Por Bicicleta

Saying Adios!

2011-11-03T15:15:00.000-07:00

As we wrap up our bike trip (2000 kms later!!) and prepare to head back to Canada, we can't help but think about the things that we'll miss....

...fresh fruit and fresh fruit juices with every breakfast
...street pizzas for 10 cents!
...$2 mickeys of cuban rum
...cheap and delicious ice cream (guilt-free thanks to all our biking)
...fried plantain chips (honest, we're not just here for the food!)
...working on our tans while we ride our bikes
...palm and banana trees
...friendly, smiling faces and waves as we ride by
...mojitos and pina coladas
...riding past horse- and bull-drawn carts and dodging sheep and goats on the road
...quiet back roads with more bicycles than cars
...live music and watching sexy salsa
...warm, blue sea water!

But there are also some things that we won't miss...

...men hissing and kissing at us as we pass
...riding in the rain
...having wet horse poop spray up our backs while we ride in the rain
...keeping track of two currencies
...rice and beans (at least not for a few weeks)
...sterilizing all of our water
...lumpy, bumpy beds (often shared)

Jodie and Vanessa are headed to the beach for a few more days of relaxing and I'm flying home tomorrow to start a new job on Monday. It's been an amazing trip and this is one place that I look forward to coming back to. So for now, instead of saying goodbye, I'll just say Hasta Luego, Cuba!

You´re going to get wet!

2011-11-01T08:32:00.000-07:00

People here love to tell us that we´re going to get wet. Se van a mojar! We´ve heard it far to many times on this trip. It´s often when we´ve already been riding through a downpour for hours and the use of the future tense seems sort of ironic - we couldn´t possibly be any wetter. But sometimes it´s well in advance... so far in advance that we´ve let the sun and light clouds fool us into hanging our laudry out on our bobs to dry and keeping our cameras out at the ready. Unfortunately, they´re right more often than not and we end up fully showered before we even reach our casa at the end of the day!

Fortunately, we didn´t hear anything about getting wet over our last two days of riding (we got dumped on pretty much all day on the day we rode out of Havana and into Cuba`s westernmost province) and we could enjoy the quiet backroads, rolling farmland and impressive limestone mountains of Pinar del Rio. And get one last sunburn....

Christine

This is the Hill that Never Ends.....

2011-10-28T18:30:00.000-07:00

Innocently looking at our map one peaceful evening we noticed that there were three different routes from Trinidad to Cienfuegos. One followed the beautiful sceneic coast. The other two went up over the mountain range. One was shorter than the coastal route and was on a secondary road. The other longer and on a highway the whole way. All were under 90km. Ninety Kilometers... no problemo... we did 135km easy enough... right? So like all slightly insane people who decide to tour a country by bicycle we decided we have spent lots of time on the lovely flat coast... we'd like to bike through the mountains.... through being the key word.
So we set out early (lets not get cocky) with equal encouragment and discouragment from locals we talked to about our routes. Most of the discouragment was because of the pending storm and rain... which would be hitting the coast more than the mountains.... our decision was based on logic.
After a gruling 800m climb from sea level in the first 14 km and blisters forming in areas I didn't know could blister, we had a pop and congratulated ourselves on a job well done. 300 more meters and then obviously the long and well deserved downhill would appear and we would be back to the coast in no time. eerch! Nope. The road was impassible.... minor hiccup. After a bit of map looking and weather asseccing we flipped plans and decided to head to Santa Clara... still well within the 90km total. 2 hours later we were still in our granny gears... sweating our behinds off climbing yet another hill. By 2:30, we had gone only 30kms! Apparently we weren't going thru the mountains.... we were going over them.... them being more than one.
Jodie and I spent much of our time practising a duet for christine, it goes...

"This is the hill that never ends! It goes on and on my friend.... some people started cycling not knowing what it was. And then they kept on cycling FOREVER just because... this is the hil that never ends.... "

You get the picture. It sounded as beautiful as you can imagine thru all the huffing and puffing :)
Needless to say it did eventually end. We made our way down and out of the valley to Santa Clara 12 hours after we started our day.
What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger!

Vanessa

So you want to be a Cuban bus driver?

2011-10-28T18:26:00.000-07:00

Choosing to ride along the Carretera Central (the national highway) through the centre of the country was a decision we made based on our time restrictions and our hope to ride the full length of the country. We knew it would be different from the small, rural roads that we usually prefer to ride, but it was worth it to move quickly through the flat, agricultural interior so that we would have more time to zig and zag a bit through the more moutnainous parts of the country. Compared to Canadian highways, Cuban highways are quite tame. Very few people here own private vehicles so most of the traffic that passes us on a daily basis (aside from the horse and bull-drawn carts and bicycles) are trucks and busses. Truck drivers tend to be very respectful of us and slow down behind us until there is a safe opportunity to pass. Bus drivers, to the contrary, love to try to squeeze between us and whatever mode of transportation is oncoming in the other lane. They leave us squeezing our handlebars and hunching our shoulders as if somehow making ourselves smaller on our bikes will keep us from being hit. Sometimes the turbulence they create sends us off the road and into the gravel ditch. While 99% of Cuban drivers are content to be set back by 10 seconds in order to safely pass us (smiling and waving as they do) bus drivers leave us with the impression that the only thing that matters is how quickly they can get to Havana...

We are happy to be heading into the quiet northwest of the country, following smaller backroads through Pinar del Rio province for the last few days of our trip. Hopefully, we'll be leaving these busses behind in the capital!

~Christine

Central Cuba is Pretty......Pretty Flat.....

2011-10-22T15:18:00.000-07:00

We survived the prairies of Cuba! You may notice that we're not posting quite as many pictures this time as the last few times. We have a good excuse: for the last 4 days, we've been riding across the open plains of sugar cane and livestock fields that cover Cuba's low-lying centre. We wanted to ride the island end to end and knew that it might mean a few long days of flats. But, I'd read that the predominant trade winds would help speed us along our way and that it would be easy to cover the large distances between provincial capitals where we could enjoy some city life in the evenings. Wrong! The winds blew almost every which way...which means every which way except at our backs. The strong side winds did little to help us along and we earned every wheel rotation on our 100+ km days. The cities were pleasant nightly rewards where we enjoyed comfortable casas, more rice and pork, nightly ice cream shop visits, and walks around the central plazas.

Today, on the ride between Sancti Spiritus and Trinidad, our spirits soared to be back in the mountains. Believe it or not, hilly roads are much easier on the body than long flats, and infinitely easier mentally. We're so happy to be back in beautiful!

Tomorrow, we'll take a day to explore the historical city of Trinidad; its cobbled streets and colonial mansions, all relics of the sugar boom over the last centuries. We'll also hit the beach in the afternoon to work on browing up our fishbellies and hopefully do some snorkelling :)

Christine

My, What Big Teeth You Have!

2011-10-18T09:18:00.000-07:00

Eight kms out of Manzanilla we came across a Crocidile farm, we had plenty of daylight so in we went. I had goosebumps in 38 degree heat for the enire tour through these little reptile corrals!!!

They were in concrete walled pens, that as far as I am concerned should have been a lot higher and held closed by more than rickety old rusting gates... There were all sizes and ages from this spring's babies to 10 yr old breeding stock. They just layed there, basking in the sun, mouths open and teeth waiting for some unsuspecting creature to make the wrong move... They seem to double in size every year and we figure the new ones are cute, the 5 yr olds are big lizards and a little scary and the adults are down right terrifying!

