El Alto, the new Bolivian metropolis (Bolivia)

Our cycling plans in Bolivia are very ambitious, with big physical and mental efforts including the crossing of the salares of Coipasa and Uyuni, the largest and highest " salt lakes" on the planet, the southwestern Altiplano including laguna Colorada, cycling to the top of volcano Uturunco (6020m), ride the "highway of death" named by the Bolivian tourism department as "the most dangerous road in the world" and at the end of the 3 months we plan to ride in Bolivia, leave the country by the Mamoré river in a propose-built boat with our adapted bicycles entering Brazil by "the back door" through the state of Rondonia.

But before we adventure in these stages of adrenaline cycling we have to comply with customs formalities and find someone to stamp our passports.
At the border of Janko Janko that we just crossed there was no soul in sight. We start our first cycling strokes in the country through a winding gravel road that resembled more an animal trail than a border road.





11 km later we arrived at the quiet village of Puerto Acosta. We presented ourselves immediately at the police station to announce our entry in the country. An official tells us that the next post of emigration is located in La Paz to 190 km away, and in an old typing machine writes the following statement:

We exchanged our remaining Peruvian pesos to Bolivianos in the village´s grocery store and took a room at the simple hotel 5 Noviembro, in which were also staying 2 military personnel indulging themselves in copious amounts of beer. I joined them for a drink and a Geo-politic introduction of the country. We just entered Bolivia at a time of great political instability. Reforms of nationalization of Bolivian industry applied by Evo Morales, the "presidente Cocalero ", as he is known for his support to Coca farmers, is dividing the country between the majority indigenous population that lives in the Altiplano provinces, and the richer and more productive provinces of the lowlands that recently proclaimed autonomy through various referendums.

Daily manifestations with road blocks across the country that make difficult the distribution of basic goods, with the consequent rise in prices, and fuel shortages are just some of the problems that people face and that would in some way affect our travel plans in the coming weeks.
We continued towards La Paz...






El Alto

We tried in vain to assert our presence among the thousands of people, mini-buses and cars that filled all of the available spaces of the avenue. Maintaining the balance was difficult and pedalling simply impossible. The deafening sounds of car horns, the street vendors, the micro-buses assistants shouting "La Perez, La Perez, one Bolivian, sube,(climb up) sube, sube, sube !!!". I look at the terrified face of Joana. We take a good 20 minutes to cross the avenue and push our bikes through the maze of street markets. I note a boy with his head covered by a black hooded lying on the path shinning shoes, his face hidden by the status of his work, alongside a "cholita" (Bolivian Andean women) sold hot quinoa. The sun had just gone behind the massive cluster of unfinished houses and the Altiplano´s biter cold was felt immediately.

We looked for a good couple of hours for a "alojamiento", lodging, The city had dozens of them, but none appeared to meet our requirements: shower of hot water. We had just completed another cycling stage, and since Puno in Peru that we didn't have a shower with hot water. The consensus was unanimous, this massive "rural village" of over one million inhabitants had only one hotel worth of the name, the hotel Alexander. For the first time in our travels we booked in a luxury hotel, with a porter to bring the luggage to the room, porter to take the bicycles to a garage, a doorman escorting me to the ATM nearby, and even a porter to show us the way to the bus station to La Paz (does that exists?), Sauna, nightclub with complementary drinks offered by the management and a suite on the sixth floor with views to the chaotic city.

All this for only $ 10 a person, the same price that many backpackers paid for a simple hotel in downtown La Paz just 30 minutes way. In the comfort of our suite we observe the human chaos in the streets below us.

During the 3 days it took us from Puerto Acosta to La Paz, we cycled the Bolivian Altiplano through many villages where one could see many abandoned houses like if they were part of some sort of contemporary Inca ruins. The human desertion of the cold and harsh Altiplano to the cities is a recent phenomenon and for thousands of people the destination is El Alto.







