Crossroads, San Pedro de Atacama

I've hit a fork in the road. A black spot obscuring the clarity of my map. For nearly nine months now I've been ever so gradually heading south, always slightly conscious of where I was going, and what I wanted to do. Now comes a definite turning point in my journey. There's no sure direction where to flow. It's as if I've returned to the 'real' world, or at least vaguely that of the world which all those months ago I left behind. The contrasts couldn't be more astounding & baffling. A mere line in the sand dictates & differents between South America's wealthiest economy & its poorest. Bolivia made me a millionaire; Chile shall bleed me dry. After three fun-filled, aw-inspiring days crossing the Uyuni salt flats & the high volcanic Andean Altiplano, I find myself here; smack in the middle of the scorching hot Atacama desert - flat broke, sleeping in the dirt & painstakingly weighing up my realistic options. North? South? East?...or West?!? Any could suffice. Bus? bike?...or hitchin' on the hike?? Right now I'm yet to know. I guess I didn't actually expect to make it down this far. I wish someone would just make my mind up for me. It's no fun being a serious decision making adult who's out living the hard life. But here I am. Take a punt. Roll the dice.

Laguna Colorado

After my little escapee in Sorata, I made the dash back to La Paz refreshed & revving. The views along that stretch of road are spectacular, with the entire Cordillera Real fanning out in a single unbroken line, acting as a contrasting back-drop to the open alpine plateau. Thankfully Bolivia'snatural beauty took my mind off the disgusting fat fuck gnawing his way through an entire fried chicken beside me. My days in the hills, had me ready for one final wild ride at The Rover...this was going to be it. Most of my old crowd had long ago moved on, but it doesn't take much to make a bunch of one-night-worthy friends. It was on. Things got a little out of control yet again, and apparently I'd tried to jump into bed with some classy English chick who'd pissed herself earlier on. Haha, actually she'd pissed all over some poor Israeli guy's passport, and all morning he was spreading out his stuff, trying in vain to get things dry & minty fresh. She sure made a quick exit the next day I must say. Just like that Pom in Bocas...the bloody English, they're all the same.

Horayyy for jumping on that bus. I was actually out of there this time. You know it's time to leave when the bar staff are putting vodka in your cornflakes. I was saved. After much debate, I'd left on a night bus with two girls I'd met at the hostel, bound for Sucre. To be honest, this was the best bus I think I'd ever had!! That didn't stop the hoards of beggars & buskers hopping aboard at the obligatory out of town stop. It's a sad image seeing so many people struggling through life day to day; but in the end, you can't help them all. Most of every ones spare change went to the first guy (with no arms) who'd sprung up, the next got the crumbs, & the rest that followed got next to nothing. There was grief and desperation in their eyes as they went from seat to seat, hands extended, repeating the same pleading lines over & over again. I think it's healthy to witness, but it's hard to watch.

I got a decent sleep that night I think. I'm never too sure on those overnight buses. You have some crazy dreams. From the station we caught a cab into town & crashed out upstairs in a hostel. The town seemed nice, however very sterile. Maybe this would be a good place to settle down and get some proper Spanish lessons done finally?? We hit up the weekend markets, and annihilated strawberry thick shakes. After that I found there was little else to do. Everyone else went shopping for Halloween outfits for the party later on; I chose to make a retreat. I felt I was partied out. I should be giving myself a break. It didn't feel like the loosest of party towns after all. I grabbed some cheap food & flicked my way through an autobiography about a Welsh marijuana smuggler. Then I headed back to the room and planned where I wanted to head to next. It was turning into a quiet night. Well it  was...BOOM!! Lia had lost the keys to her lock & had been zipping around town searching frantically for a pair of bolt cutters. "Nick, you coming out?? Yea you are!!" How could I say no. I had no costume, but I've got enough random crap in my bag to make any ordinary sucker look like a freak. The cheap wine was soon on the guzzle, then the $1 cocktails. I ended up with some Dutch chick in a pirate hat. Apparently I'd tried to to take her back to my room in the hostel. It would have been perfect!! The girls were still out. But as my luck seems to roll, the door was locked & I had no way of getting in!! I remember banging pointlessly for a good five or ten minutes...fuck my life!! The chick left. Sure sucks...she was cool. Meera & Lia found me asleep sitting against the wall when they returned some time later. They must have been a little confused. The key had been in my jacket pocket the entire time!! Arrghhh...what a night. What an idiot.

Halloween in Sucre

I was meant to leave the next morning, but that wasn't going to happen. We spent the day sleeping & eating lots of fine food. Sundays in some smaller cities can seem like you've woken up in a ghost town. There was nothing to do. I couldn't stay here. Spanish lessons would have to wait yet again. I was off to Potosi the following afternoon, a large town cemented into South American history due to it's famous silver mines within Cerro Rico, which supplied much of the mint for the colonial New World Spanish Empire. The town itself is quite impressive; narrow streets wind their way up and down the hillsides, there are plenty of intact colonial buildings & churches, and at night the public spaces seem to come alive with an unexpected youthful energy. I actually wish I had a bit more time to hang out here for a few more days. I'd tried to get my visa extended in Sucre, but the official just kept sending me away time after time & telling me her boss wouldn't be back for another hour...every time. I cracked the shits and took off. I had just enough days left to avoid overstaying much like I did before in Peru. Everything in Bolivian law seemed to come with a price. I wanted to avoid these technicalities if at all possible.

The next day I'd organised a tour into the working Potosi mines. I was expecting a bit of a tourist tout; would miners be lined up for photos with pick-axes like the seven dwarfs, 'slaving' away in predictable unison?? I was shockingly surprised. After kitting out in our mine attire, we jumped into a bus and made for one of the 'miners market' stores. There one could buy a whole array of ridiculous crap. Dynamite was offered out to us in a plastic bag, along with the line detonator & some kind of gun powder looking stuff. Apparently it's all legal to buy this. Anyone can. I wonder now why they were so anal about the dynamite we had back in La Paz. Our group chose to buy coca & water for the miners instead. Apparently they get quite disappointed when all the tourists just want to blow shit up. When we arrived at the mines, a lot of workers were hanging around outside. Most were starting to knock off for the day. If we wanted to run into any we'd have to search them out or ask around. The ceilings of the mines were much lower than I expected; most of the time we had to walk in a kind of squat. All of a sudden our guide shouted out for us to jump off the tracks!! Scooting out from the darkness came this wooden cart filled to the brim with rock; behind pushed these two tiny soot covered men. This was legit business. I was excited.

