Hurry Porter and the Inca Stones

Juan Carlos, our fantastic guide on the Inca Trail joked that the porters, running up and down the path, were 'Hurry Porters'. This sparked an unlikely comparison in my brain. From the rugged mountains to the magical ruins, the food served on silver platters to the old fashioned train ride - my experience of the Inca Trail didn't seem that different from Harry Potter's first adventure at Hogwarts.

It got off to a bumpy start as I overslept my alarm by an hour and rushed downstairs from my chipboard bunk (one could even call it a cupboard) in my pyjamas to find Marco (a clean-shaven Hagrid) waiting for me. After brief hysteria dressing, packing my bags and checking out in 5mins flat I was on my way to the mystical land of the Sacred Valley. Marco became my guardian angel for the trip, as I had proved I needed one, always making sure I was ok and organising a suitable tent mate for me, as I was the only solo female on the trip. 

The 4 brilliant guides were our teachers, my 17 fellow trekkers my classmates - all Gryffindor for sure. And the amazing porters made very good house-elf impressions, their weathered faces aging them far beyond their years. Their tiny little bodies carried way more than it seemed possible and they worked  tirelessly between each day of trekking to put up our tents, prepare our meals and clean up around us. The food was out of this world - far beyond usual camping fare. We had platters of trout, chicken curry and beef stir fry (all traditional Peruvian cuisine when given their proper names - truta, aji de pollo and lomo saltado) avocado, beetroot and potato salads, a soup and desert with every meal. The 18 of us sat around a long table with striped tablecloth, silverware and even candles under a canvas roof with the 4 guides at one end - not quite the great hall but a pretty good substitute and still with a magical quality as we emerged each evening after dinner to find a brilliantly starry sky complete with llama constellation. 

By day, as the landscape transformed from river valley, to barren mountain, from tiny villages to lush cloud forest, and we walked through a misty haze occasionally parting to reveal our next destination, it did feel as if we were on a quest to find a missing puzzle piece or even a horcrux. But ofcourse what we actually discovered was a variety of Inca ruins, each one more impressive than the next. The granite stone walls fit together perfectly with no mortar, built to withstand the frequent earthquakes in the area, and the building layouts and decoration were often based on the Andean representation of the Cruz del Sur (or Southern Cross), a little bit like the Deathly Hallows sign. We learnt about colcas (storage rooms), different functions of terraces, their viaducts, the astronomical temples, the sun temple, and its windows that correspond to the 2 solstice sunrise positions, and the chasquis - the Inca messengers that could apparently run from Cusco to Machu Picchu (128km) in 6hours - I reckon they must have had a portkey! I, on the other hand, chose to take the trail at a much more sedate pace (with no travel buddy to keep up with) and, as the last of our guides kept telling me, it was a walk to enjoy and connect with the spirits - not a race. I took this advice to heart, unlike the rest of my group, and made it to Dead Woman's Pass (4200m) 10minutes after the rest but feeling rather refreshed actually!

After 2 days of walking through the clouds, the third day's 3000 'gringo-killer' steps downhill were a revelation as we emerged into a stunning jungle-covered valley with sharp ridges, waterfalls, orchids and more inca sites of the most gravity-defying terraces. We camped on more terracing with vertical drops right outside the tent door, giving the impression of floating in mid-air - broomstick style.

The final flourish of the trail, trekking to the sun gate for sunrise and our first glimpse of the famous Machu Picchu, was followed by a tour of the site itself. Although it's phenomenal setting in the hanging valley reminded me of Hogwarts, perched on top of the mountain, the atmosphere was more like the Quidditch World Cup - thousands of spectators queueing for a spot in the stadium, only to be herded around in a one-way stampede! I made a hasty exit after
being reprimanded for doing a handstand - as though I'd sent the dark mark into
the air rather than just my feet.

The trip was rounded-off with an old-fashioned train ride complete with brass luggage racks, lampshades and complimentary at-seat service of snacks and cocktails. No chocolate frogs though I'm afraid! 

You're hot then you're cold...You're up then you're down!

Since leaving the relative familiarity of Brazil it has been a rollercoaster of highs and lows in emotion, altitude and most noticeably temperature. There have been mind-blowing views, epic journeys and great friends made but all too rapidly they have melted into cold, lonely moments when I've wished the ground would swallow me up as we go our separate ways. 