The city with the fastest growing rate in South America, whose population already exceeds that of the capital, La Paz. The reason why we choose to stay in El Alto and not in nearby La Paz as all tourists do, was simple: We didn't want to descend with our bikes the 500m that separates the two cities and climb it up again later, and also because we had a contact of a "casa de ciclistas in El Alto. On the following morning (accompanied by the doorman!) we face the human chaos and look for a micro-bus to La Paz and went to emigration announcing our presence in the country. We obtained without any objection a 3 months visa.

La Paz lies on a canyon sandwiched between the Altiplano to the East and the cordillera real to the west, at 3600 meters of altitude, is the highest capital in the world and also a "world" part from the satellite city of El Alto clinging 500 meters above on its northwest slope and exposed to the Altiplano cold winds. The contrasts between the two cities are enormous. El Alto is reminiscent of a giant Andean farmers village that "protect" themselves from the difficult and harsh life of the Altiplano behind the city`s markets, unfinished adobe houses, piles of garbage and chaotic traffic . La Paz was indeed a disappointment. Unlike what I imagined, the city centre of the highest capital in the world is 'very sophisticated and modern, and despite the constant backdrop of the white covered peaks of cordillera Real, the city did not reveal much character.



Walking the avenue del Prado, reminded me sometimes of the streets of Lisbon, and the only "old" part of town around the cathedral of San Francisco was so full of souvenirs stores and tourists with a dizzy look from high altitude, that one could think of it like another big souvenir market found in any other city of Latin America.

Casa de ciclistas of La Paz

Vilma and Jesus, a couple of professional veteran cyclists, already receive touring cyclists in their house for over 20 years, and are part of a wide network of free accommodation for touring cyclists that exists across Latin America. Their kind and loving hospitality led us to stay at their place for almost a week. Days passed exploring the chaotic city of El Alto, some visits to La Paz, or just enjoy the company of our kind hosts. One day before our departure towards Oruro, my new odometer arrives. The previous one had broke long ago and I`ve been anticipating a new one for quite some time A big thanks to Lynn Pilgrim and Chivas Coffee Rosters in Santa Fe, United States that have been so kind to send me a new altimeter and other delicious delicatessens, and that over the months have been an unmatched support in this journey.

Oruro

It was 3 days of easy and monotonous cycling from La Paz to Oruro through the Altiplano above 3500 meters altitude.


On the second day`s riding we ended the day with 3 digits on the odometer, the first time for Joana, and camped 25 kms from Oruro in an abandoned mine where we experience for the first time the cold nights of the Altiplano. That night the minus 5 degrees forced us to cook inside the mine in a rather surreal atmosphere.

Welcoming us in Oruro, by the side of the road, a billboard with Sherlock Holmes, a huge helmet of a miner who seemed more like a spacecraft and various sculptures in copper that showed evidence of the strong mining and carnival traditions of the city.

Oruro is a pleasant but uninteresting mining town where we spent several days preparing for our first major cycling stage in Bolivia: the crossing of salares of Coipasa and Uyuni. A stage that promises loads of adventure and breathtaking scenery and will be published on the next chronic.

You can follow my adventures also through the eyes of Joana on her site here

Nuno Brilhante Pedrosa
In Oruro, Bolivia.

Machu Picchu, Cusco and Lake Titicaca (Peru)

Machu Picchu

It was a short and arduous climb. The early morning fog did not allow us to have the notion of the size of the massive landscape around us and our vision was limited to a few meters. But there was no margin for error, the trail once created by the Incas on the way to their terraced fields in the slopes of Waynapicchu were now used by thousands of visitors each year that climbed breathless to its top to get the best views of the sumptuous ruins of the Inca citadel of Machu Picchu.

