Machu Picchu

After three good days weather, some glorious views and fascinating Inca site visits our luck ran out during our last night under canvass. We got up for breakfast just before 4am and left the campsite at daybreak in our waterproofs. Towards the end of the last 6km of the Inca Trail the rain eased briefly and we emerged over the hill through the Sun Gate.

In the distance through a break in the cloud we looked down on the citadel for the first time. But within minutes, like Brigadoon, it had vanished into the mist to the disappointment of those who had come so far on foot. Some were still less fortunate, arriving after the window in the weather and missing the view completely. With tired legs the bedraggled platoon of pilgrims plodded slowly downhill in increasingly heavy rain until finally we were close enough to see the citadel close up. Wow!

Day 1 - a brief respite from rain

We had dreamed of seeing the sunrise here but it was not to be and the walkers mostly melted away. Undeterred, Miguel began our tour as the rain pelted still harder. For more than an hour we explored the citadel, almost alone, even our companions having bailed out. We had got the unlikely outcome of seeing the main sites without the crowds but the surrounding scenery was lost in the cloud.

The citadel sits on a high steep sided promontory surrounded on three sides by a horseshoe bend in the Urubamba River, on a saddle-like piece of land between Wayna Picchu (young mountain) and the higher Apu Machu Picchu (old mountain). All around on the other side of the river are a ring of further mountains which creates a spectacular location suitable for a genuine wonder of the modern world. The citadel is hidden from view in every direction - no wonder the Spanish conquistadors never found it.

There are houses where the nobility lived, temples, many terraces for agricultural purposes and a host of other buildings all perfectly preserved after half a century except for the missing straw roofs. Every now and again one turns a corner and sees some remarkable detail of stonework and carvings - condors, puma, snakes and llamas - the sacred animals of the Incas. It is so captivating we stayed four hours in the rain trying to take it in before we descended the hill to find our hotel.

Disappointed only by the lack of views we decided we were too tired to go back the next morning. But when dawn broke and the sun was out we could not resist and took the chance to climb the mountain again. Sometimes there is a second chance to make a first impression and, bathed in sunshine, Machu Picchu did just that. We just sat and relaxed, drinking it in and then wandered round, all the time noticing more and more. Two days, two incredibly different moods.

Day 2 - what a contrast!

The Incas didn't write nor produce pictorial evidence of their culture like the Ancient Egyptians.  They managed to destroy enough of the trail from Cusco to conceal the citadel from the Spanish and so no one knows the true story or even it's name. Maybe it was the last stronghold of the last Inca king. Maybe it was ultimately abandoned because of disease. There are lots of theories of what happened before a ten year old boy took American Hiram Bingham there 100 years ago this year to find three families living in the overgrown citadel. That no one knows the true story just adds to the mystique of a place that might just be the most magical on Earth.

The Inca Trail

We like walking and we have always wanted to go to Peru so we thought why not do the Inca Trail, the 26 mile trek spread over four days an ending at Machu Picchu? Why not? Simple. It involves camping and we don't do tents. I haven't slept in a tent since my brief spell in the army cadets at school when the camp-site was wiped out by a thunderstorm. Even wedding receptions in marquees worry me.   So why I agreed to do this I don't know. I can't have been under pressure from Su who is too partial to comfortable hotels to want to sleep in a field.

But here we are and it has been great. Our group of up to 12 people turned out to be just us and an Australian couple in their sixties, Keven and Mary (originally from England so we didn't spend three days harping on about the Ashes) with our guide, Miguel.

At the start

The main challenge is not the distance or even the mountainous terrain but the altitude. We've seen people breathing with oxygen tanks just sitting in a hotel in Cusco, so climbing up to Dead Woman's pass on Day 2 to 4,200m is a serious matter.

The mountain scenery is spectacular and dotted with a variety of religious, defensive, urban and agricultural Inca sites which break up the walking. The scenery changes from river valleys with farming to snow covered mountain ranges and sub-tropical cloud forest before the jungle gets thicker towards the end. The trail is mostly built with huge stones - sometimes flat and at other times like a staircase. As a feat of engineering it is remarkable. The Incas could teach Islington Council a few things about road surfaces although amazingly, given their advanced technology they never invented the wheel.