Mine carts

Soon we found ourselves squeezing through itsy holes, and climbing up and down rickety step ladders. I'm glad I brought my face mask, as the fumes & dust at times were overwhelming. We paid a visit to the miners devil god Tio, who was draped in colourful streamers and had a spent cigarette dangling from his mouth. Our guide lit him up another & we took shots of some kind of 97% alcohol. Tio is more like the devil, as god doesn't watch over the realms of the underground. Miners pray to him for protection against cave-ins, and also to provide them with plentiful minerals. I'd be praying all I could too. Cerro Rico is known as 'the mountain that eats men alive.'  During the colonial times of approximately three centuries, it is estimated that more than eight million indigenous & Africanpeople died working in the mines. Most miners these days still only have a life expectancy of around 55 years. The most recent death was only two months ago prior. After a few hours, we eventually ran into a some of the workers. At the bottom of a six meter deep pit, in which we had to abseil down into with no more than a knotted rope, we met Leo. He'd been working in the mines for a good 25 years. He was only in his forties so he claimed, yet appeared much older. I couldn't imagine spending every hour of daylight, practically every day per week, huddled down here, slaving away in this dusty confined, claustrophobic area.

Leo working deep down in the mines

It was a welcoming relief to see the bright sun light at the end of the tunnel on our way out. After leaving the mines, we visited the refinery plant. Huge machines crushed & filtered through all the chunks of raw rock. Apparently all the run off goes directly into a river which feeds the Rio de la Plata, the same one which flows into the Atlantic besides Buenos Aires in Argentina. Later that night in the hostel, a bunch of us decided to watch a documentary called 'The Devil's Miner,' about a 14 year old boy who was working in the mines trying to support his family. It was quite a moving tale, especially since we'd just seen the conditions ourselves first hand. There are supposedly still dozens of young boys working illegally in the mines.

Outside the Cerro Rico Mine

I left Potosi the following day, continuing my rapid spiralling stampede out of Bolivia. The bus was crammed again, and it was bloody hot. The starkness of the terrain began to take over every aspect of the environment. Red towering walls of rock, rose sky high out of the grass-less hills around us. The final stretch descending down into the obscure town of Uyuni proved spectacular. In the distance you could make out the flat saline plains, spreading out into the mirage like distance. GermanGeorg and I took our time exploring the town & finding a cheap place to crash, before searching out a decent tour for the following day. What a strange place. We were in the middle of no where. I kept expecting the tumbleweeds to roll on by & trip me over. That night I treated myself to the slowest Internet I've ever used, and three of the greasiest yet cheapest beef burgers I'm yet to devour.

Uyuni

So thankfully, the oddness of Uyuni pays no resemblance what so ever to the absolute beauty of the surrounding salt flats. I was aw-struck. I have never seen anything so other worldly or mesmerising. With a total of six of us loaded up in our Landcruiser, we took off into the horizon. We visited a train cemetery, resonating the former reason for this small desert towns existence. There were swings, seesaws and all kinds of rusty machinery. I felt like a little kid again, messing around for hours down at Tynwald Park.

Chillen on a train

Then came the real cool shit. We stopped for lunch in the middle of the salt flats. All around us for miles stretched an endless white crust. There was no way you could handle the glare without a pair of shades. Tiny salt mounds piled up in lines formed eerily perfect hexagons. Taking photos was fun...but hard!! I had seen so many hilarious photos from friends that had passed by this way, and I had this perception that it mustn't be to difficult. We'd brought toy dinosaurs, Barbie & a Rubik's cube. Getting Barbie to give me a blow job was near impossible!! We spent an hour or so mucking around after we ate. GermanGeorg thought it'd be a great idea to get a photo jumping off the truck...not so...his heel hit the hard surface in a nasty way and he was practically hobbling for the entire following three days.

Standing on a massive Rubik's cube

The Uyuni salt flats & the surrounding environment turned out to be three days spent witnessing the ultimate whackness of mother nature. The world is a twisted & temperamental place. We bumped into giant cactus, volcanoes, geysers, acidic lakes, flamingos, thermal springs and tangled rock formations. The skies at night were crystal clear. If it hadn't been so damb cold I could have slept under that plethora of stars till day break. The company was also terrific. I think this can make or break a group excursion. Saying goodbye at the border on the third day, is something I'm growing tired of doing. I keep meeting these amazing people, and then they disappear. Most likely I'll never see many of them ever again.

Geysers

But that's the way it goes my friends. Now I'm stuck here in San Pedro de Atacama, trying to get my bank cards to work!! I arrived on the Saturday, smack in the middle of some Chilean long weekend. The camp grounds were packed, and there were people everywhere!! Now it's decision time. I've still gotta figure out what to do and where to go. I think I'll hang out for a few more days & sort out my mind, eat cheap & bask in the harsh desert sun.

Flamingos!!

From Isla de Incahuasi

Backstreets Back!!

Until next time...happy livin'!!!
Nicko. xxxxx

Sky High with the Gods, Sorata

As long as I can remember, I've always loved the outdoors. I can still recall helping build (before destroying at least) my neighbours wooden cubby house in an empty paddock down the street; I'd forever run a muck during any of dads hunting or camping trips; and how could I forget those all day ventures up into the so called 'Valley of the Hares' with my uncle & cousin. I don't really know what was wrong with me as a child to be honest. I guess I had one of those unexplainable exploratory imaginations. My world was made for adventure. Anything seemed plausible. I'd often sit with my nan for hours at a time, boring her with a multitude of tall tales on all the great things I'd one day do, and all the exotic far away places I'd one day see. I wonder what the ol' dear would have made of me these days; fourteen years later, alone & lost somewhere high in the Bolivian Andes, scampering through dodgy looking back-end mining operations, and chasing alpacas up fog blanketed slopes. Well now...I can just picture her there, sitting back in that chair, having a wild crack - neither of us should have been in the slightest bit surprised. After all, these kind of situations tend to follow me like a shadow. It seems all that childhood mischievous behaviour skipped the boat & transpired seamlessly into adulthood. Can I get away with anything?? So far, so good...I must say. The Gods ain't got shit. It must be true. Let's go build some bombs.