Driven to escape the crowds or perhaps by our excellent physical shape, we were amogst the first to reach the top of Waynapicchu. We waited in the chilly and damp morning that the curtains of fog opened up and observed the spectacular nature around us. Machu Picchu was the last of the 7 new wonders of the world that I haven't visit yet, and as opposed to Chichén Itzá in Mexico or to Cristo Redentor in Rio de Janeiro, Machu Picchu deserves its honorific title without hesitation, not only by the ruins itself, but mainly because of their location.




The Urubamba River over the millennia carved the land creating a deep canyon, zigzagging between steep mountains. In the sunny slopes of one of them the Incas built another of theirs many Andean city, Machu Picchu. Constructions in stone carved to perfection, complicated irrigation systems and a society with ideologies that are similar to modern socialism. A perfect harmony between the coexistence of man and nature. This Andean "Shangri-La" was so well located in the "ceja de la selva", elbow of the jungle, that the Spaniards during their long colonization never found it despite knowing about that lost city of the Incas.


We spent another night in what must be the least Peruvian city of Peru, Aguas Calientes, built with the only function of catering for the thousands of tourists who visit the ruins, then was back to Cusco the same way which we had came: walking the railway tracks to the hydroelectric power station (10 km) and then several bus trips to Cusco, via Santa Teresa and Santa Maria.


This is the cheapest way to get to Machu Picchu (60 Soles round trip) and we also broke the arrogant monopoly of Peru-rail, the Chilean company that operates the only contract of passenger trains between Cusco and Aguas Calientes and who charge prohibitive prices for train tickets- 73 dollars !

Cusco

The 8 days I spent in Cusco were days of rest and relaxation. We were not interested in collecting tickets of museums or other attractions. Our last cycling stage had been extremely hard, so we just let ourselves soak up in the city`s atmosphere and the Western comforts it offered. In spite of been one of the most touristic cities in all of South America, Cusco is still able to retain some of its charm. It is a pleasure to wander through the narrow and slopy cobbled streets and observe the architectural fusion between Spanish colonialism and Inca buildings, many of them foundations for colonial buildings.



Me and Joseph from austria at pension estrellita, cusco.

From Cusco to Puno

It was time to leave again, this time alone. Joana would met up with me in Puno by bus. We were anxious to get out of Peru and Joana had decided that the Altiplano and the roads with heavy traffic did not deserve the labor of her legs. Leaving Cusco through highway 3 was very easy. A gentle downhill of 35 km to Huacarpay continuing in soft ups and downs almost always near the Vilcanota River. After our last leg between Ayacucho and Cusco, riding on this road, which despite being above 3500 meters has soft grades, was like a "ride in the park".

I finished the day in Sicuani with 141 kms cycled. I lodge myself in the simple hospedaje of Mr. Huaca where I later met another 2 cyclists, Kiby and Dasa, 2 experienced bike travellers from Slovakia, with many thousands of kilometres in theirs legs from several bike trips. This time a 3 months journey in Peru, Bolivia and northern Chile. I spent a very pleasant evening in their company, watered with Cusqueña beer and some shots of homemade firewater (69 degrees) that Kiby had brought from Slovakia and was carrying on his panniers. I would met them again in Puno a few days later.

Next morning I return to the asphalt determined to reach Puno in two days (260 km). The road rises gently to the pass Abra la Raya -another bump on the road!- at 4312 meters of altitude is the highest point on the road between Cusco and Puno and the entry point to the vast Andean Altiplano that stretch for hundreds of miles, beyond the Peruvian border ending only in Southwestern Bolivia. Joana and I would be riding through that cold and desolate Altiplano, located between 3700 and 4000 meters in altitude, over the coming weeks.








Cycling alone in the cold and barren landscape, with long straight and flat roads and monotonous scenery, the days become long and endless, my bum numb and my mind dormant. I passed by the city of Juliaca, it looked like a giant Lego of red bricks of unfinished buildings, chaotic and dirty, in the middle of the desolate Altiplano. Juliaca was probably the most chaotic, ugly and unorganized Peruvian city I came across. It was like a city of post-holocaust, full of life but without character, meaning or order, and with an unusual number of bicycle-taxis.




