Friday, September 25, 2009

The Finish Line - Buenos Aires

Current Location: BUENOS AIRES, Argentina
Distance Cycled to Date: 19,048 km
Days Since Leaving Home: 379

And here it ends. After 379 days, Jeff and I cycled triumphantly into the city of Buenos Aires, the city we had left home aiming to reach over one year ago. We did it. We set a goal, and we achieved it. We rode our bikes from Rocky Mountain House, Alberta, to Buenos Aires, Argentina. We feel pretty darn good about that.

We had left home with the plan of finishing the trip in Buenos Aires, but along the way we felt the urge to keep going. To see more, and go further. We wanted to keep going throughout Argentina and Chile, spending 3 more months cycling, however, the reality of our financial situation started to show, and we decided we couldn't justify going on and on. No matter where we reached, we knew that we would want to go further - and so, we decided to finish this trip as planned, in the city of Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina.

However, in making these plans, we decided not to tell anybody. Many of you may have had no idea how much longer we would be cycling, but the last that anybody had heard was that we wouldn't be home until December. We decided to keep it a secret, and surprise all of our family and friends. So as of right now, sitting in Buenos Aires just hours before leaving for our flight home, nobody even knows that we're in this city. It's been difficult keeping it a secret - we've spent 4 days here in Buenos Aires, celebrating ourselves, but unable to tell anybody else.

The cycling in our last week was, quite honestly, a little boring, scenery-wise at least. From Cordoba to Buenos Aires is nothing but flat farmland, which made for some long days. We weaved and wove down different rural roads, trying to find the balance between the least amount of traffic and the widest road. As much as the cycling was uneventful, every time we stopped we were met with such enthusiasm and hospitality that we couldn't help but love rural Argentina. Every gas station that we stopped at, we would get peppered with questions and encouragement and well-wishes. In one decent sized town, we were invited to be guests on their radio show, which gave us an opportunity to showcase our new Argentinean accent when we speak Spanish. We had initally thought we would be a complete joke to everybody listening, but we managed to follow the whole interview. What a difference since the last time we were interviewed back in Mexico! Following the radio show, we were met by a tv reporter, who asked if she could do a small story on us for the news as well. So our smiling faces and broken Spanish was seen and heard all over rural Argentina last week. We all had a great time with it. As we rode out of the town the usual amount of honks and waves was far surpassed, as everybody who had just heard us on the radio called something out to us. We're kind of minor celebrities around here. You know, not Messi or Maradona, but we've got our following.

The ride into Buenos Aires was, well, crazy. The closer we got to the city the more traffic picked up, until as we were finally entering the city the intensity of the traffic nearly mirrored our emotions. From single lane, to divided 4-lane, to finally 14 lanes of traffic, all on one freeway. With 4 to 6 lanes of service roads beside us. And overpasses and underpasses and 3 lanes merging here and a few more over there - it was kind of insane to be biking through. After we finally did arrive safely, I had remarked to Jeff that it was surprising that they allowed bicycles on there - and he told me that he had noticed 3 different 'no bicycles' signs that we had biked past. Understandable - that was no place to be riding a bike. (As a side note, we had been pulled over by police twice in the past week - once they made us get off the freeway leaving Cordoba, but the second time before Buenos Aires they let us keep going. We were pretty convincing that we knew what we were doing)

And so, we arrived in Buenos Aires. Down Avenida 9 de Julio, straight to the famous Obelisk seen on many postcards. We made it. It was a strange sensation, knowing that we had done it, both that we had reached our goal, and also that the trip was over. It didn't seem real at all, and it still doesn't, 4 days later. Tonight we'll board our plane, and return to Canada. It seems just unreal - it is unreal. (Also, Jeff adds - we're unreal)

However, we've managed to save a little bit of cycling for ourselves. Because in keeping this a secret, we haven't asked anybody for a ride home from the airport in Calgary - instead, we'll arrive home just like we left, on our bicycles. And so we'll have over 200 km of cycling back in Alberta, giving us time to think and reflect on everything we've seen and done in this past year. And then - I guess we'll just show up in our backyard, knock on the door, and walk in the house. Maybe ask what's for supper? We're not really sure just how this surprise will work, but we do know as much as we're sad that this trip is over, we are quite excited to be home. This year has certainly given us the opportunity to appreciate just what a great thing it is to be home.

We won't post this entry until we get back home, in order to keep this surprise in order. But there will be at least one more post, as we still have just a little more biking to go. And thus ends Canada to Argentina by bicycle. Now just a little post-trip cool-down ride to go.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Soccer, BBQs and Great Hospitality

Current Location: Cordoba, Argentina
Distance Cycled to Date: 18,247 km
Flat Tires to Date: 60 (Keenan - 32, Jeff - 28)

While we're certainly still loving Argentina, we've yet to really find a cycling rhythm here. We go 120 km, then 204, then 25. The biking itself has been up and down - we had a fantastic tailwind a day out of Tucuman, which let us end the day with an average speed of 30 km/h. That made us decide to push for a 200 km day the next day out of Frias, however, the wind died down in the night making us do all the work ourselves. As the day went on the wind started to pick up again, but this time blowing straight at us. We managed to hit 200 km, and then found a spot to camp in the ditch, Mexico-style. Rather than dying down during the night, the wind only grew stronger and stronger, and the next day we could only average 11 km/h. We just never know what's coming next.

From Dean Funes, the wind continued to come straight from the south, making us work far more for every kilometre than we would have liked. And then the rain started. It had been so long since we biked in a real rain storm that we hardly knew what to do - until this point we realized we've only had 2 days of rain in South America. Somehow we've just kept getting sunny days, until now. Biking into Cordoba in the rain was a fun adventure, as it was probably the most adreneline pumping cycling that we've had since Guayaquil, back in Ecuador. With traffic and pedestrians everywhere, and a city that stretches and stretches forever, we just dodged potholes and puddles and buses and taxis in the rain for what seemed like forever. (Also, I had to go to the bathroom soooo bad - that could have been contributing to the stressfulness of the situation).

We had planned to stay in Cordoba for a couple of days, one of the main reasons being that we wanted to be here for the Argentina vs. Brazil World Cup Qualifying match. We had met somebody from the city in a gas station a week before, and he invited us to his house to watch the game when we were in the city. We couldn't turn down an offer like that, so when we got into Cordoba we made arrangements to head over to his house. It turned out he lives in a beautiful house in a great neighbourhood, and all sorts of family friends had been invited over for the game, and a big traditional Argentine barbeque afterwards. It was one of those nights that we'll likely never forget, as we were treated like old friends by everybody there, and got to eat and drink like Argentineans. Cups of shared mate, the traditional herb-tea that everybody drinks, glasses of wine, meat fresh off of a fire-grill, and even a few people who spoke perfect English to help with translating if our Spanish started to fail us. Despite Argentina losing the match, everybody was in high spirits still as we started dinner at 11. (Yeah - 11 pm!). It wasn't until nearly 3 am that everybody finally finished up with dessert and coffee, and was ready to head back home. A great experience all around.

We also got a chance to meet a group of 23 (23!) cyclists on an organized, supported tour from Brazil to Ecuador. It was great to talk to so many different cyclists from such different backgrounds - and made us a bit jealous! Every day a bus carries all their gear, and they have a cook to make them breakfast, lunch and supper! However, they don't get to camp in any ditches, so both ways of tourings seems to have their pros and cons. We've gotten a chance to explore Cordoba a bit by foot, and we're enjoying every minute of this cosmopolitan city. We had planned to leave already, but we somehow find ourselves going to bed waaay later than we ever did before Argentina, and we decided to take another day to try to catch up on some sleep.

It's been a great stay in a great city - and despite sounding like a broken record - we're still loving this country. (If they only put a shoulder on the road, it probably would be the perfect cycling destination...) But - we don't like to complain too much. We're loving it. If only it never had to end...

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

A Year on the Road

Current Location: Dean Funes, Argentina
Distance Cycled to Date: 18,092 km
Longest Distance in a Single Day: 204 km
Length of Time Since Leaving Home: 1 Year

It was exactly one year ago that we first packed our panniers, trying to figure out just how to attach everything to our bicycles as our family and some close friends watched. We had announced months beforehand that we would be leaving September 1st, and so that morning, despite never having ridden our bikes fully loaded, we were going to leave. It was a morning of emotional goodbyes as we set to leave everybody behind and ride our bicycles to Argentina. As we wobbled down the street, with Jeff nearly tipping over into a car while trying to quickly wave goodbye, I'm sure that a number of those watching secretly questioned just how far we would make it, and wondered when the phonecall to come pick us up would come in.

And yet somehow we just continued to ride. We started out the trip with freezing nights, rain and sleet, but just kept going, with Argentina as our destination. Looking back now, in some ways it's hard to even imagine us being those same people that left home one year ago. From thinking that the Sunwapta Pass was an incredibly long climb, to digging around through every pannier, taking over an hour to fix a flat tire. As we left we didn't really know what we were getting into, and to be quite honest, I'm not sure we imagined just how much fun we would have every day.

The other day I was talking to my cousin Adam online, and he remarked that he was surprised at how little trouble we seem to have had throughout this trip. And it's true - we hate to admit it, but this whole trip has been much easier than we would have guessed. Maybe it's in our short memories and senses of humour, but for the most part, this really isn't that hard at all. We just get up everyday, and ride our bikes. Some days are more difficult than others, but at the end of every day we just find a place to sleep, eat a meal, and relive the good parts while forgetting about the bad. And then the next day start over again. Taking it one day at a time, anybody could do this. It's just riding a bike.

When we left home we were in no shape to ride a bike 100 kms every day. It didn't stop us from trying, but we still remember clearly day number 3, when we could hardly walk because our muscles were so stiff. But we've come a long way since then, finally becoming finely tuned cycling machines. (We've been looking for a way to fit the phrase 'finely tuned cycling machines' for a few months now. Puya!)

