The Americas: South, Central and Mexico

The trip plan was conceived a few years ago...The trip plan was conceived a few years ago, to round out my travels in South America. You see, I had been to South America twice before.In 1996 I had traveled from Santiago, Chile south to Ushuaia, that "Uttermost Part of the World" also known as "Fin del Mundo", and then back to Santiago before shipping home from there.

We came in fast...288 kmph...We came in fast...288 kmph. We roared down the runway, the pilot pressing hard on the brakes; the reverse thrusters rattling behind us.

Santiago musings, Valparaiso, Vina del Mar et al....The Santiago Metro is one of the most efficient ways to move around Santiago proper.For a mere 75 cents you can travel to your heart´s content. The trains run at about the same frequency that a traffic light switches at. If your train leaves as you approach the platform, never fear for another one will be there before you descend the stairs and reach the queue.

Reporting from Antofagasta, ChileWe were late in getting the bikes out of customs. It was almost 11PM before we were back at the hotel. We still had to pack and organize our luggage for a departure tomorrow morning.We followed the coast north from Vina. Then the road veered inland and I searched for a mountain backroad I had had my eyes on during the planning stages. I missed it by a mile, literally. However the road I was on had all of the correct characteristics so I meandered on.

Antofagasta and San Pedro de AtacamaBaquedano! What a romantic name for a town that time forgot. Perched in the middle of the Atacama Desert only a short distance from Antofagasta it exists in a peaceful slumber; the desert winds whistling among its ancient buildings. A few hardy folk continue to eke out a living in this godforsaken place.Most people would pass through this almost inconspicuous town and hardly give it a second thought or bother to lift their foot off of the accelerator if it were not for the carabineros. However, we had a different mission.

Reporting from Iquique, CHWe left San Pedro and made a beeline for the coast. It was only 2-1/2 hours away but it seemed to take forever in the straight line, monotone drone of the Atacama. At Tocopilla we lunched on fresh Soupa de Mariscos, dredging up oysters, clams and a few unidentifiable bits and pieces below the murky surface of the broth. As advertised by the patrons it was "muis rico."

Reporting from AricaWe left Iquique and climbed up the ridge separating the town from the desert. The cool coastal air gave way to the dry desert heat. Soon we were basking in 25 C warmth; a far cry from the 12C on the coast.

Reporting from ArequipaWhile visiting a museum on the outskirts of Arica, we met a Japanese couple who were travelling South America, for one (1) year, on their Yamaha....Yamaha 90 that is.

Reporting from NazcaArequipa to Nazca...almost 600 kms. Was it doable? Yes, but you had to be motivated. I wasn´t. I looked for a distraction and found one only two hours out of Arequipa.Nestled in the foothills of the Andes was Petroglifos de Toro Muerto, a large area of petroglyphs heretofore unassigned to any culture. Dating from the time of the Wari, about 800 AD, some of these are finely executed. The sunbaked mountain side sweltered in the 35C heat. It was impossible to stagger amongst the boulders, slog through the sand and seek out all of the art work.

Reporting from CuzcoThe desert had spoiled me. With ambients reaching into the low 30s C on a regular basis life was easy.Riding had been hot at times, my riding gear keeping me in the moist zone. Water consumption was high in the 3 liter plus per day range. I looked forward to the mountains with trepadation, knowing they could be cold and wet.

Reporting from....CuzcoYou can eat a three course meal at street level in Peru for less than $2. You can eat at sidewalk level for less than $4. You can eat at tourist level for much more, the choice is yours. Entree, soup, main course, coffee and desert (pie) for $3.50. It works for me and that is just for lunch. A lunch meal like that can allow you to skip dinner.The sun peered into the valley slit and put a bright shine on the new day. A few miles down the road I came into a small town. I hadn´t eaten since early afternoon so it was time for some food.

Reporting from Arica, Chile...My impressions of Cusco were not as favorable as the first time I visited.It was the street urchins and the peddlars that probably made a difference. Plus, it was not Inti Rami so the festive spirit was without. I weighed it all carefully and decided against a return visit to Machu Picchu.

My first visit to Machu Picchu was one of awe and wonderment. "The Vertical World of Machu Picchu" was how I described it then. I did not want to tamper with that pristine memory. I did not want to temper my rememberances. I did not visit Machu Picchu.

The trip off of the mountain revived some old memories from the last trip.Before I left Lake Titicaca I had a run-in with the Federales. I had not encountered these people before...only the Nacionale Police.I saw them parked at the south end of the small town as I entered from the north.
However, just before I got to them I spotted an old mission one block off of the main road. I turned towards it and stopped to investigate. Poking around and taking a few pictures consumed time...15, maybe 20 minutes. I was in no hurry.

La Paz There were seemingly a few good reasons to go to La Paz. However none of them balanced with the chaos that greeted me as I rolled off of the hill.There are so many buses, mini buses, mico-buses and taxis in these Latin cities that they consume 99% of the road. El Alto, the city at the top of the bowl, was no exception. Six of the eight lanes were plugged with the 'load' and 'unload' activities of these public transport vehicles. The other two lanes were blocked with drivers trying to escape the chaos. I was somewhere in the other two lanes.

The TropicsCochabamba was nestled in a broad valley at 8500 ft. The climate was moderate; warm in the day and cool at night.

I had heard much about the "new" road to Santa Cruz. I had heard much about the "old" road to Santa Cruz. I decided to ride them both.

The new road was the tropical route. I had been hearing about it for years. It was on all of the maps, but we know that doesn't mean much.

Back in Santa Cruz...Armed with only a small amount of information and the promise that they offered a unique spectacle I set off for the Missiones.Long an isolated area to the NE of Santa Cruz, the Chiquitania, was once only accessible by a not too well maintained dirt road. The entire loop was over 700 km, usually taking the better part of a week to complete in the dry season; nearly impassible in the wet season.

Within the last two years the first 350 km from Santa Cruz to Conception had been paved. I took the easy route.

wherefore art thou?The Missiones circuit...At Conception I lodged at the Hotel Etayo. I was their only guest. They welcomed me into their family as one of their own. I had planned to stay one day and ended up staying for three. We shared stories and traded lifestyles. Fernando had learned English in the United States...Ohio. We talked well into the evening. Born in 1950, he was the same age as me. He had moved to Conception to start a new life and to raise his family.

Reflections in a mud puddle........Reflections in a mud puddle....I wish I had time in my life to understand all that I see...the mysteries, the passions, the motivations behind the work. Those things, those memories that lodge in my mind but remain unanswered, unexplained and not understood. So much has happened before me; so much will happen after me; so much will remain a mystery in my life and the next...

The Old Highway, Santa Cruz to SucreThe Surazo can hang around for days or weeks. There is no telling.
Saturday was a wet and miserable day, the temperature barely above 10C. A good day for a movie...The da Vinci Code. Interesting, perhaps a little melodramatic, but a good distraction.

Sunday dawned overcast and cold, but no rain. I made a break for it. I knew that somewhere to the west the Surazo would run out of gas and blue skies would return.

I had been living high at the top of the world...literally. The cost be damned... I had been living high at the top of the world...literally. The cost be damned. At 13,200 feet ASL, Potosi was simply the highest city in the world. At one time it carried two other accolades...the biggest city in the world and the richest. Bigger than Paris or Rome or any other...richer than all others. That was back in the Colonial era, in the mid 1500s. Much has changed since then.