Being in a small group has enabled us to move faster, escape the crowds to a large degree and experience most of this remote scenery with very few people around.  The 200 or so tourists per day come together in the evening at the beautifully located camp sites and have dinner in their groups.

Our support team of eight locals has food ready and the tents up before we arrive. They also bring us water and carry the gear we don't need during the day. The porters are shy, humble indigenous people from the surrounding villages who quietly go about their business.  In between their tasks they look at the tourists with an air of bemusement - what they make of us lot I really don't know.

With the team

In some ways the Trail is very egalitarian. Backpackers and up-market travellers have to walk the same route, take their chances with the weather and rough it a bit in the camp sites where the toilets are not the best. But a huge divide remains between the porters and the guests whose worlds are so far apart. These culture clashes are a part of international tourism and inevitably leave one with some misgivings. Hopefully tourism will ultimately enrich the lives of these local people as much as it has enriched ours.

On arrival at Machu Picchu this morning we felt a sense of achievement on reaching one of the modern wonders of the world the hard way on foot. As for the  camping it wasn't too bad as the weather was kind to us but it may be a while before we are next under canvass.

The Cold Light of Day

The sun has been out all week so we decided to visit Granadella which is a one street fishing village set in a pretty cove just south of Cape Nao (the easternmost point of mainland Spain). From our place northwards there are endless sandy beaches but south of Denia it is mostly cliffs and coves until the beaches start again south of Moraira and on to Benidorm.  Granadella is 45 minutes from home according to the Tom-Tom we have just bought to guide us on next week's long distance drive back to London.

The road to the village winds down from the cliff above through pine forest to the cove which has a small beach and three restaurants. During the summer months the car park is always completely full but at the end of March there is plenty of room.

It turns out that since last summer the cove has had some famous visitors in the form of film stars Bruce Willis and Sigourney Weaver who were here with the rest of the cast to film The Cold Light of Day, that premieres later this year. According to the local newspaper Mr Willis had his own mobile changing room at the beach, no doubt complete with star on the door and those lightbulbs they have around the mirror. We just changed for our walk in the car park and set off without the help of a make-up artist or a body double.

Apparently the entire family of the film's lead character gets kidnapped and it sounds like he generally had a bad day here.  Thankfully our experience was very different, but having read about the film we were on our guard for secret agents as we made our way along the cliff top walk to the ruined castle. You can't be too careful these days but the people following us turned out merely to be retired Germans.

Safely back at the cove we sat outside Restaurant Sur in the rather warm light of lunchtime.  The waiter insisted on speaking to us in English - presumably believing us to be celebrities. His English was rather better than the translation on the menu which offered us, among other things, "some careful prostrated domestic".

We enjoyed a superb mixed fish grill - they send out their own fishing boat and you get whatever they catch - and some wonderful home made ice cream before the Tom-Tom guided us home. Well, most of the way home as the road to our house appears not to exist on the system (it was new five years ago).  At least we know that if the special agents follow us from Granadella, they won't find us with their GPS!

Mountain Madness

Some said we wouldn’t make it.  Some said we were mad.  But we did it – we made it to the summit of Mount Cameroon, the huge lump of active volcano that looms behind the house here in Buea.  This is something I’ve wanted to do since as a kid I saw pictures of the mountain in a book that Dad left me on one of his trips to London - but I never realised how hard it would be.

Mt Cameroon from below in Buea

At 4,095 metres it is the highest point in central and west Africa and the sides of the mountain are so steep that the trail is like an endless step-machine rather than a walking trail.  Much of the terrain is tricky too – sharp volcanic rock and loose gravel, tree roots, tufts of grass and mud in places all make footholds difficult.

The weather was sunny all the way up so there were good views all the way to the second camping hut (called Hut 2 despite being the third hut up) at 2,850 metres where we were to spend the night.  We made it there in around six and a half hours including a few stops and relaxed in the sun enjoying the view of the upper slopes while we rested our tired legs. 