With over a year of fundraising done, we're hoping to be closing in on our goal of $50,000. We will have some one-year numbers from HOPE International within the next few days, and we'll let you know just how close we are. We also wanted to wish good luck to everybody participating in this year's Father Bonner Charity Golf Tournament in Edmonton, with all proceeds going to our HOPE International project in the Dominican Republic. We're hoping you can have a weekend of weather as fabulous as we've been enjoying down here, cycling in Argentina.

It's still hard to believe that we've been going for one year already. The trip's not quite over yet, but as it winds down and we pass this one-year mark, we're enjoying reminiscing. We're feeling good. One year later, and biking's still a whole lot of fun.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Loving Argentina

Current Location: San Miguel de Tucumán, Argentina
Distance Cycled to Date: 17,654 km
Average Price Paid for a Bottle of Argentinian Wine: $3 Canadian

Our 'rest' day in Salta seemed to be anything but restful, as we got our rims trued, found a laundrymat to remove the dogfood smell from our socks (though it sure didn't take long for that smell to return!), wrote a blog, put up a photo album, bought groceries, searched for an adaptor so that we could use their crazy electrical outlets in this country, and then had to pick up our bikes and laundry. It might not actually sound like much, but it kept us going from breakfast until after 11 pm, when we finally could sit down and eat some supper. (We're getting into the crazy Argentinian custom of eating supper at what should be way past bedtime. We don't know how they are able to do it here).

We left Salta and headed towards Cafayate, the wine capital of northern Argentina. We were excited to get there and bike through the vineyards, and were suprised at the amazing canyon scenery along the way. As we rode along the river we found ourselves surrounded by red rock walls and spectacular rock formations. As tour buses would pass us with cameras pressed against the windows, we would remind each other just how great it is to be travelling by bicycle and getting to enjoy it all. And then, we'd continue pedaling uphill with our hundred pound bikes...

Cafayate ended up being quite the touristy little town, full of hotels and restaurants and artisan shops. We found ourselves the backyard of a hostel to camp in, and decided to splurge and enjoy a good steak dinner. And wow - was it ever delicious. I don't think we can even describe just how tender, juicy and succulent that steak was, and how it was just so perfectly paired with the 2006 Malbec Reserve. No, we won't be able to give that meal justice at all. But it was fantastic. In hindsight, we should have taken the next day off to explore a vineyard and try to repeat the success of that night´s meal, but instead we got up early and started off again, hoping for another long day of cycling along smooth highways.

It turns out that not every highway in Argentina is great pavement. In fact, as we made our way in the general direction of Córdoba, you would be hard pressed to call the highway pavement in places. But we bounced along, making slightly slower progress than planned. And then after having lunch at a great gas station in Amaicha del Valle (picnic tables, water fountain, and wifi? Yep!) we started a slow, long climb. We had thought once we left Bolivia we were out of the mountains for awhile, but turns out they still have ranges other than the Andes down here. Up up up we went, hoping to camp at the summit but failing to make it there before dark. It was looking a bit dicey as far as campspots go, but before it got too dark and too cold, a nice flat spot opened up, with a path leading down to it from the highway. We were in full view of the road, but for some reason being in Argentina just makes us feel safe.

The next day the poor pavement continued as we made our way up to the summit at over 3000 metres, and then rather than turning into something smooth, it disappeared and turned into gravel! Not what we had hoped for from this downhill. But we just kept going, Bolvian style, bouncing down the washboard, until finally at the town of Tafí del Valle the pavement returned. We decided to stop in the town to use the internet, and then found a campground, a supermarket... and decided to call it a day.

From Tafí, the downhill we had been hoping for really started, and we flew from 2000 metres down to 400, where a nice smooth shoulder started for the rest of the way to Tucumán, where we now find ourselves. We've got another Casa de Ciclistas, and a city where we found our first Tenedor Libre, or all-you-can-eat meat buffet. We visited last night after patiently waiting for it to open at 8:30, and then started as soon as they said go. We ate a ton of deep-fried somethings, and turkey, and chicken, and sausage, and cheese and olives, waiting and waiting for the grilled meat to be ready. And we kept eating and eating, drinking our Coke and eating some more until finally at 10 the grill still wasn't ready and we could hardly walk. It was a disappointing night in that we didn't get any steak, but for under $4 Canadian, you couldn't really complain too much. Next time we'll practise some restraint, and hopefully, just maybe, enjoy some more of that Argentinian steak.

Friday, August 21, 2009

A Last (kinda bitter) Taste of Bolivia and A First (pretty sweet) Taste of Argentina

Current Location: Salta, Argentina
Distance Cycled to Date: 17,231 km
Photos Taken to Date: 12,611
Countries Visited to Date: 13
Days Since Leaving Home: 355

Did you see our current location just up there? Salta, Argentina. Argentina. That's in the subtitle to our website, the name of our blog, and on every card we hand out. Canada to Argentina by bicycle. And now we're here. Kind of crazy. We're in Argentina. Just wanted to point that out. You know, pat ourselves on the back a little bit. We're in Argentina.

We left off being kinda sick in Uyuni, back in Bolivia. It wasn't the greatest, but it gave us the opportunity to meet 3 other American touring cyclists who rolled into town a day after us. It was good to have some English-speaking company, and they also timed their arrival perfectly, as I had just learned that I had a broken spoke and was searching for a chain-whip in order to fix it. They had just the tool I needed, and within 15 minutes of them getting into town I was all set to ride again. We've had a pretty good amount of 'coincidences' like that, that continually let us keep riding without issue.

After 3 days in Uyuni, we started south, on what we had heard was a pretty poor road. I don't think we have enough of a vocabulary to explain just how bad it was. We're both pretty positive guys, and having a good sense of humour had let us get through this trip while enjoying every day. Well, we finally got to the point where we had a few days we didn't enjoy, no matter how we tried to look at it. The washboard, the sand, the impossibly steep grades - it all added up to two quite disgusted Canadian cyclists. As one other British cyclist wrote in his blog (which we read only after we had finished the route), 'journey's don't get any harder than this'. That just about sums it up.

But as we got within a few kilometres of Tupiza the landscape started to change, and we did enjoy the canyons and rock formations as we bounced along the washboard. We enjoyed a much-needed rest day in Tupiza, where our hotel room carried cable tv, and we got to see a couple episodes of Arrested Development on an Argentinian channel. Not only did that improve our moods considerably, but it also raised our opinions of Argentina considerably. They have pavement, cheap steak and wine, drinkable tap water - and - they watch Arrested Development? This may just be the ideal country for us. We decided we would make it there in just one more day of riding.

It was a long, tiring, and difficult day of riding, but we got to the border town of Villazon just after the sun set. Unfortunetly arriving so late on a Sunday all the money-changers were closed, so we entered Argentina without a peso, and hoped dearly to find an ATM and finally eat our first Argentinian steak. We rode around La Quiaca in the dark, amazed at everything. We had only crossed a river, but this was the biggest change for us in a border crossing since leaving San Diego 10 months ago. We found an ATM, found ourselves a steak covered in fried eggs with a second plate of fries (perfect!), and slept in a comfortable bed made for a normal size person. We made it to Argentina.

The happy welcome was short-lived however, as the next few days would involve riding along the very Bolivian-mimicking altiplano, with incredible winds that seemed determined to send us back to Bolivia. We would have none of that though, and fought on, and finally downhill, against the raging storm. At times it felt like a sandblaster was being shot towards us, and I was sure when I looked down at my uncovered legs that the combination of wind and sand would have worn the skin right off. I guess the storm wasn't quite as strong as my imagination however, and my skin remained. It was more than a little dangerous to bike through though, as the gusts would send us out into traffic, and we'd fight to get back to the narrow white line. We did outlive the storm, and when the wind finally died down after a few days, we had some lovely sunshine and a great single-lane paved road leading us from Jujuy to Salta.

We had planned to stay at our second Casa de Ciclistas here in Salta, and after receiving an email with directions from Ramon, the host of this casa, we found the place perfectly. And now we're enjoying being in civilization. Shopping malls, fast food, cafes and clothing stores - we are constantly craning our necks around in amazement, asking each other where are we? We're in Argentina, and we're loving it.

And now that we're out of Bolivia, we have our Bolivian photo album ready to go. Check out that amazing Salar, and those brutal roads. And that's Bolivia for you. At times it left us shaking our heads in wonder, and at other times just shaking our heads in disgust. We're glad we went there, but we're also very glad to be out of there right now. We hope you enjoy the fruits of our labour.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

The Salar de Uyuni - Pure Awesomeness

Current Location: Tupiza, Bolivia
Distance Cycled to Date: 16,752 km
Kilometres left until we reach Argentina: 85
Amount of Salt contained on the Salt Flat: 10 billion tons

The Salar is awesome. We just thought we'd start out with that. Before coming to Bolivia, we had read lots about how terrible the roads are and how difficult the cycling is. Some cyclists skip it completely, heading from Peru straight into Chile - however, we wanted to see the salt flats. That was really the only reason we came to Bolivia. And so we were very excited to be leaving Salinas and heading out to something we had been looking forward to since leaving home.

We realize lots of you already know all about the Salar de Uyuni, but for those of you who might not - it's basically 12,000 square km of flat, hard salt. It was once a giant lake, thousands of years ago - and from the edges, it still looks like a giant lake. The salt crystals form all kinds of different designs on the surface, some hexagons and pentagons like a soccer ball, and sometimes just bumps like a frozen pond. We don't really know any of the science behind any of this... but it's pretty sweet. Picture a wide open frozen lake, so big you can't see the edges. And the ice isn't slippery. That's what it was like. When we get our photo album of Bolivia up, you'll get a chance to see just how awesome it is. We have some sweet photos... you just have to wait to see them. But it will be worth the wait - for now you'll just have to use our inadequite words to imagine it.