Some interesting details that Christine translated for us:

- they are fed once every five days and it's always some sort of remains from butcherd animals that people are eating

- they are used for their leather as well as for their meat

- each breeding pair lays 20-30 eggs every season that are burried in the sand, and get this - a crazy vetrinarian goes into the pen with them to dig them up and bring them to the incubator!!

The tour was very interesting and I am glad to have seen these animals, but I can guarantee that you're not going to catch me wandering around in a swamp anytime soon!

-Jodie

I Wait, You Wait, We All Wait for Ice Cream!

2011-10-18T09:08:00.000-07:00

The longest line ups that we've seen are outside of the "Creamerias" in the cities. We are quickly catching on to this trend. The menu is outside, well back from the entrance of the place. A server takes your order, you pay, get your little hand written receipt and begin your wait. Sometimes as people leave, the next guests are invited in and other times there are several empty tables and it seems that new guests are allowed in only at the server's will.

The wait is worth it - Oh what a treat!! Delicous, multi flavoured dishes of ice cream are brought out with stacks of sweet little cookies and cakes for mixin' in. Where we have gone wrong is ordering one dish per person... We laugh as we look around and realize that the locals often have 4-5 stacked dishes PER PERSON! And, at 5 cents each, this is completly acceptable. Out latest plan is to choose what we want and then mulitply by three! mmmm... I love cuba! Oh, and don't worry, we will never be too full; Vanessa promises that everyone has a seperate ice cream stomach. :)

-Jodie

Cuban Menu

2011-10-18T08:20:00.000-07:00

I saw a cuban cookbook in a store today and laughed.

We had heard that the food wasn't very good in Cuba. It is good (in our opinion), it's just very, very limited.

For breakfast, we eat white bread with butter, sometimes accompanied by eggs, jam and/or cheese (usually goat cheese - yuck!). There is usually a plate of fruit as well, sometimes just bananas and sometimes (on a good day), an array of tropical fruits including pineapple, papaya, mango, and starfruit. There is also always coffee with milk and lots of sugar.

For lunch, we eat what we can find in the small stores in cities. This always involves white bread (it's always nice, fresh bread, but it feels like an awful lot of white bread!), with butter, honey and/or jam (but we just found a jar of peanut butter that we are VERY excited about!).

Dinner is always a choice of meat (usually pork, fish or chicken), with rice, more white bread, and salad. Salad is usually avocadoes. Sometimes with cucumber or cabbage, but NEVER includes lettuce.

The other lunch or dinner option in cities is pizza. At 5 cents each for a 6-incher, it's hard to go wrong at a street-side pizza vendor. At a pizza restaurant, the pizzas are a little bigger and the selection a little better, but it is still just a choice of meat to add to your basic cheese pizza and never includes vegetables of any kind. Delicious, but not exactly nutritious...

Pure fruit juices are a real treat and we find them sometimes in small shops on the side of the road when we ride through towns.

All in all, decent biking food, though I sure do look forward to a big spinach salad when I get home!!

Christine

A Day in the Life....

2011-10-18T08:01:00.000-07:00

Just to give you an idea or our daily routine... we thought we should post a: "day in the life of" so you can get into the general life of a cycle tourist.

0615 - Alarm goes off, Christine rouses herself and begins shuffling around the room, packing or making tea if needed. Vanessa and Jodie continue to sleep...

0625 - Alarm #2 goes off or Christine physically wakes V and J. Everyone sits or wanders around the room long enough to wake up.

0630 - Breakfast at a casa. White bread, butter, cheese, coffee.... juice and eggs if you are lucky.

0700 - Back to room. Pack. Wash/teeth/pills (oil of oregano for some) Dress for biking... bike shorts are the absolutely last thing to go on....

0730 - Load up BOBs/bikes. Pay for room. Last minute stuff.

0800 - Set out biking. Stop if needed for bread/cookies/salty snacks. Get out of the town or city (a couple km) head out on the open road. But there are always people, small villages along the route. Traffic lessens to nothing as we move away from the 'congested areas' and often we can bike three wide on a main highway.

-Peddling-

1000 - Stop for First Lunch. White bread, honey or jalea (guava 'jam') or if we are lucky, butter/cheese or peanutbutter! Orange or banana... if available. 1/2 hour

-Still peddling-

1130 - Stretch and snack stop in the shade. 10 min

-Peddling-

1300 - Second Lunch... same as the first so get used to it.

-Peddling...still-

1430 - snack stop and moral support if a hard day :) (please note, most pictures are taken from the moving bicycle... unless very unique there is not much other stopping)

-Slower peddling-

1530....1730 - Arrive in town. Stop at Airconditioned El Rapido. Ask about Casa's in town. Find or enjoy an escort to a place to stay near the central plaza.

Next times vary depending on arrival...but the steps are the same:

1700 - unload into room. Store bikes/bobs ect. Rinse off or full wash if time before shops close. Laundry is important if there is time... you need time for it to semi dry in the evening.

1730 - Wander from shop to shop looking for groceries (searching for something different...like vegetables or anything with substance) Buy white bread, snacks,the usual. Internet/phone if available or time allows.

1900 - Dinner (at Casa... so good! or at restraunts lately... not as good... well, its good, its just the same thing over and over again.)

2000 - Laundry, wash, journal, maps, books or wander the town.

2100 - Prep for bed. Stretches, brush/floss, steralize water for tomorrow. Pre pack if it is a big day and we need to get out early.

2200 - Should be sleeping... if not tomorrow will be a long day!

Repeat next day. And again day after. Small changes with weather or Camping vs Casa.

Of course our days are quite a bit more exciting than I make it sound in this post... insert other posts you read into the peddling portions or wandering the towns.

-Vanessa

Where Mountains Meet Sea (with a road squeezed in between)

2011-10-18T07:47:00.000-07:00

When I read the reference to the Big Sur in California, the south coast of Cuba immediately went to the top of my places-to-ride list. Between Cuba's highest mountains (the Sierra Maestra) and it's rugged Carribean coast is squeezed a narrow road linking Santiago de Cuba in the east with Pilon and Manzanillo in the west. For most of the ride, we had blue-green surf on our left, crumbling, rocky peaks to our right, and wind at our backs (plus, for half of it, rain on our heads!).

When I read about the route, it was described as good pavement with a few gravel sections that shouldn't slow cyclists down. That may have been the case pre-2005, but Hurricane Dennis in that year, took quite a toll on a highway built so close to the shore. The sections closest to the water were at best smooth gravel and at worst badly broken pavement. At times, the road disappeared all together and rogh tracks were etched into the hillside so as to make it passable. These short sections were nerve-wracking as the waves were crashing less than 50 feet from us and the rocky cliffs that towered over us spat down rocks because of the rain.

The rough road conditions made for a fun ride, and the rain only dampened our clothes, but not our spirits as we rode along what is touted as the most beautiful road in Cuba (though Jodie and I did realize that it's time for new waterproof bob bags before our next trip!).

Since my words can't really do it justice, be sure to check out our pictures (the link is at the top or to the left).

Since turning northward into the flatter interior dominated by sugar cane fields and banana plantations, the weather has been sunny and hot once again. From here, we'll ride the length of the island towards Havana and then further into the mountainous Northwest of the country. Stay tuned! Internet here is slow and hard to find, but we'll do our best to keep sharing blogs and pictures when we can!