My first long bus journey on my tod, travelling over 1000miles from Brasil to Chile in just 2days, got off to a shaky start as my 2nd bus journey e-ticket had failed to arrive in my inbox. Arriving at a busy bus station in Argentina in the dark I managed to explain, in dodgy Spanish, and pay some money to have my ticket printed - phew! I was rewarded with the most luxurious night bus for the 2nd leg of my journey. If I ever fly first class I imagine it will be rather like that bus - fully reclining leather seat with no neighbour, hot meals and wine served by very friendly butler - and a great British film! 

Another up and down day broke up my 2 night bus journeys as I went on a working ATM hunt in a very grey Salta. My hunt was in vain as apparently money is not needed on a Sunday. Things soon turned around as I met an Aussie couple who very kindly gave me cash to get me through my day in Argentina and so I was able to visit a very interesting museum displaying a preserved Inca child sacrifice - not so great for the child admittedly! The following night bus may well have been trying to preserve me as the oxygen level and temperature plummeted as we rose 2000m through the Andes to San Pedro de Atacama - the driest desert on earth! 

Getting fairly lost finding my hostel, having a banging headache from either altitude or too many buses and being chatted up by various travel agents on my arrival in the little town left me feeling rather vulnerable but a great steak sandwich and observing the stars of the Southern Hemisphere and inspecting the moon, Saturn and Alpha Centauri through telescopes soon made for it. The next day I finally met a nice guy who wasn't trying to flirt with me to accompany me for a day of exploration. There were tough ups but fun downs and looking around on my bike trip around the stunning desert landscape of Valle de la Luna followed by a float in Laguna Cejar - cold on top, hot on the bottom - defying the laws of physics. 

The highlight of the past few weeks was also one of the most physically testing parts of my trip so far. Driving into the frozen landscapes of the Edouardo Avaroa reserve - the snow-capped volcanoes, different coloured, flamingo-filled lagoons and bubbling geysers were incredible but the negative temperature and 5000m altitude was not so pleasant. Sleeping at 4500m in -15c with no heating (6 blankets and 5 layers of clothing) was a challenge but the great company and card games certainly helped. Despite this cold there were still moments of warmth in the brief thermal springs dip and getting into the roasting jeep after every photo stop. Our lovely Bolivian guide's apt musical choices such as Coldplay's 'so high' and Shakira's 'try everything' also helped keep my mind off the frequent desperation for the toilet - The Bolivian economy is definitely boosted by their campaigns to make you drink lots at altitude and then charge more than London train station prices to use barely functioning, few and far between toilets with an extra fee for that luxury that is loo roll!

After 3 days touring the altiplano and the Salar de Uyuni the emotional highs were abruptly cut down in Uyuni itself by the realisation I had lost my bank card, had no cash or phone battery and protests across Bolivia were preventing buses leaving for most destinations in the country 

After sorting out the situation with a little help (well quite a lot) from my Italian friends, blocking my card and finding a night bus to La Paz, things went from bad to worse in the worlds highest capital city.

It's energy, markets, Aymara culture and mountainous setting certainly intrigued me, maybe a
little too much as I decided eating at the local food stalls and going up the cable car to the poor area of El Alto were both good ideas. Ultimately, I had my camera stolen and ended up with food poisoning for the next 5 days. One of those days I wish I could repeat to make completely different decisions. My next destination of Lake Titicaca was pure paradise at 4000m - deep blue lake, huge cloudless sky, a barely inhabited island (just a few Aymara with their donkeys and llamas) - unfortunately tainted by my stomach cramps and weakness from being so sick.
Looking back at all the photos I've taken in Bolivia I'd definitely agree with the statement that travelling is only glamorous in retrospect, as your memory, and your Facebook albums, hide all the cold showers, hot-tempered bus drivers and luke-warm food. But maybe all the lows make the highs just a little bit higher. 

Water Wonderland

My last 2 weeks in Brasil, despite the disappointing group trip, have been filled with a multitude of aquatic activities and stunning watery views that have constantly caused me to marvel at the world and its water cycle and all that it enables, whilst getting very very wet! 

We started off in colonial paint-job perfect Paraty, my last days on the Atlantic coast before I slowly make my way to the Pacific. I was determined not to let down Lou's voice in my head, no matter what the temperature, and so, after much deliberation, I jumped off our sailing boat and swam to the little island we'd stopped by - I marvelled at the beauty of the little beach up close and even managed a lap around the boat before re-embarking. The next day I went a step further, and many degrees colder, as I built up the courage to set off down the natural slip'n'slide of Cachoeira do Toboga. Why is it that water feels so much colder when you inch your way in (as I attempted pre-slide) rather than just taking the plunge, as it were? 

