Bored out of my mind, I took a night bus from Arequipa to the coastal reserve of Paracas, an extension of the Atacama desert. While being shuttled from sight to sight, my guide got a phone call saying a whale had been beached a few minutes from where we were.



It had been there for at least seven hours. Over a hundred people were there, shouting at each other about what should be done. People had managed to get it onto a net, but the equipment was inadequate to haul the thing across the deep, sticky mud.



Eventually, all other plans having failed, it was agreed that the whale should be rolled out to sea. This was accomplished, to great cheers, but I'm afraid the whale was completely exhausted, and probably crushed by rolling over its own weight. The last news I heard of the great beast's well-being before leaving Paracas was not bright.



I'm reading Che Guevara's Motorcycle Diaries now. Some of his struggles are eerily familiar. I wish, though, that we'd been able to take more opportunities to engage people along the way, instead of rushing through the landscape and sleeping in hostels. The junket proved that an adventure of its grade doesn't tolerate a timeline. It didn't help that I was one of seemingly only a few people who spoke much Spanish—it seems not many Britts learn it in school.

This trip was meant to be and opportunity to get some distance from my life and contemplate my future. I've certainly achieved the distance, and my attitude toward my life at home has shifted, but I can't say that I've come to any pointed conclusions. Contrary to my expectations, being "out in the world" has made me less enthusiastic to go join a project somewhere. I need to think more subtly about how to feel like I'm contributing to the world while keeping happy. I've warmed a little to the idea of getting some more education, and to finding incrementally different lines of work in Seattle.

I'm greatful for this trip, and especially for everyone I've met, from the Lima lawyer on the bus to Huancayo, to my great companions across a thousand miles of mountain and desert.

I'll get dinner now and contemplate my life a minute more, then gather my things and head for the airport. See many of you soon. Thanks for listening.

Mission Complete

We drove out to a viewpoint before Mt. Mismi, the farthest source of the Rio Amazonas. The river itself was a several-day hike around to the other side, but on this side there were alpacas and pink flamingos lolling around a small lake, which was good enough for us. We declared victory.

Yesterday was pretty easy. The trip between Chivay and the principal highway, which took us 7+ hours on the way in, we covered in about half that time on the way out. It was strange to finally see the landscape we had previously trudged through in darkness: a totally barren, lunar-esque pass at 4800 meters, with views of massive volcanoes in every direction. Even Mismi got its viewpoint.

When we got to the highway, we confronted our final trial. It turns out that the road between Juliaca and Arequipa, of which we´d covered several hundred kilometers already, is part of the Panamerican Highway, on which vehicles as light as ours are not allowed. For a while it seemed the police at the checkpoint would force us to go back to Chivay and continue to Arequipa on dirt roads, or else flag down a truck to ship ourselves and our vehicles on. Finally they relented—without even asking for a bribe—and said that while they weren't giving us permission per se, we should be very careful, drive slowly, and keep right. I think they realized it was the easiest way of dealing with us.

They were right to be worried for our safety. Every minute or two we we passed by a fuel truck, bus, or semi, sometimes on curves with poor visibility. But it was only an hour and a half's drive into town, descending thousands of meters. The lower we go the happier my engine was, and I was back to taking hills at speed.

Arequipa is pretty and quaint, its drivers more disciplined and its offerings more cosmopolitan than elsewhere in Perú. I don't really understand why it's here—the landscape everywhere around appears to bear few of the essentials for life, let alone a flourishing city—but it's been a nice place to relax and celebrate the end of our trip. I'm sorry that the rest of our convoy, especially Matt and Charis, couldn't make it to this point.

Arequipa also has faster Internet than elswhere, and I just finished uploading a new batch of photos to Flickr. You can also look on Sarah's Gallery for some more excellent photos.

Cañon de Colca

Alright, this Internet connection is glacial, but here goes.

The paperwork to let us cross the border with the vehicles, which was supposed to meet us in Cusco, then in Puno, then in Puno yesterday, finally did materialize, but with a $100 price tag. After one or another of the delays, my little convoy decided to cut its losses and look for the source of the Amazon. The original "so you don't get fired" two-week trip had been delayed by more than a week, and we had every reason to suspect it would be delayed further.

So we stopped short of Lake Titicaca and headed West towards Arequipa and the Colca Canyon, the deepest in the world. The point was to redefine the adventure to something that was in our power (and timeframe) to achieve and that we could feel satisfied about. We decided to discover the source of the Amazon River, which we'd read was only a few days West, near the Colca Canyon.