~Christine

Why Cubans Don´t Camp

2011-10-11T15:34:00.000-07:00

After a long day of riding, the hardest day so far, in a torrential downpour, we made our way to the "campismo" closest to Guantanamo.
First the security guards tried to blow us off even though there was not another place to stay within 70 KM and it was 1 hour to dark.
When the manager arrived some time later, Christine used her sweet Canadian barganing skills, we were able to stay in a "cabin" for 6$ each, as long as we were out by 6am. The first offer was out by 5am, but it doesn´t get light until 630am, so its nice that they budged on that one. (We weren´t allowed to set up our tent, not that we wanted to in the rain.)
We were stoked to get out of the rain and into our cement "hut" that contained 3 cells... a kitchen cell, bedroom cell and bathroom cell. It was pretty sparse, but dry..ish.
First duty of business after unpacking was to kill the massive spider that had crawled out of the bathroom to eye up us newcomers.
Next, we moved the bed (to single beds of almost the same height pushed together)away from the wall to avoid the drip that had started in the cieling. As the beds moved, we disrupted two resident mice who scurried out terrified, one took shelter in the kitch under our trailers and the other made a lap over my stuff and headed back under the bed to his home, most likely in the mattress. We decided not to mave the bed anymore, because if cuban mice are like cuban people, the whole extended family lived under there.
After settling in and getting as dry and clean as possible. We all found ourselves laying on our backs on the bed staring up at the ceiling watching the growing leak and listening to the rain and wind pound on the open air wooden shutters. With dinner and sleep still on the to do list, we talked about our day and what we were thankful for, it was Thanksgiving back at home afterall. With everything we´d endured on the hardest day so far, we found a lot to be grateful for, including the roof over our heads.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone
Vanessa

It doesn´t rain in the desert!

2011-10-11T15:21:00.000-07:00

After a few days of on and off rain along the Atlantic coast of Cuba, I was excited to ride over Cuba´s highest mountain pass and into the semi-arid region that follows the Carribean coast along the southeast shores of the country.

It poured rain most of the day before we left for the pass, and we were awaken early by the sound of hammering rain at 5 in the morning. We had an early breakfast anyway and were happy to see some blue sky open up as we packed our bags and hooked up our bobs. It was dry just long enough to tempt us out of our casa and onto the road.

Within an hour, it was pouring again. We rode against a constant stream of water on the way up the pass. All the way up, I reminded myself and the girls that we were in the wettest region of Cuba, but about to cross over to the driest. With any luck, we might even get a good view from the top!

From the top of the pass on a good day, you can see both the Atlantic and Carribean waters. All we could see was the inside of the cloud that shrouded the mountain we´d just climbed. We took shelter in a small tent at the top just long enough to get some food into us and to bundle up (the first time we felt cold in Cuba!) for the descent.

This time we were racing downhill with the current, dodging fresh rockfall from the open faces and splashing through deep puddles where the water was accumulating on the road. Though we still didn´t have much of a view, the road itself and the surrounding jungle-like vegetation were impressive in themselves. Most of the road was cement and built into the mountainside somewhat like a bridge. I tried not to look down over the cement railing that kept us to the road. As the rain started to fall harder, I stopped worrying about rockfall and began to worry more about the entire road being washed off the mountain.

As we descended, we began to see more and more cacti and fewer large, lush trees. But the rain still fell. When we hit the coast, the rain was still falling and we were shocked by the amount of mucky water raging in the rivers. When we passed through a small village and saw that most of it was flooded, we knew this must be more than the normal amount of rainfall. A woman told us that it had been raining hard for four days. We found a place to stay and it rained all night, then again for most of today as we road on towards Guantanamo. In a few places, we forged through water that covered the road and came about midway up our bobs. The wake from a passing truck sent Jodie off her bike. There was water everywhere!

We finally got a bit of sunshine this afternoon and our clothes are all hung out to dry at our casa in Guantanamo. We hope the clouds have run out of rain, but it looks like a new storm is already brewing in the distance. Tomorrow, we´ll ride out towards Santiago de Cuba, and then along the southeast shore of the island, keeping our fingers crossed for some sunny beach siestas along the way.

-Christine

Another Roadside Attraction

2011-10-09T10:49:00.000-07:00

The following are some of the things that we enjoy along the road

Bananas n'Pigs
- small fruit vendors selling bananas 4 for 1 peso (4cents Canadian)
- pigs, chickens, goats, bulls, sheep and turkeys freely grazing
- squeeling pigs tied on the back of bicycles heading to market

- small black birds that sound like hyperactive children

- every vehicle from a dump truck to a jeep to a cattle liner filled with people waving excitedly as they pass us

- horse- and ox-drawn carts hauling people and produce

- an array of looks from inpirational understanding to common-i-wanna-lay-ya from locals that we pass

- fruit trees; banana, mango, orange, papaya, guava, and coconut

-limestone clifs with roots and vines somehow clinging to them

-school children singing or chanting daily lessons

-vintage cars

-bicycle taxies that somehow blast music everywhere they go

-small but tidy houses tucked away behind flowers and fruit trees

-peso pizza places selling 10cent pizzas from under their colourful umbrellas

-turkey vultures soaring overhead waiting for us to die and reminding us to stay hydrated

-And eyes, eyes everywhere... so remember, before you drop those bike shorts, there's always someone watching from the nearest shady spot!

Jodie

Mi casa es su casa

2011-10-09T10:32:00.000-07:00

Cuban hospitality is at its finest in Casas Privadas (private houses, which we will call casas). These are homes belonging to local families that are licensed to accept foreigners. They are both cheaper and more interesting than hotels, and we know that the money we spend here goes into local hands, rather than directly to the government (even though licensing fees and taxes will take most of it the long run...).

In each casa that we´ve enjoyed so far, we´ve had a room all to ourselves, and in one home, they even hauled in an extra bed so that the three of us could share a room. There is always an attached bathroom with a cold shower and sometimes even a fridge or small kitchen. There is always a fan and sometimes an air conditioner. And, of course, there is always a smiling face ready to greet us and ask if there is anything else that we need.

They serve dinner and breakfast and the food is far better than anything we´ve had in restaurants so far, though we are beginning to suspect that there is somewhat of a set menu for tourists. With every dinner, there are fried bananas (the Cuban equivalent of french fries and delicious!!), some kind of vegetable (avocados and cucumbers are obviously in season right now...), a nice mix of rice and black beans, and then a choice of meats. Beer costs extra, but at a dollar apiece, the taste of a cold beer at the end of a day of riding in the heat is more than worth it!

Breakfast is a little more hit-and-miss and can range from bread with guava jam and coffee to a full spread of eggs, bread, cheese, coffee, fresh-squeezed juice and a heap of fresh local fruits.

Fortunately, these places aren´t hard to find. In fact, it´s a bit eerie how there is always someone waiting at the entrance to any town to direct us to the casa of someone they know. In some cases, it is prearranged by the casa where we stayed the night before. Other times, we figure that word must spread quickly that cyclists are on the way so that everyone with a casa or meal to offer can get out onto the street in time to offer it to us as we pass. So far, though, our luck has been great and we haven´t felt like we´ve been ripped off or led astray (knock on wood!). Quite to the contrary, the owners of every home where we´ve stayed have almost perfectly hit the balance between being open and welcoming and respecting our privacy. Our only slighty-less-than-great casa experience we´ve had so far was one morning when I managed to lock myself in the bathroom and we had to spend an hour dismantelling the doorknob to get me out!

So far, our tent and camping gear has only served as extra padding and weight (good training, right?), but as much as we love staying in casas, we do hope we get a chance to camp as we continue along the coast and find more secluded beaches...