Our next destination was a more sedate affair, admiring the Pantanal's wetland rivers and rice paddies - the perfect habitat for a diverse range of wildlife. Whilst on our serenely paced horse-rides, truck drives, boat trips and canoe paddles we saw mixed-race cows, marsh deer and capivaras (world's largest rodent) in abundance as well as various parrots, Falcons, storks and kingfishers that our local guide Victor was particularly good at spotting.  We found a few giant ant-eaters (the strangest animals ever), caiman and even an anaconda but most impressively of all we caught sight of a jaguar - twice! Even the tour guides got excited as they'd been here 6 times and never seen one. You might wonder how such an array of different animals could all inhabit the same area, but with the open fields, marshes, jungle and waterways, adding in the wet and dry seasons and the natural symbiosis of so many of the species it's not so surprising - 'Water - the giver of life' exemplified! 

Next stop was the aptly named town of Bonito, where we got up close and personal with the life within the water. The limestone in the surrounding area create a highly filtered river called Olhos d'Agua (eyes of water) which we floated down whilst gazing at the world below in crystal clear technicolor. I could barely control my excitement, the snorkel and my hired GoPro all at once - I felt like I was filming a David Attenborough documentary - so many beautiful fish and underwater landscapes we aren't often able to see. Another other-worldly sight awaited the next day as I put my adrenaline-junkie head on once more and decided it was a great idea to descend 72m on a little rope into Abismo Anhumas - another fine product of collaboration between water and rock. As I rapelled down painfully slowly (it really hurt my hand to
keep squeezing the mechanism) perspiration added to the total volume of water in the cavern. The lake below was considerably colder as I found out on our spooky snorkel among the giant stalagmites. The formations both above and below the waterline were so peculiar (one shaped like Gollum another like a screaming woman) it is hard to believe they were all formed by the slow drip of good old H2O. 

Good old H20, in its sheer abundance on the other hand, again with a little help from rock formations (it's partner in crime), is to answer for the last stop on our tour - the mighty Iguassu falls. It's fairly hard to put the sight of that much water falling all around you into words - everywhere you run, whichever way you turn there is another  thundering flume of white water to behold. With more waterfalls than u could possibly imagine, it made me wonder how on earth all that water can have fallen out of the sky and flow into the sea without flooding the earth? I do remember learning about the water cycle at school and understand the theory but when confronted with only one part of the cycle - it's utterly baffling! As the lyrics 'don't go chasing waterfalls' rattled round in my head I thought - what terrible advice from TLC there, i had the best 2 days doing just that. 

I realise I have given my Facebook (and your news feed) and aqua overload this week but if you haven't seen my latest albums - go check them out! 

Wish you were here!

This post is less of an account of my travels and more of an ode to my previous travel buddy - Louise Vernall. Her energy, enthusiasm and ability to make any situation fun would be a breath of fresh air, in  this desert of personality and get-up-and-go I am accompanied by on my Dragoman group tour.

Having paid lots of money to meet a big group of like-minded people and go camping and camp cook -  I'm instead stuck with 4 quiet people I have very little in common with for the next 2 weeks, staying in upmarket hostels and being forced to go out for expensive meals to make things easier for the group leaders. The usual perk of group tours having your itinerary planned for you has not been forthcoming either - with the 2 leaders swanning off to a spa, leaving us to find out about, decide on and carry out our activities - with me leading the way, reading the map and doing the talking (in pigeon Portuguese). I have most certainly inherited Dad's leader/can't sit still gene!

Mums 'every penny counts' gene is doing overtime as I stress at every service station, supermarket and restaurant where I am pressured into buying food and drink I didn't even want. The money I've spent the past 4 years scrimping and saving to build up is not, in my head, to be spent entirely on rubbish Italian meals and bottled water we were supposed to have been supplied with. If Louise were here I'm sure we could have survived off bread, cheese and biscuits but alas I have had to embrace the luxury - it won't last once I'm out on my own again.

But unlike four years ago, I won't have Louise by my side making me laugh no matter what. I have frequently been excited as I see a play park/swimming pool before remembering that Louise isn't here to play with me 😩 I have had her voice in the back of my head as I question whether or not to jump in the sea/go down that waterfall saying 'go on, do it'. And I'd have had someone to dance with as I stumble across country music festivals or lively samba bars, rather than dancing on my own.

As we drive through a life-size Settlers of Qatan board (well atleast wood, brick, wheat and sheep) I long for someone to play eye spy or linking lyrics with. Atleast I have Lou's music downloaded onto my iPod to break up the bucket loads of quiet reflection time I've been getting on these long journeys. I imagined having lots of time to think on night buses later in my trip. But maybe when I am 'alone' and free to meet whoever I gravitate towards I will be less alone than in this small crowd.