On the third day, and with 400 km cycled, I arrive in Puno, on the west shores of Lake Titicaca. Puno is just a bit more pleasant than Juliaca. Another chaotic, dirty and disorganised Peruvian city, where the construction of the building are made as one`s pleases (or can), without any urban planning, something so typical in the cities of Peru.


Peruvian hotels

I arrived in Puno late at night, I had cycled 147 km and was exhausted. I climb up the stairs of the hotel Jesus, and the receptionist informed me that he had no rooms available, but moments later said he had a spare room that only needed to be cleaned and could rent for 15 Soles (3.5 euros). The incredible speed with which he "cleaned" the room left me suspicious. I raised the blankets and to my bewildered eyes saw a wet spot in the middle of the sheets . It seemed a "proof of the crime" of some recent sexual act. I question the employee why he didn't change the sheets. "The washing machine is damaged", he said with a disinterested expression. I asked him to change the sheets while I carried my bike and bags up the stairs. When I noticed that had changed only the lower sheet I asked him to change the other one or I would not stay in the hotel. Resigned, he changes the second sheet. I was so exhausted that had no desire to look for another hotel. I slept in my sleeping bag and on the following morning change hotel.

The next chosen hotel, whose name I can not remember was a family guesthouse, clean and with some character. The friendly owner showed me the room whose electric shower did not work. I ask the woman to resolve the situation as I was going to pick up Joana from the bus station. We return to the hotel in the afternoon and to our surprise it was closed! We knock on the door, insisting several times. After some time, we noticed through the glass window, a man completely drunk walking down the corridor. He was so drunk that he could not open the door, and without saying a word disappears down the dark corridor leaving us there sitting at the hotel entrance. I knock on the door once again and the man came back trying to open the door without success and disappears again. We were about to despair. At the third attempt, with the help of my instructions, he manage to open the door and once again disappears without saying a word walking between the walls of the corridor. I collect my luggage and bicycle and left in search of another hotel. This time the hotel Inti, with 25 Soles per night (3 euros each) offered a decent room and hot shower. What we have not been informed is that the 24 hours hot water offered by the entrance sign and by the receptionist, were subject to the solar moods (it was operated by solar energy) and having been an afternoon of rain, the much desired shower had to wait another day.
It's time to get out of Peru!

In the 108 nights that we spent in the country, 26 were wild camping in our tent without any problems, 22 in private family`s houses who welcomed us, and the remaining 60 in hotels. Cheap "hotels", in the most varying states of existence, clean hotels and dirty hotels, hotels with character and noisy hotels, hotels without electricity or running water, hotels with showers that gave electric shocks, hotels where the reception were creatively covered with packs of toilet paper "suave", the Peruvian version of Scottex. and once even a hotel room without a door!
The concept of a (cheap) Peruvian hotel seems to be summed up to a space between four walls (painted or paint), a roof and a bed, whose only function is to protect the client of the elements.

The East shores of Lake Titicaca

We planned to enter Bolivia by the remote border of Puerto Acosta, cycling around the North shores of Lake Titicaca on the Peruvian side and then Southeast through Taraco, Huancanè, Moho and Tilali. A route completely off the beaten track avoiding the backpackers ghettos of Copacabana isla del sol and isla de la luna. We had little information about this route. According to our guide, there was no immigration post at this frontier, so we had to stamp the passports in Puno (stamp out of Peru) and God knows where on the Bolivian side, perhaps only in the capital La Paz, 420km from Puno.

The young girl at the tourist information in Puno discourage us to use that border crossing because of smugglers activity and their clashes with the police. However the department of immigration in Puno did not put any objection to our itinerary and -at our request- stamped our passports with 4 days in advance, the time we thought we needed to reach the border.