The Illampu/Ancohuma Massif near Sorata

Speaking of bombs...I well thought I was on the way to becoming mushed mince the other day. I wonder what it must feel like to be blown into a million tiny little pieces?? I had hit the straight & narrow. No more party for me...for a while at least. Surely that couldn't be the only thing to do at night in La Paz!! I sat around in the courtyard with a growing number of rowdy revellers, trying in vain to quietly blend into the background. Who was I kidding?? I never pull this shit off. HaggardHaz was nagging me over & over again to head up stairs and smash a couple of Timmay Bombs that we only just got put fresh on the menu. For every five Timmays we sold, HaggardHaz & I got one free. Not a bad deal, but today wasn't the day. I hid in the movie room. By the time I came back out, everyone was well smashed & it was only about 5 o'clock in the afternoon!! Ahhh...La Paz, you're bound to kill me. One of the dudes had some terrorist rag on his head - "Alex, what the fuck are you wearing??" - he didn't look at all capable of answering, but managed something slightly audible - "I'm a fucking freedom fighter, check out the dynamite..." - "WOAAAHHH" - I nearly fell back off my seat!! He wasn't shittin' me; out of his pocket came a legit stick of fucking dynamite!! "Where the hell did you get that from you idiot?!!" This time he didn't muster an answer; he simply stumbled off to pass out in bed, dribbling all over the walls on his way out. Everyone had lost it by this point, I think I was the only one sober. Some German guy went to his room & salvaged his explosives. Apparently he'd been carrying four or five sticks around since visiting the mines in Potosi, and him & his mates had plans to blow up a cactus somewhere outside of town!! I just couldn't sit there in complete tranquillity with that stuff staring back at me. I got up to leave. I didn't want to be a downer on the party. "Hey Nicko!! Catch this!!" Ohh, you fucking retards!! Here comes a stick of dynamite whizzing through the air towards me!! It bounces off the wall, and snaps in half. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?!!" Everyone was in fits of laughter. I didn't really know what to do. I was laughing halfheartedly more out of disbelief than anything, but on the inside I was packing piss & shitting sardines. All I could picture was Wile E Coyote roasting himself on the side of some deserted highway as Road Runner scoots on past. Beep, Beep!!

The Lovers of Bombs Mob

Well, somehow I'd managed to survive the first round. No more downstairs fiesta for me. The bloody buffoons were still having a great ol' time with that same stick of dynamite. They'd simply taped it up & sat it back on the table. Apparently they'd even gone as far as throwing it at some poor chick who'd just checked in & was all on her own. It wasn't looking good. So by the time our posse was completely smashed & the night was beginning to gear up in the bar, everyone walked off from the courtyard one by one, not giving a second thought about that dangerous, unstable wad of nitroglycerin still left dormant alongside all the empty beer bottles. Now who would have thought management might have been a little bit pissed about this when they eventually stumbled upon it??...and given the fact HaggardHaz & I kind of knew management, we ended up as the first to be hounded...

"WHO THE FUCK BROUGHT IN THE DYNAMITE!!??" These guys sure didn't look too happy. I felt like I was back in primary school, getting ripped into by my saggy-faced catholic 3rd grade teacher for jumping the back fence & playing fruit wars before class each morning. "We've got no idea to be honest bud," - bad answer - "Fuck off you don't know!! I've got you all here on the video cameras!!" Yep, we were screwed. That was for sure. Although I did actually know who brought it in, there was no way I was going to be the nark. "Look, if you've got us all on camera, can't you simply check over again who brought it in?? We've truly got no idea..." - "Don't you fucking pricks try to tell me what to do!! We've got you all here on camera, and if you'd like, we can easily call the police & have you alllll done on attempted terrorism charges. Fancy a bit of a stint in San Pedro do we?? Won't have to barter your way through those gates after all..." How was all this happening?? I'd been running scared shitless away from the damb stuff!! HaggardHaz was pretty messed up at this point - "Aight, so it goes then. We've got no idea who brought it in, I guess you're gonna have to lock us all up." Ohhh, fuck Haz...hold your drink mate. The owners were fuming, and had just sent us lot upstairs to collect everyone else that had been sitting around at the table, when the German burst through the door & confessed it all. I have to admit, I was very relieved. It took the nark devil right off my shoulder, and meant we wouldn't be spending this jubilant evening staring back through the bars of La Paz's most notorious penitentiary. I felt a little sorry for the German guy, but since he coughed up they let him off with a bit of a fine & one mighty slap on the wrist warning. Lesson learnt...don't bring bombs to party a hostel.

With no hard feelings called by all parties involved, I guess I had to have at least one quiet drink. Feeling slightly defeated, I followed HaggardHaz back into the bar. "Heyyy!! It's the terrorist!!" Everyone was now looking at me. What the fuck?? How did I become the blastered pyro?! "NickiBoi, you really shouldn't be bringing stuff like that into a hostel...it'll get you in trouble you know." I finally realised they were having me on...I'm quite easily fooled some times. It was fluro night, so we had a laugh & painted lit sticks of dynamite on both my arms. The Timmays turned out to be a hit. HaggardHaz was on a fiery promotion rampage, which meant I got more free booze than I intended. I ended up spending the night, flabbergasting away with some hot Danish chick who I initially thought was German. "Guten tag, amiga!! Wie geht es dir?" I'd brought my new German bombsquad mate along with me to help in some simple humorous formalities. She looked a bit puzzled..."I'm Danish..." Aight, strike one!! "Hahahaha, you Aussie idiot!!" Bombsquad drifted away in hysterics.

Bangin' Bitches with Chocolate Bars??

After another more that expected hectic night at The Rover, I woke early & got my shit together for some real fun. The reason I didn't want to drink the night before was that I'd booked myself in for a three-day intimidating climb of a 6,088 meter snow-capped mountain, just outside of the city. In truth, it looked like a monster. Ever since I'd began climbing mountains on a regular basis back home, had I dreamt of doing some actual proper mountaineering. Never did I believe it would ever honestly happen. For one, it's mighty expensive!! Lot's of gear would have to be brought or borrowed, & guides in New Zealand or Europe charge bucket loads for an intensive program. Secondly, I enjoy hiking & rock-climbing as separate entities, and I also love messing about in the snow; but serious mountaineering presents itself with a lot more 'value of life' questioning. It's the next step up on the risk factor. Was I ready for it?? Hell's yea!!! Never again might I get the chance to climb a serious mountain such as this one so cheaply!! At least not in the near future anyway. Huayna Potosi was on, 100%. I couldn't have been more excited.

