After the relaxing beach bars and surf of Bali, the remote wild jungles of Borneo beckoned us with dreams of adventure and the chance of wildlife spotting. We wondered how it would compare to our experiences in the Amazon rainforests of Bolivia.

From Bali to Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, East Malaysia Source: National Geographic Maps

From the noisy chaos of Kota Kinabalu we found ourselves once again travelling in small rickety buses and plunging into the depths of the countryside.

First stop was the National Heritage park around Mount Kinabalu. The mountain was shrouded in cloud and with my ankle and Kate’s achillees tendon we were not able to attempt any hill walking so contented ourselves with getting lost amongst the trails in the lower forests.

Our hotel was perched on a ridge overlooking lush valleys and green slopes, and the young lad in the restaurant whipped us up a delicious plate of fried noodles and Sabah green vegetable for a couple of dollars.

The next day was long bus and mini-bus ride to the Kingabatagan River Forest for three days of wildlife spotting. The Kinabatangan Nature Lodge is nicely set up and the staff and guides were friendly and helpful.

Sadly the forests of Borneo are rapidly disappearing. For decades they were plundered for timber for western furniture and Chinese chopsticks, and now they are logged to get land for growing Palm Oil. We were in one of the remaining forest areas which was home to a number of native primates who were moving in ever smaller circles as their habit shrunk around them.

The Proboscis monkey with a huge nose. This is a large male.

We spent the days in long river boats guided by a local lad called Yad, who was learning the importance of conservation and eco-tourism.

We were very lucky to see a small group of pygmy elephants grazing on the banks of the river. These shy animals made a great racket crunching up the long grass and slurping the muddy brown waters.

Many of these elephants blunder onto the surrounding palm oil plantations and are shot or captured in huge man traps.

This big boy is the male head of a clan of Probiscis monkeys.

This big chap overhanging the river is a Monitor Lizard

I can see you!

These big beaked chaps are Rhinoceros hornbill.

We were quite sad about how little of the forests remain. Over some of the rivers, the WWF have constructed rope bridges so that monkeys can cross over to other patches of forest. The river in some areas was so dark green with algae that all the fish had died through lack of oxygen. This is caused by all the excess fertilizer running of the Palm Oil fields.

As we travelled south down the eastern coast of Sabah all we saw was palm oil plantations as far as the eye can see.

Growth of oil palm cultivation in Kalimantan and Malaysian Borneo.

source: mongbay.com

We met some people who were environmentalists from private companies as well as inspectors from the Malaysian government, and learned what a good job the WWF is doing in Borneo to help re-grow the forests and claim back land from the palm oil industry.

We would like to make a donation to this WWF project and help to save the natural environment of these lovely animals before they disappear from our world forever.

Please help us with a small donation in place of a wedding present. You are welcome to give us a small cash/cheque donation at the wedding or else contribute something directly to WWF via this link.

http://www.wwf.org.uk/how_you_can_help/orangutans_under_threat_b.cfm

Thank you very much!

Further information.

http://www.mongabay.com/borneo.html

Our flight from Darwin to Bali started with a complication. We weren’t allowed to check in without providing evidence of an onward flight from Bali. It took several hours of poor internet connected research and booking until we had a flight onwards to Kota Kinabalu in Borneo.

Marion, Mark, Graeme and Sylvia all came from Switzerland to join us for a week of relaxation on the party surf island.

Bali is the only Buddhist island amongst the Muslim Indonesian islands and has a rich history of artistic heritage with many arts and crafts on display everywhere.

From exaggerated mask sculptures to home temples in the garden, religion and daily offerings plays an important part in the Balinese daily lives.

We were looking forward to seeing Indonesian rice terraces and after a long drive we found some peeping through from behind the endless streets of craft shops.

Tragically though population expansion on Bali has spiralled due to the successful tourism industry, and there are now some very real strains on island resources. Food needs to be imported from neighbouring Java and a shortage in water has led to disputes amongst villages for water rights.

Deforestation of mangrove trees has led to coastal erosion and salt water creeping further up the rivers, and pollution threatens tourist beaches.

Wood carvings are sold in every second shop on Bali. It is an enormous trade and we were keen to pick up some lovely mementos to take home with us until we realised that all the lovely hardwood trees of the rainforests are being used for this trade.

The wood now comes from the island of Borneo to supply this booming crafts industry and the forest has disappeared in the last couple of decades at an unprecedented rate.

The sight of all these carvings made us decide to only support sustainable soft wood purchases in future.

We visited an art gallery in Ubud with some elaborate Buddhist stories depicted in enormous paintings, and some lovely grounds.

Everywhere you go there are little altars of offerings to the gods on the pavements.

Our driver and guide took us to a mountain top restaurant overlooking the volcanic crater lake in the north of Bali.

Our hotel room was pretty cool, and the pool and massages too.

Puri Cendana Resort right near the beach and only 600,000 per night!

We had a surf lesson at the Billabong surf school. It was fun!

Me – until I cut my heel open on the fin.

Kate – victory wave

Marion and Mark

The food is great in Bali, and our friends had already discovered this great place in Kuta.

Feast your eyes!

