Pikes on Bikes

The Lakes...at last

2012-02-05T14:20:00.000Z

With Haz out of action for a few weeks, I couldn't turn down an invite from her workmate Tariq to join him for a couple of days of hiking in the Lake District. Having somehow never been before, it was good to finally visit this pretty little corner of England.

Click on the picture below for some photos on Flickr:

A Short Walk in the Cairngorms

2011-12-18T23:56:00.001Z

Before heading back south for Christmas we set out on a three day hike in the Cairngorms. From the ski centre at Glenshee we clambered up past the ski lifts, away from the snowboarders and into a pristine snowy wilderness. A couple of camps and a string of Munros later we emerged back at the road at an icy Spittal of Glenshee. Here are some photos of the walk:

A Trip to the Tarf and Tilt Hills

2011-12-08T10:06:00.001Z

The morning after the first proper snows of the year we headed up the road to Blair Atholl and set off on a four day hike in the hills to the north. It proved to be quite good fun and we managed to snap a couple of cool photos with a borrowed little point and click camera:

Cycling to Scotland

2011-11-30T22:37:00.001Z

"But why would you want to spend all that time in South America when you haven't even been to Wales?" asked Neil's Gran when we made it back from the Andes. And while we thought the answer was rather obvious, she did have a point. We've both been to Wales at least three times, but neither of us know England at all well, so we decided to start putting that right with a cycle from Haz's mum in Oxfordshire to Neil's parents in Perthshire.

Click below for some photos and narrative on Flickr of the 15 day trip:

Nine things we learnt about our own country from this trip:

Cycling in Britain can be hard. Hills in England are outrageously steep; the weather in Scotland is always dreadful.
In November no-one's outside so interaction with locals is minimal. If you do manage to engage someone in conversation they'll most likely be friendly, cheery, polite and be able to talk at length about the weather.
The percentage of the population of rural Britain that come from ethnic minorities is approximately nil.
Wild camping in England is tricky. Houses are everywhere and all farmland is fenced off.
If you do find a spot to camp, no matter where it is you'll fall asleep to the sound of airplanes.
If you camp by a dead-end road to a village with 5 houses you can expect at least 50 cars to pass you between 16:00 and 20:00. Chto?! Where's everyone going?!
The cycle paths are pretty good. Assuming there is one going roughly the way you're headed.
Lichfield is a lovely place; Linton can lay claim to being the prettiest village in the country.
The importance of appreciating grey. An underrated colour of much beauty and numerous subtly different shades.

Some people we saw on the way

Our first night was spent in the picturesque village of Hornton with the Ficklings - cousins Sophie and Carla here feeding the guinea pigs before school.

The second night we called in on Sylvie with whom we cycled in Patagonia last year. Since that time her and partner Ben have married and though he was away on business we did get to meet Gaspard the cute new chubby-cheeked addition to the family.

In Hebden Bridge a friend had put us in contact with Gayle and John who host touring cyclists through Warm Showers. We didn't think we knew them, until we arrived and realised we'd met at Haider's in Pakistan in 2008.

Pikes (snr) left England for Perthshire 9 days after us, but fortunately their speedy Skoda whisked them up to Scotland in no time, so we didn't arrive to an empty house. On the way up the M6 they made a quick detour near Penrith to drop us some cake.

Some signs we thought were kinda funny

Stats:
Time getting from Moreton to Tulliemet - 15 days
Distance - 959km

Rainy cycle days - 4
Maximum speeds - 73.9kph (H), 65kph (N)
Longest day - 111km, Kippen to Tulliemet
100+km days - 2
Punctures - 1 H, 0 N

Total amount climbed - 12,247m
Maximum altitude reached - 594m
Most climbed in one day - 1,461m
1000m+ climb days - 6
Steepest climb - 25%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 0

Accommodation - 4 beds, 10 wild camps

Some favourite photos from our South America trip

2011-06-25T16:26:00.021+01:00

(Click on photos for a full-size image on Flickr.)

1) Cycling to Incahuasi

2) Descending from Abra Pircas Negras to the Chile/Argentina border

3) Lagunas Verde and Blanca

4) The classic shot on the old road to Yolosa

5) Iguazu Falls

6) Cayman in the Esteros del Ibera

7) The amazing road up Chacaltaya

8) Dawn at Los Laguitos

9) Volcan Tunupa from Isla Incahuasi

10) The valley between Lago del Desierto and El Chalten

For some more photos from our South America trip, here's a link to an album of all our favourite photos.

Rumbo a Buenos Aires - La Rioja, San Luis, Cordoba, Sta Fe, Buenos Aires - Argentina - 21/2-20/3/11

2011-04-11T19:04:00.003+01:00

After so long in the mountains the final month of our South America cycle was a relaxing warm-down from the challenges and strains of the Andes. For a few days we raced across La Rioja, covering large distances on flat, tarmac roads. But the initial excitement at going over 20kph wore off and boredom set in. More and more as our trip has progressed we’ve realized that for us the joy of cycle touring comes from a feeling of adventure, exploring unknown corners, and meeting people in villages which rarely see an outsider.

Having been tormented by the winds so often in the Andes we toyed with the idea of simply going with the wind at every junction we encountered, but with only southerly winds this year we were more likely to end up in Peru than Buenos Aires, so quickly abandoned the plan. Instead we took out our maps, traced a rough route southeast on small roads, and after a night camping in the centre of Chepes, a small town which hosted a surprisingly loud rock concert until dawn, we returned to bumping along on dirt tracks in search of something more interesting.

We were soon coming across small, poor villages which have been left behind by the modern world. Settlements with no electricity or running water, basic houses with earth floors, and reduced populations due to migration following more than a decade of droughts in the region. On these farm roads wildlife abounded. Iguanas, snakes, hawks, gulls, armadillos, cuy, even the odd flamingo and swan. In some areas we were constantly pelted by grasshoppers, panicking at our approach.

Interrupting our flat riding was the hilly province of Cordoba, and cycling in its Sierras proved a real treat. We took some truly beautiful routes, many of them old roads which had been left to decay and which we mostly just shared with local mountain bikers. There was so much climbing and descending to do that we were up and down more than a whore's drawers, amidst fresh greenness which was reminiscent of a Europe we'd spent too long away from.

After Cordoba the monotonous scenery of the pampa began. Endless fields of soya and maize, thousands upon thousands of Argentine cattle gorging themselves on succulent pampa grass, a grid of overcrowded and dangerous (to cycle) paved roads with a maze of dirt farm tracks in between. We cycled 1,000kms and climbed less than 1,000m, which came as a relief to Haz and her gears as her middle chainring had worn out, and any hills resulted in painfully slow gear changes and torrents of industrial language worthy of any Wayne Rooney goal celebration.

As we'd learnt near the start of our trip however when cycling to the Andes, the lack of interesting scenery was made up for by the incredibly friendly, warm hearted and community minded locals. In Las Acequias, Ameghino, Cañuelas and others we met so many kind people and made many good friends.

The easy, flat cycling gave us plenty of time to zone out and reflect on all the experiences we've had this past year and a half - the fantastic people we've met and spectacular roads we've cycled. After 21,000kms we rolled into Cañuelas, checked in at the firestation and packed away our bikes, knowing that never again will we take for granted such luxuries as a comfy bed, a decent shower, being indoors in bad weather, or being able to drink a bottle of tasty fresh water. We won't forget an old lady we asked for water in a small village in western Bolivia. Filling up our bottles with a big toothy grin on her face she proudly told us how lucky we were as her village was blessed with delicious agua dulce, much tastier than any of the water found in neighbouring villages. How right she was.

Despite all this thinking time on the bikes we still haven’t settled on a definitive plan for the next few years. But this cycling lark is addictive. In the immediate future we'll be throwing ourselves into some of our favourite hobbies: searching for jobs and a place to stay; and then maybe we'll try and cheer ourselves up by dreaming up plans for another trip.

If (when) we do set off with the bikes again we'll let you all know. Thanks for reading!

Cycling stats:
Days getting from Villa Union to Cañuelas - 28 days
Distance - 2,001km
Time cycling - 128hrs
Average speed - 15.6kph
Cycle days - 23
Rainy cycle days - 3
Maximum speeds - 56.0kph (N), H ? (lost her cycle computer last month)
Unpaved roads - 1,262km
Longest day - 122km
100+km days - 7
Punctures - 3H(19), 4N(14)

Total amount climbed - 8,000m
Maximum altitude reached - 2,236m
Most climbed in one day - 1,606m
1000m+ climb days - 3
Steepest climb - 19%

Number of cycle tourists we met en route - 0

Accommodation - 7 beds, 11 camps, 10 wild camps

New beers drunk - Cordoba

Hiking Stats:
None

Photos:

Videos:
To see recently uploaded videos from our loop on the Puna in February and from our month heading to Buenos Aires, click here.

Drinking Petrol, Fearing Death, Getting Robbed, Overwhelming Generosity and other tales from a loop in the Andes - Catamarca & La Rioja Argentina, Region III Chile - 30/1-20/2/11

2011-03-04T18:32:00.014Z

We'd cycled Fiambala to Villa Union before - it's a nice easy three days. This time however we wanted to go the long way round, crossing Paso San Francisco into Chile, then back over Pircas Negras to Argentina. Add in a couple of other passes, some border posts, a mine or two, some beautiful scenery and that's pretty much all you'll find on the first 650kms of this route.

Resolving unfinished business with this loop was one of the main reasons we began heading south again from Peru. Back in May we'd had grand plans to complete the route in reverse but had retreated after only a few days, tails between our legs, in the face of a huge storm. This time we thought we'd fare better - the weather, we assumed, couldn't be as bad again, we are super acclimatized now, and as both borders are open in summer it would be possible to do the trip legally.

But our plans were nearly floored less than an hour out of Fiambala. As we left town we filled a Paso de los Toros bottle with petrol, and as it didn't fit in her usual petrol bottle cage, H placed it in her usual drink bottle cage. It's bright blue, it smells slightly different to water, we didn't think we'd have a problem. But that ignored the fact that we've become creatures of habit, we do bike things on autopilot. At the first break H reaches down, grabs the bottle in her water bottle holder, unscrews top, starts glugging away...oops. Fortunately her brain kicked in before actually swallowing any of YPF's finest Fangio Super, but still not the best start.

And things got worse before they got better. At this stage of our trip we're going soft, so rather than lugging three weeks of food on the three day climb to Las Grutas we sent most of it ahead on a camioneta. Unfortunately the driver had left the sacks in an unmanned refugio overnight, and when he returned all our tastiest provisions had been pilfered. It was the first time we've been robbed of anything all trip.

Luckily local legend Jonson Reynoso came to the rescue by doing a Tesco run and sending us new supplies; while we waited for these we headed to Incahuasi. We'd been drawn to this huge, eyecatching mountain in January on our trip to El Arenal, but at Las Grutas each afternoon all that was being drawn to it were clouds and storms. The mornings were still nice though, which foolishly led us to attempt the climb, something we were almost made to regret. Three days and five lightning storms later we returned from the volcano slightly traumatized, having summitted then spent the scariest hour of our lives in the tent as lightning crashed all around us.

Back at Las Grutas our new supplies were waiting for us, and when we realized that our toilet paper had also been stolen the police kindly gave us a roll of theirs. This was by no means the last donation we would receive in the following weeks. So generous were the road workers, miners, Carabineros de Chile and our very own Royal Navy (on expedition to Ojos del Salado) that we managed to eat far better than the porridge/crackers/pasta sludge diet we'd steeled ourselves for. (Just to prove the world is still a wonderful place, see the lists below of what we had stolen and what we were given.) The RN group were being guided by John Biggar, author of the Andes climbing guide we've been religiously using for the last year, so it was exciting to meet him, and also to be offered all the expedition leftovers. Mmm, tinned strawberries and cream...