We left Puno in the morning under a blue sky and strong sun cycling north on the road to Juliaca. Out of town the road was blocked with broken glasses and large stones. There was a "Paro", strike, in the city and the roads out of town were blocked to traffic. Local people claimed the big hikes in prices of basic foodstuff. The rice alone, as a trader told us, had risen about 60% in the last 3 months. Around here (and particularly in Bolivia) the most common form of protest is blocking the roads, something that touring cyclists embrace with enthusiasm. It was a joy that morning to ride without a single car or its noises.


By late afternoon we come to the peninsula of Capachica and Lake Titicaca shores, where we camped with excellent views of the sacred lake of the Incas. Lake Titicaca at 3812 meters in altitude is the highest navigable lake in the world and, according to legend, the birth place of the Inca civilization. With 204 km in length and 65 km wide, this massive body of turquoise blue gives life to the vast and dry Altiplano. On the banks of the lake Quechua and Aymara cultures are still well alive whose customs and traditions have changed little over the centuries.





Village of Moho

With the approaching of the border the traffic was decreasing and in fact after Moho, not a single vehicle bypassed me. By the fourth day we reached the border village of Tilali, found a simple hospedaje and spent our last night in Peru.


Cerro Janko Janko




South of Tilali, 2 km on a dirt road is the Peruvian border post. A small house occupied by 2 officers and a piece of wood over the road obstructed the way. We stop to show our passports and some friendly conversation with the border guards, which told us that the only movement that seems to exist in that border was Wednesday and Sunday, the day of smugglers market an Cerro Janko Janko 2 kms away where the real border is located. The rest of the week there is hardly a soul in sight, they told us. The market is mostly of smuggled cheap Bolivian goods, including gasoline of which Peru has the highest prices in all South America.

2 kms of a steep climb through no man land and we arrived at cerro Janko Janko. An obelisk marked the division between the two countries and a cluster of empty stone houses nearby confirmed the existence of that bi-weekly market. To the west the immense blue of Lake Titicaca. There was no soul around. We stop a long time to contemplate the beauty of the landscape and the absolute silence. This was the most calm and peaceful (legal) border crossing I have made in all of my travels. We just had finished our bike tour of Peru and were eager to unravel other country on this journey.




Hasta la vista Peru!

Peru had been the most difficult country of the journey so far. It is a country of strong contrasts, intense and very challenging. It offered the most beautiful natural landscapes of the trip, especially its impressive canyons, deep valleys and snow covered mountain ranges. The Peruvian Andean Cordillera provided great physical challenges for bicycle. But it was the human factor that offered the greatest challenges.

The Peruvian cities - except for the Plaza de Armas and historical centres - are chaotic, dirty and authentic architectural aberrations, insults to the beautiful landscape that surrounds them. The encounters on the road, mainly in rural areas, were intense sometimes exhausting and communication very limited. The "Buenos dias" on the street or the "buen provecho" in restaurants were often unanswered, young people were often intrusive and their curiosity invaded our privacy more than seemed to be acceptable by common sense, and the verbal harassment to Joana were a constant even when I cycled beside her.

We also met a lot of wonderful people, some of them welcomed us into their homes and shared their gracious and sincere hospitality . Moments we remember with great affection. But I still feel that the human landscape in Peru is as its morphological landscape with highs were you can see things that make you feel privileged and lows, where you feel tired and where nothing of what you observe attracts you. And as opposed to Cuba or Colombia, where the human factor was the driving force of my cycling energy, in Peru was the landscape that paid off for all the tough physical and human efforts.

To choose the bicycle as a means of transport, I am by choice, more exposed and it also brings me closer to the beings that populate the landscape that I am traveling through. But in Peru the human contrasts which I was exposed to, reminded me how high can be the social and cultural barriers and how these factors influence how one enjoys the country. With one more exit stamp in the passport, I just have to say:
Aste la vista Peru!

Nuno Brilhante Pedrosa
La Paz, Bolivia