-Christine

Rookie Tales: Part One

2011-10-09T10:31:00.000-07:00

Tips for the Rookie Cycle Tourist.

I do have some touring experience. At the age of 21 I cycled around NZ for 3 months, so I thought I was well prepared for this 5 week tour de Cuba with my ultra-experienced amigas. However, I am finding some things different and there is a bit of a learning curve. I thought I would share some thoughts from the beginner´s point of view...

-Clipless pedals. They keep your feet attached to the pedals even when you are heading horizontal.

-Bike shorts closely resemble a diaper. Add tropical humid weather and day after day of cycling into the mix and voila! You´ve got diaper rash in no time at all!

-Muddy puddles... depth? Your guess is as good as mine.

-If everything hurts you are doing it right. If only one thing hurts or you look good at the end of the day, you are doing it wrong.

-Your BOB trailer goes where you go. Everywhere you go. But it bounces higher through the bumps, so look back now and again to see that everything is still attached to the top of it.

Vanessa

Dear Mr. Kissey Face Cubano

2011-10-09T10:05:00.000-07:00

Hi, my name is Vanessa, not Linda*, and I am not your mother.
I would like to say naice to meet you, but we have not really met in the 2.5 seconds it took me to pass you on my bike.
My friendly smile and "Hola" was a greeting, it was not meant to start the lip puckering, smouldering, sly look you just gave me.
Really? You think I am bonita (beautiful)? I am flushed, dripping sweat, covered in mud speckles and sporting a dusty mustache... I don´t always look this fine.
Could I just interrupt you before you profess your undying passion for my beauty, you have the wrong girl, my name is not Linda*.
Yes I can hear your whistles, hisses and lip smacking from across the road, in the apartment building, 2 feet behind me, and across the field. Is this communication meant to inspire me to jump off my bicycle and into your arms? Or do you just want me to look your way? Whatever your intention, I think for your sake I will just smile and keep on pedalling - Canada is very cold and my heart is already occupied.
My only advice to you if you want to snag a good Canadian girl is to tone it down a bit and take a pointer or two from the quiet, chiquita-respecting hottie beside you.

Sincerly,
Vanessa, Canadian Tourista

*Linda is Spanish for pretty.

Fiesta mi amiga!?!?

2011-10-09T09:59:00.000-07:00

*Warning: The following story is based on true events. The names of the people involved have been changed in order to protect their privacy. The following subject matter may not be suitable for all audiences...

Once, there were three cute Canadian girls on a tricycle trip in Cuba. They were having a lovely time swimming in the ocean, caring for their sunburns, practicing spanish and pedalling the countryside when they rolled into the city of Baracoa on a Saturday afternoon. They were immediately and reapeatedly invited to go dancing at Casa de la Trova or Club Paraiso. They could not resisit the idea of dancing and drinking with some fun loving Cubans so they showered up, put on their cleanest dresses and joined the party. The following is what they saw, heard and learned:

Havana Club Rum - it is not meant to be mixed, oh no, it is a fine alcohol that is drunk straight. If you are interested in a little flavour you may mix up to 10 drops of some sort of pop in your glass. When you order your drinks you order an entire bottle (one 26 of rum and two pops costs 5$). A server brings it and is not allowed to leave the glass bottle so he pours the entire bottle evenly into the glasses of everyone at the table. Salud! This is followed shortly after with a lot of singing and dancing...

Karaoke! And no shy people, the Cubans love to sing and dance and are more than happy to be alone in the middle of the dance floor singing at the top of their lungs. As soon as the karaoke comes to an end, the entire crowd gets onto their feet surrounds the dance floor, and are anxious to get their groove on!

An English speaking Cuban informed them that all Cubans do is "Dance, Drink and F*@k." Sometimes it seems that they are managing to do all three at once out there on that dance floor!! It as though these innocent canadian girls are part of Pee-Wee hockey where there is no contact allowed when they are dancing in Canada, and here in Cuba it is full contact NHL-style with no referees!

They have plenty of teachers that are more than willing to give lessons on this smooth Cuban dancing style, and some of the best quotes from their educational night were as follows:

"Just go on my leg like a dog"

"He just humped my leg like Chihuahua!!"

"Relax, relax and just move like the music"

"You are very beautiful and I love you forever"

"I think I pinched a nerve trying to dance like a Cuban!"

"Your boyfriend would be very proud"

"I learned to dance at home with my brother, one, two, three, one, two three, like this"

They girls danced, laughed and enjoyed their rum under the protective eye of their casa host Jose Ramon, who just happened to be the biggest man in the bar. Back at their beds, they drifted to sleep wondering if perhaps the 'stiff Canadian robot dance' might eventually transform into a beautiful, fluid Cuban salsa...

-Jodie

Coo coo for coconuts!

2011-10-09T09:57:00.000-07:00

We´d been riding past coconut palms all week, wondering whether they were in season and when we would get to try something coco-nutty. When we passed by a long, low cement building with a huge pile of empty coconut shells piled outside of it, we hit the brakes and decided to see what was going on. The man we approached was friendly and welcoming and gave us a tour of what turned out to be a coconut processing plant. First, he cracked us open two coconuts, urging us to drink the water of the less mature one and to taste the germinated "apple" of the more mature one. The fruit of each was edible, but the germinated one was much better. The water was a little bitter but nutritious. He explained that every part of the coconut and its tree are used. The wood of the palm is used as timber. The palm leaves serve as roof materials for many local buildings. The water and fruit of the coconut are edible and used in a variety of products, both locally and for export. The empty shells of those whose fruit is taken are burned in a large oven (which we got to look inside of) that works as a dehydrator to dry others (with the fruit still in the shell) that will later be pressed to produce coconut oil down the road at another processing plant. Even the remains of the burned shells are further processed as activated charcoal for a world market. And all of this is done by hand in a small row of cement buildings, open to the air and piled high with thousands of local coconuts at various stages of maturity! So simple!

Unfortunately, we didn´t have the same luck at the chocolate factory that we passed a few kilometers later. The smell coming from the place was amazing, but they wouldn´t let us through the gates!

-Christine

We're back!

2011-09-28T08:28:00.000-07:00

And this time we've got a third adventurer in tow: Vanessa. We've been to Vegas and Alaska together so we know she's the perfect gal to turn our duo into a trio as we explore the Cuba's beaches, mountains and rum selection by bike! (She's also a massage therapist who has graciously offered to massage our sore butts along the way).

We leave this Friday (maybe I should be packing instead of blogging...) and we've got five weeks together to experience as much of Cuba as we can.

Check in with us on this blog and we'll update it as often as we can. You can also see where we are using the SPOT link on the left and you'll find a link to our pictures at the top of the page.

Yay mojitos!

Your official invitation: The Slideshow!

2008-11-25T11:55:00.000-08:00

Thursday, November 27th, 2008 at Whole Wheat and Honey Coffee Shop (corner of 100th and 100th). Please come at 7:00 if you want coffee and snacks. The show will start at 7:30.

There will be a donation jar at the door just to help cover the cost of the show (keeping the coffee shop open late) so please bring some spare change.

Come one come all! Please pass this info on to anyone you think might be interested.

See you all on Thursday night.