Still smiling on reaching Hut 2

When night fell and we had eaten our food, the temperature started to drop and with it the fun element.  We had an early start next day so we went to “bed” at 8pm.  To describe the Hut 2 facilities as basic would be a great exaggeration.  It has accommodation in the form of a wooden platform in a dirty, graffiti-covered hut with a corrugated iron roof with a mixture of straw and rubbish underneath that was clearly to the liking of the local rats.  They rustled around during the night and tried to find ways to get at our food without success.  The toilet facilities were holes in the ground within two further small huts and there was a kitchen – another hut with space to set a fire.  We zipped up our sleeping bags, used our rucksacks as pillows, left all our clothes on and failed to sleep for hours on the hard wood surface.

The inside of "the Buea Hilton" - Hut 2

The second day was unbelievably hard.  In order to get up to the summit and down in the day we left at 4am and walked for 2 hours in the dark with one torch between two of us.  The whole route is steep but after a virtually sleepless night in the cold of Hut 2 it seems vertical.  Walking without having eaten at 4am in the dark with limited light and air with low oxygen content was low on laughs.  Around 6am the sun came up – we pushed on and we were at the summit by 8am, very tired but happy to have made it. 

Made it! Now just 3,000 metres back down...

The downside of being at the summit was that we now faced a 3,000 metre descent back to Buea in an already exhausted state.  As we know from our mountain walks in Spain, coming down is faster but technically more difficult.  We found it hard to concentrate on where to put our feet and the legs weren’t really responding.  We both took tumbles on the way down but got home in one piece to a warm welcome (and quite a lot of admiration as hardly any of the locals have been up).  I can’t describe how stiff we were the next morning (and even worse today!).

Incredibly some people do actually run up to the top.  Every year in late February around 300 people run up the hill from the stadium in Buea to the point where we started our walk and then complete the same course as we took, up and down the best part of 4,000 metres, in just a few hours. 25 miles in all – incredible!  Unfortunately the mountain race has been postponed by a week and will be just after we leave so Suzanne and I can’t join them.  Shame!  Once is definitely enough.

Walk on the Wild Side

Despite the cold weather there have been plenty of opportunities to go out into the mountains behind the Costa Blanca and use the cold weather gear we bought for the Patagonia trip.  Before going away we mostly walked in t-shirts here in Spain and we remarked when enjoying walking in the snow in Chile that we ought to get out in less favourable conditions once home.  As you go into the mountains it is amazing how quickly you get away from civilisation and into remote areas where the very few people are outnumbered by wild boars and birds of prey.

We have been on some good walks with the Costa Blanca Mountain Walkers since New Year, two of which have been led by our friend David from Monte Pego.  He sets a good pace, which you need especially when walking in frosty conditions early in the morning. 

On the other walk the leader had the difficult job of managing the quicker walkers and some who were looking for a more sedate pace.  The compromise solution of walking quickly for short periods then stopping while we all got cold left him getting criticism from both sides - at which point he got lost into the bargain!  Walking politics were in evidence from the start.  At one point when he decided to stop he was asked "is this a banana stop or a water stop?".  When he tried the obvious line "it can be whichever you want it to be", he received the response "you should be telling us if you are the leader"!  And this is what people do in their retirement for relaxation - perhaps people love all the politics that go on in offices and just can't do without it?

David claimed he was supportive of the leader throughout, which doesn't really explain why he was heard shouting loudly "you should be alright from here" when we were about 150 metres from the bar at the end of the walk as we arrived a good 45 minutes late.

On the second of David's walks we were joined by a mythical group of elite walkers that we have heard about but not previously met.  They call themselves the A Team and only show up on the more challenging walks.  Disappointingly none of them resembled B.A. Baracus, but having said that the sight of a well-built black man with a mohican wearing a gold chain just wouldn't look right around here.  I stand out enough as it is.


BA Baracus - from the other A Team

Away from the Costa Blanca walks of course we strike out on our own too - learning the routes that they take us on and trying some of our own.  A regular favourite is the trip from our house around the Segaria ridge opposite to the village of Benimeli and back over the mountain home.  

The view of Segaria from our house

It's a 2.5 hour round trip with some great views but can take longer depending on how long you stay in Bar El Hogar in the village square.  However with the ascent of a 500 metre mountain to follow the bar, limiting beer consumption is the best strategy.