Afternoons were spent at the very chic Ku de ta bar on the beach. And we had a nice surprise when we had a visit from two more Swiss friends Thomas and Barbara who happened to be on holiday here too.

And so we leave the swanky beaches and night life of Bali to head north into the rain forests of Borneo.

Our next destination was three weeks in Australia to catch up with family and friends.

Mebourne

Starting with Melbourne and Kate’s cousin Charles, Abigail, Madison and Lauren, who lavished great food on us including the famed Australian BBQ and yes it was huge!

The girls proved pretty good with our SLR at this Australian wildlife park

Koala and Possum

Sunset over Melbourne.

Graeme was enjoying some gardening leave down here too so it didn’t take long to hook up with him and visit Patrick our friend from Zurich who had moved back here again.

Thanks to the wonderful generosity of my friends at home I had birthday present money to spend on a fabulous weekend off road course in the hills just north of Melbourne. Charles, Abbi and Graeme joined in the fun and we even had enough to keep the defender for another two days to explore the hills of Victoria.

The course was brilliant and Ron our instructor was exceedingly patient and thorough. If ever you’re in Melbourne look them up. Mountain Top Experience

Victoria Hills

we found a lovely place for walking and lunch complete with waterfall

And we stayed in a closed youth camp in our own 10 bunk bed hut where Graeme found this interesting picture in the kitchens, and kept his feet in his bunk when hearing the scurrying of little feet in the room at night.

Kate demonstrated a variety of gravity defying hairstyles on the trampett, blissfully unaware that her partially ruptured Achilles tendon could have snapped at any moment.

Brisbane

Our next stop was a weekend break in Brisbane to visit ex-Zurich friends Marita and Derek. I couldn’t believe it when they woke us up before 6am, but a packed weekend was in store and we thoroughly enjoyed the boat trips, local sites, BBQs and seeing their little coffee shop BBs.

A spot of frisbie and sand golf gave us some R and R in between the excursions.

A final morning in Brisbane on the way back down to Sydney, and we lunched along a lovely area by the river called southbank.

Southbanks parks, pools and restaurants. Now why can’t Zurich create something like this?

Sydney

In Sydney we spend a week with Kate’s cousin Helen and Doug. Melbourne cup day is THE annual horse race where the whole country stop what they are doing to watch, bet, drink and cheer. Below Helen’s big smile after picking the winning horse.

In the evening everyone is out and celebrating in style, so Derek joined us at the Sydney Opera Bar.

Kate is persuaded to try an oyster!

Me too, and they weren’t as bad as we thought they might be. Especially when dressed with chilli and lime.

Of course no visit would be complete without a trip to the iconic opera house.

And we were delighted to be surprised by a night out at the opera to see a very funny comedy called God of Carnage. We dressed up in some of Helen and Dougs smart clothes…..and no I wasn’t wearing Helen’s clothes!

Drinks at the top of the Shangri-la hotel are a great way to soak up the Sydney lights. Ah yes, backpacking with style!

An art exhibition along Bondi beach made for an interesting walk.

PERTH

A few hours on a plane and we were whizzing our way to the suburbs with Kate’s friend Hannah at the wheel. Her fiancée Greg (sporting a “Movember” moustache) was equally welcoming and we were soon tucking into big bowls of mussels and salads.

Perth is a spacious city and Kate and Hannah went off to find the Viveash district.

Now there’s something I always suspected about Kate…..

Greg showed us his pet project …..

…..and I think Kate fell in love with a new car…just look at that grin!

The reality was this hire car which featured a prominent sticker, much to our bewilderment and that of a passing stranger, who knocked on our window to ask what on earth we meant by it.

We did not know either!

We made our way down the coast to Margaret River to visit a vineyard with some Viveash history and were warmly received by the owners who had met Kate’s parents and brother Joe in past years. A perfect wine tasting accompanied by a delicious cheese platter, gorgeous views and weather.

At the southern tip we climbed the Leeuwin light house and looked out down the rugged coast.

We stayed at a motel in Bunbury where the friendly manager explained how the occupancy had dropped from 100% to 20% since last year, because the miners who usually pass through, are out of work due to a global drop in demand.

On our return to Perth, Hannah had prepared a good selection for an Aussie beer tasting session.

I think my favourite was the Redback.

A final great night out and we were off again towards Bali, Indonesia.

After a month in the Cook Islands we flew to Aukland, New Zealand via Papeete. Papeete is a beautiful island in the Pacific which is part of the French Polynesian Islands but is incredibly expensive. Even groceries are 30% more than would be in Europe.

We should have asked the price of the taxi from Auckland to the city centre, but were so used to $10 in South America that the 70 NZD came as rather a shock! Never-the-less after 6 months on the road it was nice to experience familiar surroundings and we immersed ourselves in the delightful cafes, restaurants, pubs and cinemas of the city. I replaced my Salomon day sack which had done me proud but the zip had eventually bust. We found a great Indian restaurant in Parnell where our hostel was located. In the hostel kitchen we met an English girl who told us about her plight of being deported from Australia just as she was about to marry a local chap. Her visa had run out and now it would be a year until she was allowed back again!

We also took a short ferry ride across to Waikiki Island to visit a vineyard. A friendly taxi driver picked us up as we marched in the wrong direction across the island since we had not landed where we thought we had!