We left Salinas with our water bottles filled with Tampico citrus punch, due to the unavailability of bottled water, and started towards the nearest 'ramp' to get onto the Salar. The edges of the Salar are pretty soft, wet salty stuff, so you need to find an established ramp to get onto the hard stuff. We found one about 20 km from Salinas, and biked towards the blinding white Salar. Even with the ramp, we still ended up biking through a whole lot of wet salt slush, which we're pretty sure wasn't too good for our bikes, but after a kilometre or so, we were onto the salt. We looked around, and didn't really know where to go. It was flat and wide open, as far as you could see. Luckily the Danish cyclist we met the day before, Martin, had a GPS with the island in the middle of the Salar programmed in, so we turned the direction his GPS told us to, and started biking.

We biked and biked, stopping a few times to take pictures, and once to talk to a group of Dutch tourists who we thought could be walking across the Salar, but turns out were being picked up by a couple jeeps any minute. So we kept riding, and it seemed like we made hardly any progress at all - miles went by without the landscape progressing, and finally, after hours went by riding along the featurless salar, we arrived at Isla Incahuasi, the cacti studded island with a restaurant, and a refuge for cyclists to sleep in. The three of us had a great dinner of steak sandwiches and llama burgers while all the other tourists had to leave the island and head back to the 'mainland', and then had a great sleep in the roomy refuge with great views of the sun sinking into the salar. Yep, being a cyclists certainly has its advantages.

The next day we seperated from Martin, with us heading to Uyuni and some supposedly great pizza, and him heading down towards Chile over a different route. So we started east, finding a well marked trail that we hoped would lead us to Uyuni. We stopped after just 35 km when we spotted some dislodged slabs of salt that we thought could work well as seats while we ate lunch. Some had already been pulled up, and we arranged them into a nice bench to sit on while we ate our peanut butter sandwiches. As we were eating and looking around at all the brick-like slabs, we thought to ourselves - we could build a fort out of this stuff! And so, we did. And it was awesome. The entire salar is one flat, featureless landscape except for one or two hotels that have been built near the edges, out of salt. And now, there is also one fort, 35 km east of the Isla Incahuasi. It started small, with us making a circle of bricks, and then building up. It was like building a snow fort out of hard chunks of snow, except that it was pretty warm during the day, and nothing would melt. It kept getting bigger and bigger, and we worked out how to get a roof on top of it. It sort of became a salt igloo, but a very solid, and well built one. We are pretty much first-rate engineers when it comes to salt construction.

After finishing in only 3 hours, we decided after putting in so much effort, we might as well sleep in it as well. So we built a little 'yard' for it, and redesigned our chairs outside, and it became quite the homely little place. It was probably the most fun we've had on this entire trip.

That night we pulled out our sleeping bags and thermarests inside, and while the temperature plunged far below zero once again outside, inside we were kept nice and warm. Hardly even below zero in there! The next morning we left a note and some sheets of paper to create a mini-logbook inside, and put them in a ziplock bag, along with our website and email address. So hopefully, maybe someday, we'll hear from somebody else who spent a night in the igloo. It might even be sooner than we expected, because the next morning as we were reaching the edge of the Salar, a tour group in a jeep stopped beside us, and asked if it was us that built the igloo. They stopped to take pictures, and thought it was fantastic. We couldn't have been happier.

We ate lunch in Colchani, just off the salt flats, where we found out every tourist group heading out to the Salar stops. We could hardly get any of our sandwiches down, as we were constantly approached by people asking us about our trip. It was another celebrity moment for us, that was actually pretty fun. We gave out a lot of cards with our website, and hopefully it can work out to a few more site visits, and a few more donations as well.

Minuteman Pizza in Uyuni was a place we had heard of while we were still in the US, from other cyclist's blogs. It was supposed to be some of the best pizza in South America, so we were anxious to give it a try. Turns out to be true - it was excellent. The first night off the Salar, we went in and ate 2 large pizzas, and polished off 3 litres of Coke that night as well. It's fun having a cylist's appetite. We planned to take a rest day and get up a blog the next day, but when a strong wind and dust storm hit town, the electricity was out all day long. We discovered that we use electricity for pretty much everything we like to do on a rest day - that is eat at restaurants, and use the internet - so it was a pretty poor day. And then the next day Jeff got sick, so we stayed one more day. And then the next day I was sick, so we stayed one more. We had difficulty deciding what route we would take from Uyuni - but finally, we decided to head down to Tupiza and straight to Argentina. It was the most direct route, and to be completely honest, we both were quite anxious to get to Argentina. We've likely built it up in our minds to be far better than a country ever could be - but we're tired of constantly being sick, searching for half-decent food, and dealing with these kinds of roads. So - after a couple surprise rest days, we found the road heading south.

The Salar was awesome - the days that followed it weren't. So, rather than taint this entry with that negativety, we'll have to save that for the next entry. Soon we'll catch up to where we are. And speaking of catching up - we finally have our Southern Peru album ready to go. If you don't remember, we spent a few weeks travelling around with our parents, hence the many non-cycling photos. But they're still pretty sweet, so we thought we'd share them. Enjoy.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

A First Taste of Bolivia

Current Location: Uyuni, Bolivia
Distance Cycled to Date: 16,538 km
Flat Tires to Date: 58 (Keenan - 32, Jeff - 26)
Coldest night while camping to date: -15 C

It's been awhile since we entered Bolivia, and in the past couple weeks we've done some pretty sweet things and seen some pretty cool stuff - probably too much to even fit into one blog entry, so we'll fill you in until we got to the Salar de Uyuni, a few days ago.

It was a beautiful ride out of Copacabana, up and down a few hills, along Lake Titicaca (which is, did you know, the highest navigable lake in the world?). Every piece of literature about Lake Titicaca mentions that it's the highest navigable lake in the world. Do you know what that means? We don't exactly - we even looked it up online, but found a pretty poor defintion - but we did find out that we sure do like saying it. Navigable. Navigable. Try saying it out loud - it's pretty fun. We entertained ourselves for hours while biking by saying both 'navigable' and 'Titicaca'. Pretty good times.

That afternoon we both started to feel a little off, so after reaching Huatajata, and the only cheap hotel that we knew of between Copacabana and La Paz, we decided to call it a night. After seeing some traditional reed boats used on the lake and eating a fresh trout supper, we went to bed around our usual time of 8. But, it wasn't a great night, as something I ate started to fight back, and I spent most of the night in the bathroom outside. Not fun at all. And the next morning, I still didn't have the energy do anything other than move between my bed and the bathroom, and so we decided to stay one more day. On the plus side, it let me recover, and gave us a chance to meet two more British cyclists that happened to stay at the hotel the next night, heading north. But the bad side to it was that it left us pretty much out of money. We had changed over all our excess Peruvian soles at the Bolivian border, but after two unexpected hotel nights, it left us with 10 Bolivianos, or about $1.30 to get us the 90 km or so to La Paz.

So, leaving the next morning we ate a few of the granola bars that our parents had brought for us in Cuzco, and set out in the freezing weather. The sky was cloud-covered, our first poor weather day in a long time, which meant that the temperature hovered around 4 degrees most of the day. Add in a little wind, and an uphill to 4100 metres, and it meant that our fingers and toes would be alternate between numbness and shooting pain all day long. We stopped around lunchtime at a roadside restaurant, and worked out a deal to get 2 cups of coffee and 2 pieces of bread for 3 Bolivianos. Not bad at all, though not quite as filling a lunch as a cyclist really should have.

We fought the crazy traffic through El Alto, the sprawling suburb perched 500 metres above La Paz, and then sped past the 'No Ciclistas' sign on the freeway, downhill into the city. Snow and sleet started to fall as we crested the rim of the canyon, and that familiar feeling in our fingers and toes remained. We stayed for two days in La Paz in a youth hostel in the city centre, and enjoyed some good hamburgers, pastries, and the company of backpackers from all over the world. Then, we rode back past another 'No Ciclistas' sign onto the freeway, and started the slow ascent back up to El Alto, and onto the rest of Bolivia.

The first 360 km or so out of La Paz were paved, so we planned to keep up a good pace, and get through the pavement in 3 days. And so - we did just that. The first few kilometres through El Alto were some of the craziest city traffic we've biked in - our heartrate was kept at a maximum as we wove our way around collectivos, biking in whatever lane of the 4 lanes of traffic that we wanted. we were constantly being cut off, and cutting off in turn - and all in all, it was actually pretty fun. But it finally died down and turned into a paved highway with a narrow shoulder, and so we put in our ipods and just biked along the relatively boring, flat-ish landscape for 3 straight days. (Ok, so we stopped to sleep in there too. But it all was pretty much the same). The possible highlight of those 3 days were that we biked along Lake Poopo, and into the town of Poopo itself. They just have great lake names here! Sure, we're closing in on our mid-20s, but we sure think Lake Titicaca and Lake Poopo are pretty funny. That was more entertainment for us.

After the town of Challapata our pavement ended and the road split, and our photocopied map that we picked up in Copacabana became increasingly useless. We stopped to ask a lot of people which was the road to Huari, or Quillacas, or Llica - whichever town they might know. Even the police weren't entirely sure, which made us question a bit just what kind of road we were planning on taking. We made it to Huari (on what actually was a paved road - how did the police not know where that road was?), and then had some difficulty finding the next road. They don't seem to use road signs here, so every time the road splits in a Y you kind of wonder which way to go. So it became a guessing game, and luckily we did pretty well. Finally one of our choices led us to a field, where the road became little more than a set of tire tracks through sand, so we thought our streak of correct choices was over - but then a truck came by, and when we asked him which way it was to Quillacas, he told us straight ahead, and in fact, he was going there as well. So we set off on the sand tracks, and the trail quickly became a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' game. Do you want option a) bone-rattling washboard, or option b) thick sand that feels like riding along a beach? Or of course, there was always option c) just go overland, dodging clumps of grass through the fields. Sometimes it worked the best, or sometimes not at all. You just never know! It was a fun little game, where sometimes Jeff and I would be hundreds of metres apart on different trails, racing each other, hoping to find the best route.