Huayna Potosi

Once we'd all been geared up in the shop in La Paz, we took off in a van towards the mountain. Aesthetically, it looked like a giant white-tipped pyramid, savagely piercing the innocent clear blue skies. We pulled into Base Camp, and slumped all our crap across the mattress beds. Food was ready, so we go stuck into some much needed munch. Then it was time for climbing practice!! Wearing all of our gear, we trod off up into the hills towards the glacier, streaming down a channel of the mountain. I'd signed up with a cross-Tasman bud from New Zealand, & we both gazed in unison at the natural beauty of the entire area, unable to dignifiedly collect our thoughts with the appropriate words. We zigged & zagged our way up and down the glacier, before skirting around the side for a short taste of ice-climbing. Now for those of you who have never done this before, prepare yourself for one hell of a work out!! I've done a fair bit of climbing in the past, and assumed that it wouldn't be to different. How wrong I was. By the time I'd got half way up the wall my arms were pumping!! I wasn't too sure if I'd make it all the way to the top! It'd been a long time since I'd gone climbing, but the thrill was still there. I missed the pump. Using your muscles till they can work no more. I used to love coming off the wall & not being able to turn my cars steering wheel unless I kept open palms. Now I couldn't keep a hold of my ice axe. Bliss. A strange satisfaction.

Ice Climbing!!

The next day was an easy one. All we had to do was hike a casual 500 meters or so in elevation until we reached High Camp, where we would spend the afternoon relaxing & acclimatizing before the late night push to the summit that evening. I was enjoying the fresh air; it always seems too long between stints these days. The rest of the Cordillera Real began to appear before us, stretching far off into the distance as far as the eye could see. More glaciers made themselves present, and soon the route towards the pinnacles could be made out through the crevassed plagued fields of snow. I sat outside for most of the day enjoying the magnificent views, before taking a brief siesta. An early dinner was then had, and afterwards it was supposedly time for bed. I'd had a few friends that had already been to the top, and each of them had told me it was no climb to underestimate. It was going to be tough; I knew this - so I desperately wanted to snag a decent sleep. As it goes, it's always when you need it that it just won't happen. I sat awake for hours, with every possible thought running through my head, apart from those to do with the mountain. I thought about Europe, & the coming to an end of my Latin American odyssey. I thought about home; the outdoors, summer fun & my friends...then I thought about fucking YogaChick!! She was heading to Central America in a few weeks & I was terribly missing the beach; it would be surreal to meet up with her, and I'd kill to be out diving again. Doof!! Snap out of it!! Get to sleep. It's hard to keep some thoughts under control out here sometimes. I think I eventually nodded off for half an hour or so at least...

Hiking to High Camp

Wake up came so soon, but there was reason to get my ass up out of bed for once. We had one phat mountain to climb. Breakfast was mauled, and I fitted myself up in all my gear. Surprisingly, it wasn't all that cold outside; so I decided to leave my extra jumper behind. I'm never cold at the worst of times...apparently. Glen (the New Zealand guy) and I were the first ready & on the move. We roped up to each other & then to our guide, attached our crampons, and took off out into the darkness. It didn't seem all that bad. For the first hour or so it was all pretty cruisy going. There were times where we had to step over a few bottomless crevasses, and places where slopes slid away down the mountain at an 80 degree angle, and all we had to walk on was a mere meter or less of solid snow. It was all fairly exhilarating. I love this kind of stuff. I don't know how people can live their entire lives without a little thrill of uncertainty, risk or adrenaline. These are the moments when I honestly feel the most alive. Everything else is filler in comparison. One could lye there dormant & mute, a slug hiding under a protective shell; or one could take a punt & come have some fun. Possibly the time of ones life. Sure shit happens, but I know I'd rather die living than living dead.

A mouth full of choco during the night accent

A good three hours had passed by the time the real hard work began. I was becoming more & more difficult to breathe, and our obstacles were multiplying in both number and technicality. We'd reached a jagged complex of icy augmentations. It was like a series of platformed mazes, with solely one direct & safe route across. We took our time, and had plenty of breaks. It was harder going than I expected. Towards the top there was even a section where we had to scramble up some rocky crags. It was a little dodgy wearing the crampons & a little awkward with an ice axe in hand, but overall we managed. Now all there was that separated us from the summit, was a paper-thin serrated ridge. It was one hell of a spectacle. Carefully we trotted across & then up to the tippy-top!! Woohooo!!! What an incredible feeling of absolute jubilation when you take that final step to put you smack on the summit!! We'd done it. I could tick scaling a hefty 6,000'er off the life list!! It was time for a rest & to revel in our achievement. We were easily the first group up, and used this time to take in the pre-dawn peace & serenity. Once the sun did begin to peak its head above the horizon, we were greeted to the most spectacular view I think I've ever seen. The entire Cordillera Real could be made out to the west; in front of us was a sea of cloud, dotted with towering mountain islands. I felt on top of the world. I was one with the sky. How many people get to see something like this in their lifetimes?? I felt more than lucky. Shit...in truth, I think I was nearly in tears. That morning will always hold a very special place in my memory.

At the Summit!! Woohooo!!

The return leg was slow & hot. It didn't take the sun long to warm up our surroundings; and given the reflections off the snow, I'd bet it was ten degrees warmer than it should have been. I couldn't handle all these damb clothes!! I'd stripped down to my beater by the time we'd reached High Camp. A rush of relief, yet also one of slight sadness crept up on me when I finally got to sit down & look back at what we'd just done. It was over. Would I ever get this privilege again?? I had to simply savour the moment. Glenn & I enjoyed some freshly cooked soup, and spent an hour or so kicking back in the sun. One by one, other groups staggered into camp. Unfortunately, not everyone had made it however. Two Canadian guys had chose to push it out over just two days. One of them had only flew from Vancouver to La Paz a day ago!! He was chucking his guts up even at High Camp. It was pretty ambitious & more than a little stupid in all fairness. For me it was a great case study in the effects & limitations of altitude sickness. Believe me. It is real.

Coming back down. Check out the views!!!