Mudbrick Vineyards was idyllic, and after a lovely personal wine tasting (hosted by an English girl) we each settled down with our favourite tipple and a fantastic cheese board to take in the views.

Although it has to be said that we frequently had to duck inside to let the odd rain shower pass us by.

Below: Gazing back at Auckland across the sea.

After the winery we walked back through lovely woods and past vineyards with just enough time for a knap before the ferry came in take us back again.

Below: Kate getting arty with the SLR! Nice…..

Lake Taupo

A few hours south of Auckland is the stunning lake Taupo surrounded by several volcano peaks and a fabulous network of mountain biking trails.

We checked into the YHA hostel and set off on some hired bikes. Sweet as…..

The next day we took a helicopter ride to fly over the area and see the steaming volcanic vents and geysers.

Final stop on our whirlwind tour were the glow worm caves at Waitomo.

Tim Lewis, of the Leatherhead Lewis’s in Surrey, told us last year about a great book entitled “Where to go when”.

It was here that I came across a pacific island, described as a Technicolour Paradise, but which still retained the simplicity of island life reminiscent of Hawaii 50 years ago.

The vibrant colours of the tropical fish darting in and out of brilliant cyan and magenta clams below the water, were matched above it by the island’s heavenly lagoon, where every kind of blue melted together and reflected upwards tingeing the clouds with an iridescent colour which could be seen from the island’s interior.

“Four weeks!”, exclaimed the taxi driver on Rarotonga, as he sped us along to  the airport on the Cook Island’s main island. “What are you going to do for so long? I get bored after 4 days there!”.

We already knew.  After 5 months of trekking through steamy jungles, across vast, rugged, wind etched landscapes and the bone chilling, lung rasping  “alto planos” in South America that we should have a month long break in the pacific in order to rest and recuperate.

As we descended through the cloud layer we caught our first glimpse of “home” for the next month.

It was not the sunniest of days…but that would soon change, and we had a warm reception at the airport with a local guitar player serenading the arriving guests and Jason waiting to take us to the beach hut.

The chalet “Tangikaara” was perfect! The holiday home of two New Zealand couples we were able to negotiate a decent monthly rate and were spoiled with a lovely kitchen, proper bathroom, TV, microwave, comfy bed, two kayaks and our very own quad bike….what more could we want?

We learned that we had to burn all rubbish out the back as only plastic and glass bottles are collected.

All food scraps we carried over to the neighbours pigs. I now know why they say “greedy as a pig”. These chaps almost knocked us over with eagerness to get at our offerings.

As we sat on our little terrace we saw humped backed whales leaping into the air as they performed courtship dances just beyond the edge of the coral reef.

We sought out the Laurel Eastman Kite Boarding School, where Laurel introduced us to our fantastic instructors Al and Kelly, who would patiently take us through the fun of handling a big kite over the coming weeks and become our good friends too.

above: Kate, Kelly and Al demonstrating the shaka!

Kite surfing has moved on a lot since Al started 15 years ago. The harness takes all the strain and the bars are rigged up to be easily depowered if the wind gets too much for you.

Nevertheless it’s pretty tricky to handle that Kite ……..and that’s before you even think about trying to stand up on the board.

Below: Kelly and Al launching the Kite.

Kelly shows us how easy it is to launch and go!

The lagoon has perfect shallow waters over the sand flats making it an easy place to learn Kiteboarding. After 6 hours of being dragged through the water, sideways, backwards, and upside down, we managed to actually stand up on the boards, and it was amazing to see Kate racing across the lagoon like a natural.

I  was unfortunately still suffering from the parasite Girdia ingested in Peru. The local doctor thought it was just travellers diarrhoea and told me to drink 7 coconuts milk each day.  So I learned to de-husk coconuts from our neighbour and soon became expert at wrenching off the tough outer shell on an iron spike and extracting the big hairy nut.

On Al and Kelly’s day off we all jumped into the little locally made sailing boat and sailed over towards “one foot island” on the other side of the bay with a picnic and in last minute the kites and boards….”just in case there might be some wind”, grinned Al.

At the end of the day Kelly realised that she had forgotten her jeans shorts on a rock, spread out to dry in the sun. They were never seen again!

All was going smoothly until the 29th September when we turned up at the Kite Surfing school only to learn that an earthquake at Samoa had produced a Tsunami which was headed our way. We hurried back to the beach house and turned on the TV. The single channel had been taken over by an Aitutaki emergency broadcast warning of an imminent tsunami strike and advising all boat owners to get their boats out of the harbour.

We rushed around the room frantically packing our treasures into waterproof bags. I stacked the patio chairs in front of the glass sliding doors to absorb some of the impact of the waves as I envisaged them smashing through the house.

Then with hearts racing, we grabbed a bag of essentials each and jumped aboard the quad heading out for the highest point on the island, a 124m high hilltop, from which we could look back and see the white roof of our neighbours farmhouse.

Here we waited with baited breath, constantly scanning the horizon for the 40foot high wall of water which would devastate the island and sweep us all out to see. After several hours in the baking mid day sun we gingerly made our way back down and approached the petrol station to find out the news. Here we met Jason who, supressing a giggle, told us in his casual way that the tsunami had passed by hours ago.

