the trip.

 

Next stop Central America

First stop in Peru was Lima, a familiar town from my time working here so it was off to check out a few of the old haunts and see what had changed. Whilst in town I also managed to take in a few sites including the national museum which is a pottery fan's dream.

 

After a couple of sleep in's and with clean clothes packed I headed to Huaraz, about 7 hours north of Lima nestled between the cordillera negro and blanca mountain ranges at just over 3000 metres. It was here that I found the best hostel in the world - La casa de Zarela. Thanks to Zarela's tips on places to go and people to see I soon settled into Huaraz life.

Part of my mission whilst in town was to go for a walk in the hills - well more like a leisurely stroll around the Santa Cruz trail with donkey's carrying my pack, tent erected on arrival and 5 star meals - not sure if I can do it any other way now! I seemed to be a bit of a novelty on the trail as the only guy in shorts - nothing unusual if you're an antipodean, although may be a little bizarre at 4750 metres.

I spent a few days recovering in Huaraz after completing the trek with a visit to the tepid rust coloured water of the natural springs and an appearance or three carving up the dance floor at the El Tambo discoteque.

Next on the agenda was a long weekend of great kiwi hospitality with the Dixon family in Lima who's numbers had increased by two since my last visit. Thanks Steve and Carmen - see you in NZ next year?

 

With difficulty I managed to push on for Nasca, famous for lots of lines and drawings in the desert best seen from the air. Whilst waiting for the order to board our plane I found myself watching what I hoped was not our pilot sit in the plane for ten minutes with the engine running between idle and red line - I´m guessing he was trying to figure out how to turn it off which he eventually succeeded in doing. Our pilot finally turned up and duely climbed into the plane, fired it up and we were off - I assume he figured the guy that had the problem turning the engine off had done the pre-flight. His mag check prior to take off was reassuring although the application of trim after take off suggested some type of drug may still be trying to work its way out of his system. The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful with our pilot managing to keep us within a few hundred feet of his planned flying altitude and giving us great views of the Nasca lines abeit some due to our low altitude!

 

My first visit to Arequipa in five years was a real surprise, the place had turned into a tourism mecca with tour agents lining the streets along with plenty of flash new restaurants, cafes and bars. Also pleasing to see was the restored cathedral in the Plaza de Armas as the last time I was here one of the towers was gone and the other was being held up with a miriad of scaffolding due to the earthquake in 2001.

Whilst in town I took a tour of the Colca Canyon area, what was the deepest canyon in the world but is now the third deepest after another two were found in the same area. The main reason for the trip was to see the condors which proved to be pretty spectacular as they rode the thermals some flying only metres overhead. Taking photos of a 3 metre plus wing span bird would seem to be a simple task but it did present a few challenges as they flew past at speeds up to 70km/h! Thankfully there were only about 400 people there for the spectacle rather that the up to 3000 during the peak season!

 

My next planned stop was Copacabana in Boliva but upon arriving in Puno on the shores of lake Titicaca at 4am in the morning I found that the road was still blockaded by the locals who weren´t too happy with the government. So rather than sit around freezing my arse off in the bus station I decided an enforced stay in Puno was required and promptly found some accommodation with plenty of blankets!

 

Whilst in town I took a trip out to Taquila island on Lake Titicaca to see how the locals live - from what I saw and was told it seemed to be the peruvian equivalent of a mormen community. Next stop was the Isla flotantes or floating islands - islands made of reeds which the inhabitants have to continually add more reeds to in order to replace the ones rotting away. It's a bit like living on a sponge as the island moves under your weight as you walk along. Commericalism has really hit these guys with twinkle twinkle little star being sung to the gringo's in three languages! Feel free to tip.

 

The general concensus among the travellers I met was that everyone wanted to get out of Puno. And so it was, onto a bus bound for the Bolivian border - cheap travelling and crap food by all reports.