Once back in La Paz, I felt like a new man. Something clicked up there, and I didn't want to let it go. I took it easy that night, avoiding the bar & all form of prerequisite merrymaking. I made a decision the following morning to make a quick exit & head straight to Sorata, the so called 'Garden of Eden,' perched in a lush valley at the western end of the Cordillera. The small town was supposedly a mecca for hikers, and this attracted my attention. Once away from the big smoke, the cash flow settled back into a much more comfortable & acceptable spending rhythm. The four hour bus ride cost a mere $2, & a decent room for the night cost little more. This happy-go-lucky pricing agenda seemed to fluctuate significantly when I made some enquiries into the guiding services around town. They were asking a whopping 300 Bolivianos per day, for a single guide & mule. At that price I could scale up Huayna Potosi all over again!! They weren't too keen on me purchasing a map either...looks like I was going up on my own.

I printed a shitty black & white map off the Internet from some climbing website, and studied the single lines and dots intensely. In hindsight, this probably wasn't the best idea. I grabbed a stack of food, and called it a night. The views out over the valley as the sun went down from the balcony of the El Mirador Hostel were phenomenal. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. Well so it started out at least...

View from El Mirador Hostel

I was charging!! I felt as fit as ever. With all my overnight gear crammed into my small pack, I took off early out of town. Up the steps, round a few bends, past a couple of drunks (who had already polished off ten bottles between them by 7 o'clock) and I was clear out of the civilised eye. As I went I would ask locals for directions. They simply kept pointing me onwards. I was quite satisfied I was heading the right way. What else was there to to but keep on walking & keep on believing. I crossed a small bridge, and snuck my way through a tiny village. At the top of the terraced crop fields, I ran into a young kid on his way to school. I asked again for directions, and he named the lake I was making for and pointed me on in the direction I was going. This was perfect. Half an hour or so later, I ran into a few cholita's herding sheep up into the mountains. They didn't really seem to want to know me, but I forced a reply out of them with constant hassling & "baaaa's" at their stock. I was sent off in some grunted direction yet again. By the time I'd reached the top of this large hill I was pretty wrecked. The sun was out in force, and I'd easily covered a good 1500 meters or more of altitude. I could see the Illampu/Ancohuma Massif dead ahead, and remained fairly optimistic. All those hopes were soon dashed however, when the spiralling road I was following came to an abrupt & sudden end. There was nothing around but further hills & rolling grass lands. No foot track continued. "Fucking wankers!!" Why would they have told me to keep on going when they knew very well that the lakes weren't in this fucking direction!! I turned around, back down the steep hill I'd been climbing for the better part of an hour. I could see some kind of buildings off in the distance, and thought I'd go check them out and figure out where I actually was.

Happy Hiking

Before long, I was standing bewildered in the middle of some messed up mining community. This wasn't the best of scenarios to be in right now. I'd heard some nasty tales about gringo's trudging through these kinds of places, and I surely wasn't in the mood for a fist or knife fight. I was just about to turn back for Sorata, when a gangly old guy comes wobbling out from behind some large rocks. "Hola señor!! Buenas Tardes!!" I then asked him in my rapidly improving español, whether he knew how to get to the lakes from here. He seemed to!! Up those slopes apparently...two hours or so...big lake...there's even a camp and everything. I looked up the hill...there was no track what so ever. I asked him if he was sure..."Si, si!! Arriba, arriba!!" What other options did I have?? It was either I take his word for it, or I slump back to Sorata utterly defeated. I made for the hills. It took everything else I had left out of me. I sat and stared back at the mining community, trying to figure out what best to do. I took another glance up at slopes above me & came to the conclusion that I couldn't be too far off the top of this lip. Over the other side might well just be the lake!! I dropped my pack & bounded. Soon I was at the top...and in front of me stood another hill. Fuck!! Alright, this one wasn't all that big - just smash this one out & call it. I had it done in no time, but I felt I was hitting the wall. This time in front of me was a lake...but I have no idea which one. It definitely was not the lake I was after. I didn't care by this point. This would do for the night. Back down I went to fetch my bag...only, there was no bag to be fetched...I'd forgot where I'd bloody left it!!!

Now, this has happened to me on more than one occasion, but never on such drastic terms. In that bag hides my passport, my bank cards, my money, my camera, my tent, my sleeping bag, and alllll my food. Not to mention all my warm clothes! I was staring glassy-eyed into my misty surrounds in nothing more than shorts & a t-shirt. FUCK!! How does this always happen!?! It was getting late, and I guess I began to panic. I overestimated how far down I'd left it, and then found myself having to walk exhausted back up the steep craggy hills. I ran into a pack of confused looking alpacas, so I chased them for a bit to keep me occupied and take my mind off things. A good hour passed before I had the sense to go back to the lake & retrace my steps. By this time I was famished...my energy levels were so low I could have just passed out in the grass & gave the cold night it's best shot at taking this soured soul once and for all. Praise the Lord!! This tactic worked!! There behind some rocks was my backpack...safe & sound...back in my control. Never again will I be doing something so fucking stupid!! Until next time of course...I practically crawled my way back up to my planned campsite, where I sent up my tent in spite of constant leg cramps, & cooked a bangin' broth for dinner. Then I ate all of my chocolate. Then I read. Then I listened to some music. Then I slept.

My lake I found...

I'd managed to stay asleep all through the morning!! When I did finally wake up it was drizzling constantly outside. I read some more for a while before getting bored, biting the bullet & packing up my shit despite the rain. It only took 15 minutes or so to escape it anyway. A grey cloud hung over the mountains, below the skies were far reaching & blue. I slid my way quietly through the mining get'up, and made a quick break for home. I was a little disappointed at not making my initial destination, but in retrospect, it sure made for one hell of an interesting adventure. And that's what it's all about after all. Tomorrow's a mystery, and I like it that way. Keeps me off those satin sheets...Laterz!!

I'd just like to thank God for not yet striking me down with his all mighty hand.
I swear I am truly a good kid at heart.
Amen.

Sunrise from the Summit

Ice Formations!!