Christine & Jodie

In Numbers

2008-11-22T10:55:00.000-08:00

Some stats from the trip:

Total kilometers: 1900 km
Total elevation gain (over large passes only): 9540 meters
Highest pass: 4282 meters
Available oxygen in the air at 4282m: less than 1/2 of at sea level
Days riding: 33
Days spent dealing with central asian bureaucracy: 6
Rest days: 7
Sick days: 11 (ick!)
Riding-in-the-snow days: 4
Coldest night: -14C
Kilograms of Nutella consumed: 3
Flat tires: 0 (we love schwalble!)
Real stand-up hot showers: 2

Oh Canada!

2008-11-22T09:23:00.000-08:00

We made it! We are in Vancouver and have already taken warm, stand up showers, enjoyed some non-stop tap water along with a nice COLD beer from Boston Pizza, and slept in beds with clean sheets... ahhh the luxury! It seems like a bit of a shock to the system and the details of the trip already seem to be fading into a story from the past...

We are on our way up to Fort St John tomorrow and will soon be working on a slide show. We are planning to show it this Thursday evening. The details are still in progress, so keep watching for updates.

We got a great big convoy, aint she a beautiful sight...

2008-11-22T08:37:00.000-08:00

We had this and every other trucker song in our heads as we rattled over the last leg of our journey with the convoy of Tajik transport tucks.

With low energy from being sick and only a few days left, we decided that we had to start hitching. The first day out of Khorog, our bikes got a nice ride in the back of a highway crew's dump truck for about 100 rattly kilometers. That night we stayed in a little roadside hotel and woke up to a parking lot full of trucks. In the morning, I started asking about rides to Dushanbe. Their loads were all tagged so they couldn't open them to load bikes, but they were more than willing to take us anyway and ended up cramming all of our dirty gear in the cabs. With our bikes and bobs in four different trucks, we made sure that we had our money, passports and plane tickets on us in case we never saw that gear again. We hopped in with 'John Rambo' and 'Morog' to start the adventure. We were told that it would take 15 hours to Dushanbe. The 550 kilometers ended up taking a total of 32 hours and was an adventure and a cultural experience to say the least!

We had a lot of laughs with this group and as we got to know them, soon came up with a list of nicknames. I wont go into detail about them, but use your imagination... They included John Rambo or Joey from friends, The Prophets, Lola, Che Guevara (the Tajik version), and Ole Dad. It was great to watch their interactions, they are just like family and are constantly bantering back and forth and laughing. We often weren't really sure if they were arguing or just talking, but these loud discussions would often end with boyish handshakes, high fives or fake punches.

The road quality is probably best described as treacherous. It's hard to believe that a road connecting two of the country's major cities could be a single lane boulder field for most of the distance. We clung to the edge of a cliff as we wound our way along the Panj river that is the boarder between Afghanistan and Tajikistan. We would stop to throw freshly fallen boulders off of the road while carefully watching above for anymore that might be falling down. Around corners, we would honk to let traffic know that we were coming. When we could meet another big truck, one of us would back up to a slightly wider section, fold the mirrors in and hold our breath as the other would inch by. When Christine and I were sure that we were going to go tumbling over the cliff at any moment, she asked to get out and our driver Morog burst out laughing saying, "Normal! Normal!"

It might be because of the rough road, the quality of the tires, or the fact that our bad luck seems to be contagious these days, but we had THREE flat tires on our truck alone! Each time, the whole convoy would stop to help with the process. It went like this: put rocks under the tires so the truck can't roll, put on 'work clothes,' take a chew of raw tobacco, jack up the axle with the flat, remove the tire, pry the tire off the rim, use random tools (different every time) to chisel the tube off of the rim, pull out the tube and toss it over the bank, clean the rim and cover it with dirt, put the new tube in, start the air flow, smash the pieces of the rim back together and put the tire back on, wash your hands and face, change clothes, remove the rocks from the tires and get on the road (not that you were ever off of it in the first place- the whole time you are watching for other vehicles passing by). This is even more interesting in the dark and when all of these steps have been completed only to find that the tire itself is blown and will have to be replaced. At this point the tools start to fly and we do our best to decipher the Tajik cuss words...

We were very amused with the level of personal care that our driver displayed. After a flat he would have us pour water for him as he washed with soap (not so common in this here). He would change his entire outfit, fix his hair and get back into the truck to spray Hogo (not Hugo, Hogo) cologne and to finish the process, he would spend five minutes moisturizing his hands. Who knew a Tajik trucker could be so concerned with his look? He also often sprayed air fresher everywhere, leaving us coughing and gasping for air. The dash and the floor were wiped when we were waiting for others and everything was always neat and tidy. When you live in your truck, it's nice to keep it clean.

And live it it we did! At two am and another 165 kilometers to Dushanbe, we stopped for sleep at a truck stop. We were on asphalt at that point so it seemed crazy to be stopping so close to our destination, but what we didn't realize was that the road would soon go back to single lane dirt and would be another eight hours the following day. We were happy to sleep in the seats and let the Morog have the bed but he insisted that we take it. Not feeling like arguing all night we gave in and Chris and I shared a two and a half foot wide bed - yet another bonding experience! Five hours later we were back on the road, listening to our favorite four song Russian cassette tape.

We arrived in Dushanbe with some great memories and a better understanding of Tajik culture. Despite the fact that we had to turn down a few marriage proposals, this was a safe and amusing way wrap up our trip.

Afghanistan

2008-11-18T21:17:00.000-08:00

It was a crazy feeling when we first looked across the Panj River that divides Tajikistan and Afghanistan. We were almost speechless, just thinking, "Wow, that's it..." That scary place that we hear so much about in the western media. Yet across the river, in the small villages full of simple mudbrick homes, miles of hand-built stone fences and deciduous trees in a full palette of fall colors, there were no bombs flying, guns firing, buildings burning. There were just people going about their daily lives - herding livestock, moving along footpaths between homes and between villages, playing soccer on the flats by the river. Many of the people on the Afghan side in this area would have been Tajik enthnicity and I found it crazy to think of how different their lives must be from their neighbors; how their fates were sealed by the arbitrary drawing of a line on a map by politicians so far removed.

On the Afghan side of the river, there were no roads. For hundreds of kilometers, as we rattled and bounced along Tajikistan's main highway, we looked across at the footpath in Afghanistan. I was completely fascinated by it and found it hard to take my eyes off of it. In flatter areas (of which there aren't many), the trail was paved by hundreds of years of donkey caravans, sheep and cattle herds and pedestrians moving back and forth between villages and towns. The small villages were spread about a day's walk apart and we never did see a large town where one might buy supplies. We did see a few small donkey caravans carrying heavy loads, probably walking for several days in each direction to the nearest market. Along the cliffs that ran alongside most of the Panj, wood and rocks were used to build narrow bridges between ledges in the cliff and headspace or extra width was chisled out of the rock by hand. The entire length of it that we followed was an incredible feat of engineering, made all the more impressive by the knowledge that it was 100s of years old.

We couldn't help but think of what an amazing trip it would be to travel along this network of paths by foot but don't worry, we won't be buying tickets to Afghanistan anytime soon!

Christine

The Finish Line: Dushanbe

2008-11-16T19:56:00.000-08:00

We made it! We're in Dushanbe and just have to box our bikes and do some Christmas shopping before our flight home.

Unfortunately, we did't make it on our bikes. It only took us about 40kms from Khorog to decide that we still weren't up to riding and so we started hitching. It was quite an adventure and cultural experience in itself, joining a 5-truck tajik convoy for 32 hours (which will be the topic of a blog in the next day or two).

We're still not healthy, but happy to be in the capital and soon to fly home. In the meantime, we'll be taking good care of each other.