We spent a night in a hotel in the village of Quillacas, where this time we were warned before taking the room that there was no bathroom, no water, no shower. 'Is there a public bathroom in the town?' we asked. 'No,' was the reply, 'but you can pee...' and he ended the sentence with a wave of the hand down the street. Well, just so long as neither of us had to go bano bano, as we've come to calling number 2, we would be fine. We walked around the town in the evening looking for some supplies, and we were told that the next morning at 8 am, the president would be in town. The President of Bolivia. It seemed hard to believe, but they were setting up a stage, and it seemed to be the word on the street. We thought it would be pretty cool to meet El Presidente himself, so after a poor night's sleep in a bed made for a hobbit, we got up, packed up, and made our way to the town plaza. But by 8:30, there was still no sign of the president, hardly any people in the plaza either, and the fact that we hadn't gone 'bano bano' yet was starting to urge us to get moving out of town. So we decided to give up on Evo showing himself (that's the president), and we got on our bikes and got moving, and found a nice mound of dirt outside of town.

And just as we started biking away, we saw a helicopter flying towards the town - the first helicopter we've seen in South America. So what do you know - the president really was showing up. But we had places to go, and it was uphill to go back to town, so we kept going, making good time on a much-improved road. Until that is, we came to a bridge under construction, crossing a pretty wide river. With a lot of snow and ice in it. We looked around and took quite some time discussing all our options - the riverbed looked too rocky to ride across with our narrow tires, so we decided that was out. Our best choice would be to wait for a truck to come and get him to ferry us across, but after waiting nearly half an hour with no traffic coming our way, we decided we'd have to take off our shoes and socks and walk (or run) our bikes across the freezing river. I thought it was kind of funny. (Jeff on the other hand didn't really think so). So, I volunteered to go first, and after tying my shoes to my bike and stuffing my two pairs of socks in my handlebar bag (it was still freezing cold out), I started across. Through the snow. Across the sharp rocks with the nearly frozen water running over my ankles. And then onto the thin ice, with my bare feet breaking through, the ice cutting me on the way, and the heavy bicycle sliding around on the ice, before finally breaking through and having to cut through the ice as I pushed it, trying to gain traction under the running water on the rocks.

It wasn't fun. I got a little over halfway across and the pain in my feet was so intense I wanted to stop and cry. But, that didn't really seem like a worthwhile plan at all, so I just kept going. And then - of course - a pickup truck came, heading the opposite direction as us. And as he drove across the river he rolled down his window and asked if the water was hot. I wasn't really in any state of mind to start joking with anybody, so I just told him that I was almost across, but if it would be possible to take my brother across the river, that would be very nice. He looked over at Jeff on the other bank, and said 'of course!', and then proceeded to drive across, help Jeff load his bike in the truck, and drive back across the river - all while I continued to fight my way through the ice and snow.

We got to the bank around the same time, and then I spent a half hour or so trying to warm up my feet and regain the ability to move my toes, but without too much success. Jeff then finally agreed, 'yeah, that was actually pretty funny'. I tried to laugh...

The rest of the next two days we spent playing Choose Your Own Adventure, and alternating between fantastic new gravel, and terrible old washboard. After a night of camping where the temperature reached -15 and I sincerely questioned the -12 rating that somebody gave our sleeping bags, we made it to Salinas, where we planned to stock up on supplies and spend the night before heading out for 3 days on the Salar de uyuni, the largest salt flat in the world. We reached the town early, and began a thorough search of all the tiny stores in the town for baked goods, yoghurt, and water. We found some stale-ish cakes and a lot of mini-bags of yoghurt drinks, but we found out, much to our surprise, that they don't sell bottles of water in the town.

We did however come across another touring cyclist, Martin, from Denmark. He had left La Paz the same day as us, and had been just a little behind us for a week. People kept telling him that there were two cyclists just ahead of him, so he kept pushing and finally caught up to us. So we all spent the night at the same hotel, and planned to head out to the island in the middle of the Salar together the next day. Unfortunetly, none of us had water besides the 2 litres that Jeff and I still had from a few days before, so we stocked up on Tampico Citrus Punch, and Martin bought a few bottles of Coke, and we all hoped that we'd have enough liquids to get us across the salt flats to Uyuni where we could re-stock. And so we went to bed with possibly enough food, definitely not enough water, and a lot of excitement about reaching the Salar, a place we'd been excited to cycle across since long before leaving home.

We decided the Salar is worth it's own blog entry - and we don't want to bore you by making this too long. So, you'll have to wait just a few days to find out just what this Salar is all about, and just how much fun it was biking across drinking nothing but citrus punch!

Also, we finally got on our horse and updated our Central Peru photo albums. We took a ton of pictures there, some pretty sweet ones even, so we put them up in two different albums. Check out Central Peru I and Central Peru II here.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Overall Rating of Peru - 'Best of Trip Finalist'

Current Location: Copacabana, Bolivia
Distance Cycled to Date: 15,694 km
Number of different hotels stayed in in Peru: 33
Average cost of hotel room in Peru: C$4.41 pp
Distance cycled in Peru: 3,115 km
Days spent in Peru: 95 (We took a lot of days off...)
Fine for overstaying our visa in Peru: $30

After more than 3 months, we finally left Peru yesterday. It was both sad, and exciting, as we left a country that continually tried us, but we loved nonetheless. Peru was a country full of warm, welcoming people, who with every village we would pass through or farm we would pass by would call out and wave, giving us smiles and more attention than we've ever received. Children would run along beside us, (and sometimes old men as well), calling out greetings and encouragement. The scenery was everchanging and always fascinating, from the flat, empty deserts of the north, to mountains that dwarf any we've cycled in yet. With every corner the scenery would change, from the freezing cold mountain passes to the hot, dry valleys lined with cacti. We climbed and climbed, we experienced far worse roads that we knew existed, and in the end, we loved every day of it.

As we pass from Peru to Bolivia, we go from one country steeped in poverty to another. One thing we won't be able to forget is how face-to-face with poverty we come, every day. Every day we cycle wearing two pairs of gloves, and various layers made by top of the line western brands, all designed to keep us warm and active. And we wear these layers as we pass children wearing nothing more than hand-me-down sweaters, their feet hardly covered by homemade sandals, made from recycled tires, and hands that already are scarred with frostbite. We manage to start cycling every morning after letting our tent defrost, or wait for the sun to start shining before leaving our hotel - and every morning the fields are full of Peruvians, leading their oxen by hand to till their tiny plot of land, or cutting their wheat by hand, carrying it on their backs.

We've biked nearly 16,000 km, and some days we question what it is that keeps us going. But cycling through the areas we are, we can see just how easy our life is compared with so many others. We ride a bike for fun, and at the end of this adventure, we'll be returning to our warm houses in Canada, a wardrobe full of clothes we'll never need to wear, and almost anything we could ask for. We ride our bikes, while these people work from sunrise to sunset, returning to their mud-brick huts at the end of the every day.

And yet, here in Peru we've seen more smiling faces than anywhere. Old men and women, their backs permanently stooped from carrying so much weight on it every day of their lives always come and shake our hands, and welcome us to their villages. We are met with dignity, and self-respect everywhere we go. As we've moved further south, the fundraising that we've taken on with this ride is something that we think about daily. It's nearly impossible not to connect the mountainous farming region in the Dominican Republic and the mountainous farming regions that we continually pass through. And to know that we have the ability to make a difference in these peoples lives, in people living in these circumstances is something that is both intimidating, and exciting.

We're very happy to report that ride for HOPE has now raised $23,300 for the project of rebuilding irrigation systems and community greenhouses in the Dominican Republic. We are nearly halfway towards our goal of $50,000, and that is something to be excited about! Thank you - it's your support, and your dollars, that are going towards making a real and tangible difference in peoples lives. Thank you to everybody to has already donated - and we know there are a lot of you. If you haven't - when will be a better time than now? Visit our project page on our website to find out more information, and the donate page to learn how you can make a difference right now. And for all of you who are out there telling your friends, your co-workers and your family - keep it up. Your support likely means more than you'll ever know.

For us, tomorrow we'll begin our adventure in Bolivia, heading first to La Paz, and then further south. We really don't know what to expect, as this is the country that we know the least about. Every map we look at is different, towns have ceased to exist, and the roads are supposed to be the worst on the continent. And so, naturally we're quite excited about what's around the corner.

You've raised $23,300! Almost half way there! Keep it up! We'll keep on cycling, and let you know how Bolivia looks as soon as we can.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Peruvian Political Problems Part II; and, our Triumphant Entry into Cuzco

Current Location: Cuzco, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 15,152km
Number of Days since we left home: 319

We spent the night in a hotel in Andahuaylas, the four of us re-united, but all uncertain how and if we would be able to leave the city the next day due to the strikes and roadblocks. We had 6 days until we needed to be in Cuzco, and we knew it would be at least 5 full cycling days, and we hoped to still be able to take a rest day in Abancay, since Jeff and I had biked 6 straight days over 4 different 4000 metre passes. We didn't have much choice other than to keep cycling, as a bicycle seemed to be the best bet at getting through the roadblocks. And so we packed our bags, and started out, searching for the gravel road that would lead us to Abancay, and the paved highway to Cuzco.