Summit Ridge & The Cordillera Real

Love for now, Nicko!!
Take it while you can...xxx

Back on the Road, La Paz

Well, thank fuck for that!! After losing nearly two months of life, an odd six thousand soles, and half my liver; I'm finally back on the road. I still couldn't actually believe I was leaving Cusco, that'll own Peru. It seemed like eons had passed on by since I'd first crossed over from Ecuador & made for all that mayhem in Mancora. What an amazing country...possibly the highlight of my trip. Mountains to beaches, jungles to desert; this country has it all. No wonder I kept on jumping ship. One time I was actually in a cab on my way to the bus terminal; yet only made it three blocks down the street, before I got scared, scrambled out & ran back home to The Rover. What a dick. I even needed help to pack my bag. This kid had turned invalid. What was happening?? On the bus that night to Puno, I started having red bull withdrawals because of all those blastered Timmay Bombs!! I reckon we were going through at least four or five a night. Great common sense from a lad who makes teeth for a living...but the heart murmurs passed, and so did the uncertainty. This was happening, and it surely had to. Enough was enough. The rest of the continent was calling. South bound we go!!

The Bomb Squad!!

I was lucky to have such a bitchin' posse when I actually did get the hell out of there. I don't think it would have happened otherwise. Nails was there for shits & giggles, Meera's tattooed head became my metaphor for balls-out bravery, and these two google eyed Sydney-siders were just a great ol' craic. I'd over stayed my visa by a good ten days by the time we made it to the border, and the bloody sponges had me ushered away into a separate building to pay up a hefty fine & fill out some additional paperwork in retaliation. When I came back out the bus and everyone else was gone!! I'd come so close to this happening before, and here we go again!! However, I'd forgot we still had to pass through Bolivian customs...I only had to duck up and over the hill. I'll tell you what though - the altitude up here was a killer. I felt like a right idiot puffing & panting when I eventually caught back up. The crossing itself was located smack beside Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world & the most voluminous in South America), a breathtaking expanse of ocean coloured fresh water. We were treated to incredible views the whole trip around on the bus, as the road closely hugged the shoreline all the way to the small tranquil village of Copacabana, where we all planned to spend the next couple of days.

We practically slept for most of the remainder of that day. The binge had finally caught up with me, and at last I could completely pass out!! How good I felt come the next day!! The spring was back in my step. How had I not seen the light sooner?! It was time for a venture out to Isla del Sol, the sacred location of the Inca's creation story. The boat ride was slow & tedious, but the sun was out in force and we couldn't have asked for a finer day. Dropped at the northern end of the island, Nails and I took off hiking south across the parched & barren island. I was a little bewildered by the place in all honesty, how people managed to live in such a stark environment I couldn't seem to understand. I mean, the place more than lived up to its name; it was truly stinkin' hot!! But there didn't seem to be any crops, running creeks, or any real reason to be there at all. The locals were nice enough though (once we'd paid up our passing of course), and would often point us in the right direction. A bunch of young school kids burst out of class at one time when we were walking on by, and followed us down the beach. Nails towered over them like an ogre, and it made for a funny picture as they tried to communicate to us clueless patrons in a 'I'm not actually sure what??' kind of hybrid language. The day was capped off lying about in the sun, soaking up some skin cancer; gulping down melted snickers bars, waiting for our return boat. The fresh air had been nice, but it was time to go spaz in La Paz.

Isla del Sol

Yes, this was my great escape...from one Wild Rover to the next. From what I'd heard, this place had an even crazier reputation than Cusco. I was a little nervous after those few days of good health. Thankfully there had been a giant cocaine bust up a couple of months back, so that had apparently tamed the town down some what. That didn't seem to make much of a difference to us however; our crew was enormous!! It was like the entire entirety of Cusco had migrated in one great wave, bringing all that revelry & excitement along for the ride. I think we started wayyyy too early hey...by 9 o'clock the whole bar was a mess. As for me, I think I was having trouble to adjust. It felt strange being over the other side of the bar, paying full price for booze & not being able to serve my own drinks. If I lost doice I'd be screwed!! It was all down hill from there...I got angry & blamed La Paz, as well as all those unworthy fuckers who inhabit the place. Go to bed Nicko...you're sleeping in the loser room again tonight. Surprise, surprise; I woke up the next day with quite the sore head. Don't let it happen again my friend...suck it up & bounce back.

What better way to kick start my heart, than to go bomb the shit out of 'The Worlds Most Deadliest Road' on a mountain bike!! Ahhh, what a buzz!! This is what I've been missing. Decked out in knee pads, matching jackets & some overly over sized helmets; our group all mounted up on duelies and took off down the mountain. Boy, was that first twenty minutes or so freezing or what!! There was sleet flying in across the lake, and I'd opted for the short-shorts. My balls were snapped like ice cubes, yet that was strangely far from thought. I was ecstatic. Back on the bike, back outside & back on track. Booyahh!! It was even more surreal once we'd finally left the tarmac. The edge of the road just disappeared over sheer cliffs, out into the abyss. At the top you couldn't even see the actual drop because of the hanging cloud, perceiving an eerie atmospheric aura. I went as hard as I possibly could, blitzing the rest of the crowd; trying my best to catch that slippery guide up front. A few times my back wheel shot out close to the edge when I underestimated a corner, but that only got the heart racing harder and made me even more excited. Down-hill mountain biking is like a game of dodgem; there's a confidence factor & you can apparently make it what you want. I was pushing fast, and there was no way I was coming off - think any differently & you might just end up in a nasty situation like our unfortunate friend Cindy here...

Back on the bike!!

So, I still can't quite catch the guide...he beats be to the post yet again. There's a mad gap between us and the rest of the pack however, so I'm still feeling pretty chuffed. Soon a few of the other guys pull up beside us for a short break, and we all go about having a great ol' rant about the ride. About five minutes pass by before we realise there's been no more riders following up behind. We joke about someone somersaulting off the edge...but when another five minutes pass on by we begin to realise that that's probably just what might have happened. Then Byron rocks up & gives us the harsh news..."yea this chick just went over the edge hey..." - (I just loved his next comment) - "...ohhh but don't worry, it was no one we knew..." Turns out we kind of did, and it was one of the girls in our group after all. If she'd been travelling along like a snail I would have branded her a buffoon, but in all fairness she'd been keeping up with the lads more so than any other chick I'd ever seen. Just not her lucky day I guess...actually, in reality luck it seemed was more on her side than we'd have believed. Apparently Cindy had managed to drop a good 20 - 30 meters straight over the edge of a cliff. She'd bailed on the bike, rolled down a bank & came to rest amongst some trees. Had it been any where else on that road and I'm sure she would have been dead. In the process she lost her sunglasses & one shoe, then had to get pulled back up to safety clipped to a rope. It was a pretty epic tale. One that quickly got passed around the bar that evening and moldered into late night folklore.