So we had been needlessly bricking ourselves on the hilltop as the waves passed the Cook Islands by, with the only effect being the sucking out of all the water in the Rarotonga harbour which left some boats lying in the sand. At least we had these lovely views whilst we were waiting for the end to come.

As soon as we could, we emailed our families and found out that they had all been very concerned, but had rallied together to share news and reassure one another that we would have headed for safety.

Aitutaki is a honeymooners Mecca, and with good reason. Many of the beach hut boutique style hotels costing $350-$1800 per night are perfect in every way, and several play host to cook island dancers who are reputed to be the best of Polynesian dancers. Their fire show was particularly impressive, with several audience scaring moments when it looked as if torches and spears were heading our way.

We thoroughly miss our Aitutaki island now and wouldn’t hesitate to go back again. From the quirky little market with only one lady, the several DVD rental shops with every movie in the world, to the police station which was always empty whenever we tried to get our compulsory driving licenses. The islanders are always very laid back and happy-go-lucky. This can be frustrating for anyone working there but is part of the old fashioned charm of the place.

Kate will remember it as a month long Sunday morning.

Sunset view from the Tangikaara.

I’ve always wanted to come to  the remotest inhabited island in the world and see the mystical statues which guard of the graves of the elders. After the dramatic landscapes of South America, I was prepared to be disappointed with the landscape, but was pleasantly surprised to find an island rich in colour and rugged beauty. From the lush green carpeted volcanic cones to the turquoise blue surf crashing against charcoal cliffs

map source: National Geographic Pacific Ocean Floor (1969)

3,540km West of Santiago de Chile, lies the volcanic island known as “Isla de Pascua” or “Rapa Nui” in the local Polynesian language. The Polynesians ventured East in their double hulled canoes from Taiwan, eventually colonising all of the Pacific including Easter Island around 400AD.

source: National Geographic Discovers of the Pacific (1974)

Dutch explorers discovered it on Easter Sunday in 1722, whence comes it’s English name.

The island is 166km2 and easily driven across in an hour. Although the airport can handle some pretty large LAN air planes, the little town of Hanga Roa is simple and has not been turned into a commercially over exploited tourist site.

There are a few expensive hotels and a lot of cheap home stays. We stayed with a nice family who were at the airport looking for guests. The restaurants and bars are nice and simple, not cheap but at the same time not extravagant.

We hired a car and set off across muddy rain drenched roads to explore the famous statues or Moai, which were carved out of rock in this quarry at the eastern end of the Island and then moved to different locations along the coast lines.

maoi heads in various stages of completion at the quarry

above: some of the older statues have a particularly weathered look.

above: a little bird rests on an ancient nose.

below: speaking of noses, can anyone see a resemblance with the Viveash nose and mouth. Hmmmm, the origins of the islanders are becoming clearer in my mind.

Just in case you got the impression that these moai were not very big. Here’s a little information for you.

The average height of a moai is 4m and the weight around 12 tons.

I am 1.77m height and weigh 78kg.

There are 850 of them on the island.

They transported them on tree trunk rollers.

Just along from the quarry is this impressive row of moais. Most of them look inwards to the island to guard over their people.

Some of them still wear a hat called a “top knot” worn by certain clan chiefs.

Naturally Kate found the stray dog which lives with these Moai, and we returned the following day with some food for the skinny girl.

Who could resist those eyes?

Plenty of beautiful horses on Easter Island too.

Now the story goes, that Maoi building, became somewhat of an obsession amongst the islanders, with stonemasons encouraged to make bigger and better statues to outdo the other clans. The trees were cut down to make rollers and eventually the island ran out of forests.

With declining natural resources and no wood left for boats with which to escape the island, a bitter civil war broke out amongst the short ears and the long ears clans who toppled each others statues over.

By the time Europeans discovered the island their culture was in a steep decline and then further decimated as the fit young men were enslaved and taken away to work in the mines of Bolivia, whilst European diseases affected the remaining population.

Happily, the island’s vegetation and population have recovered now making this a very worthwhile place to visit.

Do visit the two windows cave (Cueva de dos Ventanas) and take a torch!

above: the stunning 1.6km wide Rano Kau volcanic crater above the main town.

below: the island seen from coast to coast from the top of Rao Kau.

We also found the magical hill where cars are pulled backwards UP the hill by a mysterious magnetic force. See the video here on YouTube:

Map Source: Peru Frommers Guide

Our second destination in Peru was Cusco up in the hills situated at a height of 3400m, which mean’t re-acclimatising to altitude once again.

As the coach wound it’s way up into the mountains, the clouds gave way to magnificent views.

Just walking around the city centre it was hard to breath and we could feel the moisture being sucked out of our mouths as we panted for air.

Hot sun scorched days and very cold nights are the way of things up in these high altitude South American cities, and we were glad of the portable heater in our hostel room and our fleeces, hats and gloves. It is worth lugging a 20kg pack around the world with all these necessities.

We would spend a few days acclimatising in Cusco before joining a biking/hiking expedition to the fabled ruins of Machu Picchu. There were plenty of museums to be explored and the walls of the great Sachsayhuaman (pronounced “sexy woman” if you are Austin Powers) fortress above the city.