Watch for an announcement for our slideshow in the next day or two as well - it'll be next week sometime in FSJ, we just have to book a room somewhere.

Speaking of the Loo...

2008-11-11T21:29:00.000-08:00

Jodie and I have been way-laid in Khorog for several days now, battling a bout of giardia. We managed to track down some drugs yesterday and are on the way to recovery. We've been very lucky to have a comfortable place to stay with a very nice hostess cooking for us and flushing western toilets! If all goes well today, we'll hit the road again tomorrow for 3-4 more days of riding before making a beeline for Dushanbe (the capital city) and our flight home.

Fingers crossed for good strong stomachs and sunny skies for our last few days on the road, please!

Loo, Loo, skip to the Loo

2008-11-10T00:16:00.000-08:00

Ok, the toilets in Central Asia deserve their very own special mention here. They're a pretty big part of our day (some days more than others!) so we don't always appreciate the sheer variety of them....

~ The ultimate is the classic western toilet with a seat and everything. Bonus if it's actually indoors and double bonus if it flushes! We've only seen 4-5 of these gems on our trip.

~ Mid-range is the classic western toilet without a seat or the outdoor sitter. Also fairly uncommon.

~ The classic is the outdoor squatter. Usually placed far enough from the house that you need to bundle up before every night-time excursion and usually have to dodge a snarling dog en route. The hole is usually diamond shaped and there are raised foot-holds on either side. Aim is a bit of an issue in these. Now for a bit of a rant. Jodie and I have only been here for 2 months, and we've more or lessed mastered the art of aiming at a squatter.... WHY CAN LOCALS NOT DO THIS?!?!?! I mean they've grown up with these and they still seem to get more crap around the hole than in it.

~ The icky-yucky, bottom of the barrel option is the public indoor squatter. Same aim problems as with outdoor sqatters, but maybe it just seems worse because it's on a white ceramic squatter rather than a brown wood one. I don't know, but these ones make me feel like I need to use hand sanitizer up to my elbows. Oddly, they're the ones you have to pay for. At every entrance, there's a woman collecting about 20 cents per person and handing you far too little toilet paper*.

* A note on toilet paper: All but the public squatters are BYOTP so we usually tote a whole roll around with us every day. In Kyrgyzstan, the toilet paper is more like sand-paper. In Tajikistan, it's a little softer but flimsy so you need to use a lot to make sure at least some layer in there holds together!

** Finding a toilet (of any kind) with walls AND a door is a treat. In many cases, there are 2-3 holes in a row. Even in co-ed bathrooms! I wasn't sure if anyone actually used the toilet side by side (we're talking like 2 feet apart with nothing between you) until the night in Jelandy. After I waited for a man to finish smoking and squatting in the women's (awkward), I went in to do my business. On the other side of the thin wall, I could hear at least 3 men smoking and talking...and grunting and flatulating!

I hope nobody was reading this over dinner and sorry if anyone finds it in poor taste. But really, don't most of us appreciate a good toilet story?!

Christine

From Barn Yards to Border Guards

2008-11-08T02:20:00.000-08:00

We often find that the hardest and most uncertian part of our day is between four pm and eight pm. Around four we begin looking for somewhere safe and comefortable to sleep; we are usually settled in and happy with our choice by around eight. We are never really sure where we might end up and it is really an adventure every time. Here is a list of some of our 'campsites' over the past two weeks:

-> Kyrgyz Customs Building - private room, hot water heated, and protected by Customs Guards

-> Homestays - these vary from having our own room to a room shared with the entire family
-they are always decorated with beautiful rugs and lots of warm blankets
-provide hot chai and lots good food

-> Roadside Tent Site - hiding in the ditch trying to get some shelter from the wind
- waking up to a blanket of fresh snow

-> Hotel Room - Private, locking doors, BEDS, and a hot springs connected to the building

-> Abandoned Barn - 4230m, on a nice thick layer of sheep poo, -14 degrees
-waking up in the night to a rat chewing on Christine's BOB

Where are you sleeping tonight?

Jodie

Christine! Get in here - I think we're making felt!

2008-11-08T01:57:00.000-08:00

We were camping in the yard of some wonderful people after a long day on the bikes when they decided that it would be a good idea to give us a cultural experiance and put me to work.

I had been 'chatting' (as much as you can chat with someone who speaks a different language) with one of the women when another came out of the house, grabbed my arm and drug me inside. She was laughing and motioning for me to roll up my sleeves. Not sure what I was getting into, I followed the orders. We went into a room where there was a tarp covered in a thick layer of sheep wool. Three of us got onto our knees and began gently rolling up the tarp and wool as another poured boiling water through a strainer and onto the wool. Once it was rolled in the tarp, we secured it tightly with twine and the real work began.

We took the roll onto another mat, got back on our hands and knees and began rolling it back and forth. With each roll, we would flop all of our weight onto our forearms and the roll in order to compress the wool. It was actually quite hard work, but a lot of fun! The woman on my left kept flopping over and hitting me with her hips, laughing all the while. We counted in Kyrgyz and then in English, and then there were a bunch of words that I didn't understand...

We unrolled that, pulled off clumps of hair that were not matting properly and then removed the tarp. Again more boiling water was added and then just the felt mat was re-rolled. We covered it in plastic and went back to work with our forearms. Of course, the laughing and pushing continued with the work. We unrolled, re-rolled from the other end and worked it again and again. The last time we unrolled it, it was folded up, wrapped in twine, soaked in boiling water and set outside to dry and cool.

They showed us one of the coulourful traditional felt rugs that they had made in the past so we could see what a finished product would look like. What an incredible, yet simple process! It has given me so much more appreciation for all of the beautiful rugs and felted products that we are seeing everywhere! It is also wonderful that they realized what a great experiance that it would be for us and let us take part.

Jodie

Snowin' and Blowin'

2008-11-07T02:19:00.000-08:00

For much of our ride across the Pamirs, I was reminded of the Canadian Arctic and quite appropriately had lines from a Robert Service poem in my head:

"To speak of the cold through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
Till at times we could not see...
It wasn't much fun but the only one
To whimper was...Christine!"

We pushed our bikes up the steep, rough road to the top of the Kizil Art pass that marks the border between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Everyone we talked to assured us that there would be snow on the Kyrgyz side, but as soon as you cross into Tajikistan and descend onto the Pamir Plateau, there would be none. The plateau is nearly a desert and in the fall, it should be clear and cold.

We were coughing and sputtering as we reached the top of the 4250m pass (there's only 1/2 the available oxygen in the air at 4000m as at sea level), and stopped only long enough to take a few victory pictures with the "Tajikistan" sign and to bundle up against the cold wind. The clouds had been brewing all day, but we were relieved to see that, indeed, there was no snow on the south side of the pass! We were home free!

We pitched our tent next to the road that night, using the steep ditch as a wind break. Crawling into bed that night, we were cold but happy to be free of the snow and rain that we had run into in Kyrgyzstan. As we lay there writing in our journals, the wind even died down and we fell into a deep sleep, tuckered out from a long climb...

When we unzipped the tent fly the next morning, there were 2-3 inches of fresh snow on the ground, and more was falling so that the white of the sky and mountains merged and the entire landscape was nothing but snow. As much as we love snow, it was an ominous start to our trip across the Pamirs and we worried that we might not be able to cross some of the passes. As we had several weeks before in Kyrgyzstan, we rode slowly and carefully, following a set of truck tracks as best we could until they disappeared beneath more snow.