Our posse hangin' off a cliff

After a few more days it was time to scoot out of La Paz for a while atleast, and head back into the Amazon Jungle!! The last venture had been a trip highlight for sure, and I was pretty keen re-emerse myself in all that festering bio-diversity. Everyone warned us about the bus from La Paz to Rurrenabaque, but at a cost of a mere 90 Bolivianos (in comparison to like $100 for the flight), and me now being a seasoned veteran of the long-distance bus and all - how could I turn down the adventure?? It sure turned out to be interesting, let's just put it like that. Bunked up with Panther & Red for company, it took us a good 30 hours or more to reach our final destination. Having survived the perilous 'death road' like journey down from the mountains, I thought our problems were over. Instead, at about midnight the bus decides to turn off its engine & wait for the crack of dawn to continue, as we've become stuck in the mud. That spot wreaked!! By morning the muddy road outside had been transformed into an open-seweraged toilet. I stepped off to piss at one point & found a little old lady taking a dump up front beneath the wheels!! Moving on from here proved a slow process. It was around 9 o'clock by the time we eventually got going again, and we didn't reach Rurrenabaque until just before dark. Save our grace, we thankfully made it to the travel agencies to book our Pampas tour before the shops shut. All was good. Some how we'd made it. Now it was time to nod off to sleep.

Stuck in the mud on the way to Rurre

It was a long and bumpy ride out to the river in a beaten up old jeep the following day. Things kept falling off from underneath the vehicle, and the front window looked like it could cave in on itself at any given moment. By the time we loaded up and boarded our small boat, I was well & done with land travel for a while at least. The river made for a refreshing change. Practically as soon as we hit the water, animals large & small were everywhere!! Alligators & Black Caiman's sat on the river banks, basking in the afternoon sun. Storks, Kingfishers & even a pack of Macaws dominated the skies. There were Turtles piled up in conga-lines, giant guinea pig like wombat things called Capybaras frolicking in the mud, and pink Spoonbills searching out a feed through the reeds. I loved spotting out the monkeys. A whole mob payed us a curious visit as we pulled up beside in our boat. Later than night we even got to head out for an evening punt along the river in search of the Caiman's evil glowing eyes. It was a perfect start to a perfect excursion. There is something truly tranquil about falling asleep to the sounds of the living jungle.

Squirrel Monkeys!!

Now for the big players!! Today we were off in search of the mighty Anaconda!! I'd seen a little baby one wrapped around a tree back in Ecuador, but I'd heard you often find the monsters out here. A short walk buffed up in rubber gum-boots had us wading vagina deep through a swamp. The scenery was beautiful; purple flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, and sometimes you'd even stumble upon small murky pools clad with cartoon like lily pads. It was hard to know what we were meant to be looking for, but it would have been a fun banter even if we hadn't stumbled across the big snakes. Just as we were losing our shit over this little baby alligator that we happened upon, one of the most incredible things I've ever witnessed took place about 20 meters away, over in the swamp. Out of the water splashed & thrashed this mighty croc; rolling and tumbling making a great ol' commotion. In his mouth was the biggest, most fattest boa I am yet to see. It was gigantic!! As thick a softball, and I'd say at least 4 to 5 meters long!! This was raw nature. We couldn't have planned this. People could sit for days or weeks & never see anything quite like it. Something straight out of a David Attenborough doco. The croc finished the anaconda off with a characteristic death roll, before other alligators & caiman's circled in to join the feast. I was blown away. It was hard to believe what I had just seen.

Sammi & me with an Anaconda!!

We ended the day with a small dose of piranha fishing. Ugly suckers that they are...and damb hard to catch!! Between us we only got two I think, as well as a bucket full of cat-fish. That night we fried one up & shared him around the dinner table. Not the best sushi I've ever had, but something fishy all the same. I think the only possible thing that could have topped the tour of the Pampas itself was the strawberry thickshakes back in Rurrenabaque...holy shit son - blow your load material!! I almost packed up shop & moved in permanently solely for that reason. But that wasn't the way things happened to turn out. Now here I am, back in La Paz, having survived the bus yet again; gearing myself up for my next Bolivian adventure...somewhere!!

Piranha Fishin'

In the mean time, cheerio sucka's!!
Keep yourself sane & sanitised. 
Much Luvin', 
Nickiii Boi!! xxxxxxxx

Snake hunting in The Pampas

Choice.

Wobbly Weeks at The Wild Rover, Cusco

So. Let's put it like this. I kind of got stuck in Cusco. Shit son, more than stuck in reality hey??...the word 'smitten' might seem appropriate. Twice I tried to leave and twice I came whimpering back with my tail between my legs, waving the great white flag of surrender. It was all too much fun. How could I resist?!? Who would have thought, after that mind-mashing first shift, that I'd end up kicking about behind that bar until the start of OCTOBER for god's sake!! I never sit in one place for more than I have to. It makes me fidgety. But of those of you who actually know me, I'm sure you'll all agree - I'm a sucker for a good time; and an even bigger sucker for a mobs full & unfaltering attention. I felt like the King of Cusco. I could do anything...and so we did do EVERYTHING...& maybe just a little more. 100% Young, Wild & Freeeeee...

Happy Dayzzz with 'The Rover' staff

Sharing is caring. What a great family motto...and so it came to be; locked in The Dungeon. The mere talk of this place still sends cold shivers down my spine. No other one room in that hostel could conjure up fantastical limericks & mythical whisperings much the same as that room could. No light came in, and there was definitely nothing good that ever came out. Truth be told; it was a festering trash dump. Bags, bread & bottles littered the floor. I'm actually sceptical that there even is a floor, cause I'd never seen it. While clothes went missing, bras seemed to multiply in a clothesline like fashion across the tops of bunk beds. There wasn't even any need for a mish to the toilet either so it seemed...heck, we'd just piss in the bin!! I'd been hooking up with this red-head I thought was pretty snaz (and don't you worry, I still do me dear), yet as it turned out, so too had the rest of the damb bar!! I guess it really brought us all together in a fashion...minus the speckled willy. Early one morning I was sharing a spliff out in the back yard with this blonde Estonian lass, when our bar manager stumbles out of his room to join us. He looked a little parched. Maybe more than a little petrified. Turns out he'd gone raw-dawg on the village's local gringo hunter, before she'd fell asleep & pissed all through his bed. Mate...great effort. Taking one for the team. Lucky for us, it just so happens we have some resident Peruvian doctor located down the street who appears to enjoy our shenanigans, regularly frequents our bar & is willing to jab us staff in the buttocks for free. Yipeeee!!