Right: Kate poses with an Inca

Left: An impressive Spanish church Santa Domingo built over the top of an Inca Temple.

The locals say, (with good reason)  that Inca walls were built to last five thousand years, Spanish walls 500 years and moderns building are lucky to last 50 years.

Inca museums full of interesting things like the bola weapon which wraps around llama legs when thrown to capture them alive, or the Inca abacus of different coloured strings with knots in them.

Above: Plaza de Armas square in Cusco

Below: Any excuse for a carnival

I succumb to purchasing another lucky bracelet to join the one from Bolivia, although I sense the little girl is somewhat a feared of me!

Above: Naturally smooth grooves in the rock carved out by ancient glaciers have been used as a slide for children (and Richard) for hundreds of years.

The remaining walls of the Sachsayhuaman Fortress where the Incas took their last unsuccessful stand (1536) against their Spanish conquerers led by Juan Pizarro in the city Cusco below them.

Some of the stones are pretty heavy (300tons), I can tell you!

The Bike and Hike

to Machu Picchu

One of the wonders of the world are the ruins of the Inca city Machu Piccu, a city which served as religious centre and fortified retreat for the Inca Rulers and Priests. Every year thousands of hikers endure a gruelling 4 day march up and down the ridges from Cusco to the lost city. It requires a lot of training and a few days to acclimatise to the altitude by eating very light meals of mostly soup before you attempt it.

We had heard that these days the classic Inca trail is a motorway of hikers and each campsite abounds with 40 or more tents. This took away some of the appeal and so we jumped at the chance of an alternative 3 day trek, whereby the first day comprised of downhill mountain biking.

Michel, the charming  local guide for PIE Peru soon had us whizzing down the bleak high mountains at 4000m and then fighting with the handlebars for many more kilometres of very bumpy gravel roads to the little village Santa Maria for our overnight stay.

The hike the next day was pretty tough going and I felt my lungs rasping as I struggled with every breath up the steep paths. We stopped to paint our faces with the orange berries of a natural mosquito repellent.

At a welcome pit stop we met this rather large rodent chap and amused ourselves at his corn nibbling, juice drinking antics.

The paths soon levelled out to my relief, but much to Kate’s horror as the narrow steps and ledges plummeted straight into the ravine below us.

The narrow river raced past in the valley revealing many impassable rapids and clearly showing how few routes were actually possible to get to the hidden city of Machu Picchu.

A lunchtime rest amongst the trees offered respite for jangled nerves…..

…..before we marched on deeper into the valley and finally crossed a bridge to our hostel destination at Santa Teresa.

In the evening we crossed the river again to reach the thermal spa….but this time it was by means of a small wooden tray hauled across the river on a rope. Excellent!

Graham and Sonia assist everyone across the river. He might stay in S.America to teach English…….. so if you meet any Peruvian’s with Geordie accents they might be his pupils!

Some old rope and rusty iron loops. Good old fashioned fun.

Don’t look down!

A lovely evening soaking in the outdoor hot springs was topped off by dinner and “Cuba Libres” around the camp fire back at the hostel.

Obviously our trip had been going far too smoothly and so I awoke in the middle of the night with nausea, loss of feeling in my arms and hands, stomach cramps and felt bloody awful.

In the morning I was still faint, nauseas and suffering from pains in my chest. Kate accompanied me to the village doctor as the others carried on with the second day hike to Machu Picchu.

The doc was friendly enough, and from what we could understand in Spanish was that he diagnosed me with a parasitic infection and inflammation of the gut as well as inflammation of the thorax muscles which was giving me the tight chest and loss of feeling in my limbs. Armed with antibiotics and anti-inflammatory, we slept the rest of the day and met up with our exhausted friends at the final train to Machu Picchu. Little did I know that the Sulfametoxazol 800mg + Trimetoprimo 160mg antibiotics which he gave to me were not appropriate to deal with parasites!

The next morning Kate and I caught the train up at 7am. Our group had gone  up at 4am in order to queue for a ticket for climbing the higher point of Waynu Picchu. Just utter crazy demand and supply in the tourist industry.

We met up with them and Michel for a guided tour of the ruins.

Machu Picchu was as memorable as I had seen it 5 years previously. Breathtakingly nestled amongst the peaks of the Andes at 2400m it was discovered by the explorer Hiram Bingham in 1911. Built in the mid 1400s it was never discovered by the Spanish Conquistadors, although it was abandoned probably due to drying up of mountain springs and therefore no water source for crops and drinking.

The stonework is incredible and the sheer drops off every side of the city make it a truly impenetrable fortress.

Temple of the sun and leaning against the main city gate.

Sacred rock carved to match the outline of the sacred mountains behind.

Steep stairways and drops at every turn. Watch out Kate!…not bad for Little Miss Vertigo.

Now you can’t blame the Inca chappies for wanting to live up here with such lovely views.

At the end of each day the Llamas make their way up to higher terraces and look down on Machu Picchu as they settle down for the night.