It would be fair to say Chile hasn't been our favourite Andean country of the trip. It'd trail in fourth, and though we've entered it eight times we've never stayed long. This however was our favourite sortie into the country - the people were great and the scenery on the small roads we took through Tres Cruces National Park was fantastic. The usual frustrations with Chilean immigration and the SAG "we steal all your fresh fruit, meat and vegetables" men put only a tiny downer on things.

After spending two days at Pircas Negras immigration being cooked for by the Carabineros and watching their TV, (which didn't show enough football, but did show far too much Yingo (one of the world's worst TV programmes - it bewilders us that every Chilean we've met appears to be addicted)) Thurday arrived, the man with the passport stamp appeared, and we were free to cross our last border of the trip and cycle back into Argentina.

A couple of days later we were at Portezuelo de Laguna Brava, site of our turn-around last May, this time in fog and sleet, and were soon descending the 3,000m to Villa Union. Our experience on Incahuasi had really shaken us, so we decided to shelve plans we had for other mountains and, having been in the range continuously since November 2009, that we were done with the Andes for this trip. Our last month before returning home we'll take it easy, cycling quiet unpaved routes across the Pampa to Buenos Aires and our flight back to the old country.

Cycling stats:
Days getting from Fiambala to Villa Union - 21 days
Distance - 863km
Time cycling - 81hrs
Average speed - 10.7kph
Cycle days - 14
Rainy cycle days - 2
Maximum speeds - 63.9kph (H), 57.6kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 406km
Longest day - 123km
100+km days - 1
Punctures - 2H(16), 1N(10)

Total amount climbed - 9,125m
Maximum altitude reached - 4,767m
Most climbed in one day - 1,451m
1000m+ climb days - 3
4,000m passes crossed - 4
Steepest climb - 20%

Number of cycle tourists we met en route - 3 (Silvano (68), Italy; Miranda and Maurice, Holland)

Accommodation - 3 beds, 2 camps, 16 wild camps

New beers drunk - none (we didn't pass any shops)

Hiking Stats:
Days of hiking - 4
Distance - 27kms
Height ascended - 2,500m
Peaks climbed - Incahuasi (6,641m)

Photos

Videos
New videos here

What we had stolen
1.5kg chocolate
2 packs biscuits
20 packs Tang
500g raisins
1 tin tuna
2 bags parmesan
500g milk powder
1 toilet roll

What we were given

Argie police - toilet roll

Road workers - apples, Coke, bread

Miners - biscuits, chocolate, pop, raisins

Royal Navy - Boxes of cereal, cereal bars, sweetcorn, olive oil, tuna, strawberries, cream, milk powder, sugar, potatoes, English tea (yes!), bencina blanca, figs, prunes, peanuts

Carabineros - cooked for us for 2 days, and: frankfurters, dozen eggs, bread, salami, tomatoes, onions, avocados, apples, tomato paste, garlic

French tourists - tomatoes, bananas, ham

Argie motorcyclists - tinned veg, pate, a beer, a cap, a keffiyeh.

The Puna - Catamarca, Argentina 1-29/1/11

2011-01-29T23:39:00.007Z

January in Catamarca turned out to be the proverbial ‘month of two halves’. The first week we carbo-loaded in Fiambala, tucking into as much steak, ice cream and wine as we could. We called it training. The next 17 days we headed to the Puna for some exercise. We were expecting to stay longer, so took 35kgs of food, calculating that this would last us at least 21 days. Being unable to carry such a weight along with all our trekking gear we employed the services of a couple of mules for 3 days to lug our kit from the road to a base camp near El Arenal at over 5,500m, and were at, or above, this altitude for 10 days.

We lost a few days to high winds before embarking on what on paper looks like a climbing spree, though in reality we spent most of the time twiddling our thumbs in our tent. The only conventional entertainment we had with us was an MP3 player with loudspeaker and a pack of cards; and on arrival at El Arenal we realised the speaker had no charge. This didn’t really matter though when we discovered that the MP3 player didn’t work at altitude. It was less of a discovery really than a reminder, as it had happened before, but for some reason we’d forgotten. (If anyone can explain the science behind this please email us – the MP3 wasn’t cold, it just didn’t work with lower air pressure.) So we took to amusing ourselves with more simple entertainments. Taking our pulses each night (see graph below) became a highlight of our non-climbing days, and the administering of eye drops to counter the dry Puna climate became something to look forward to. Fortunately (in a perverse kind of way) lots of our kit began to break, so the mending gave us something to do in quieter moments.

When the weather improved we climbed Volcan del Viento (6,028m) and two days later Ojos del Salado (6,892m). The second highest mountain in the Americas was the highest we’ve ever been, and on the climb we passed by the highest lake in the world at 6,390m. This was about the 4th ‘highest lake in the world’ we’ve come across on our travels, but this time we think it’s a valid claim. We climbed Ojos with Arkaitz from Spain and Lisandro from Rosario, and spent a happy hour on the summit in perfect conditions, looking down on all the other volcanoes far below. When the pair left us at camp the next day we went the rest of our eight Puna days without seeing another human being, and for seven of these days the only signs of life we saw were one buzzy insect, one jumpy insect and a small patch of lichen. It’s a lonely old place up there, and we were in love with it.

Next we climbed Medusa (6,144m), then moved south a few kilometres to climb Cazadero/Walter Penck (6,684m). Finally we headed to Nacimiento (6,478m) for our 5th summit in nine days, before walking out to the road. Arriving at the tarmac in the late afternoon we assumed we’d be back in Fiambala that evening, but this was before we found out that we are the worst hitchhikers in the world. Most Argie drivers would pick up a man in a mask wielding a chainsaw, as long as he stuck his thumb out, but these two tired looking hikers had no such luck. Admittedly there wasn’t much traffic, but still we were frustrated to have to wait 23 hours by the roadside until some nice Porteños took us back to town.

And there we settled back into our lazy Fiambala existences. Hanging out at Ruth’s place, getting information about mountains from Jonson ‘Mr Puna’ Reynoso, eating steaks at Audrey’s OhLaLa, watching far too much ‘Law and Order’ on TV. Janne Corax turned up, so it was good to catch up (we last saw him cycling into a huge storm in La Rioja in May) and hear about his latest swashbuckling Asian adventures. He also gave us a couple of English books to read – the first we’ve seen since August – which was a good thing as we were both rapidly losing the ability to spell.

We like this sleepy little town a lot. If there’s a place we can see ourselves moving to in South America it’d likely be La Paz. But we’d have a summer pad in Fiambala.

Pulse Graph

Bars are our sleeping altitude (left hand scale), Green line is Haz's pulse, Red line is Neil's (right hand scale)

Photos

Cycling stats
None.

Hiking Stats:
Days of hiking - 15
Distance - 190kms
Height ascended - 8,500m
Peaks climbed - Volcan del Viento (6,028m), Medusa (6,144m), Nacimiento (6,478m), Cazadero/Walter Penck (6,684m), Ojos del Salado (6,892m)

Pedalling to the Puna - 29/11/10-1/1/11

2011-01-04T23:10:00.145Z

After Peru we were tired and even skinnier than usual, so it was 10 days after reaching Aplao near Arequipa before we set off up the tedious hill from San Pedro de Atacama to the Paso Jama and Argentina. The sensation of tarmac beneath our wheels was slightly alien, but only going at 4.5kph was by now not altogether unfamiliar.

We had climbed over one 4,800m pass and were heading for another when we suffered our first real mechanical breakdown of the trip. Until now our Long Haul Truckers have given 15 months of faithful service, much of it on some interesting 'roads'. But on this perfect, flat tarmac Haz's rim gave way, developed a 10cm long crack, and the metal had begun cutting up her rear tyre and brake pad before we stopped and realized that we had a problem. At first we shook our heads, then scratched them. Should we hitch forward and miss crossing the Andes, or head back to San Pedro?

Fortunately we were on the busiest road we'd been on in a while, and distressed gringa waving bike wheel took no time in being rescued. Within a few minutes Haz was whizzing back downhill to San Pedro with a group of soroche-suffering German tourists, whilst Neil whiled away the day then camped by the side of the road at 4,600m.

It turns out not all bicycle mechanics know how to build a wheel. When Haz returned early next morning we realized the mechanic had mixed up the spokes, so the new wheel was off-centre and the brake couldn't be connected. Oh well it was only a 1,000m descent to Susques with plenty of nice tailwinds, so a second brake was more a luxury than a necessity... In Susques Haz spent a few hours rebuilding the wheel correctly.

We were delighted to be back in Argentina. Land of steak, ice cream, bakeries, charming people and terrible haircuts. Unfortunately Susques appeared to have none of the these, except the haircuts, so we didn't stay long. An often sandy three day ride led us under La Polvorilla viaduct and to the foot of Nevado Queva. We began worrying that maybe we'd remembered the land of silver with rose tinted spectacles. This road surface was as bad as any we'd cycled in Bolivia and Peru and we had eaten an awful lot of corned beef since our arrival, but no steak.

We climbed Nevado Queva up a valley teeming with donkeys, which was a nice change from the usual vicuñas. We adore the delicate, soft, ginger camelids but were seeing so many of this apparently endangered species that it was nice to see some plain old donkeys. And to be serenaded at night in our tent by a herd of braying donkeys was simply something beautiful.

Our next stop was Argentina's loneliest town, Antofagasta de la Sierra. 230km from tiny Pocitos to the north and only the equally tiny El Peñon for company on the 200kms of road to the south. We were expecting a long slog on a terrible road, so went prepared with 5 days water and food, but in the event it was easier than expected and we were in Antofagasta in 3 days, arriving a few days before Christmas.

We hadn't yet heard a hohoho, been subjected to any Christmas tunes (gracias a Dios) or seen any Christmas decorations so on arriving in town we weren't exactly filled with festive spirit. Luckily however, we turned up just in time to receive a Christmas hamper (well, plastic bag) of food and booze being handed out by the mayor to all residents.

We spent Christmas Day in the traditional manner, by going for a nice walk. Opening our pressies at 6,000m on the summit was the highlight of the hike up Sierra Laguna Blanca - a rarely climbed (and as we found out quite dull) mountain in Catamarca.

After 3 weeks in Argentina we finally found what we were longing for in the small town of Belen. A bakery at the entrance to town, an ice-cream parlour on the plaza, a restaurant that served up delicious and huge steaks, some good local wine, super friendly locals...at last we felt like we were back! We also found a bike shop where we could buy 2 new rims (one of Neil's also broke) and a mechanic who could build us a decent wheel.

Hogmanay was spent watching locals setting off fireworks out of their hands in Tinogasta, before being woken in a drunken daze by an earthquake 4 hours into the new year. Then a short hop on New Year's Day took us to Fiambala, base for expeditions to the Puna de Atacama - the area with the highest concentration of 6,000m peaks anywhere outside Asia. And that's where we're headed for most of January - leaving our bikes in town and going off with rucksacks to see what we can climb climb climb.