Bruce; Jane & Su on an official banana break overlooking Denia

On this occasion we had Bruce and Jane for company who are over here for the weekend to stay at their house in Denia.  It was really great to see them.  They had warmed up on the friday night with a trip to Aitana tapas bar (see previous blog entry) where Bruce attempted to order not one but three bottles of water which led to a predictable level of disdain from the owner.  Clearly having learned his lesson, non-alcoholic drinks were dispensed with for the rest of the evening and after a trip to their favourite late dancing establishment, El Silenci, Bruce was not looking at his best for the walk.  Of course we took no prisoners and set off at our usual pace (well maybe a little faster!) and having learned from the pros we structured the walk properly with designated water and banana breaks.  It was great to be out in the fresh air and we were all rewarded for our efforts with some warm sunshine and a suitably large dish of Arroz Negro at El Tresmall afterwards.

Volcanic Activity

Leaving the Baobab Hotel behind we drove the truck northwards along bumpy dirt roads and through dense forests with occasional views of lakes shimmering in the sunshine. In the course of the first hour we saw just one other motor vehicle and a couple of ox-drawn carts.  Most of the locals in the only village we saw waved to us - we don't think they get much passing trade.

Leaving the developing world behind, a few kms up the road the scenery becomes more like England's green and pleasant land.  Our next stop was the thermal springs at Huife, one of a number of places in the Lakes where the volcanic activity results in hot springs. We spent a very nice 24 hours at a spa hotel there soaking up the heat of the 41 degree outdoor pools and having some hydromassage.

The highlight of our week in the Lakes was saved till last as we climbed to the summit of Villarrica, the active volcano that towers over the town of Pucon. It's a picture-book volcano, 2850m high and shaped like an upside down cone with the top half covered in snow. Best of all it actually smokes!

Volcan Villarrica - with smoke

Starting halfway up we climbed the remaining 1400m in five hours, trudging slowly but steadily upwards following our guide's snowy footprints. We were lucky as it is often too cloudy to climb or the wind blows the noxious fumes in the wrong direction. We were able to see inside the crater and enjoy the panoramic views of lakes and several other volcanos until the wind did change briefly and we got a couple of lungfuls of water vapour laced with sulphuric and phosphoric acids - time to descend.

The group pauses on the way up

The fuming crater

The descent is quicker. At the crater we donned waterproofs and helmets and tobogganed down the mountain on what looked like green plastic toilet seat covers. Hilarious!

Having grown up in a colder climate than me, Su mastered the toboggan technique more quickly but once I had put it the right way round I managed high speed - mainly because I kept forgetting to use the ice axe as a brake. The other problem was trying to stay feet-first and usually after a few meters I would be hurtling downhill on my back head first.

On one occasion Su had the presence of mind to shout "rocks!" as I rocketed past her which meant I managed to stop myself crashing just in time. It is difficult to see where you are going head first on your back and the briefing didn't cover how to stop yourself in that situation! We got to the bottom in one piece, Su rather more gracefully than me, and my sense of self-preservation has returned.

Explora, Torres del Paine

We have had a wonderful four days based at the Explora hotel in the heart of the Torres del Paine national park. The scenery is beautiful and we covered over 40 miles on foot during the various guided hikes.

The hotel has a winning formula.  It has incredible views of the Paine Massif across the lake and is all- inclusive: food, drinks, guided hikes and horse riding (we had a lot of the first three but left the horses alone). But the clever bit is that you can only book four night stays and therefore all the guests arrived on saturday and left the following wednesday which creates a really good atmosphere.

Predictably we ended up in the fastest of the walking groups with four other couples from various parts of the world: Peter (Brit living in New England who builds luxury yachts) & Rosemary (New Zealand), Gillian & David (Irish living in London), Sasha & Esther (Swiss and Korean living in New York) and Amanda and  Camp (Boston).