A hop, skip and a jump south again (or a few hours in a plane) saw us land in Lima the scary capital of Peru. My last visit had been 4 years ago and was the first place I’d ever stepped foot in South America. The taxi driver at the time advised me that I wouldn’t last 5 minutes on the streets around my hotel without being mugged. It seemed less intimidating this time now that we were hardened, street wise travellers. The taxi descended the coastal road around the outskirts of the city and then rose up into Mira Flores (gringo land) where we dined on pasta inside a 24hour supermarket and I joyously found crunchy nut peanut butter.

The Peruvian coach down to Nasca the next morning was comfortable, modern  and the driver handled it with kid gloves. It seemed that bus travel in Peru would not be accelerating our grey hair accumulation. The coast sped by on the right, and barren sandy hills on the left. Satellite tracking of the coach to guard against hijacking meant that when Kate urgently needed a loo stop, the driver had to radio in to headquarters for clearance. Whilst we waited I looked down on the omnipresent industrious sellers of mandarins and nuts under the petrol pumps.

Nasca is a small messy, dusty town with a strip of tourist restaurants along one street and hostels dotted about town. Our “Walk on Inn” hostel was superb.

The next morning we boarded a tiny 6-seater plane and took to the skies above the famous Nasca Lines (330B.C.-A.D. 700). We clenched our teeth together as the small plane banked hard to the left and then to the right as we circled around the ancient drawings for the next 30 minutes.

Fortunately in anticipation, our light breakfast and motion sickness pills saved us from needing the sick bags, despite sounds and smells from behind us, as the other couple spent the whole flight re-producing their breakfasts and climbed out of the plane clutching a good litre of vomit each!

The Nascan’s made 70+ animal and plant drawings so big (up to 300m in size) that they can only be appreciated from the air. Experts have puzzled over them since 1929 when they were first spotted from air traffic. Especially about how they were drawn so precisely without any means to view them from above.

The Spaceman – this one is on the side of a hill and looks like an astronaut waving.

The Hummingbird – this looks to me quite near the hills, so was it perhaps overseen from above?

Chick -  the lines were made by removing darker sunburnt surface rocks to expose lighter sand underneath.

Monkey with spiral tail – some theories suggest that some drawings represented constellations in the night sky.

Condor – most experts think that the drawings were of animals sacred to the Nascans, for the gods to look down upon.

There are also hundreds of mysterious geometric lines and shapes, probably made long after the drawings because some of which criss cross the pictures and are 30m wide and 9.5km long.

Maria Reiche studied the lines for 50 years and concluded that they created a giant astronomical calendar where lines tracked the rising and setting of major stars on the horizon, the sun at solstices etc. These allowed calculations of planting and harvest times.

Some areas could have been used as platforms of sun worship where broken fragments of drink containers lie.

In the evening we attended a fascinating lecture about Maria Reiche’s theories and saw Jupiter’s three moons and our own, through a powerful telescope.

Left: the tail of a drawing points to the setting sun at summer solstice.

Below: our moon through the telescope taken with our little Canon Ixus digital camera.

From Bogota we flew north over Colombia’s mountains and river valleys to get some warmth and relaxation in a beautiful coastal colonial city, Colombia’s No.1 tourist destination…. Cartagena founded in 1533 and now 2.2million inhabitants.

We were not expecting the wall of heat and stifling humidity which hit us as we walked through the tropically themed airport corridors with it’s wooden trellised walls.

Whilst checking our hostel bookings in a cafe with Wi-Fi, we witnessed an angry middle aged lady entering with two uniformed police officers whom she led up to a middle aged man reading a newspaper at the cafe bar. She accusingly pointed at him and jabbered away in Spanish,  pointing at where she had sat, and imitating him taking photos of her on his mobile phone. I had just been reading about the prolific sex tourism industry in Cartagena, and obviously this lady thought she was a victim of a peeping Tom (or Pedro). The police made him show the contents of his mobile phone, then, since it revealed no incriminating photos (wishful thinking on the part of the frumpy woman perhaps), they escorted her out of the café leaving the man shaking his head embarrassedly at his coffee.

Just as our taxi was passing through the worst slums of the city, it unexpectedly stopped. Here was our hostel! The room was dank and musty, no bathroom door (which is a disadvantage in a continent where you are not allowed to flush toilet paper down the toilet but must instead place it into the paper basket) and the humidity was running down the walls. We walked passed the sullen faced owner and down the streets avoiding bumping into staggering drug addicts and prostitutes. The little Hotel Villa Colonial was a beautiful face in the midst of a quagmire of dirt and smelly streets. We gladly paid the extra $10 dollars per night to have air conditioning in our room (60,000 Colombian Pesos or $30) and welcomed the very friendly and helpful staff.

Cartagena seems to have three main areas. The slums where we were staying in Getsmani; the Boca Grande peninsular, stretching out to sea, long, thin and full of beach fronted high rise modern hotels;

and the historic city centre, with beautiful old colonial streets and plazas surrounded by an old wall which was part of the fortifications built in an attempt to stop the marauding raids of British pirates such as Sir Frances Drake in 1574.

For dinner we finally allowed ourselves to be coerced to a balcony high above the main square where we could look down upon street dancers and unfortunately the miserable horse drawn carriages which throng the old streets (See Kate’s article which is published in the Bogota City Paper).

Kate’s article on Horses in Cartagena

A tour in one of the city’s old open sided buses was amusing and took in the fort and a convent, which many years ago housed the first escaped slave refugees, high on the hill with great views overlooking Cartagena.