Riding to the top of the next pass kept us warm and the road was always discernable despite the storm. The ride down was more treacherous than the ride up and we sqeezed the brakes, afraid of our tires losing traction and making us crash. Eventually, the wind came up, the clouds started to break and the snow on the road became slush. Soon the descent was no longer slippery, but wet and the spray and dampness in the air had us shivering in the cold wind.

We cowered in the shelter of a culvert opening for lunch. When we stood up and turned around, we were shocked to see that the sky had opened up so that we had an incredible view of Karakol Lake. It was a surreal carribean blue, studded with freshly snow-covered islands and incredibly beautiful. The wind continued for the rest of the day, but at least it was blowing the storm away and so we were happy for it....

But wind wasn't always our friend. After spending 2 beautiful sunny, calm days off in Murgab to recover from a head cold, the wind started to blow again on the day we set out. At first, it was bearable and we were so excited about the beauty of the mountains and valleys that surrounded us that we were able to ignore it. Well, the wind of the Pamirs doesn't like to be ignored. So it blew harder. And harder. And harder. And always against us. The first night, we were lucky to find a home that would accept guests near the top of the pass that we were climbing and took refuge there for the night. The next day, the wind continued to blow in our faces so hard that despite being a 'net downhill' day, we crawled along at speeds half of what we would normally do on the same roads. This day, we actually crawled right inside on a culvert to eat lunch and escape the constant and mind-shattering noise of the wind in our ears. On the wide open plain, there was nowhere to take refuge and we didn't think that our tent would hold up in such a raging wind, so we pushed ourselves to keep going to the next town where we could find a sheltered place to sleep. It was the longest day that we spent in the saddle so far: 7 hours 11 minutes. Seven very difficult hours... But at last we were warm and fed in the comfort of a local family's home.

I like to think that life will only throw as much at you as you can handle and life must have realized how close to our limits we were with the winter weather in the Pamirs because our last two days up on the high plateau were clear, calm and beautiful - absolutely perfect riding conditions for the most spectacular part of the highway!

Christine

Since our last blog....

2008-11-07T02:11:00.000-08:00

We've climbed over 5000 vertical meters on our bikes, ridden through a snowstorm and fought to maintain our sanity through 2 days of strong headwinds....so we're exhaustend! But the Pamir highway was even more remote and beautiful that we imagined and we've got a lot of great memories and pictures from our time "up there". The pictures are already up, and the blogs are on their way...

The Osh Bazaar

2008-10-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

The lively Jayma Bazar in Osh, Kyrgyzstan is supposed to be one of Central Asia's most diverse. Situated at near the borders of three countries (Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan) along the historic Silk Road, has been a central trading area for people of all three nationalities for centuries.

The produce section was full of colorful and healthy-looking vegetables and fruits, all displayed in either large plastic bowls or woven grain sacks with the tops rolled down. The spices were fragrants and huge varieties were for sale in smaller woven bags, all in seed form to be mixed and then crushed into powder. We bought a delicious smelling mix, which the man wrapped up for us expertly in newspaper so that none could spill out. Steaming warm bread was for sale in one area, displayed on bright red table cloths, which mobile hawkers sold the same out of steel carts. Outside a small teahouse, men churned out samsas from a deep clay oven and outside others, cooks fanned the long barbeques where shasslick is grilled atop coals. In the meat section, all types of cuts and meats were hanging on display and the fattiest cuts were most expensive. Among the more exotic items on sale were sheep and cow heads and horse feet! In one area, heaps of nuts and dried fruit were for sale out of plastic-lined cardboard boxes and nearby were heaps of cookies, all for sale by weight.

The usual array of designer jeans, sweaters and footwear were displayed aisle after aisle beneath colorful tarps and the electroics and housewards sections ere stocked with cheap chinese goods - radios, flashlights, plastic buckets, large thermoses, and teapots.

We grazed on our favorite local snacks - fried dough stuffed with potato and samsas- and tried some things that we'd never seen before.

Since we need to be self-sufficient on our bikes and carry all of our own food, we get to do more than just browse through these exciting bazaars. It usually takes us several hours to track down everything on our shopping list, but we always enjoy it. It's wonderful to buy things straight from the producer and a great chance to interact with locals in each town we pass through.

Christine

A day in the stomach of a cycle tourist in Kyrgyzstan

2008-10-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

Breakfast: Oatmeal with fresh or dried fruit (we change it up), cream and sugar; and tea. When we're in hostels, we sometimes treat ourselves to eggs, friend sausage and bread.

Lunch: Bread (the breads here are absolutely wonderful when you can get them fresh. Unfortunately, when we're a few days between towns, we end up eating a lot of stale stuff. But even stale bread tastes alright with nutella (we've polished of 1.5kg of it so far!), honey and jam (or favorites are apricot and barberry). We also eat some sausage and cheese for the protein more than the taste (we miss canadian cheese!!).

Dinner: We've done a much better job at keeping some variety in our diets here than we did on our last trip. It's different every time, but some typical ingredients include: potatoes, carrots, soup mixes, rice, bulgar wheat, some other grain we can't identify but really enjoy, pasta (but the only sauce is really more like ketchup than tomato sauce) and fried sausage. Sausage is the only protein that we've found here that we can actually carry on our bikes. One night we tried canned beef, or so we thought but there wasn't actually any beef in it at all, just barley and a picture of a cow on the label...another night we tried canned chicken, but we suspect that it may not have been intended for human consumption :-S

Snacks: There are endless possibilities for snacks in the local markets - a hundred varieties of cookies, many with fruit fillings and all delicious, lots of dried fruits (apricots, kiwis, raisins, pineapples, etc.) and nuts. We also stocked up on banana-chocolate granola bars that we found in Bishkek :) In cities, we love to treat ourselves to samsas (like samosas), piroshki (deepfried dough filled with potatoes, a personal favorite) and russian ice cream (mmmm! good!).

Local foods: Lots of mouth-watering things to look forward to in the towns and cities... shasslik are kebabs and though fatty mutton ones are most popular, we opt for the cheaper lean beef (you can also get horse, donkey or chicken)... plov is rice pilaf strings of carrot or squash and hunks of mutton (my personal favorite).... lagman is thick noodles, mutton and peppers in a slightly spicy soup.

Food is such an exciting part of travelling and one of the great things about travelling by bike is that you can indulge even more!!

Christine

When life gives you lemons....Make your own gaddamm mittens!

2008-10-21T09:37:00.001-07:00

In a place where people LOVE to warn you about the cold, it's incredibly difficult to find warm clothes! So we had to get creative and losing 1/2 of my stuff actually turned into an excuse to have some fun...

To market, to market... first on the list was something water and wind-proof to replace my gore-tex. A very friendly local who was excited to practice his English and French led us on a whirlwind tour of the market, touch-testing jackets (mostly adidas track suits) to see if they might work. No go. I wasn't in any position to be picky about fashion, but I absolutely have to have something waterproof. His next idea was a wonderful one: the section of the market where they sell military clothing. There amid the black boots and camoflage overcoats (Sorry Tavis, nothing waterproof in camo or I would have done it just for you!) was the perfect rain jacket. Made for someone my height (it reached right down to my toes) and twice my girth, there was enough rubber there to have my rain jacket and use the rest to make waterproof overmitts and rain chaps for my legs!

Strangely, there were no mittens to be found and I needed some extra warmth for my hands. Hmmm... Also needing a warm upper layer I opted for a very fuzzy lime green pyjama set - the top would at least partially replace my down jacket and our heads were just spinning with possibilities for how to use the bottoms (Jodie couldn't resist how fuzzy they were and opted for her own hot pink set).