We slowly started the nearly 2000 metre climb out of Andahuaylas, passing numerous small villages and people working their tiny plots of land that seem to surround the road as it heads up to dizzying heights. Like the days coming into Andahuaylas, leaving town we were bombarded with warnings of the roadblocks. We couldn't pass, we were told, time and time again. But we had to just keep biking, and so we always responded with smiles and waves, and hoped that our charm could get us through any difficult situations. We thought we might have some trouble when a motorcycle passed us, and then 10 minutes later came back from the opposite direction, and stopped to tell us that we couldn't pass ahead. If even a motorcycle couldn't get through, we might have some trouble. As we kept going and came around a corner, we saw another truckload of people, with men stretched out across the road, blocking the entire thing. I didn't know what to say, or what to expect as we rode up to them - but as it turned out, we were greeted again with our usual 'gringo', and they parted to let us through. Phew.

As we kept biking, truckloads and truckloads of men and women with Peruvian flags would come down the road, heading the opposite direction as us, and everytime somebody from the truck would call out in Spanish that we couldn't pass, then somebody that they will kill us ahead, and then finally in English somebody would call out "Hello! My name is!". They never would finish the sentence with their name - just 'my name is!'. It seems the English program in rural Peru still has a few steps to go. But anyway - the combination of death threats and friendly smiles was confusing for us, and we weren't exactly sure what we should be feeling... but we just kept going.

Even though Sarah had had a few days off to try to recover from some sort of stomach bug, it hadn't quite been enough, as she wasn't feeling very well from the start of the day. It continued to get worse, and even though she tried to just keep going at a very slow pace, it was clear that she was suffering. And so, after only 30 km, we called it a day when we found an amazing campsite with views of jagged peaks and fertile valleys in nearly all directions. We were close to the top of the pass, but still had close to 120 km to do the next day to get to Abancay, 100 of which was on gravel - and included a whole lot of trip climb, and of course the possibility that we wouldn't make it through the next set of roadblocks. However, everybody was up for the challange, and so after a nice long sleep from sunset to sunrise, we got up and packed quickly, not even waiting for the frost to melt off our tents, and set off to see how close we could get to reaching our goal.

The scenery continued to impress us, and even though we were biking at high altitude, up a mountain on a poor road, it was still a great time. Sarah was feeling better, and we were making good time. We reached the top of the pass and started the descent without a single death threat. It was looking like a good day. But then, after just a little bit of bone-rattling downhill, we came up to a long line of vehicles. We passed them all, and saw a group of people sitting around on top of boulders scattered all over the road. Traffic from both sides was completely backed up, but we were able to walk our bikes through the maze, and made it through without anybody minding. In fact, they all just laughed at us. So we kept going, and just an hour or two later came to our next sizeable blockage, which was still under construction. About 15 men with shovels and pickaxes were in the process of building a wall of dirt and rocks about 5 feet high, completely blocking the road, with a rock wall on one side of the road, and a sheer cliff on the other. We slowed down, and they all stared at us. Then somebody made some kind of joke, they all started laughing, and then one or two men with shovels helped to clear a little path over the wall that we could push our bikes up. We were all smiles, and so were they - and we made it through the entire 'paro' stretch without any incident whatsoever. In fact, everybody that we met continued to be just as friendly as everybody else that we've met in Peru.

We finally got off the gravel and joined the pavement 18 km outside of Abancay, and were relieved to know this would be the last gravel we would ride on in Peru. Finally. But - this didn't mean that the day would end easily, because we still had 18 km of uphill, and the sun was nearly setting already. But we really wanted to make it to Abancay that day, and so we pushed, and pushed. Laura and Sarah were both dead tired (and even Jeff and I were ready for the day to end), but we just kept going, up the paved highway, as the sun dipped lower and lower, and then disappeared. On we went in the dark, for the first time ever on this trip. We reached the outskirts of the city, but when you're biking in the dark after a 120 km day, it seems to take forever to reach the centre of a city we realized. We finally made it, and checked into the first hotel that we looked at. It was time for pizza, and then a very long, very solid sleep.

We took a rest day the next day in Abancay, and didn't leave our hotel room until we went out for supper. Then we came back and went to bed again. It was a pretty solid rest day. And then, we had 3 days left to get to Cuzco. We had just two more 4000 metre passes, but on pavement - easy peasy, of course. We cycled every day just as we planned, first to Curahuasi, then Limatambo. It was a strange feeling, the closer and closer we got to Cuzco. It was a city we had dreamed of visiting long before we left Canada - the Inca capital, the gateway to Machu Picchu, and a milestone at over 15,000 km. And now to add to it, our family was coming to meet us there - but, Laura and Sarah would be going back home. It was a mixture of emotion, both excitement and sadness, but we did our best to enjoy every minute of the ride until we arrived. It was still beautiful scenery, and the four of us continued to grow closer and closer. June 25th, we rode into Cuzco, right on schedule. It was a triumphant entry. It felt pretty darn good.

We took the next day to relax and celebrate. Jeff and I had ridden over 15,000 km from Canada, and Laura and Sarah had ridden over 1000 km of the toughest section. It was more than impressive - from leaving Huaraz on homemade equipment and never ridden any sort of distance on a bicycle, they were stellar, right from the start. They biked 7 different 4000 metre passes on terrible gravel, found 13 different chicken feet in their soups, and did it all without any complaints. We loved every minute of biking with them, and every mintue we weren't biking as well. We didn't really anticipate how much biking with them would change our trip - but we know now how difficult it will be to go back to biking without them. We consider ourselves lucky to have had them along for this trip.

When our family arrived, our vacation began. We left our bikes with the manager of the cheap hotel we had been staying in, and moved into a very nice hotel. We had 3 weeks of spending time with our family, and seeing a few sights we had missed while biking. We took buses, and felt pretty car-sick every time. (We're just not used to travelling that fast anymore. It's crazy how fast vehicles move!). We got to see the Nazca Lines, the Colca Canyon, go sand-boarding on giant dunes in Huacachina, and eat a lot of very, very good meals. It was great to see our parents and sister again after so long, and it was great to have our Aunt Louise along to show off Peru. Yesterday they all left, back to Canada, and we find ourselves all alone again, after so long. It's a strange feeling right now, but we're anxious to get back on our bicycles and start getting some more miles under us. Spending all our time with Laura and Sarah, and now our family, has given us new motivation to keep going hard and reach the end of Argentina.

So tomorrow we'll get back on the bikes, and make our way to Lake Titicaca, and the Bolivian border. Starting tomorrow we've officially overstayed our visa for Peru, so hopefully we can exit the country without any problems. One more week, and we should be in Bolivia. We're excited.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Peruvian Political Problems Part I: Ayacucho to Andahuaylas

Current Location: Cuzco, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 15,152km
Number of Days in Peru to Date: 88
Number of Days Allowed on our Peruvian Tourist Visa: 90
Number of Pictures Taken in Peru to Date: 3807

It's been a month since we last posted a blog entry. Some people might attribute this to laziness on our part, and those people are pretty much dead-on. A whole lot has happened in the last month, though those with astute Peruvian geography will notice that we haven't actually made it too far since our last entry from Ayacucho. The reason for this is that we've spent the last 3 weeks spending time with our parents, younger sister, and our aunt who came from Canada to see us. So the laziness really could be explained by our desire to spend as much quality time with our family as we could. Or, you could just call us lazy, I suppose.

Since we actually do have some good stories from biking that we should have shared weeks and weeks ago, we're going to take you back in time to leaving Ayacucho, and pretend that this is a current entry. So - it's now the middle of June, Sarah and Laura are staying to rest in Ayacucho for 2 days before taking a bus to Andahuaylas to meet us - our last planned seperation, to give them a chance to recover from some stomach bugs and sore muscles. Meanwhile, Jeff and I hit the road, ready to tackle a few more 4000 metre passes, which being divided by 2000 metre river valleys would be one of the toughest sections yet.

Now we have to back the narrative up just a little bit again, and cover a little bit of background. Being touring cyclists we find ourselves fairly isolated from any sort of media, or world news. We are completely out of the loop. The best example of this is probably that we only found out a couple of weeks ago who won the Stanley Cup. That's right - two Canadian guys in their early 20s, and we didn't even know who made the playoffs in the NHL this year. We don't know anything going on in the world. We did find out, however, that there have been a few political problems in Peru going on while we've been cycling. It's fairly complex, and despite having been in Peru for 3 months now, we still don't really understand all of the issues at hand. But while we were in the Huancayo area, we heard that there were massive political protests happening in the Amazon, and in one confrontation 22 police officers were killed, and at least that many protestors as well. It was a pretty big deal here in Peru, and the kind of situation where nobody won. It seemed however to be confined to the jungle areas, far from us, and so we didn't worry about our own personal safety at all.

And so, having forgotten about any current political problems in Peru (and still no knowledge of Pittsburgh's victory back home) we set out climbing and climbing on the dusty, rough gravel road out of Ayacucho. We climbed and climbed, camped, and the next day climbed some more before descending into the village of Ocros which had a basic hostal to stay the night in. We took a look at the place, which consisted of a single room with 4 rickety beds. We'd gotten pretty used to this sort of rustic accomodation, and didn't think too much of the fact that there was no bathroom attached to the room. Often we've had to go downstairs or even to anouthouse to do our business, and thought that would be no different. But after asking for the bathroom and following the senora's directions, we found ourselves going down a trail towards the river. There was no buildling. We searched. We've come across the same thing at a few restaurants, where the bathroom was 'just across the highway, down into the ditch'. But this was the first time in a hotel where we were forced to fend for ourselves, right in the town.

It's hard to even keep straight the days, as every day was either a 2000 metre climb, or a 2000 metre descent, both of which were exhausting and difficult on the rough roads. But on the day before we were to reach Andahuaylas, a small SUV coming towards us stopped to talk to us. It was an Australian man who stopped to see how up to date we were on the current situation in the city we were heading to. Of course, our answer was not at all. It turned out that he had been stuck in the city for the past 5 days, which was under a 'paro', or stoppage. All highways in and out of the city had been blocked off, and all businesses in the city were to be on strike. It was in support of what had happened in the Amazon, as well as a few of their own issues. The Austalian had managed to escape he told us, in the middle of the night, despite having rocks and sticks thrown at his vehicle.