And so here we are, the final four members from what started as a eight-team convoy, just back from watching condors soar over the deepest canyon in the world. Unfortunately two of us must leave in a couple hours in order to catch their flight home, but my final companion and I will set out shortly after to at least catch a glimpse of what we came for.

Now we're ready to claim victory. We overcame 4800m passes, persistent head winds, terrible roads, and numerous flat tires, often driving 12 hours a day, to get here. I've logged over 1000 miles since we left Huancayo. And yet, through all the frustration, we've really enjoyed ourselves. I've been greatful to have really great companions throughout the trip who were able to appreciate the beautiful places our vehicles have chosen to break down, the personability of the cops we've encountered, and our luck in finding impromptu camping spots. Unlike perhaps the majority of teams, I don't think any of us four feels defeated by our experiences.

Tomorrow, we final two will drive eight hours to Arequipa to drop off our bikes. After exploring that town together, I intend to continue on my own up the coast, visiting ruins and perhaps taking diving lessons.

I'm sorry I still have no more pictures for you all, as the Internet connection here in the Colca valley is glacial. In Arequipa I should finally have the leisure and bandwidth to upload some more.

Phase One Complete

Well, that was certainly an adventure. We arrived in Cusco last night, ascending through thunder, lightning, and pelting hail. It took us three and a half hard, long days to cover the 900+ km. The roads were often rough, and always super-curvy.

We left Ayacucho on Sunday by the scenic route, winding along the side of a gorgeous valley and climbing to a pass at over 4000m (just short of the peak of Mt. Rainier) just at dusk. We paused at the top to observe electrical storms on both sides and a nearly full moon rising. Bundled tight, we descended through light rain for two hours in the dark to what's meant to be the lovely little town of Chimbes, but we wouldn't know because we got in at 9 at night and left at 5 in the morning.

It's been mostly like that since. The Andes are immense, and through our days we are confronted with panorama after breathtaking panorama as we fall and climb again from pass to pass. Except for a few flats, my chain coming off a few times, and an unfortunate decision to follow a particular road sign, we really haven't had many problems. It's just been physically and mentally exhausting.

A number of teams have collected in Cusco now. More are in Puno awaiting additional paperwork to cross the border into Bolivia. At least 11 teams have despaired of waiting, left their vehicles in Puno, and continued on by bus. We're hitting up Machu Picchu tomorrow and hoping that the timing will work itself out.

For my part, I'm still hopeful. I have more time than most people, and hope some of my companions will be able to accompany me as far as Salta, Argentina, where I can drop off the vehicle and fly back to Lima. This trip has been highly disorganized, but I still want to make the most of it.

I can't upload photos because the people who run the Internet cafes in this part of the world only vaguely know what a computer is. I'll look for a better one and write soon.

The First Day: Ayacucho

Bureaucratic problems abruptly came to an end for us Saturday morning at about 3 AM, when the paperwork for our vehicles showed up by taxi from Lima. By 6:30 we were packed and on the road to Ayacucho, about 250km away.

Climbing up to a pass outside of Huancayo at about 15 km/hr, I was worried that it would take a week to get to Cusco, and that we would have to camp that night. Over the course of the day, however, we broke our engines in, and they're now puttering along at a cool (or hot) 40-45 on good roads. I was lucky enough to get one of the 150cc bikes, and between the stronger engine and my lighter weight (teams have two people), I've been cruising. Some people have had terrible luck with flats and weak engines, while others of us haven't had hardly any trouble.

The longest part of the trip yesterday was along a river valley with vertiginous cliffs. We took it easy, especially around the narrow, sharp, blind curves. I got separated from most of the caravan, and raced to make it to safer ground by sunset. I really wish we'd had a little more time because the scenery was stunning. I'll try to post some pictures in the next couple days.

We're traveling now in a caravan of between six and eight vehicles. It makes for slow going, but it's nice to have this companionship at the start of our journey. We're being looked after by some family friends of one of the teams, who are traveling with us to Cusco in a pickup truck. They've proven to be lifesavers, as the team with the worst mechanical troubles would have been stranded on the bad road at dark with a flat tire.

Traveling slowly and tightly, with the pickup at the lead, we made the last about 100 km by dark on good-to-middling roads, and arrived here in Ayacucho after 11 PM. I'd love to stay and explore but we're heading out in a few minutes to put in at least 100km on bad roads today, with the hope of making Cusco on better roads tomorrow.

Ok that wasn't the most interesting post but I wanted to say that I'm still alive and things are going at least as well as expected. I'll probably post some pictures and reflections when we get to Cusco.