Cycling stats:
Days getting from San Pedro to Fiambala - 34 days
Distance - 1,165km
Time cycling - 94hrs
Average speed - 12.4kph
Cycle days - 18
Rainy cycle days - 2
Maximum speeds - 70.0kph (N), 61.0kph (H) (H would like to point out the only reason for this rare 'win' for N is that this was a day she had no rear brake, so she didn't want to go too fast)
Unpaved roads - 619km
Longest day - 112km
100+km days - 2
Punctures - 0H(14), 0N(9)

Total amount climbed - 11,780m
Maximum altitude reached - 4,836m
Most climbed in one day - 1,856m
1000m+ climb days - 1
4,000m passes crossed - 5
Steepest climb - 18%

Number of cycle tourists we met en route - 2 (Phillipe and partner, Switzerland)

Accommodation - 15 beds, 1 camp, 17 wild camps, 1 on transport

Hottest temperature cycled in: 37C
New Chilean beers drunk - Kross Amber Ale
New Argentinian beers drunk - Norte Porter

Hiking Stats:
Days of hiking - 5
Distance - 76kms
Height ascended - 5,010m
Peaks climbed - Nevado Queva (6,155m), Sierra Laguna Blanca (6,008m)

Lots of fascinating new stats on the updated stats page.

Videos
We also found fast internet in Belen, so have uploaded 8 new videos.

Photos

Hunting High Peruvian Passes - Puno, Arequipa, Cuzco, Apurimac - 2/10-28/11/10

2010-12-03T14:05:00.008Z

Prior to Peru we’d been on a number of high roads, but hadn’t actively sought out the highest passes, instead concentrating on what we thought would be interesting and quiet routes through the Andes. In Peru however we decided to try and cross all the highest passes we could find, and with this in mind took an incredibly circuitous route, which, glancing at map, you'd be forgiven for thinking had been planned by a kid with a Spirograph.

After rounding the quiet east shore of Lake Titicaca and cycling a few days on the old road from Puno to Arequipa we climbed to nearly 4,900m before descending into the Colca Canyon. From there we cycled to Espinar, then for the next month were mostly on small, empty roads which we’d found on Google Earth and not on any of our maps. So far our experience is that Peruvian map makers are a lazy sort, and doing any kind of research on smaller roads appears to be beyond them.

Initially our idea was to cycle the length of Peru finding passes, but with the rainy season fast approaching we soon curtailed our plans, and with each lightning and hail storm that hit us in the mountains revised southwards how far north we would go. Cowering under a tarpaulin on an all-too-flat plain near Imata being battered by large hailstones and hoping the lightning would give us a wide berth we decided Ecuador was too far, and that maybe turning round at Cajamarca would be more sensible; a day waiting it out in a restaurant in Chalhuanca as the snow fell and the lightning crashed outside made us think that maybe the Cordillera Blanca would be far enough; pacing it down from the Abra Patapampa (probably the highest paved pass in the Americas) as a storm fast approached made us think we’d be quite happy with only getting as far as Lima. A few days later as we were caught in the open at 4,600m and sat shitting ourselves in our tent for two hours as a huge lightning storm passed over we decided to turn around at Abancay. That was plenty north enough.

After this spell of bad weather we had a 10 day rest, and spent the time in Cuzco and the sacred valley with Neil’s parents. Their visit coincided with our old friend Lorenzo Rojo also being in town, so we were able to see him again and hear about his adventures in the four months since we’d cycled together. Refreshed, we returned to our bikes in the small village of Caylloma and spent the next few weeks cycling the best routes of our whole trip.

Conventional wisdom has it that the highest road passes in the Americas are either the Abra Huayraccasa (4,985m) in central Peru, or the Abra del Acay (4,966m) in northern Argentina, depending on what you count as a road. However this ignores the huge network of minor roads that snake through remote areas of the Peruvian mountains. As we cycled from Caylloma to Quiñota via Arcata and then Abancay to Cotahuasi via Antabamba we went over seven 5,000m passes, with the highest being the 5,130m Abra Azuca. A couple of these passes were on bad roads, but most of them were on good, unpaved surfaces which felt like ‘proper’ roads to us, and were definitely better than the road over the Abra del Acay which we’d crossed months before.

Both these routes took us through the tiny village of Culipampa. The first time we were there the locals were surprised to see us as few if any cyclists had passed that way before. The second time they were even more surprised to see us again, though at least it gave them an answer to the question (which we always find odd at the time, though now we write it it doesn't seem that strange at all) we are always asked as we pass through Peruvian villages ‘When are you going to come back?’

From the deep valley at Cotahuasi we climbed one further high pass on the flanks of the beautifully massive hulk of Nudo Coropuna (at 6,425m Peru's fourth highest mountain) before descending over 4,700m in a day to make it back to the paving at Aplao. Having no time to take an interesting route south to Chile (being in a hurry to get to the Puna de Atacama in the good climbing season), and no desire to cycle any section of the Pan American Highway, we jumped on a bus to Arequipa. We thought about stopping a day in Peru’s second city, but, having been tear-gassed during riots there in 2002 we thought we were unlikely to have as much fun second time round, so continued on buses straight to Tacna, then Arica and San Pedro de Atacama in Chile.

In answer to all those Peruvian campesinos, I think we'll be back in Peru very soon. The fantastic people, the seemingly unlimited opportunity for exploring small high-altitude roads, the fabulous scenery, the colourful traditional clothing, the Chinese restaurants, the wobbly tables in every Chinese restaurant, the chicha morada (maize Ribena)…we’ll soon be missing it all. Apart from the vicious dogs and the lightning and hail, of course.

Cycling stats:

Days getting from Achacachi to Aplao - 58
Distance - 2,104km
Time cycling - 198hrs
Average speed - 10.6kph
Cycle days - 34
Rainy cycle days - 8
Storms - Lightning - 8, Hail - 4, Snow - 2
Maximum speeds - 60.5kph (H), 57.6kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 1,707km
Longest day - 133.79km
100+km days - 2

Punctures - 4H(14), 1N(9)

Total amount climbed - 32,683m
Maximum altitude reached - 5,130m
Most climbed in one day - 2,025m
Most descended in one day - 4,733m - Near Abra Viraco (4,940m) to Aplao (625m)
1000m+ climb days - 15
4,000m passes crossed - 25 (7 > 5,000m)
Steepest climb - 22% (near the top of Abra Huacullo)

Number of cycle tourists we met en route - 2 (Kokoro from Japan, Byron from Canada)
(Also we met Mateo from Mexico and Nina from Germany while in Cuzco)

Accommodation - 43 beds, 0 camps, 15 wild camps
Hottest temperature cycled in: 34C
Coldest temperature cycled in: -6C (through the snow near Chalhuanca)

Peruvian beers drunk - Quara, Arequipeña, Pilsen Callao, Cusqueña Rubia and Negra, Cristal, Club. I can recommend none of them.

Photos

Ups and downs in the Yungas, La Paz, Bolivia - 3/9-1/10/10

2010-10-15T18:28:00.005+01:00

After three months on the altiplano we were missing trees, so decided to head east and down to the Yungas. First we had to cross Abra Tres Cruces, a magnificently placed pass cutting straight through the snow covered rocky peaks of the Tres Cruces range. From above the snowline we descended through sandy coloured rock, then eucalyptus and pine to Inquisivi. Everywhere around was green, wonderful green.

From Inquisivi we had our first view of a real yungas road: straight down in zigzags to a river, then straight up to a pass on the other side of the valley. This became the pattern for the following days - if we were up we knew we'd soon be heading down, and if we were down we knew we'd be in for a fun climb. Occasionally we'd reach a town perched on a ridge which reminded us of an Indian hillstation - Darjeeling or Mussoorie only with fewer cream teas, less rubbish and usually serving broaster chicken rather than momos.

After 5 days climbing and descending we decided we were ready for a real challenge. Spending the night at La Florida's disused school at 1,650m we knew La Paz was within a day's cycle, though the 4,671m pass of La Cumbre stood in the way. Leaving at first light at 06:00 to give ourselves the best chance of making it we climbed virtually non-stop for 55kms, arriving, dead in our saddles, at La Cumbre at 17:00. It was getting cold and dark so we quickly descended to La Paz and celebrated with a pizza. On the walk home Neil nearly fainted in the street. In 4 days we had climbed 8,600m, descended nearly as much, and were pooped, so an invite to Linda and Raul's Casa de Ciclistas to sleep in a comfy bed, have our first decent shower in months and hear about life in Bolivia was a real treat.

After recovering from the South Yungas we headed into the North Yungas. We expected it to be much the same, but were to be surprised. The North was far more exploited, and though there were still huge areas of pristine forest, there were also large sections that had been cleared to grow bananas or coca, or to graze cattle. It was the burning season before the rains arrived, so every day we cycled past fires or patches of smouldering land, just waiting for some coca to be planted. We later read in a magazine that of the 13m hectares of jungle that will be cleared in the world this year, 700,000 are in Bolivia. It was enough to make any conservationist cry.

Between the towns of Guanay, Mapiri and Consata we were in a hot, bug infested world that neither of us found very appealing. Many of Harriet's days were spoilt by the torment of biting insects, while many of Neil's were spoilt by Haz's resulting foul moods. The locals lived off growing coca and panning for gold in the rivers, and were much less conservative than on the altiplano. Far more comments were directed our way as we sweated past - most of the time it was an encouraging 'Bravo', but often it was an annoying 'Gringo! Gringo!' while a couple of times we were shocked to be sworn at!

Added to this, for the few days after Guanay the road was one of the toughest we've ever cycled. The surface was regularly bad, and the inclines were insane. 20% slopes seemed to come along all too often, and on a number of occasions we climbed for kms at a time at an average of 10%. It was hard work, and little wonder that many of the locals clearly thought we were loco.

We made it to touristy Sorata and from there it wasn't too hard a crawl back up to the Altiplano and the shores of Titicaca. We felt like we were home again, though our 'home' for a few nights in Achacachi turned out to be a hospedaje-cum-funeral parlour!

Cycling stats:

Days getting from Eucaliptus to Achacachi - 29
Distance - 1,041km
Time cycling - 106hr
Average speed - 9.8kph
Cycle days - 17
Rainy cycle days - 1
Maximum speeds - 59.1kph (H), 58.2kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 801km
Longest day - 92.58km

Punctures - 1H(10), 0N(8)

Total amount climbed - 24,709m
Maximum altitude reached - 4,729m
Most climbed in one day - 3,178m! (nearly killed Neil)
1000m+ climb days - 13 (of which 11 were over 1,500m)
4,000m passes crossed - 4
Steepest climb - 22%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 1 (Michael from Leeds)

Accommodation - 22 beds, 0 camps, 11 wild camps
Hottest temperature cycled in: 38C (climbing 20% hills near Guanay - nearly killed both of us)
New Bolivian beers drunk - none (very poor, I know)

Photos

Pagina Siete Article

2010-10-05T22:12:00.001+01:00

Here's the output from the interview that Raul kindly arranged for us with one of Bolivia's national papers.

La Paz and Oruro, Bolivia and Region XV, Chile - 1/8-2/9/10

2010-09-17T23:40:00.009+01:00

Since 2002 La Paz had been one of our favourite world cities, so we were both glad to find that in 2010 we were still enchanted by its charms. We spent a week sorting out a bike and some kit for Peter, and resting. Resting, that is, apart from an unforgettable day of cycling from town at 3,700m to the old ski station at Chacaltaya - at 5,260m probably the highest road in the Americas that is transitable by normal car. The glacier has melted and there's no longer any snow or skiing to be done, but cycling up the incredible switchback road, to the cheers of French tourists, was about as much fun as we've ever had in a day on the bikes.

To our surprise and delight Peter arrived in one piece, and then acclimatized to the altitude faster than we'd dreamed of. Apart from the odd nose bleed (most of which seemed to end up in the book he read during his stay and then gave to us on departure) he seemed totally unaffected by suddenly being deposited at 4,000m. We hadn’t really expected this and had assumed he'd be at the back when we were climbing hills, not waiting for us at the top!