Since we have rarely found any organic meat in South America, and since there has not been much vegetarian choice for Kate in restaurants, we were happy to leave local cuisine alone for a couple of nights, and enjoy the experience of patronising the good old Hard Rock Café with classic and veggie burgers washed down with Murphy’s red and accompanied to the tunes of Kiss, Queen, Bryan Adams and others.

The city beaches are not so nice, so we decided to escape for a few days to the legendary white beaches of Playa Blanca. The trip was certainly interesting.

First a local bus with a million stops, each of which a salesman got on and made each of us hold his product (sweets, pencils, mp3-radios) whilst he gave his sales pitch. He then collected them all in again unless you decided to keep&pay. One begging “musician” stood right next to me and rhythmically scratched a metal fork up and down a cheese grater until I was deaf and begging him to move on! The second mode of transport was a car ferry costing 1000 pesos (50 cents). Luckily we had ignored the young man who had followed us from the bus stop and insisting that we go in his canoe across the river for 40000 pesos because the ferry didn’t take foot passengers. Rubbish! Finally was a 40 minute journey on the back of two motor scooter taxis. The young guys were, however, pretty careful over the bumpy unmade roads and we finally arrived on the sacred beach.

The afro-Caribbean mix in Cartagena is very provident compared to central Colombia, and we were soon followed along the beach by masseurs touting excellent massages and offering free samples. The massages were very good actually, but you shouldn’t pay more than 15-20000 pesos for a full one. They’ll try to start at 40000. ($13)

We settled on a place called Mama Ruth’s and found that in her burly way she was a good host and gave us some good meals and drinks. Our two hammocks looked inviting though I can’t say I found it all that comfortable over night especially with the Caribbean heat.

It was a new but nice experience to wake up and walk a few meters down to the warm sea for a morning bath and breakfast next to the lapping shore.

Mama Ruth

and it’s a dog’s life…..

Finally a word of caution. The collectivo ferry shuttles back to Cartagena are fast and if you are seated at the rear they are also very wet!

All the back packers we met headed south, had been robbed by (fake?) police in Venezuela, and the last nail in the coffin, was a second hand story about an airline steward who had gone to sleep in his 5 star hotel room in Caracas, and woken up in hospital the next day, where police informed him that he had been raped and all his possessions stolen!

On the other hand everyone had great things to say about Colombia and a 15 page national Geographic article confirmed that the government had cleaned up crime by beating guerrillas back to the frontier lands and investing heavily in jobs for everyone. Certainly cocaine still abounds, there is fighting between FARC and the militias, and violent crime exists, but none of this is apparent to the tourists. (see forum for political discussions on the subject)

We landed at Bogota airport and the typical little yellow taxi sped us towards the old town. The city of 7.5 million Colombians is surrounded by towering, lush green hills through which we circumnavigated the business districts to get to Candelaria. We were surprised at how clean and smart the streets and buildings were kept.

Our hostel Andandamyi is a beautiful old colonial house with courtyard gardens slung with hammocks and the faint sound of Buddhist music emanating from the rooms beyond. Margarita, a calm Colombian lady, has travelled herself to many places in her beloved India and spent a couple of years in Geneva. We were welcomed into the lovely communal kitchen by the quiet mannered girls with a cup of tea, where a notice proclaimed "always happy, never hurried, never worried".

Bogota’s Zona Rosa contains many pricey bars and restaurants, unlike the pretty old town which becomes a bit desolate and risky at night. We hung out at an Irish pub The Monkey Pub, sipped Guinness and sang along with the staff (and mascot monkeys) and joked around to some great tunes on their iPod. On another evening Kate could enjoy organic chicken at Suna, washed down with a bottle of fine Chilean red. That’s what back packing is all about

In Bogota we also visited Colombia’s most famous artist Botero, who’s style is to exaggerate the curves of his subjects, whether of fruit, or of people. Since we had noticed that Colombians seem quite fond of ample, curvy women in tight clothing, we wondered whether Botero was slightly overstating this cultural appeal.

Fernando Botero, Mellin 1932

The other must in Bogota is the amazing Museo del Oro (Gold Museum).

With four enormous galleries we spent many hours learning how the ancient craftsmen moulded and gilded delicately exquisite pieces.

Right: “because of it’s shiny skin and it’s aggressiveness, astuteness and vitality, the jaguar was associated with regenerating powers of gold and the sun.” – ……what do you mean it doesn’t look like a Jaguar?!

(I was surprised and excited to see these hummingbird earrings. We had seen the modern silver version in the Galapagos a few weeks beforehand and had thought then how original and beautiful they were. Little did I know that Richard was to surprise me with them that evening after the museum visit )) – Kate)

More gold treasure than I’ve ever seen before! Bats were symbols of power for the shamans, and gold breast plates were the wonder bra of ancient times.

Villa de Leyva – Kites, kites everywhere

A $3 taxi ride delivered us to the Bus terminal where we started out of town following the lane of a dual carriageway which is closed every Sunday for Bogotans to cycle up and down. There were every manner of bikes from tiny tots to professional lycra clad racers, peddling with gusto past the many food stands and bike repair stalls. The four hour bus journey to the north took us through rolling misty hills and past villages of kite flying kids and the remains of kites tangled up in overhead telephone lines. The kite festival of Villa de Leyva was just finishing and hundreds of revellers were on their way out.