The best and longest walk was on the longest day of the year here, 21 December.  We covered 26kms, climbing from the lake shore just above sea level to 700 metres among the mountains of the Paine Massif, passing glaciers, rivers, lakes and waterfalls.  We began in rain and thick cloud but, as we climbed through the forest, the rain turned to snow before the sun emerged to give us close-up views of the mountains and a panorama of the park.

The walks are well-organised (i.e. they provide essentials such as beer at the end) and after a hard day trekking we relaxed with a (very) quick dip in the lake, whose water is glacial and therefore less than 5 degrees, and a soak in the outdoor hot-tub drinking champagne with our new friends Betsy and Katie, two sisters from Chicago who are great fun.  It was their idea to get in the freezing lake but it was great for tired legs and amazing how many people followed us in once we had set the example.

All too quickly it was time to move on from Explora which really is in a world of its own.  We shall miss the facilities and the landscape but especially the people.

Heading for the Hills

Having got back to an emotional reception at the airport after five weeks away from Suzanne (actually the reception was slightly delayed as a result of her being stopped by the ever vigilant Guardia Civil) it has been back to Spain for me and the opportunity to explore the area further.  We have been out in the mountains with the Costa Blanca Mountain Walkers - a group of mostly retired Brits who love nothing better than yomping around the countryside usually followed by a few beers (at astoundingly cheap prices because as well as meticulously researching the waking trails, they have also found all the cheapest bars in the region).

The best walk so far has been the route around the Castell de Castells area which starts at over 500 metres above see level and reaches nearly 1100 at the highest point.  The truly panoramic views are astounding such that the pictures can't really do it justice, but here are a couple just the same.

As a contrast to these well organised walks, today I led the intrepid Suzanne on an attempt to find the track which the herd of sheep and goats take going past our house.  As those of you who have been here know it is pretty overgrown and consequently the wife is now sporting more than a few scratches!  She looked a bit unimpressed at times as we hacked through the undergrowth, which is worse than I experienced in Cameroon, but we made it back in time for a hard-earned and (if I say so myself) beautifully cooked omelette.

Dr Livingstone, I presume?

Well, perhaps not quite up to Livingstone's explorations but in between working on the various projects that Dad wants to take forward (amazing energy for someone approaching 82!) and spending some time with him, which is fantastic, I have had a few opportunities to go out exploring the Buea area on foot – this is peculiar because rich people here are supposed to go everywhere by car.

My favourite trip so far was an excursion up the slopes of Mount Cameroon behind the house.  Having walked to some nearby villages, curiosity got the better of me and I struck off into the forest that runs around the mountain behind the house. This is genuine thick rain forest – in fact the other side of the mountain is the second wettest place on earth (after somewhere in India), wetter even than Manchester.

I was told that the path led to a neighbouring village but the path soon ran out.  Nevertheless my persistence (hacking through the undergrowth which has thrived in the rains and climbing over fallen trees) was rewarded when, having ascended quite a way up the mountain, I found a path heading across and down which eventually led me to the village of Likoko Membea passing a few tree-fellers (not ideal from a rainforest conservation perspective).

Quite relieved to see civilsation (it was nearly dark as I had unwisely left quite late and without torch) and to have got out of the forest, I was beaming like David Bellamy emerging from the bushes.  I was soon met by a young lady with her daughter who asked me if I was from the forest? When I said I was from London she displayed good knowledge of the main differences between London and Likoko, the principal ones being they have a mountain but we have a lot more chicken to eat (it is surprisingly expensive here). Having been taught a few words of Bakweri language I made it back to the house via the road just before night fell.

At Home in Spain

Having spent August here in our house in Monte Pego overlooking the mediterranean and our favourite mountain Serra Segaria, we are now back after two weeks working in London and living in a serviced apartment in Pimlico.  It's great to be back in the sunshine and a relief from the leaving-dos - great though they all were, ten in a row was a little energy-sapping!

Serra Segaria from our house

Our house!

On the way back from the airport we realised that I'm due back in the office in exactly 351 days time, which just happens to be Su´s favourite number.  That gives us plenty of time for a few adventures and exploring.  With Africa and South America ahead of us we decided to break ourselves in gently with an assault on the north face of Orba Castle a few miles away.  Despite the attentions of some aggressive looking billy goats we reached the top!