After a trip to Cholita wrestling (think WWE featuring Bolivian ladies in traditional costume) we left for Viacha, and then the quiet road to Charaña and Chile. With a third person, we were hoping not to have to camp much (three people in a 'three man' tent generally doesn’t work), so aimed for a village every night. With little tourist traffic on this route however there was, accordingly, little supply of accommodation. This meant we were put up in some interesting places. In Viacha we managed to persuade the Padre to let us sleep in the old nunnery; in Achiri we slept in some council buildings; in Tacora the village hall. In Caquiaviri we only just avoided a night in the police station cells when the hospedaje owner returned home from her fields late in the day.

As we neared Chile the scenery improved and the climbs and days became harder. After an exhausting day we arrived in the border town of Charaña after dark as a result of Neil's rear tyre blowing up a few kilometers out of town.

Our two days in Chile took in a couple of high passes and some of the steepest road gradients we've come across all trip. But also some gorgeous scenery in the Parque Nacional Lauca. We didn't meet many people, but all we did meet were super-friendly - a nice change from the reserved folk (the 'British of South America' as we'd been told a few times) we'd encountered in the south of the country. I suppose this is understandable however as in the south, on the Carretera Austral, a cycle tourist passes every few hours, whereas up here on the altiplano it had been quite a while since any locals had seen a cyclist rattling past.

Crossing back to Bolivia through a landscape of deep blue lakes and 6,000m volcanoes was truly memorable, and we descended to Sajama National Park, put away our bikes for a while and pulled on our trekking boots. With Peter we climbed Parinacota (6,351m), and then we attempted Pomerape (6,282m) with a guide, leaving a tired Peter at high camp. The icy conditions however made this mountain too technical for us and we didn’t make it to the summit.

Peter’s enjoyable but brief visit was over all too soon and as he made his way back to La Paz (from where it was only about 15 different flights back to England), we rested a couple of days then headed for the big one – Sajama. At 6,554m this is Bolivia’s highest mountain, and it turned out to be a great 3 days, on the last of which we made it in nice weather to the summit before returning to Sajama village.

By now we’d spent over a week in the small village of Sajama, and though we loved the setting and the cheery people, the food was so boring that even Neil tired of it. So we rested only a day before setting off with the bikes for the fourth 6,000er in the park – Acotango. Getting to base camp at over 5,000m with 3 days of food and water plus our normal gear really took it out of us so we had a rest day before attempting the summit. Haz wasn’t feeling too well, so Neil spent this morning cycling (well, mostly pushing) alone up the mine road to a height of 5,509m – probably the highest either of our bikes will see this trip! In the night Haz was sick and we gave up on ideas of going for the summit, but then at about 07:00 she began to feel better and, deciding it would be a shame not to give it a try having expended so much effort to get to base camp, we set off to climb the mountain. It was a bit of a struggle for Haz, but after 4 hours we made it to the top and the best summit views of all the mountains in the park.

That was enough of mountains for a while, so we headed east across the altiplano. The quiet dirt road to Eucaliptus and the main Oruro-La Paz highway had little scenery of interest apart from a small pass we crossed in a snow shower (which, interestingly, was the first precipitation we’d seen in more than 3 months). Here we left our bikes and jumped on a bus to La Paz to fix one of Neil’s rims which had cracked – the first bike trouble we’ve had in nearly a year on the road.

Cycling stats:

Days getting from La Paz to Eucaliptus - 33
Distance - 813km
Time cycling - 77hr
Cycle days - 16
Rainy cycle days - 2
Maximum speeds - 81.3kph (H), 60.7kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 644km
Longest day - 86.51km
Punctures - 0H(9), 1N(8)

Total amount climbed - 9,861m
Maximum altitude reached - 5,509m (unloaded high point with bikes on Acotango); 5,061m (loaded high point with bikes on Acotango)
Most climbed in one day - 1,758m (unloaded - La Paz to Chacaltaya); 1,325m (loaded)
1000m+ climb days - 3
4,000m passes crossed - 6
Steepest climb - 19%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 1 (German)
Accommodation - 22 beds, 0 camps, 11 wild camps
Coldest temperature cycled in: -5C (leaving Tacora, Chile)
New Bolivian beers drunk - Paceña

Hiking Stats:
Distance hiked - 52km
Days of hiking - 8
Ascent/Descent - 6,220m

Peaks we climbed - Sajama (6,554m), Parinacota N summit (6,351m), Acotango (6,071m).

Photos

Potosi and Oruro Provinces, Bolivia - 12-31/7/10

2010-09-07T02:53:00.003+01:00

Our days in Uyuni were windy. Old people were blown over in the streets, market stalls didn't open, and as, like always, it was coming from the north west, it didn't bode well for our chances of cycling across the famous salar. The following afternoon we found ourselves in the middle of a world of white, huddled behind our bikes. We were sat in the centre of the Salar de Uyuni, the world's biggest salt flat, unable to advance any further into the gale. It'd taken 90 minutes to get the 7km from the salt hotel, but we'd now ground to a halt. Unable to put the tent up, we turned round and were back at the hotel in 12 minutes. Without pedaling.
The next day the storm was worse, but on the third morning there was an eerie silence when we woke at dawn - the wind had stopped!
We were soon off and whizzing across the perfect salt surface, enjoying its crunch beneath our tyres, and headed for Isla Incahuasi. It was a fun few days getting to Llica - cycling on a white lake, with only the distant mountains to add some colour to the scene.
A few days later, and on the Salar de Coipasa, we enjoyed an even more magical cycling day. The salt was a different texture and sparkled in the sunlight, as though a million sequins had been scattered on its surface. We saw no-one or nothing all afternoon, and, slowed by the wind once more, crawled into Coipasa village well after sunset by the light of a full moon.
Our route planning has taken on new dimensions since we entered Bolivia. Apart from main roads and towns, our 4 Bolivian maps are all very different. Villages tend to have more than one name. Roads on some maps don't appear on others. This has made navigation on the small unpaved roads we've taken a challenge. We've spent hours on Google Earth before setting out to remote areas, getting coordinates for villages, junctions and river crossings, so we can navigate with our GPS.
When we set out from Sabaya local people gave us varying accounts of the route to Sajama, and with few people to ask on the route we began using our GPS to direct us to waymarks. This had worked in the past, but soon we realised a straight line isn't always the quickest way between altiplano villages. It took a couple of 'shortcuts' which led down llama tracks, sandy tracks, into marshes or to impassable rivers before we learnt to stick to the 'main' track. This led us through quiet villages that rarely see a tourist, but all of which were furnished with the obligatory basketball court and full sized football pitch - including all hamlets not big enough to even put together a team.
Guided by the mountains (the triplets of Quimsachata, the Payachata twins and big old Sajama) in the distance we made it to Sajama Village, where we'd hoped to climb some of the volcanos. We ran out of time however and changed our plans - rushing to La Paz to meet Peter with a view to returning to Sajama National Park to climb with him.
After over 1,000km of gravel Bolivian roads, from near Sajama it was all paved road to La Paz. This gave us the chance to average over 10kph for a change, but the traffic was pretty terrifying. We came across one massive crash between two lorries, and spent 3 days nervously cycling in the hard shoulder.
Then we were in El Alto; the flat altiplano disapeared and the ground gave way to a canyon heaped with houses. We joined the hordes of minibuses cruising down the autopista - down down down into the vortex of La Paz. Then suddenly we all came to an abrupt halt, surrounded by feathers, sequins and brass bands. We had joined the back of the carnaval procession. Welcome to La Paz!

Cycling Stats
Days getting from Ollague to La Paz - 20
Distance - 1,035km
Time cycling - 84hrs
Cycle days - 16
Rainy cycle days - 0
Maximum speeds - 48.1kph (N), 47.0kph (H)
Unpaved roads - 746km
Longest day - 105km
100km+ days - 2
Punctures - 1 H(9), 0N(7)

Total amount climbed - 5,508m
Maximum altitude reached - 4,398m (Alto Tomarapi)
Most climbed in one day - 710m
1000m+ climb days - 0
4,000m passes crossed - 2
Steepest climb - 15%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 3 (all French)
Accommodation - 16 beds, 0 camps, 4 wild camps
Bolivian beers drunk - Lipeña, El Inca, Huari

Photos

Region II, Chile and South West Bolivia

2010-07-16T23:56:00.004+01:00

We stayed a week in San Pedro, where we were fortunate to find a room at the Casa de los Musicos, an interesting place run by Miguel Angel, possibly the world's happiest man, and Brigitte, a French philosophy lecturer, author and anarchist song-lyric writer. We spent much of the time gazing at the volcanos off to the east, and the road up to the Bolivian border at Hito Cajon. It's not often you set off one morning and can see the whole day's road up ahead, but that was the case when we left San Pedro. 5 hours later we were nearly 1,750m above town, but only 37kms from it, when we decided to stop for the night. The road was reasonably busy, and as we crawled uphill at 4-5kph we were passed by numerous Paraguayan vehicles - either car transporters taking second hand cars to Asuncion, or cars jammed with goods bought in Iquique's duty free zone.

We reached our turn off for the Bolivian lakes at 4,666m the next morning, and as we said goodbye to tarmac for the next month or so, the wind started to pick up. It remained strong for a further 4 days, which made our cycle to the base of Licancabur, and then our climb of it, more challenging that it would otherwise have been.

After climbing Licancabur we had a tough day cycling/pushing very slowly into the wind and through sand back to the main road and from there on to Polques. On the way we were passed (and coated in dust by) about 50 tourists jeeps, one of whose drivers delighted in telling me that England had lost 4-1 to Germany in the World Cup. I assumed he was joking. We limped into Polques just before dark, and before dinner enjoyed a blissful hour in the termas there, followed by a traumatic exit from the outdoor pools in subzero temperatures and a gale.

That night the wind stopped and we had great weather for the next 6 days to Ollague. As we were by now well acclimatized, getting over the 4,944m Paso Sol de Mañana to Laguna Colorada, and then two further 4,000m passes to Villamar and Avaroa, was easy enough. The roads weren't in great shape, but we'd been expecting that - it wasn't until our 8th day of cycling in Bolivia that either of us managed to reach the terrifyingly rapid speed of 25kph.

The disappearance of the wind brought a sharp fall in nighttime temperatures, and our coldest night of the trip so far was at Laguna Colorada where it was -20C at dawn. Fortunately we didn't feel too cold that night, probably because we pitched our tent in a llama corral and were well insulated from the ground by a nice thick layer of llama shit.

Being back in Bolivia was a joy - lovely polite people, often shy but always super friendly, and the scenery was fantastic. Despite this we decided to make a last sortie to Chile by taking the road to Ollague and spending a few days in town before going and climbing Aucanquilcha, at 6,188m the highest we've ever been.