And so, it seemed our plan to meet Laura and Sarah in Andahuaylas might have a wrinkle in it. This was the first we had heard of the 'paro', but it was far from the last. Soon after, it seemed half of the people who we would pass would call out 'no, you can't pass! Everything is closed.', which worried us a little. The other half would smile and wave and call out 'gringo!', which comforted us again. Arriving in Uripa, the last town we were supposedly able to reach before the roadblocks would begin, we tried to find an internet cafe to email the girls, and hopefully hear something from them. After finding one internet cafe with no internet due to the situation in Andahuaylas, we finally found one with still-open broadband. We found a few emails from Laura and Sarah, first telling us the bus wasn't running, then that they could get as far as Uripa, and then finally that they found a company that was sending in a nightbus that would be able to make it all the way. And so, we went to bed wondering where it would be that we actually would find each other again. We looked at a map to find any alternate routes that would miss Andahuaylas, but every road through the area entered the city. The only possibility would be for them to take a bus all the way down to the coast, then change buses and go all the way back inland to Abancay, which would be a couple days of riding the bus. It seems whoever picked Andahuaylas as the city to shut down did some thinking beforehand. Well done.

Leaving Uripa, we were warned many times that the road was closed. And every time we would call out, 'si! gracis!' with a smile on our faces. We had just one more 4000 metre pass to summit before the downhill into our now-forbidden city. The frequency of the warnings picked up, as the traffic died down. In fact, traffic ceased to exist. We took it as a sign that maybe all these people were in fact right about the roadblocks, but we just kept biking, with no other real option. We finally reached the top of the pass after enjoying the slow biking and beautiful scenery without ever seeing a single vehicle. We ate a couple dry buns, (now a staple), and started the downhill, a little anxious and a bit nervous about what would come next. It wouldn't be very long at all before we'd fly around a corner and come across a rock field- small boulders and big rocks, scattered all over the road. We dodged them, kept going, and soon enough reached another one. And then a little bit further down was a tree, cut down across the road. Then more rocks, and more trees. After all our practice dodging sheep and cows moving down the road, we were very adept at weaving around the motionless rocks. A couple trees forced us to get off and carry our bikes (but after carrying our loaded bikes up countless hotel staircases, we've become pretty accustomed to this as well). We were a little nervous about the villagers around, that they might not like us foreigners ignoring their roadblocks - but nobody seemed to really mind - everybody would just tell us that the road is closed, and warn us that further ahead we couldn't pass. But it was always further ahead that the trouble would be, so we just kept pushing on. With every scattering of boulders and every tree across the road, we became less and less sure that we'd be greeted by Laura and Sarah when we reached the city.

Just a few kilometres before the city the warnings started to really increase, with one lady yelling intently for us to stop, and when I looked back at her, she slid her finger across her neck, warning us that we might be killed further ahead. And as we kept pedaling, with slightly more than a touch of concern, we came around a corner and saw a semi-truck with the back loaded up with young men, and Peruvian flags flying. We slowed down to be biking side by side, expecting at any minute a gun to be pulled on us - but instead, it was the typical 'gringo!' with grins on their faces. We finally exhaled after passing the group, and we entered the city limits of Andahuaylas just as the sun set. There was glass smashed all over the roads and rocks still everywhere, but the city seemed to be moving at a normal pace, and not a single person questioned us once we got there. We found an open internet cafe and checked to find out the status of the girls, expecting the worst. And there was an email from them - they had checked into a hotel, in Andahuaylas, just around the corner from us.

We're still not exactly sure how their bus reached the city except that it found a different, longer but more open route- but however they arrived, we were very, very relieved to see them. Now the problem just became leaving the next day, as we were (again) told that we couldn't get through the highway on the other side of the city. The word 'kill' was definitely used a few times, and we started to question if we could make it to Cuzco by our deadline, imposed by Laura and Sarah's flight home, and the arrival of our family.

Stay tuned to find out what happens next to the cycling quartet. Will we make it out of the city? Will we reach Cuzco in time for the girls to see Machu Picchu, and Jeff and I to meet our parents? Part II is coming soon...

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Ups and Downs from Huanuco to Ayacucho

Current Location: Ayacucho, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 14,541 km
Flat tires to Date: 53 (Keenan - 29, Jeff - 23, Laura - 1, Sarah - 0)

We left Huanuco feeling pretty good. We had a pizza night, restocked our food supplies, and were excited about the prospect of getting back on to pavement for the next few hundred kilometres. We got on the road early, and after dodging the Peruvian moto-taxis that seem to take over every city, we made good time early in the day. However, a combination of flat tires and the start of a problem with Sarah's knee slowed us down, and we covered less than 40 km before finding a campsite hidden in the ditch. The flat tire wasn't too serious, except that it forced us to use our very last 700c tube, which caused a little bit of stress. Sarah's knee on the other hand we knew could be potentially problematic, and we all hoped that the next day things would just get better. But, anybody who knows anything about knee problems knows that they don't just disappear, and so the next day we called it a early day again, after spending all morning working on the long, slow climb from Huanuco at 1900 metres, that would finally end at Cerro de Pasco, at over 4300 m.

We had spotted the 'Hospedaje Trucha' (Trout Hotel) just a kilometre or so back of where we were taking a break, but rather than all of us backtracking downhill (which breaks two of our cardinal rules of this trip), I biked down by myself to check it out. If I hadn't returned in 20 minutes, it meant that I deemed it sufficient (read: cheap) enough, so the rest would come down. I pulled in and had a quick look at the room, and for 5 soles a piece (less than $2 Canadian) we could have a hotel room, which satisfied all my requirements. So, in the remaining 19 minutes, I was invited to join in a volleyball game on a makeshift court beside the highway. I got a good warmup in before Jeff, Laura, and Sarah showed up to join in as well, and we played a little Canada vs. Peru 3 vs. 3 volleyball. We did pretty well, but in the end (as a result of some questionable scorekeeping) the Peruvians came out on top. The hotel wasn't anything too special, unless you consider green algae oozing out of the bathroom taps and showerhead as being special - but we did enjoy some fresh caught trout for supper each night, and some good quality rest time as well.

Getting back on the road we continued to slowly gain altitude, but after looking at the dates, our current pace, and the condition of Sarah's knee, we decided it would make the most sense for them to skip a bit of the less scenic section we were on, take a bus to Huancayo, and get a bit of rest before Jeff and I caught back up on our bikes and we could continue on our way to Ayacucho. We were getting close to Cerro de Pasco, but still had nearly 700 metres to climb and 15 kilometres to go with an hour of sunlight left, when as we were chatting with some friendly locals in a pickup truck, they offered us a ride to Cerro. Now, Jeff and I have had a pretty good streak of never taking a ride on this trip, and we knew that we wanted to continue, but since Sarah and Laura were planning on taking a bus to Huancayo anyway, it made sense for them to take the generous offer. And so, we said our goodbyes and good-lucks at 5 o'clock on the side of the highway, and they loaded their bikes in the truck. Jeff and I did a quick calculation that if we biked hard for the next hour without stopping, we just might be able to make the city - and so we did. As the sun dipped below the horizon the temperature dipped below zero, but we just kept pedalling, finally making it to a hotel on the plaza in the freezing cold darkness.

We decided we might as well push as hard as we could the next morning, and try to make it to Huancayo, over 260 km away, in two days. And so - we did. It started out poorly though, with us biking almost 15 km, back and forth over the 'cerro' (hill), searching for the way out of the confusing city. People would point us one direction and so we'd go, and then on the other side of the hill, they'd point us back the other way, on the same road we just came on. That wasn't fun at all. However, an hour and a half later when we finally got back to the highway, we did have fun being on nice pavement again, with a bit of downhill, and having set an ambitious goal. The scenery wasn't nearly as spectacular as we had seen before, but the pampas and rolling plains were a nice change. We spotted llamas grazing in the wild, vicunas hopping along, and a giant maca root statue in a town plaza. All in all, not too bad.

We ended up getting to Huancayo on the same day as the girls, just a couple of hours later, which we all thought was kind of funny. And so, we we spent our time in Huancayo doing what we do on all great rest days - sitting around and doing as little as possible, intersperced with a lot of eating. The days off also helped Sarah's knee considerably, so after taking two days off the only downside we could think of was that the laundromat we visited lost Jeff's jersey, leaving him with only one shirt to wear while biking for the next few weeks. Jeff would like to point out that this is a very big deal - not showering for a week or two isn't too bad, but when you have to wear the same shirt during that same stretch, it becomes a much bigger deal. Also, not too great for the guy sharing a tent with him.

Our first day out of Huancayo we went up a bit, and then down a lot, with the only real noteworthy item being that we made it to Izcuchaca, which was where we were aiming to get to that day. (Lately that has been a bit of a rarity for us). The next day we almost did the same, but Laura got her first flat tire of the trip, just a few kilometres before our goal. We thought it would be an easy fix (after all, by this point Jeff and I are very, very experienced at fixing flat tires), but we learned that her rims are frustratingly big, and the valve stem just wouldn't stick out enough for our pump to work. So, found a campsite a few hundred metres down the road and made a plan for the next day. Jeff and Sarah set out on their bikes like usual, while Laura and I started walking for the nearest village. It turned out to be 20 km away. It was a long walk, but a nice change of pace for both of us, and a good chance to enjoy the scenery without needing to worry about flying off the edge of a cliff. We reached Anco, and within minutes had somebody fill up the tire with their pump. (Pretty much everybody in Peru is very very nice. If you've heard otherwise, you've heard wrong.) It was already pretty late in the day, so we called it a night, and planned to reach Ayacucho in 2 days.