BoalTown!!

Amidst all the chaos, I did manage to eventually make it out to Machu Picchu; although the journey in itself was an event to ponder. I'd signed up for the Salkantay Trek, a longer & apparently more scenic alternative to the famous Inca Trail. By this stage I was pretty excited to be getting out of that hostel, for a few nights off the drink, and had everything packed and ready to go beside my bed come nightfall. Some of the guys were heading up to Loki for a few 'quiet' guzzlers, so stupidly I thought I might as well tag along for a couple of hours before bed. Ever heard the notion 'once you pop you can't stop??' well admittedly, that is me in a nutshell. How quickly that night seemed to evaporate!! Before I knew any different, I'd woken up in some small town on the back seat of a shuttle bus, missing a shoe & covered in cake crumbs. My head was spinning. I could barely remember leaving Loki. Who were all these people?! And where the hell was I?? As it turned out, I'd been let loose on a bit of a bender that previous night. The Estonian chick had racked me up early, & I'd definitely drank a few more than a few quiet guzzlers. I guess I got caught up in the moment. Apparently some folks had seen me in Groove Club around 3:30 in the morning, when I was meant to be up by 4:30!! When the guides found me, I was curled up with the hostels cat on The Dungeon floor, and had to have water splashed over my face before being carried out. I sure fucked up here. That first day was torturous!! I think I was still drunk until well after mid-day...then the hangover kicked in. Not the best way to make first impressions on a group of people you're to spend the next five days hiking with...

Salkantay Mountain

I felt like a fool, but a good nights sleep had me nearly back to normal. This was the big day anyway; up and over the Salkantay Pass, scooting around the sheer bulk of this impressive white-capped mountain. My group was quite forgiving to be fair, and I proved my worth racing up the slopes with youthful ease. The views were spectacular, and it felt great to be back out in the great outdoors where I belong. For the next three days we slogged it out through the changing environments, enjoying scenic campsites, hefty late night dinners & even a dip in a natural hot spring. By the time we reached Aguas Calientes, I felt like a reborn man. Fresh once again. Add this to the excitement of visiting Machu Picchu the following day, and you had yourself one satisfied sucker. This was the culminating moment of all these months of travel - I'd reached the watershed. Up until now, this was the place I'd been heading towards...and to be honest it left me feeling a little lost. The ruins themselves didn't disappoint. There is an unparallelled feeling of awe, the first time you set eyes upon this famous ruined citadel. Words can not describe. I tried my best to take it all in, as you always do - but it's not until you leave that you realise what you've just experienced. That day, I'm sure someone tapped me on the shoulder & showed me life is pretty sweet.

Me @ Machu Picchu

And so with all that done & dusted, I returned to The Rover. Here we go again...I'd ripped my new shorts flush apart on my way back on the bus, and was now boasting myself a pleated new kilt. It didn't take me long to get sucked back into my old ways. There was more Naked Lizard Wrestling, some atrocious Carly Rae Jepson karaoke, a mental half-way to St Patricks Day party and forever more free shots and dancing across the table top of the bar. One night I was simply trying my best to work as hard as always, when out of no where I'd become completely stripped by a mob of about 12 local Peruvian girls out for some chicks hens night. They hid my clothes & placed a veil over my head. Bokays of flowers came, before dildo's were forced between my teeth!! The photos floating around are ghastly. In truth, I hardly had any clothes left after the Salkantay incident. I'd lost my shoes, most of my t-shirts & all of my socks. I was practically living out of the lost property bin & any Wild Rover garments I could acquire. I did however find myself a bangin' 80's ski jacket & a pair of uggs which were great before people started using them as ash trays.

Half-Way to St Pat's!!!

After another heavy week or so, I felt myself hitting the wall once again. I had to get out. A couple of the lads that I'd been hanging around with were planning on shooting off to Arequipa after the weekend, and I felt that was my best chance to finally escape for good. I was kidding myself. Within a few hours of leaving the city I started dreaming of the dambed place & all those jolly times I'd had with all those more than amazing people. It didn't help that I'd been offered the bar managers position. That sent my head into a wild flurry. I'd become comfortable, let's put it that way. I knew people well, and people knew me. It was a refreshing change from the constant blow-in blow-out meeting process that goes on, over and over while on the road. That place had energy, and it's not every day you find a hostel like that. It matched my buzz perfectly. But that was the danger I now was facing. I still had a lot of South America I still wanted to see; I was no where near done yet. That trip out to Arequipa & the spectacular Colca Canyon proved definitive. On our return to Cusco, things had seemed to change. There was an unfamiliar, distant crowd frequenting the bar, and a whole new bunch of staff that had come & gone. They were still a great ol' craic don't get me wrong, but it just wasn't the same. Also I felt the weight of this big decision hanging over my head. It would have been a great experience to stay & smash out the good times for a few more months, but I simply wasn't ready just yet to stop in my tracks.

Colca Canyon

As the story goes, my last week at The Wild Rover guaranteed I left Cusco with a righteous bang. It was one hell of a send off. My linguistically lopsided Canadian pal made a grand mess of herself in one of the funniest Hour of Power's I'd ever seen, another Aussie lad & myself destroyed the entire competition in four straight games of Beer Pong, the mighty Swannies took out the AFL Grand Final in a an epic blockbuster (which turned out to be one of the best nights of my life), and for reasons still unclear - I ended up with Taz the Tasmanian Devil tattooed across my arse. I will never fully be able to summarise all those antics that went down in Cusco under my watch, so I'm never going to try. However long I was there for (a good month and a half I guess) would have to be some of the best weeks of my life; wild & relentless ball-busting times that I will never forget, and will always look back on fondly. To all you crayyyzeeee fockers who were there to share it all with me...happy days. Thanks for all the madness!! I hope to see you someday soon for a little more fun.

CARN' THE SWANNIES!!!

Peace out.

Happy Days & Livin'
Much love...Taz, Raw, Bam Bam!! 
& Nicki Boi xxxxx

Farrrkkkk...I still can't believe I've actually left. Check it out...

Bad Ass Nigga's

Our Tatt Posse

With FranDawg n Ez

More Table Top Lovin'

Jolly Chickas on the Bar!!

One Final Showdown!!

Bye for now...