Cycling stats:
Days getting from San Pedro de Atacama to Ollague - 24
Distance - 422km
Time cycling - 51hr
Cycle days - 14
Rainy cycle days - 0
Maximum speeds - 60.3kph (H) (not sure how she managed this on a dirt road, but she did), 37.7kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 376km
Longest day - 59km
Punctures - 0

Total amount climbed - 7,337m
Maximum altitude reached - 5,130m (High point with bikes on Aucanquilcha)
Most climbed in one day - 1,734m
1000m+ climb days - 1
4,000m passes crossed - 5
Steepest climb - 19%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 1

Accommodation - 11 beds, 4 camps, 9 wild camps

Coldest temperature cycled in: -11C (leaving Polques, Bolivia)
Coldest temperature camped in: -20C (Laguna Colorada, Bolivia)

New Chilean beers drunk - Capital Pale Ale, Szot Pale Ale

Hiking Stats:
Distance hiked - 28km
Days of hiking - 4
Ascent/Descent - 2,910m

Peaks we climbed - Aucanquilcha (6,188m)
Licancabur (5,938m)

Photos

La Rioja, Catamarca, Salta Provinces - Argentina and Region II, Chile 18/5/10-17/6/10

2010-06-21T19:52:00.002+01:00

We spent a few days in Chilecito trying to fix my drowned camera (didn't work) and nuke Haz's giardia with drugs (seems to have worked), before cycling north through the colourful Famatina valley. On emerging from this near Tinogasta we met Lorenzo Rojo, a Basque cyclist who left home in 1997 and has since cycled in more than 80 countries on the 6 continents. We teamed up and spent the rest of the month pedalling together.
We left Tinogasta by Ruta Provincial 3, the old Ruta 40 which is now intransitable for normal cars. On bikes though it was an interesting and not difficult day ride on a spectacular road through the hills. It rained on us most of the day - our first wet day of riding since Patagonia. This wasn't that surprising though, as we ended the day in the village of Londres - not a name you'd associate with any other weather. The following day we left little London and in an hour were in Bethlehem (well, Belen) where we slept in a museum and spent a few days enjoying the Argentina bicentennial celebrations.
A stretch on the main paved road to Cafayate followed before we decided to make things more interesting by heading up the Valles Calchaquis on gravel to San Antonio de los Cobres, via the Abra del Acay - at 4,966m the highest road pass in Argentina. Getting up to the pass took us 5 1/2 days and involved 5,300m of climbing and a number of chilly stream crossings. It was a fascinating road though, and the scenery, adobe villages which looked like they hadn't changed in centuries and the regular close contact with llamas and vicuñas made it more than worthwhile.
The day we crossed the pass was one of the hardest of our trip. We began only 13.5kms from it, but 900m below, and the altitude, average gradient of 7% and headwind meant it took us 5 hours to cover the distance. Haz ended up pushing most of the way, and Neil pushed the windiest 5 kms. At the top it was blowing a hurricane and both of us were blown off our bikes (see video!). As there was no way of staying on our bikes for the start of our descent, we ended up having to push down the first part too!
In San Antonio we were delighted to find out from the Gendarmeria that the unpaved and little used Sico pass was open, having recently been closed by snow, so we didn't have to cut across to the main, paved road over the Jama pass. We went prepared for very low temperatures, very strong headwinds, sections of bad road and even the odd snow storm, but in the event the gods were kind to us and conditions were relatively 'comfortable'. Every night we camped the temperature fell to -10C, and one morning we cycled an hour at a chilly -7C, but usually when the sun came up the temperature soon rose. Nearly every morning was still, so we were able to make good progress before the afternoon headwinds began. Only 1 day were these really strong, when we spent an exhausting 90 minutes pushing 4kms up a hill to the Chilean border post into a 100kph+ headwind.
The road was also in ok condition, with only 10kms of sandy washboard just before we reached Argentine customs. There were four 4,000m passes to cross to get to San Pedro, but being better acclimatized and with far easier gradients than the Abra del Acay we were able to cycle these.
The trip was also made easier by the fact we took our time and had 2 strategically short days to enable us to watch vital World Cup matches. (We were rewarded with the usual 'below par' England performances, to the delight of both Argie and Chilean companions alike.)
After a fun and long downhill cruise we arrived in San Pedro de Atacama, northern Chile's tourist central, which was a bit of a shock after a fortnight in the wilderness. Both of us are already missing our beloved Argentina after more than 6 months and over 7,000kms there. The people, the scenery, the food....we'll have to go back again sometime soon. At least in a couple of days we should be in Bolivia - our favourite country when we were here backpacking in 2002.

Cycling stats:
Days getting from Chilecito to San Pedro de Atacama - 31
Distance - 1,237km
Time cycling - 100hr
Cycle days - 24
Rainy cycle days - 1
Maximum speeds - 58.7kph (H), 58.2kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 677km
Longest day - 92km
Punctures - 1N

Total amount climbed - 13,707m
Maximum altitude reached - 4,966m (Abra del Acay)
Most climbed in one day - 1,150m
1000m+ climb days - 4
4,000m passes crossed - 5
Steepest climb - 19%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 3
Accommodation - 18 beds, 13 wild camps

New Argentinian beers drunk - Salta Rubia, Otro Mundo Golden Ale

Photos

Mendoza, San Juan and La Rioja Provinces, Argentina - 19/4/10-17/5/10

2010-05-25T01:40:00.002+01:00

We left Mendoza with heavy bikes, loaded down with 10 days of food for a side trip to trek in the Cordon del Plata. For a week we had this range pretty much to ourselves and manage to climb up a couple of smaller peaks as well as the highest mountain in the range, Cerro Plata. We found it hard coping with the cold though (-15C and windy on summit day) and decided to head north to warmer climes as soon as possible.
This took us through the beautiful Uspallata valley, where we spent a night following in the footsteps of el viejo, looking at the stars at the observatory in El Leoncito, and the following few days looking at the Mercedario and Ansilta ranges and making plans to return in summer to climb in them.
In San Jose de Jachal in the north of San Juan Province we ran into one of our cycling inspirations and heroes, Janne Corax, and after a few days hanging out together decided to try and follow him to the Puna de Atacama for some high altitude adventure. We took with us 15 days of food, and heady ideas of making it up to Laguna Brava at 4,200m and spending some time trying to climb some of the large, non-technical peaks in the area. This plan assumed ideal weather conditions however.
In the event, we climbed for 3 1/2 days from 1,100m up to the pass at 4,380m, just short of the lake, amidst beautiful wild scenery, most of the time with only the wind, guanacos and vicuñas for company. By the time we reached the pass we'd already been pushing our 60kg+ bikes for over an hour up the steep ripio road into a strong headwind, and were tired. There was a refugio 20kms away, but with clouds on the mountains indicating there was a storm on the way we doubted whether we'd be able to reach it, and didn't fancy taking our chances camping out in an area known for its extreme weather. So we descended, and, after waiting a day at a lower refugio to see if the weather would improve, descended in the snow to civilization. This turned out to be one of the best decisions we ever made - Corax (who'd made it to the pass far before us and carried on to the refugio by Laguna Brava) later told us that the weather had been bad for pretty much a whole week up there - hurricane force winds, lots of snow and temperatures that fell to -22C.

Cycling stats:

Days getting from Mendoza to Chilecito - 29
Distance - 1,104km
Time cycling - 75h24
Cycle days - 18
Snowy cycle days - 1
Maximum speeds - 65.5kph (H), 53.0kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 301km
Longest day - 110km
100km+ days - 2
Punctures - 2H, 2N

Total amount climbed - 11,487m
Maximum altitude reached - 4,380m
Most climbed in one day - 1,273m
1000m+ climb days -3
Steepest climb - 16%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 3
Accommodation - 9 beds, 2 camps, 18 wild camps

New Argentinian beers drunk - Salta Negra

Trekking stats:
Days of trekking -6
Distance - 49km
Ascent/Descent - 6,095m

Peaks we climbed up - Cerro Plata (5,962m), Adolfo Calle (4,269m), Stepanek (4,114m)

Photos

Neuquen and Mendoza Provinces, Argentina - 25/3-18/4/10

2010-05-04T23:41:00.003+01:00

It took us 4 buses, and 60 hours door to door to get from Ushuaia to Zapala. On arrival we were delighted to find that the temperature was about 15 degrees higher than in Tierra del Fuego, and that there was no wind. The locals were also friendlier than we'd encountered in the touristy south, and in our first two days in Zapala we spent both afternoons sharing copious amounts of beef at local families' asados.
The route to Mendoza was a very enjoyable ride. The "main" roads had hardly any traffic on them, and we managed to take 2 great, but tough, ripio/sandy side roads to really get away from things. One took us to the Area Nacional Protegida (initials anyone would be proud to have) Tromen, where we spent 2 days climbing Cerro Wayle, and then Volcan Tromen - one of the highest mountains in Argentine Patagonia; the other a 150km road from Sosneado to Pareditas which had us pushing through the sand on regular occasions on the first day, and where we only saw 3 vehicles in a day and a half.
Arriving in Mendoza we took advantage of the great shopping there to buy up all the spare parts for our bikes, new glasses, some mountaineering kit and most importantly of all a new handle for our MSR pot to replace ours which inadvertently made its way back to the UK in March. All Haz's sleeves are melted/burnt already, but at least they won't get any worse...

Cycling stats:

Days getting from Zapala to Mendoza - 25
Distance - 921km
Time cycling - 65h09
Cycle days -13
Rainy cycle days - 1
Maximum speeds - 59.6kph (H), 57.6kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 319km
Longest day - 109km
100km+ days - 2
Punctures - 2N

Total amount climbed - 8,904m
Maximum altitude reached - 2,277m
Most climbed in one day - 1,539m
1000m+ climb days - 2
Steepest climb - 21%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 6 (including 3 we met in February in Fitzroy, and Enda who lives not too far a cycle away from Moreton)
Accommodation - 4 beds, 11 camps, 8 wild camps, 2 buses
Storms - 0

New Argentinian beers drunk - only Andes Negra - we're running out of new ones...

Trekking stats:
Days of trekking - 2
Distance - 23km
Ascent/Descent - 2,850m

Peaks we climbed up - Cerro Wayle (3,185m), Volcan Tromen (3,989m)

Photos

The Far South - El Chalten to Ushuaia 14/2/10-24/3/10

2010-03-29T18:32:00.003+01:00

South of El Chalten and the incredible mountainscapes of the Fitzroy range, our lives became dominated by the wind. Although half of the 12 days it took us to cycle to Ushuaia had very little wind, the other half more than made up for it.
We had a day with sidewinds gusting to 100kph, which had us constantly looking over our shoulders for traffic, and when it appeared, stopping on the hard shoulder to let it pass, as we couldn't trust ourselves to stay in our lane (let alone on the white line) when the gusts hit. We had a day with big tailwinds when we once accelerated to 35kph from a standing start, then climbed a few hundred metres up a 5% hill without once touching our pedals. Another day the headwinds were so strong that we teamed up with 2 other cyclists, and only by rotating the lead every 500m were able to go 60kms after 8 hours in the saddle. The day we arrived in Ushuaia, and decending steeply from a pass, a gusting headwind brought us to a standstill from 40kph in seconds. Being unable to move the pedals even on a steep downslope is a pretty strange feeling...
We slept in some interesting places to avoid of the wind - a roadworkers' building, a rodeo stadium, an abandoned house, a bakery, a smashed up hotel, the waiting room at an Argentine border post. During the day we hid in bus stops, ditches, tunnels under the road - anywhere that provided shelter.
The really windy days we often only managed to enjoy once the day´s cycling was over and we had the satisfaction of knowing we'd managed to make it a bit further south, but the calm days were a joy. We developed a new appreciation for clouds which were constantly fascinating us with their crazy and ever changing forms. While the landscape was often flat for hundreds of kilometres at a time with not so much as a tree in sight, we fell in love with the emptiness. So much open space...and usually only condors, hawks, sheep and guanacos with which to share it.
Off the bikes we enjoyed a beautiful 8 day trek in the Torres del Paine National Park before jumping back on and arriving, almost exactly 6 months after setting off from Rio, at the end of the road at Bahia Lapataia. A week of rest, pizza and beer in Ushuaia later and we hopped on a bus (well, 4 buses) for the 60 hour journey back to Zapala, halfway up Argentina. This is where we first saw the Andes from our bikes in December, and where we decided to continue our ride - heading north for the first time this trip.