Again, with the lack of mechanical problems, we followed through and made it to Ayacucho after winding through some varied scenery. One minute we would be in a fertile valley, and after crossing a small pass we would be riding through red rock canyon walls with cacti surrounding us. Up and down we would go, finally reaching Ayacucho after one more long climb into the city.

We had our pizza night, restocked our food supplies, and now we're excited about getting back onto some gravel. It's been a good rest day, and we'll see what happens from here.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Central Peru - Mountain Passes, Freezing Nights, and All Around Amazing Sights

Current Location: Huanuco, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 13,884 km
4000+ Meter Passes Crossed to Date: 3
Most eggs eaten by Keenan and Jeff in one day: 15 (Is this healthy? Definitely delicious!)
Number of chicken feet found in soup in the past week: 8 (Jeff - 4, Sarah - 2, Laura - 2, Keenan - 0)

Leaving Huaraz, we weren't exactly sure what to expect. We hadn't biked for nearly 2 weeks, and we had two Canadian girls with us who had never ridden touring bicycles in their lives. We had homemade racks and denim panniers, some cheap camping equipment, and we were heading on a poor dirt road over a double pass that would reach over 4,800 m, a height we had never even been close to on our bicycles. We knew it would be quite the introduction to cycle touring, and we were right. Mother nature even had a little fun with the inauguration, throwing down rain, hail, and snow - all on the first 3 days out of Huaraz. It was one of the hardest weeks of cycling that Jeff and I have had yet, and one of the most remote. We had a three day stretch where we saw 5 vehicles in total. All of these things added up to one of the best weeks that we've ever had!

We told Laura and Sarah that we'd give them grades after the first week, and we have to say, they both likely deserve something in the A to A+ range. Throughout the ridiculously rough dirt road, the endless climbing, the sub-zero night time temperatures and the breathless elevation, we never heard a single complaint. They are troopers. It was good to get to introduce others to our lifestyle, and have that enthusiasm that we had when we left. Every day we bike through tiny settlements, chased by kids yelling "gringo! gringo!" with ear to ear grins on their faces, and it's been great to be reminded just how amazing our everyday experiences are.

...

We've started to share our highlights and lowlights at the end of every day, and this week has been full of highlights. Here's a few:

-Seeing the rare Puya Raimondi plants in bloom, the largest bromelid flower in the world, that grows only at certain elevations in the Andes around 4000 metres, takes 100 years to mature, and blooms only every 6 to 7 years. Everytime we'd see one, we would all yell "Puya!" as loud as we could, letting our voices echo across the valley. You would think after yelling "Puya!" nearly a hundred times it would get old - but it just never does.


-As we were riding uphill, at nearly 4000 metres, an old man walking along the road asked where we were heading. We told him, and he explaimed 'I'll come with you!", and started jogging along beside. If you've ever tried running at 4000 metres, you'll know how hard this is. And then throw in going up a rocky gravel road, at a 5% grade. In dress shoes. Wearing a backpack. And being at least 60 years old. But he just kept on jogging, keeping up with me without seeming to tire at all. In fact, he just kept talking, carrying on a conversation, while I struggled with the effort of cycling, speaking, and breathing. For nearly two kilometres he kept up, until finally I had to stop for a break.

-One day as we were biking by some sheep, we noticed that Laura had started to baah back at them as they baahed at us. This sounds kind of strange, but we're all sort of strange people. We have a lot of fun. Anyway - it seemed like fun, so one day as I stopped to wait for the others to catch up I noticed a small lamb in amongst a group of sheep baah-ing, so I started to call back to it. I wasn't quite as good at the imitation as Laura, but it took notice. And then as we carried on the conversation, it left the other sheep and started to come towards me. By then everybody else had caught up, but that little lamb just kept coming, running up the steep ditch to get to us. I guess he realized then that whatever I was saying was nonsense, because he turned around to go back. But we shared a moment. And it was special.

-The set lunch menus at local restaurants just keep getting cheaper and cheaper. It's down to 3 soles now, which isn't much more than one Canadian dollar. And as the prices drop, the more entertaining our lunchtime discussions have become.

"What's that sticking out of your soup?"
"I think it's maybe a lung?"
"I've got a chicken foot in mine"
"Wait - nope, not a lung, that's a heart, definitely. Look at the artery sticking out."
"There is definitely an artery sticking out of this pork thing too."
"Don't worry about that cup - that stuff is only on the outside."
"Hmm... tastes like some sort of cleaning product"
"Mind if I finish that pig skin on your plate?"

-We saw our first llamas grazing in the wild. We took a whole lot of pictures. Llamas are sweet. Or possibly they were alpacas - we're still not really sure the difference. Alpacas are sweet too. Puya!

...

The scenery over the past week has been some of the best of the entire trip. We've found ourselves with 360 degree panoramas of snow capped peaks, deep valleys, and everything in between. We've had some amazing campsites, that make almost every campspot we've had pale in comparison. One night we camped just over a pass at 4700 m, and found out just how much elevation affects the temperatue. Normally Jeff and I fit with not much room to spare in our 2 and a half man tent, but as the temperature dropped we decided to all squeeze into it. We were all wearing nearly every piece of clothing we had, tucked in our sub-zero sleeping bags - and we survived it, though comfortably isn´t the word you would use to describe it.


Coming into Huanuco, we dropped from 4000 m down to 1900 m. Statistically that sounds pretty sweet, but the terrible gravel took away a bit of the fun. Now tomorrow we'll start our ascent back up to 4300 m again. PUYA!

Monday, May 25, 2009

Bips and Bops

Current Location: Huaraz, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: Unchanged
Days Spent in Huaraz, Peru: 13

In writing our blog entries, we try to maintain a smooth narrative to tell you our stories. But so many little things get missed along the way, so we thought we'd give you a few little bips and bops from along the way.

Spandex Cycling Shorts

A little over 6 months into our trip, I woke up one morning at the Costa Rican border, and started my daily routine of packing up my sleeping bag and getting dressed. I reached for my trusty spandex cycling shorts to get dressed for the day. We each brought along 2 pairs of shorts for the trip (with the intention of washing them daily - what optimists we were back then!). Being my favourite shorts of the two pairs, I had easily worn them over 100 times by this point. But as I was about to put them on, I looked at the tag, for what may have been the first time. Ladies Size Large. What? Over 100 times I had put on and off my shorts, and only on the day we entered Costa Rica did I realize that I had mistakenly bought Ladies cycling shorts. Still though - they fit nice and snug, and I can't really complain. However, I've decided that my black shorts are now my favourites.

Rummy Standings

1st - Jeff (13-11-0)
2nd - Keenan (11-13-0)

The Neverending Search for Peanut Butter

Almost every cyclist has a staple of peanut butter in their diet. It just makes sense. But the one fear that we always have is that we'll reach the point to the south where we just won't be able to find it anymore. When we reached San Diego, California, we stocked up. Would we be able to find it in Mexico? We didn't know, and so we weighed ourselves down just in case. Of course, Northern Baja has Walmarts and Costcos, and so we found some more. But - would we be able to find it once we left the orbit of the US and their tourists? We couldn't risk it, and so we stocked up some more. We had jars and jars of it, and hoped that one day we'd find it again. In La Paz, before leaving the Baja Penisula and heading to the mainland, we found a supermarket stocked with it. But could we find it in the mainland? We just didn't know, and so again, the panniers were weighed down. Luckily for us Mexico had great chains of supermarkets, and every city we stopped in, we would make sure we had at least an extra jar or two, just in case it was our last chance. This has kept going, time after time after time. We read in cyclists blogs how they can't find peanut butter in the country to our south, and so before leaving, we resupply with as much peanut butter as we can carry. Every single country that we've been to, we have found peanut butter. And still, we keep carrying extra jars, as if for luck. We heard that in Peru, you can't find peanut butter. Today we bought our 3rd jar of the country. So - a piece of advice for touring cyclists - if you look for peanut butter, you will find it.

A New Look

While we were in Trujillo, we finally couldn´t do it anymore. Every time we ate we would get a mouthful of mustache, and we realized that it was time to shave once more. So a trip to the barber and $2 later, we were clean-cut and clean-shaven. Here's the before and after.













Rankings

We like to make lists. We're working on top 10 lists for whatever we can think of, mainly because it's fun. And so when we left Panama, we ranked every country we've been in on a variety of angles. Here's a few. All of them are completely biased, most of which are based on one or two good (or bad) days. But they're our lists, and we can do what we want with them.

Central American Colas

1.Pepsi Retro Cola (Mexico)
2.Coca-Cola (All)
3.Pepsi Cola (All)
4.Super Cola (Guatemala)
5.Shaler Kola (Nicaragua)*
6.Salva Cola (El Salvador)
7.Raptor Cola (Guatemala)

*Jeff would place this at number 8 or lower if possible, whereas Keenan would place it at number 1. We compromised.

Highways

1.Canada
2.USA
3.Mexico
4.Nicaragua
5.El Salvador
6.Guatemala
7.Honduras
8.Costa Rica
9.Panama

Supermarkets

1.USA
2.Canada
3.Mexico
4.Panama
5.Costa Rica
6.El Salvador
7.Guatemala
8.Nicaragua
9.Honduras

Ease of Free Camping

1.Canada
2.Mexico
3.USA
4.Guatemala
5.Panama
6.El Salvador
7.Costa Rica
8.Nicaragua
9.Honduras

ride for HOPE team doubles.

We've been in Huaraz now for a long time. Nearly two weeks, which is the longest we've ever stayed in any one place besides Christmas. We didn't intend to stay so long - we came here with the intention of meeting Laura, a Canadian friend that we've met up with twice before in Ecuador and spend a few days here with her. Here in Huaraz, she rented a mountain bike and came along for a 2 day trip, to see what this touring cycling is all about. And of course, she decided she couldn't pass up the opportunity to join in on this adventure. After hearing our stories and seeing our pictures, she knew that she had to come along for at least a little while. If you really think about it, you might decide that buying a bicycle and joining two relative strangers on a bike trip through Peru without any planning or preparation is a little crazy. But - the crazy part of it comes when her sister surprised her with a visit to Peru, and after meeting us, decided that she had to come along too.

