It’s hard to say where good fortune comes from but it seemed I had had more than my fair share in the preceding twenty months, as my biking friend Dan had said that if you try not to form them, paths will take their form and you’ll make the most of every inch of them. Continue reading
The Carretera austral began in the rusty port town Puerto montt, the gateway into Chilean Patagonia. The 1250 kilometre road was finally finished in 2000, a vanity project of Pinochet it was to link northern and southern Chile, uniting the two parts, handing Pinochet stronger territorial control. Continue reading
A couple of days in Argentinas western Gem, the wine producing capital Mendoza was enough to relax, visit a few vineyards and get things clean. Continue reading
The Valley opened up and then the road began to drop right out of northern Argentina. I had been waiting for this for along time. I had pretty much been in the Andees since Peru and couldn’t wait to drop to some normal heights. Continue reading
I arrived in sucre to be greeted by Lauren who had been a gem and organised a palace of an apartment in a whitewashed colonial building complete with flower filled courtyard, sunny roof terrace, a cat and dogs. Continue reading
Arequipa, apparently the most intellectual city in Peru was an easy base to try and scale my highest peak. I just about managed to summit misty at 5800 meters. I think physically this might have been the hardest thing I’ve done in my life, more so than riding for a year and a half from Alaska to Peru Continue reading
I found Lucho in Trujillo’s famous casa de cyclista and boy was I glad to find him when I did. My rear wheel was barley spinning and I’d had the suspicion my hub was shot for a while. Continue reading
In Chachapoyas I met a group of English backpackers on there way down to Huaraz. A place I’d had my eye on since leaving Cuenca. Continue reading
So I got to Tumbacco, met the friendly bunch who had been added to Santiagos ever extending family and ate some fruit I wasn’t supposed to eat. Continue reading
The glistening white town of popoyan had a tranquil, middle class feel to it. At 2000 meters it was pleasantly fresh and with little to do (I love towns with little to do) I relaxed and chatted away to a couple from Luxembourg. Bill was enamoured by my trip and Thelma seem petrified I had put such an idea into his head. Continue reading
this truckers atlas 