Cycling stats:
Days getting from El Chalten to Ushuaia -39
Distance - 1,354km
Time cycling - 83h50
Cycle days -15
Rainy cycle days - 5

Maximum speeds - 68.5kph (H), 60.0kph (N)
Unpaved roads - 388km
Longest day - 152km
100km+ days - 7
Punctures - 1H

Total amount climbed - 11,403m
Maximum altitude reached - 819m
Most climbed in one day - 1,311m
Steepest climb - 17%

Number of cycle tourists we met - 6

Accommodation - 7 beds, 27 camps, 5 wild camps
Longest stretch without a bed - 16 nights
Storms - 0
Pasta and sauces eaten - 11
Chocolate bars - 21

New Chilean beers drunk - Crystal

New Argentinian beers drunk - Cape Horn Red, Beagle Fuegian Stout, Beagle Fuegian Ale, Beagle Red, Patagonia.

Trekking stats:
Days of trekking - 12
Distance - 254km
Ascent/Descent - 11,105m

Photos

Chile´s Carretera Austral (and a bit of Argentina)

2010-03-07T23:48:00.003Z

The Carretera Austral was all we'd expected and more: beautiful scenery, steep climbs and descents, little traffic (but lots of other cycle tourists), and quite a bit of rain. We had a trip down memory lane, going to see the stadium we helped build with Raleigh in Villa Ortega in 2002 before meeting up with old friends in Coyhaique. At Villa O'Higgins, the end of the 1,000km road we caught a boat across Lago O'Higgins with 10 other cyclists, then walked and pushed our bikes through muddy woods into Argentina. At El Chalten our weather luck changed and we had some stunning clear days to hike around the Cerro Torre and Fitzroy range.

Cycling Stats
Days getting from El Bolson to El Chalten - 27
Distance - 1,300km
Time cycling - 103h01
Cycle days - 21
Rainy cycle days - 8

Maximum speeds - 63.3kph (N), 63.0kph (H)
Unpaved roads - 1,011km
Longest day - 99km
Punctures - 1 (N)

Number of cycle tourists we met - 45

Accommodation - 6 beds, 7 camps, 14 wild camps
Longest stretch without a bed - 23 nights
Storms - 0
Pasta and sauces eaten - 11

Chilean beers drunk - Austral, Royal Guard, Dorada Extra Fuerte, Escudo.

Photos

The Lake District, Argentina

2010-01-27T19:03:00.007Z

Arriving in the Andes we said goodbye to long cycling days for a while, and instead spent our time cycling to trailheads and pulling on our trekking boots for some hiking. Volcan Lanin dominated the sky line on our approach to the Andes and climbing Volcan Lanin in beautiful weather was the highlight of these walks. Being in tourist territory we generally weren´t met with the same interest or warmth as on the Pampa or in Uruguay, but we did have the excitement of meeting some fellow cycle-tourists at last. After too long hanging out with the hippies in El Bolson and trying all the local beers (for anyone in the area, Otto Tipp Trigueña is practically as good as Orval) we set off in mid-January for our biggest cycling challenge yet - Chile´s Carretera Austral.

Cycling Stats:
Days getting from Junin de los Andes to El Bolson - 36
Distance - 703km
Time cycling - 47h53
Cycle days - 15
Rainy cycle days - 2

Maximum speeds - 60.7kph (N), 59.8kph (H)
Unpaved roads - 240km
Longest day - 105km
100km+ days - 1
Punctures - 1 (H)

Number of cycle tourists we met -5

Accommodation - 4 beds, 31 camps, 1 mountain hut (on a floor of ice)
Longest stretch without a bed - 34 nights
Storms - 0
Pasta and sauces eaten - 21

New Argentinian beers drunk - Bieckert, Schneider Negra, Andes, Isenbeck Dark, Quilmes Red Lager, Refugio Piltriquitron homebrew, Pilker (Negra, Rubia, Roja), Piltri Blonde, El Bolson (Original con Aji, Negro Ahumado, Trigo), Otto Tipp (Trigueña, Mestiza).

Trekking stats:
Days of trekking - 17
Distance - 205km
Ascent - 12,100m
Descent - 12,350m

Peaks we climbed up - Volcan Lanin (3,758m), Cerro Piltriquitron (2,278m), Cerro Falkner (2,023m).

Photos

Argentina - Buenos Aires, La Pampa, Neuquen provinces

2009-12-14T22:50:00.006Z

Deciding to take a train out of Buenos Aires to avoid the narrow roads and traffic wasn´t too difficult a decision, we just had to decide on where to alight. We opted for Pigue on the edge of Buenos Aires province, which turned out to be a good choice as there, and for the next week, the locals were so friendly and hospitable that it reminded us of being back in Turkey or Iran.
The 1,000km journey across the Pampa was flat, but never boring. There was normally some wildlife to keep us entertained, and the wind was a constant companion. In the first 900kms we had a tailwind for about 5kms, but then we were swept into Zapala one afternoon and our first views of the Andes. From there we visited a few national parks, crossed our first passes and went on our first hikes, before arriving in Junin to gorge ourselves on the first fruit and veg we´d seen for a week. We decided to stay in the pretty town campground, rather than treat ourselves to a bed, so we haven´t now seen a bed since BA. Luckily Neil´s Thermarest is now fixed, having been punctured by a vicious thorn bush, the same type which managed to pierce Haz´s right foot, through the sole of her trainers.
We will now rest for a couple of days in Junin before heading off to the hills for some more trekking and hopefully some climbs.

Stats
Days getting from Buenos Aires to Junin de los Andes - 29
Distance cycled - 1,359km
Time cycling - 85h46
Cycle days - 18
Rainy cycle days - 3

Maximum speeds - 71.4kph (H), 67.4kph (N)
Dirt roads - 297km
Longest day - 142km
100km+ days - 6
Punctures - 1 H (4 total), 1 N (2 total)

Accommodation - 9 beds (all BA), 1 train seat, 14 camps, 5 wild camps
Storms camped in - 1

Pasta and sauces eaten - 21

New Argentinian beers drunk - Palermo, Schneider, Imperial, Quilmes Bock (yum yum yum), Quilmes Stout, Liberty (sin alcohol - purchased by mistake. Will make sure I read labels more carefully in future).
Most Gaucho Gil shrines seen in one day - 16

Where people asked if we were from: USA (x2), Germany, England.
Number of cycle tourists we met -1

Trekking stats
3 days - 45km, 1,120m ascent/descent

Photos

Uruguay

2009-11-15T16:47:00.002Z

The best things about Uruguay:
1. The people.
2. The ice cream.
3. Chivitos. A steak sandwich with fried egg, ham, tomato, lettuce and pickle. Delicious.
4. Paved hard shoulders, and little traffic.
5. Campsites by the Rio Uruguay.

We have uploaded more photos and videos from Misiones, Corrientes and Uruguay - please feel free to check them out (outside worktime of course) at the links on the right.

Uruguay Stats:

Days in Uruguay - 9

Distance cycled - 639km
Time - 32h42
Days of cycling - 8
Rainy days of cycling - 2

Maximum speeds - 58.7kph(N), 52.9kph(H)

Dirt roads - 0
Longest day - 131km
Punctures - 0

Accommodation - 2 beds, 6 campsites, 1 wild camp

Thunderstorms camped in - 1

Chocolates eaten - 1

Pasta and sauces - 3
Uruguayan beers drunk - Pilsen, Patricia, Zillertal

Places people asked if we were from: Paraguay
Number of cycle tourists we met - 0

Photos

Argentina - Misiones and Corrientes

2009-11-15T16:35:00.003Z

After a week relaxing and being wowed by the Iguazu falls we got back on our bikes and cycled through Iguazu national park, chased by butterflies much of the way. For a few days we pedalled through the forests and mate plantations in Misiones, and spent the nights camping out in incredible thunderstorms.
Ruta 12, the main road to Posadas we had been intending to take after visiting the Jesuit ruins near the Paraguayan border was a cyclist death-trap, with huge trucks and tour buses zooming past every few seconds, so we changed our route to maximise our chances of getting to the Esteros del Ibera national park alive.
This meant 270kms on unpaved roads, some of which was great for cycling, other sections were a bit bumpy, while the sandy bits had us pushing. The intense sun and 40 degree heat meant we began taking 4 hour siestas like the locals, but the wildlife on show at the Esteros made it all worthwhile.
Before leaving for Uruguay, we visited the shrine to Antonio Gil - Robin Hood of gauchos - near Mercedes, and camped in the gaucho quarters at an estancia.

Argentina stats:
Days in Misiones and Corrientes - 19
Distance cycled - 1,079km
Time - 67h50
Days of cycling - 14
Rainy cycle days - 3

Maximum speeds - 67.3kph(H), 63.6kph(N)
Dirt roads - 325km
Longest day - 128km
Punctures - 0

Accommodation - 9 beds, 5 campsites, 5 wild camps
Thunderstorms camped in - 3

Chocolate bars eaten - 12
Pasta and sauces - 11

Argentinian beers drunk - Quilmes, Isenbeck, Iguana

Places people asked if we were from: Brazil (x3), Spain
Number of cycle tourists we met - 0

Photos

Brazil

2009-10-19T23:17:00.006+01:00

The first leg of our South American cycling adventure is over, and we´ve made it from Rio de Janeiro to the Argentine side of the Iguazu falls.
It wasn´t too hard an introduction to cycle touring - a week on the coastal road from Rio to south of Santos, where we headed inland for a week in the hills in the Atlantic forest, followed by another week cycling through farmland to Foz do Iguazu.
We´ve settled back into a routine of wild camping, worked out how to use our stove again for the nightly pasta and sauce, and grown a bit fitter. Having cycled 15 consecutive days to get to Iguazu we´ll have a few rest days here before setting off on the next stage of our journey - to Buenos Aires, via Uruguay.

Brazil stats:
Days in Brazil - 33
Distance - 1,815km
Time - 108h40

Days of cycling - 20
Rainy cycling days - 10
Maximum speeds - 68.8kph (H), 68.7kph (N)
Dirt roads - 126km
Longest day - 139km
Punctures - 3 (all H)

Accommodation - 20 beds, 5 campsites, 8 wild camps
Thunderstorms camped in - 4

Chocolates eaten - 22
Pasta and sauces - 11
Brazilian beers drunk - Brahma, Novo Schin, Itaipava, Bohemia, Skol, Antarctica, Kaiser, Bavaria, Crystal

Places people asked if we were from - Germany (x5)
Number of cycle tourists we met - 0

Trekking
1 day - 13km, 800m ascent/descent

Photos

Long Haul Trucking: The Start

2009-09-26T21:10:00.000+01:00

We and our bikes made it ok to Brazil on the 15th. After some wandering and relaxing around Rio we started cycling from Mangartiba a couple of days ago, and made it to Paraty yesterday. When it stops raining we might take some photos and upload them for you to see...

The End

2008-11-30T12:15:00.000Z

For nostalgia's sake we spent our last night on the road wild-camping in the rain by a railway line behind a small hedge in a field near Botolph Claydon, Bucks. On Saturday 22nd November, our 73rd on 2 wheels, we cycled our 5,000th kilometre en route to Moreton, where we were received by our loyal band of fans at The Old Bell with fireworks, a banner and a delicious bottle of Pernod.

And so, back to the bean counting........