And so - the ride for HOPE team has doubled for the time being, with the 4 of us nearly ready to head out into the mountains of Peru. We've spent the last week doing what Jeff and I took a year to do - buying bicycles, sleeping bags, and a tent, and getting racks and panniers custom built for the trip. It's been quite an adventure, with daily trips to welders and seamstresses, trying to explain just what we need. It's crazy how you can get anything made for you in a Peruvian marketplace. Now we'll just see how good these homemade denim panniers hold up. The four of us have had a pretty great time this week getting everything organized, and just getting to know each other. Hopefully the fun will continue once they find out just what it's like to ride up and down Peruvian gravel roads, and over 4000 metre passes. We'll let you know how it goes.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Jeff and Keenan Ride Northern Peru

Current Location: Huaraz, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 13,600 km
Flat Tires to Date: 47 (Keenan - 25, Jeff - 22)

Keenan and Jeff wanted to write a blog in the 3rd person, and so they did.

Arriving in Trujillo, Peru the boys found themselves on the doorstep of the Casa de Ciclistas. For the past weeks they had been talking about this moment, wondering, "Will we meet other cyclists?", "How long can we stay?", "Do you think we can get our bikes looked at?" Now as they stood anxiously waiting after their third knocking attempt, they began to worry nobody would be there. As they speculated as to what they should do, the door mercifully swung open. The boys were welcomed in to the house as if they were old friends. Introductions were exchanged and soon they felt as if they were indeed old friends.

The brothers were overwhelmed with excitement as they talked with the other 5 touring cyclists, and to the gracious owner of the Casa de Ciclistas, Lucho. Soon after arrival a large book was in their laps, its pages filled with the names of everyone who had stayed in this house before them. Flipping through the pages they were amazed at the sheer number of others who had passed through on their own adventure in the past 25 years. Writing their names in spots 1112, and 1113, they finally felt as if they had made it. Hours were spent in curiousity looking through all the old guestbooks, seeing all the faces and thoughts of those who had visited the Casa de Ciclistas. Coming across entries by people the boys had been inspired by years before was very special for them.

Over the next few days the boys would have a chance to relax and reflect on their trip so far. Although they had been traveling for eight months, both felt as if there was so much more to still experience. Talking with the other cyclists who had started in the south only fueled this desire to keep going. One evening in particular would prove to be pivotal. Hearing about all the amazing sites further south, both knew at that moment they had to continue to the end of the road - Ushuaia, Argentina. Anything else would be selling themselves short.

With this new resolve the boys left Trujillo heading up into the spectacular Cordillera Blanca mountains following the route that was recommended to them. Off the pavement they were on the 'good gravel' road they had heard about. However, after rattling along the gravel road, less than 2 kilometres in, Keenan was already having doubts, "Maybe we should only do part of this mountain route." The road would take their full concentration only allowing them to enjoy the scenery when they stopped. Keenan would stop and say, "Check that out," and Jeff once finally looking up would exclaim, "Wow, this is pretty cool!" They continued on in this fashion punishing their bikes along the rough road, soaking in the new surroundings with every break they took.

The road would graciously give way to pavement for a short stretch, mocking them as it lasted only 8km before becoming the rockiest road either had ever experienced. The single-lane road would twist through the narrow canyon beside the rushing river offering the boys some amazing sights as well as some unnerving rides through the dark tunnels. Once accustomed to the slow going nature of this road they both thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Spectacular scenery would surround them for days on end, with very little traffic to worry about. They found some great campsites offering some incredible views as the sun slowly set each night. Both agreed that these were some of their favourite moments of the trip so far.

When Keenan had first described this route to Jeff he thought it was a bit crazy, particularly when he described the 20km section with 35 tunnels on a single-lane dirt road. However, once reaching the Canon del Pato and the series of dark tunnels he was glad they had decided on the route. Each tunnel was an exhilarating rush for the brothers as their hearts raced and the possibility of meeting a vehicle in the dark narrow space pushed them to reach the end. With the noise of the river rushing just below the steep cliff, any vehicle noise was masked, which only added to the excitement. It would also lead to three separate tight squeezes as the boys pushed against the wall and the vehicles passed merely inches away. Once through the last of the tunnels and onto the pavement a hint of relief could be seen on their faces as they smoothly rode on.

Reaching the town of Caraz both felt like they needed a rest after the rough roads and climbing over 2000 m in elevation. With snow capped peaks surrounding them and the possibility of many hikes, they decided to visit Laguna Paron, a short 1 hour bus ride to the village of Paron and then a 4 to 5 hour hike to the lake. The thing the boys didn't know as they boarded the rickety van was that the lake had been closed to tourists. They arrived at the village shortly after 8 am, excited about the hike and with their backpacks full of their camping gear for the night. The bus disappeared and they only got 4 steps past the blockade before being stopped. Because of some un-understandable political reason, they couldn't hike to the lake. The brothers were discouraged, but didn't know what to do - walk back to town?... wait for the next bus?... they certainly couldn't visit the lake.

Keenan and Jeff didn't let that get them down for long though and decided they might as well try some sort of hike. After all, they had everything they needed for 2 days already packed on their backs. They cut through the schoolyard and some fields before stumbling upon a path, which seemed to lead up the mountain. Great, they thought and followed it. The path continued halfway up the mountain before becoming unrecognizable. Being the determined individuals they are, they didn't let this stop them and simply continued up the steep slope making their own path. It was tough going, with the altitude starting to hamper their breathing. When they reached the top they were rewarded beyond what they could have imagined with an amazing view of the surrounding mountain peaks, and a deep canyon below. Setting up their tent on the ridge before the cliff, both were sure that this was probably the best camp spot they had ever had.

Both were dreading the climb down the following morning and rightfully so. It was a steep grassy slope dotted with rocks, which with the frost melting created a slow, terrifying descent for the brothers. However, they carefully made their way down and arrived back in the village. A large crowd of young students surrounded them as they sat and waited for the bus. The kids would crowd in close just staring, as if they were an abstract piece of art they couldn't figure out. Then a few kids gained some confidence and had a great time throwing bugs in Jeff's hair and down his back. Keenan also thought this was funny. The bus did eventually come and they squished in the van with the 21 others (with three hanging off of the roof) for the ride back into Caraz.

The following day they made their way along the paved pot-hole filled highway to Huaraz. The road gently led them another 1000 m higher, as they passed towering cloud covered mountains. Once in Huaraz they met a local mountain biker who proceeded to help them find a suitable (eg, very cheap) hotel for their stay as well as introduce them to some local bike and travel enthusiasts. The Cook brothers are now enjoying the bigger city and all it offers before heading into the mountains and through more rough spectacular stretches. They can't wait to see what more Peru has to offer.


Keenan and Jeff also wanted to put up an album of them riding through Northern Peru, and so they did. Check it out here.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Why We're Still Riding.

Current Location: Trujillo, Peru
Distance Cycled to Date: 13,275 km
Flat Tires to Date: 45 (Keenan - 24, Jeff - 21)

We've now been on the road for exactly 8 months, and there have been a lot of challenging days. We've biked up incredibly steep hills, through rain, through cold, through hot, and against headwinds that seem determined to send us back home. But probably the hardest thing that we've had to deal with has been biking through areas affected by incredible poverty. Before leaving home we had committed to raising $50,000 for a HOPE International project in the Dominican Republic, rebuilding irrigation systems and community greenhouses. And in these last months of cycling we have seen firsthand the need present in so much of Latin America. It's impossible to forget just why we wanted to raise this money to help those in need - every day we see such poverty that it's heartbreaking. Here in northern Peru we have ridden over 700 km through a dry, desert landscape, with small settlements of only mud-brick shacks; people living with almost nothing at all.

Jeff and I have not wanted to come across as continually asking the same people over and over again for donations. We have a strong subscriber base to our blog, and we know that the majority of you, our regular readers, have already made donations - some quite sizable ones. And we want to thank you for that. Every time we get an email from home telling us about another cheque sent in we get so excited. With your help, we have now raised over $14,000.

This is great news; however, we still have a ways to go. We had set an initial goal of $50,000, and still believe that we can meet this in order to help rebuild these irrigation systems and community greenhouses needed to enable villages in the San Jose de Ocoa region to grow sufficient food to feed themselves and start producing an income. Every day as we cycle we are reminded just how lucky we are to have been born in Canada, and have all the opportunties that we do.

We want to thank everybody who has already placed a donation through our website to HOPE International. Now we want to remind you that we still have room for this fundraising to grow. And so we'd love it if you could tell a friend, email your cousin, and talk to your boss. Tell them what we're doing, tell them how much a difference they could make with just a small donation, and always keep in mind just how blessed we are.

HOPE's donation page can be found here - just select 'other' on the drop-down menu, and write "ride for HOPE", or "Keenan and Jeff's ride for HOPE" on the comments section to make sure that the money goes towards this project in the Dominican.

...

At the moment, we're in Trujillo, Peru, taking a few days off at the 'Casa de Ciclistas', a house run by Lucho, a local cyclist dedicated to giving touring cyclists a place to relax here in Peru. We've biked for nearly a week through pretty featurless desert, through the potential thieves lair of Paijan, and arrived here to meet 5 other cyclists, all heading north. It's been great to be able to just relax and talk with other cyclists, the first we've met on the road since Guatemala, and get information on all the routes and sites ahead.

We've put up our Ecuador album - you can go check it out now, and then after that, go tell a friend to donate! More information on HOPE and on the project we're raising money for can be found on our website. Send some people this link, forward on the email; let's see what kind of a difference we really can make.