Throughout Colombia the presence of soldiers is very apparent. Several times, young conscripts standing guard at checkpoints along the roads, waved at me or saluted as I peered down at them from behind the bus window. It was very reassuring to know they are here to protect us and seemed happy about it.

Kidnapping and sold into sex slavery.

At Tunja we had to change to a local bus. An enthusiastic man with square shoulders, a very wide false grin and neck wider then his head appeared with Kate running along behind him. He grabbed her bag and commanded us to follow at a semi running pace out of the terminal to the side of the road. He soon reappeared in a white 10 seater minibus and rushed us and bags into it.Charging through the town at breakneck speed and clinging to our arm rests we began to wonder if it had been wise to let ourselves be hustled away like this. Kate was looking decidedly white and I started trying to ensure that pedestrians caught sight of my pale gringo face through the side windows of our kidnappers vehicle. The way the bus slewed across the road around hairpin bends over the mountains, not only added to our fear, but also began to turn my stomach. We stopped at a petrol station and I reached for the door and freedom (or at least fresh air). "Quick get the numberplate", Kate implored in a whisper.She had visions of being sold into the Colombian sex trade and wanted to SMS the registration to a friend for help. I returned to the front seat next to the driver to feel more in control and engaged him in conversation telling him that he drives like the devil. "Me?!", he said, "no,no", and laughing he did slow down a little. I was re-assured by the way other bus drivers waved to him that we were not about to be abducted and ransomed, still I was glad when after 45mins we finally reached the village and quickly handed over $5 plus a $1 tip for not murdering us

The Colombian Highlands hostel is lovely. Clean, pretty rooms, sweet breakfast terrace and a friendly welcome. We have had real difficulty trying to understand the Colombian Spanish accent, but here the girls made a real effort to speak very slowly (and did all our washing for $2.50).

A local cafe owner stocked us up with delicious cake and delighted in talking to us about the time he’d studied in London.We followed his directions to a hike to "Paeo de Angel" passing friendly villagers, farmers and tomato pickers along the way. Colombian people do seem to live up to their friendly reputation and are keen to impress upon us that we are most welcome in their country.

Below: Kate debating on whether or not to risk joining the angels by walking along the steep sided drops on the “Path of Angels”.

Salento – coffee trees and exploding boules.

Loaded with water,empanadas,crisps and sandwiches we left Bogota again. 8 hours of roads winding up and down the most amazing forested hills, with steep ravines cutting through, them made for a breath-takingly beautiful journey to Eje Cafatera to stay on a coffee farm for a few days. The mountain roads were a continuous stream of juganaughts headed in both directions and moving at a snails pace. Of course our mad coach driver was keen to keep to his schedule and overtook on every blind corner and double yellow line! We’re very grateful for our Ipods on such long bumpy journeys and have been listening to audiobooks such as The Economic Hitman" and "A History of Ideas"…which quickly puts us to sleep .

Plantation House is a hostel run for 5 years now by former Oracle DBA, Brit, Tim and his Colombian wife. 2 years ago he bought the adjoining run down coffee plantation for $50k and with 4 farm hands has been getting it back into shape. The steep sided slopes have been enriched with fertiliser and for $2 he gave us a tour, including the processes for extracting and washing the beans.

The hostel was buzzing with nationalities, French,Swiss,German,Dutch,Spanish, and an English couple we became friends with, Lisa and Sam from Epsom Downs and New Malden. It’s a small world. Even more of a nice surprise when Naomi and Jasmina arrived, two Israeli girls who were with us on our Galapagos cruise three weeks earlier. They had journeyed from Ecuador to Colombia by bus, which had been fine, though quite long and tiring.

The next day Lisa, Sam, Kate and I squashed into the back of a jeep with 3 others and 2 more hanging off the back. We spent they on a wonderful hike through valleys of wax palms, following a river up stream and tentatively inching our way over slippery log bridges criss crossing the stream until we arrived at a refugio to try the local hot, burnt tasting, sweet sugar cane tea with a lump of goats cheese called "Panella". Many humming birds drank nearby us, and we befriended three colombian ladies and two English girls Lucinda and Emily.

In the evening the little Plaza of Salento was bustling with eating stands and restaurant tents. The grilled trout is absolutely delicious and for $8 comes with a huge flat crispy plantain potato.

The colombian men and women sat around until the early hours playing drinking games with bottles of sugar cane spirit and getting up to salsa on the pavements or inside dark bar rooms where the mens urinal is open in one corner. It was strange to stand there pissing in the dark with dancing couples behind me over one shoulder.

A couple of Hollanders joined us at the Tejo bar. Tejo is a rural Colombian game, similar to french Boules, however you throw heavy metal discs into boxes of clay, but which contain explosive gun powder triangles too. Drinking beer and jumping with excitement at the flash and loud explosions was fun, though much of the time heavy metal disks were rolling across the bar or bouncing into the yard beyond! Kate suggested two teams…..

….and the boys team launched themselves into victory with Sam’s final winning shot into the bull’s-eye!