Cycling on the left: no fun in the old country

2008-11-27T13:15:00.000Z

In the Netherlands and Belgium we had been spoilt. All roads had cycle lanes, all junctions were sign-posted. In towns, our cycle lanes were chock-a-block with cyclists; when the cycle traffic lights turned green we joined the local peloton and swept smoothly through the streets. The routes were all flat, and while not overly exciting at least it was easy, and safe.
Then our ferry docked in Harwich, and we were thrown into a whole different cycling world. One that wasn't quite so relaxing. Finding cycle lanes in the towns was easy enough, but getting between towns proved difficult and dangerous. Most of the time we managed to stay on pleasant, windy country roads, but then we'd be forced onto dangerously busy roads and have to brave the traffic. Drivers, unaccustomed to coming across cyclists didn't know how to deal with us. Most just overtook too close and too fast, while a few of the more timid seemed reluctant to pass at all until we'd pulled over to let them by.
A couple of times we found ourselves having to push round busy motorway roundabouts through brambles which overhung the edge of the road. Uncomprehending motorists tooted at us and flashed us bemused and pitying looks.
We saw very few other cyclists between Essex and Oxfordshire, and we knew why: it just wasn't any fun. As we pushed our bikes down the grass verge alongside the A1M, trying to find a way to get across, we vowed that once we'd made it back home we wouldn't be jumping back on our bikes in the old country again any time soon.

Brauhaus Wowhouse

2008-11-26T10:06:00.000Z

The dimly lit Aachener Brauhaus outshone even Fleet Street's Cheshire Cheese in 'Old Man Pub' ambience. We soon had towering glasses of weissbier before us, followed by schnitzel, knuckle of pork and a currywurst. A well-built lady with a sensible haircut tucked into a dark beer and a steak at the neighbouring table. A middle-aged couple sipped wine and slurped mussels. The roar of an American explaining that a bratwurst was 'a kinda wiener' could be heard over the clattering of dishes from the kitchen, but even this could not dampen Herr und Frau Pike's spirits: we were in Brauhaus heaven!

Piko goes to Bitburg

2008-11-16T12:56:00.002Z

From Liechtenstein we embarked on a river tour of Northern Europe. We followed the Rhine in Switzerland and Austria to the Bodensee, then cut up to the Danube in Bavaria. We paced upriver to near its Blackforest source before hurtling down to the Rhine again at Strasbourg. With Mrs F now in tow we continued at a more sedate pace and followed yet more rivers to avoid the hills. The Saar through Sarrebourg, Sarreguemines, Saarbrucken, Saarburg; the Mosul, the Nims the Prum and the Kyll.
Before heading to Charlemagne's old capital at Aachen, we made a dash to Bitburg and went out for a cup of tea. Having photos taken by the Bitburg sign was, unsurprisingly, the highlight of our young lives so far...

"ohhhohoh, my brain is hanging upside down..."

Ein bischen schnee...

2008-11-15T13:26:00.000Z

"You want to go over the Bielerhohe?" asked the beautiful young lady in the Landeck tourist office. "But it's snowing up there at the moment." "Why don't you cross the Arlsbergpass instead? That's lower, but oh...wait a minute... it's snowing up there too." "Maybe it'd be best if you just took the train."

The previous day had been one of the most miserable of our entire lives as we crossed back over from Italy into Austria via the Reschenpass. In pouring rain and a biting wind we'd had to spend 2 hours in a cafe near the top to warm up, before descending in fog to a campsite where as the only guests we'd been allowed to sleep in the heated women's shower block.
We didn't much fancy the train, and the 500km detour over lower passes to Munich didn't appeal either, so despite our experiences of the day before we decided to set off for the Bielerhohe anyway - the last pass we needed to cross to be over the Alps.

We wondered if we'd made the right decision as we climbed up through tunnels and snow on the busy road to Ishgl, but when the snow stopped falling, the mountains began to reveal themselves and the traffic disappeared, we had a great afternoon. At Galtur, short of the pass, we stopped to camp. Fortunately the kindly campsite owner, Herr Raggl, took pity on us as we prepared to set up our tent in 10cms of snow, and offered us a discounted room.

In the morning, kitted out in full thermals, fleeces, jackets and 3 pairs of gloves, we were standing on the pass within an hour. The sun came out just about long enough to take a photo of our bikes in front of Piz Buin before we descended 1500m, ending the day 90kms away in Liechtenstein's (only) campsite.

Going Hungry In the Alps

2008-11-15T12:59:00.000Z

Our growling stomachs echoed through the Dolomites as we freewheeled down to Cortina. Spending half an hour trawling round the town looking for food (and any signs of Graham Bell or the rest of the Ski Sunday team) we realised the futility of our search and gave up: it was a Sunday, and all the shops were closed. While we admired the Italians staunchly keeping the Sabbath a day of rest, it wasn't helping us get up the hills.

We'd entered Italy the night before without even thinking of stocking up on food, but it wasn't until late afternoon, and after we'd climbed the 15kms to the 2000m Falzarego Pass outside Cortina that we found an open pizzeria to fill our bellies.
After camping out in a beautiful meadow we continued the following day (fuelled only by Milka) in glorious weather over the Pordoi and Sella passes to Wolkenstein, where we spotted a large Spar supermarket. More food at last! Or so we thought, until the automatic doors refused to open and we realised it was 12:40 and that they had just shut for lunch. Until 15:00.
Fortunately we found an open Austrian supermarket soon after, and were able to continue our ride down to Bolzano...

Welcome to the EU (You may now switch off half your brain)

2008-11-15T12:23:00.000Z

Returning to the EU, we didn't realise so much would change. Slovenia marked the halfway point between the Sea of Marmara and Moreton but it also marked a huge turning point in our trip.
Previously, as rare creatures, we'd been objects of interest to the locals (whole playgrounds of children had rushed to shout 'hello' as we passed schools in both Turkey and Bosnia), and our bikes were often regarded with awe. Old men (knees out wide, pedalling with heels) and wheelie-pulling kids aside, we'd seen fewer than 10 cyclists since Istanbul. On meeting these cyclists we'd greeted each other like long-lost brothers, exchanging maps, currencies and tips on routes.
Now we were 2 cyclists among many and we learnt to greet others with at most a nod or a smile. Our fellow 'radlers', as we became in Germany, were all wearing lycra from head to toe, riding bikes that were polished, silent and weighed 100g. While we didn't quite fit in, making all manner of squeaks, covered in mud and wearing the same shabby clothes we'd been in for the past 6 weeks, we weren't quite the aliens we'd been before.

People stopped asking us why we didn't just buy a car or take the bus.
Drivers waited until there was no oncoming traffic before overtaking us.
Aeroplanes made all the clouds.
Little pictures of bikes began appearing on pavements and signs began pointing us in the direction we should go.
Aaahh...the EU.

And while we were grateful to these little signs for taking us on scenic, traffic-free routes, removing the need for us to think too hard or make our own mistakes, much of the time we spent wishing we were back in Albania.

Bosnia

2008-10-22T15:03:00.000+01:00

Leaving Dubrovnik in the hot sun, we had our longest day of the trip so far. At dusk we found ourselves in Medjugorje, where tootling around town looking for a campsite, we became curious as to why 'Paddy Travels' appeared to be the largest tour operator in this part of the Balkans.
In the morning on realising just how touristy the town was we asked around and found out it had become a major Catholic pilgrimage site since 6 young people had had apparitions of the Virgin Mary here in the 1980s.
As we left town we thought we were having an apparition ourselves. A pack of freckly gingers so pasty that they surely weren't from this world. But they were real enough, and from Donegal.
We set off for Mostar to see the new Old Bridge, but soon Neil had a shard of glass sticking out of his rear tyre, and his first puncture of the trip. Having convinced himself after surviving Albania that his tyres were invincible, this came as a surprise, but soon became annoying as it was to be only the first of 5 punctures in the same wheel that week.
In Mostar we took photos of our bikes and the bridge before cycling round the town, which seemed to have recovered well since the Yugoslav war - there were a few abandoned buildings, but plenty of new churches and mosques, and tourism was certainly booming.
It wasn't until we headed north to the valleys around Glamoc and Sanski Most that the damage the war had left behind became more evident. Derelict houses and abandoned villages were scattered across the countryside and in an area that was a front line during the war, the ever-present Croatian flags that we'd seen up until now gave way to Serb ones. The only Bosnian flags we saw in our time in Bosnia were on police cars and in a bar showing a Bosnia football match on TV.
We left Bosnia via the Srpska Republic, and as the weather turned more wintry (we had our first frost and frozen tent) we recrossed Croatia. On our 40th day out of Istanbul we were back in the EU, in Ljubljana, the pint-sized Slovenian capital.

Montenegro, Croatia and the Breast Artist in the World

2008-10-22T14:46:00.000+01:00

We'd just settled down to lunch halfway up a hill in Montenegro when we were joined by a lycra-clad cyclist. He introduced himself as Tiho "that means 'the quiet' in Montenegran" before loudly proclaiming "I am the best artist in the world!".
Whilst he donned more clothing for the cold descent back to his town of Cetinje he handed us a book of his work that he just so happened to be carrying around with him.
It soon became apparent what Tiho's inspiration was. The Breast.
We flicked through pages of single breasts, pairs of breasts, flying breasts, breasts disguised as droplets... There were a few bums thrown in for good measure, but it was pretty clear that Tiho was definitely a breast man.
(If any of you have been wondering how to fill that blank wall-space, or are simply curious, we're sure all your breast-art needs will be satisfied at www.tiho.me )

As Haz dodged our landlord's kisses and embraces later that evening in Kotor, it did cross our mind's that all Montenegran men were perverts.

After a wander round the picturesque old walled town of Kotor, which was still fun despite being swamped by tourists and so lacking in atmosphere we felt like we were on a film set, we headed up the Dalmatian coast to another much-hyped old town, Dubrovnik. There we rested a day (mostly watching Beverly Hills 90210 in our apartment) before deciding we'd had enough of the tourists, the 5GBP an hour internet and the flat coast and headed inland to Bosnia.

Holiday in Albania

2008-10-22T13:40:00.001+01:00

We weren't sure why, but we really wanted to go to Albania. In fact, the detour to Albania had determined our whole cycling route. Before going we must admit we didn't know that much about the country, but what little we did know had been gleaned from a variety of sources.
From a travel book Neil knew it was mountainous and had had a king called Zog who'd spent much of WWII in the Ritz on Picadilly. From cycle blogs we'd learnt the roads were bad, but the people hospitable despite being some of the poorest in Europe. And from John Motson's enlightening commentary during Albania-England football matches we of course knew that every Albanian loved Norman Wisdom.
Cycling into Albania we were surprised at how expensive all the cars looked - every Albanian and his dog seemed to be the proud owner of a Mercedes-Benz. Was this place going to be totally different to what we expected?
Reassuringly, and to Neil's delight, at our first service station stop there were King Zog badges for sale - at least some of the things we'd heard were true.
After most of the first day dodging Mercs on a good road we turned into the mountains and headed for the town of Klos, 80 kms away. It soon became apparent that the cyclists hadn't been wrong, as for 2 days we battled a road so bad that we were the only traffic on it. The irony of the name wasn't lost on us. Klos just didn't seem to get any kloser.
The first of these days we struggled 7 hours for only 40 kms, pushing much of the way. Without any passing 4x4s or even army trucks we were often left wondering whether we were on the right road. As darkness fell, we happened upon an army cafe, and despite not being able to understand a word the owner was saying, we understood enough to know we were being offered a very welcome free bed in the communist-era army hut next door. In the morning we were thrilled, though not suprised, to find our hut came complete with pill-box in the garden (pictured above). These concrete bunkers are ubiquitous throughout Albania and the fact that Enver Hoxha and his commie chums must for years have spent half the country's GDP on contructing them is surely one of the main reasons for its relative poverty today.
The day we left our army hut was a depressing one . We wasted the morning backtracking after taking a wrong turn, and then it rained so much that our 'road' became a test in puddle avoidance. When the puddles spanned the width of the road we just rode through them, until Haz, out in front, sank and promptly fell off in one which became unexpectedly deep. Later, our brake pads wore out and Haz was reduced to walking her bike on the descents. But at least we made it to Klos.
Travelling through the interior of the country where tourists are a rarity had been fascinating yet frustrating as we'd often been unable to communicate at all with the people in the mountain villages. Our Albanian (or Shqiperi to the locals) was limited to the word for 'water', and most of the people we met spoke not a word of English, German, Turkish, Russian or anything else we tried. Shqiperi seemed to be a language unlike any other.
Which is why we were so surprised in Klos when a young man approached us as we were in a shop employing our best sign-language, and casually greeted us in a Cockney accent with an "Alright guys, do you need any 'elp? You don't look like you're from round 'ere. I live in Cowley. Innit." We left half an hour later, Gante from Klos/Cowley having paid for our groceries and bought us a couple of beers to enjoy in our damp tent.
The next day as we were lunching in a layby, a car pulled up and Flamur from Eastbourne got out, showered us with fresh fruit and nuts before jumping back in his car to catch an evening flight back to sunny Sussex.
Things reached the height of bizareness in Burrel, a small town in central Albania, where every car was a Landrover Discover sporting GB plates. We thought we'd stumbled across a not-so-secret meeting of the Countryside Alliance. For once the Mercs with their double-headed eagle Albanian plates were in the minority.
"The Mercs are the only cars we've found that can survive the roads" explained Eddie, an Albanian from Southampton who kindly invited us to stay on our last night in Albania. After being treated to some more great hospitality - his mama cooked us up a feast - we remembered to ask about something that was still bugging us. We'd travelled a week without seeing a Norman Wisdom video, poster or even t-shirt. Surely John Motson hadn't been lying to us?
After thinking a while and conferring with mama, Eddie had our answer. "I think most of us prefer Mr. Bean nowadays."

Macedonian Sun

2008-10-10T14:59:00.002+01:00

On the Macedonian (or Former Yugoslav Republic Of Macedonia as the Greeks will have you call it) flag is a large sun, with its wide golden rays spreading out in all directions. We soon found out that the neighbouring Albanians, with their love of Norman Wisdom, don't have a monopoly on senses of humour in this region. Irony is alive and well in FYROM!
We entered FYROM near Strumica, to dark clouds, and soon the heavens opened while we were pedalling up a cobbled section of the 'M6'.
For the next 300kms Neil couldn't get 'Purple Rain' out of his head as we cycled through downpour after downpour, and camped in mud bath after mud bath. Every now and then the sun would appear and the Ramones´classic 'Macedonian Sun' would surface, but these moments were all too few and far between.
On one occasion the sun came out while we were passing through an orchard and Neil decided to take a photo of us among the heavily laden apple trees. But by the time he'd taken his camera out of its waterproof bag the sun had gone, and by the time he'd put the camera back it was raining again. On another occasion the sun appeared, and Haz was so taken aback she almost fainted.
At one of our many daily chocolate stops we met an old man who was bemoaning the fact that this was the tenth day in a row of solid rain. Prior to that there had been no rain for 4 months.
It is a pity that the rain is our overriding memory of our time in FYROM. All the people we met were friendly, the food was good and in the brief glimpses we had, the landscape was pretty. On our rest day the rain held off and we enjoyed rambling round the steep streets of the UNESCO World Heritage Site town of Ohrid, by the lake of the same name, in bright sunshine.
I suppose we just timed our visit badly for the sun was still shining when we cycled round the lake and into Albania the next day.

'Yeah we`re out there having fun in the warm Macedonian sun.....'

Bulgaria - Shortcut to Melnik

2008-10-10T14:37:00.001+01:00

Until Smolyan we´d survived with only our Freytag and Berndt 1:3.5m Europe map to guide us on our way. Then we made the fateful decision to buy a local Bulgaria map. To Melnik this gave us the choice of 2 routes: 35kms on a yellow `category 2` road, or 25kms on a white `other` road. Naturally we chose the white road.
Having spent a few days in Melnik in March 2007 at the start of our trip we were looking forward to returning to our friendly guesthouse and had visions of sipping the delicious local wine before the sun went down.
It didn´t turn out quite as planned. At 20:30 it was dark, we´d travelled at least 35kms from the junction and we were still nowhere near Melnik. The white road had tricked us by being rideable at first before deteriorating into a rocky and sandy track that had us continually pushing. None of the junctions were marked on our new map and with no locals around we were left to guess the right way at junctions. And guess we did - wrongly. Eventually a shepherd set us on the right track but by then it was getting late and on discovering that our cheap Chinese lights were virtually useless (when mounted they had 2 positions, both of which pointed at the sky) we resigned ourselves to another night in our tent. As we set up camp at the side of the road we were virtually crying with frustration.
The next day we were in Melnik for breakfast, and to our delight found out that the previous day had been a national holiday and all hotel beds in town had been booked up. Even unwise shortcuts have silver linings...

Bulgaria - Hot Pants and Cold Passes

2008-10-05T17:18:00.001+01:00

"Mein guten Hund! Did you see that?!" cried Haz shortly after our arrival in the Bulgarian border town of Svilengrad. Neil, his jaw having become entangled in his front spokes was unable to answer. We had just seen a girl in the shortest, hottest hot pants imaginable.
On our return to Istanbul after months in Pakistan and Iran we had been amazed at how much arm girls were showing. In Svilengrad we were now confronted with too much leg and far too much butt-cheek. Even allowing for the fact that we had become prudes, surely this kind of thing shouldn´t be legal?
Later, ordering our first restaurant meal, our delightful waitress pulled a face like we´d just asked her to get down and give us 20 (or, worse, to smell our cycling shorts) when all we asked her was if we could see the menu. Was it really that much effort? Maybe we just weren´t ready for Slavic Europe. Maybe we should turn right around and head back to Turkey where we were always guaranteed a cheery waiter to serve us our usual lunchtime mercimek corba...?
We decided we should probably carry on and headed for the south of the country marked the Rodopi Mountains on our map.
"I´m not sure why it says mountains, these are but hills." (N. Pike - 2nd day in Bulgaria). The next day, following a large lunch in Smolyan we had to set up camp early, when Neil was broken by a climb into the hills behind the town. On reaching the top of the pass at 1,700m the following morning we´d climbed nearly 1000m in under 10kms, and we were far closer to a ski resort than we´d ever anticipated being. Neil was wondering why the road hadn´t looked so steep on the map, but was pretty chuffed at having made it up the steep incline. Haz was too busy throwing a tantrum over the fact her hands were numb with cold, to care.
From the top we chose different approaches to getting to the warmth of the valleys again. Neil took it easy, to avoid freezing to death in the wind. Haz raced a few cars down, hit a maximum speed of 66.8kph, and had downed a hot chocolate at the bottom before Neil sauntered into town.
For 5 days this trend continued - long climbs followed by freezing descents, but we thoroughly enjoyed it. The roads were good, the traffic light (and usually an hilarious Zastava which made the rarer Ladas look like right posh motors, or a granny in a horse and cart) and the beer cheap.
On day 6 at 14:30, having already cycled 70kms we found ourselves in the south west of the country, not far from Melnik.

Menace on a Motorbike and the Melon Seller

2008-09-29T14:58:00.000+01:00

During the first week on the road Turkish drivers had been as nice as could be expected. We'd frequently looked up to a loud blast on a horn to see an articulated lorry coming towards us, the driver with a massive grin on his face and both hands off the wheel waving for all he was worth. Or we'd be passed by a car, and the passenger would be hanging out the window yelling 'Guizaaaaa' in reference to Neil's 'D. Guiza - 14' Fenerbahce football shirt which he is aiming to wear every day of this ride.
It was amongst these friendly folk that our only unsavoury incident in Turkey occurred. Half way up a hill a motorbike slowed and the driver started chatting to Haz. This wasn't unusual as Turks are very inquisitive and always intrigued by the idea of voluntary exercise. This guy didn't look like the friendliest of characters however and we became wary of him as for the next 10 minutes he would overtake us, then wait for us to catch up, before overtaking again. Shouting 'Mola! Mola!' at us (we later found out this just meant 'stop', but at the time had assumed it was some kind of abuse) when we passed he became increasingly angry.
Eventually he decided to 'mola' us his own way. Coming up behind Haz's bike he tried to push her off by ramming his bike into her back wheel. Little did he know the power of the Monkey! Much to his (and our) amazement, Haz was merely shunted forward, while Mr Moto was brought to a rapid mola when he lost control and crashed into the tarmac. We left him (to much fist shaking and colourful language from Haz) picking himself up sheepishly from the road and looking over his bike to see what damage his idiocy had caused...
Being shaken by this and nervous that he would come after us once his bike started working again, we stopped at a roadside melon stall where we were treated to some true Turkish hospitality. We were given a seat in the shade and huge chunks of melon, and had one of those conversations with the melon seller and his wife where you have no idea what the other is saying but smile and nod lots anyway. The motorcyclist never reappeared, so we were soon on our way with our bellies full of melon, our handlebar bags full of peppers and tomatoes for which all attempts at payment were refused, and our faith in the Turks restored.

Wild Camping and 'The Roarer'

2008-09-29T14:44:00.000+01:00

We've decided to try and wild camp as much possible, so at night have been finding flat(ish) and concealed spots near the road to pitch our tent. For the hour before the sun goes down, we find ourselves ducking out of sight and holding our breath at any sign of human movement, hoping we won't be seen and disturbed. Our first few campsites were a rubbish dump, a picnic spot and a ditch.
Once the tent is pitched it is time to prepare dinner. At this stage we may as well take a red flag and wave it above our heads whilst shouting at the top of our voices "come and steal our bikes while we're sleeping". Our stove is not nicknamed 'the roarer' for nothing. The MSR XGK is built to work at high altitudes, and hurls a flame into the air during the preheating stage. The first time we lit it we both leapt backwards and had to check our eyebrows were still attached.
During the cooking stage the 'roarer' roars so loud that we are certain that our hideout is going to be found by anyone within a 5km radius.
On the upside though, it makes us delicious pasta and sauce dinners night after night. Yum yum yum!

Leaving Istanbul

2008-09-23T16:28:00.001+01:00

On the 11th September we checked out of our hostel early, hoping to leave Istanbul at the crack of dawn. Misjudging when this was, we ended up loitering outside the Blue Mosque waiting for enough light to take our obligatory 'start' photos. While waiting, a young Turk who was listening to arabesque techno on his car radio before going to morning prayers shared some Turka Cola with us and insisted on giving us a heavy brass ashtray with the Blue Mosque emblazoned on it as a good luck charm for our trip. Neil reluctantly strapped this kind gift on to his panniers and in doing so seemingly doubled the weight of his gear.

At 06:30 we set off, pedalling over the Galata Bridge, then following the coastal road up the Bosphoros for 25kms to Sariyer. It was a nice gentle introduction - the road was quiet, the surface flat, an unsuspecting scooter rider just in front of us incurred the wrath of a pack of dogs which had looked destined for our calves, and we could stop when we wanted to watch the huge cargo ships and the Bosphoros bridges in the early morning light.

At Rumeli Kavagi, north of Sariyer, we turned inland and were soon floundering on a hill as steep and longer than Streatley Hill (the internationally recognised benchmark of hill-toughness). Neil was pushing immediately, followed a few minutes later by Haz. This ability difference was not unexpected. Haz had established her pedigree in 2006, cycling 10kms to work and back for 2 months (before winter arrived and it became too cold), while Neil's cycling career amounts to about 10kms total, since selling his BMX in 1994. Naturally, the weighty ashtray was made the scapegoat...

At the first petrol station we filled up the petrol bottle for Haz's new toy - an MSR XGK stove. Asking for 885mls of unleaded caused the attendant some amusement, but it still cost 1.40GBP - more than a tank's worth of petrol in Iran! We were now all set for some wild camping...