A quick stop at the thread-and-scissor man and we were on our way back to our guesthouse. Soon pink and green fuzz was flying everywhere and our fingers were busily stitching up new mittens, neck warmers, leg warmers and slippers! I even lopped the tops off my moccasins to use the leather as another layer for my hands.

For less than $100, I'm completely decked out with warm stuff and ready to take on the Pamir mountains! And I even learned a bit of a lesson from all of this.... as an outdoorsy type at home, I've gotten to be quite a snob about having the 'right' clothing for the activity that I'm doing. Here I've managed to piece together enough to keep me warm from basic materials that I could find anywhere in the world. What I originally feared might be a trip-ending tragedy has just turned into yet another fun part of the adventure!

Christine

The Long Way Around

2008-10-20T09:20:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Kazarman on a beautiful sunny afternoon after riding through some spectacular countryside - rolling hills where cows and sheep grazed against the backdrop of tall snow-capped mountains and through steep twisty canyons, then cruising along the Naryn River, past homes where women wash clothing and carpets outside, children play in the yard and herders drive their livestock along the roadsides. It was a wonderful day on the bikes, made even more enjoyable by the fact that we looked forward to a homestay in Kazarman, sleeping in a bed and enjoying a warm-water wash.

Our homestay in Kazarman was everything we'd hoped for. While not as special as the night we were invited to stay as guests in Emil's home (as this was a paid for service), we still got to wash up and enjoy the comfort of soft beds and heavy quilts and a breakfast of bread, jam, cream of wheat and tea.

The woman who owned the home where we stayed warned us that the pass that we hoped to cross to Jalalabad had been closed a couple days before because of snow. In the fall, tractors clear the road after the first few snowfalls until too much piles up and they can no longer get through, then the pass closes for the winter. When we woke up the next morning to stormy weather (rain in the valley, but snow on the pass), we knew there was no sense riding that way and so we took a real rest day and spent the afternoon knitting and playing cards. The next morning, we asked about taking a taxi over the pass to Jalalabad. It sounded hopeful for a while, but in the end, the drivers decided that the road was most likely closed (though they would happily take us for a look for $50). Not wanted to waste more time or money that necessary, we decided to bite the bullet and take the long way around....

Despite being only 200km from Jalalabad, we had to drive 1250km to get there! We figure that's sort of like driving to Grande Prairie via Prince George and Jasper. It was a hectic and expensive couple days but we made it in one piece and once again have reaffirmed why we prefer to bike that drive in developing countries (I think my knuckles are still white!).

Unfortunately, not all our our gear made it with us. In keeping with the what-can-go-wrong-will theme of this trip, somehow in the mad rush of unloading in Jalalabad, one of my bags didn't make it out of the taxi (I'm saying it all generally because I honestly don't know if it was intentional or not). Anyway, in this bag was about $700 of outdoor gear including my down jacket and goretex and our water purifyer. Ouch. Most of it (aside from some sentimental items) will be replacable here in Osh before we head into Tajikistan and the Pamir Mountains. Although it's a tough one to swallow, the show will go on!

Christine

On a somber note

2008-10-16T07:40:00.000-07:00

This isn't meant to worry anyone, but we have faced yet another challenge that has left us thinking of everyone at home. Riding out of Naryn we witnessed a car accident. We were the first people on the scene and did first aid. Drinking and no seatbelts were both factors that seemed to make a small incident turn into something terrible. We just want to ask that everyone please be careful and make safe decisions on the road. We are thinking of you all. Big hugs.

Jodie and Christine

Jodie and Christine VS. Naryn

2008-10-10T05:44:00.000-07:00

And we thought that days off were for relaxing! It wasn't to be in Naryn, though...

Arriving in the city, having frozen our butts off and not washed properly in a week(our nightly 'showers' use 2 face wipes each!), we decided to splurge on a 'Lux' room at the Ala-Too hotel with our own toilet and hot water shower! Looking forward to washing, but even more to eating and enjoying a cold beer, we opted to hit up a restaurant first.

I should try to explain here how much food means to us when we've got 'biker' appetites. It occupies much of our thoughts each day and we're always looking forward to the next meal. One night last week, I had 2 dreams: in one, a giant roast beef and cheese sandwhich was just flying around taunting me and in another, Jodie and I were trying to decide which breakfast buffet to hit up because there were so many and they all looked so delicious. But in Central Asia, that is the stuff of dreams and dreams only. In South America, we could count on a hamburger and fries in every city, and even McDonalds chicken nuggets now and again...but here we ride into town salivating at the thought of burgers and pizza and are handed a menu in kyrgyz or russian (we can't even tell the difference, which makes decoding quite difficult!) that we stare at until something familiar pops out at us. And familiar means something that we've tried here before, not something familiar from home! The food's not bad at all, but it's just not what we crave after a week or more of one-pot wonders on the camp stove.

Dinner and a few beers later, we weren't overly concerned when we got home and discovered that there was no water at all in our room - we were content to sleep and clean up in the morning. When there was still no water in the morning (we couldn't even flush the toilet), we started to get concerned. The water will be on by 1:00, they said and so we donned bandanas to hide our greasy hair and went into town.

Back in the afternoon, there was still no water. I tried to communicate that I wanted a bucket so that I could go to an outside tap and at least get water to flush the toilet. Although the woman I was asking had a bucket in her hand, she looked at my like I was nuts to think I could take it. And so we headed to a store to buy our own bucket! By the time we were back, there was water and again we got excited about the prospect of a hot shower. How naive!

Of course the hot water heater doesn't actually work. Well, it feels hot, but no water comes out when you turn the hot tap on. So off in search of help. Three women and one repair-man later, all we get is this sign-language message: the woman pointed at the water heater and said, "ka-pow!". Ok, we get it. But we paid double the regular price just so we could have a shower. Smelly and rather grumpy, we tried to communicate that we wanted some money back. But of course, we have to wait to talk to the director. On October 30. Ok, ok, tomorrow. At 1:00. Nope, at 5.
Incredibly the director fixed the hot water (a bit to our disappointment since we'd already heated water in the kettle to wash with and would have preferred some money back...)

And then the banking. We tried all 4 of our cards in the towns only ATM and no deal. So off to a bank with a huge exchange rate sign on the door. Will you chnage dollars? No. To two more banks...Will you exchange dollars or give us a Visa or Mastercard advance? No. Back to bank #1. Oh, no, we don't take MC, only Visa. Ok, we've got a Visa. Oh, we can't to Visas until Monday. Ok, will you change dollars? Yes, ok (yep, the same ones that said no 2 hours ago!). Baffling, but we've got enough money to make it to Osh.

And so it went on our days 'off' in Naryn. All part of the experience I guess but it sure does make us miss the comforts of home!!

Christine

Downhill, Snow and... Bicycles?!?!?

2008-10-10T05:36:00.000-07:00

The last couple hours of pushing up and over the pass were snow covered and beautiful. However, as soon as we got over the pass and down to our campsite (at 3500m) we thought that we'd escaped the snow and were back to dirt roads. We had our dinner and went to bed - only to wake up to a fresh blanket of snow covering everything! Of course when I first crawled out of the tent I squeeled with excitement - as I do every year when I wake up to the first snowfall. The morning was sunny and beautiful but soon dissappeared and more of the white stuff started to fly... for the next three hours.

In the winter I live for snow and mountains, but because I love sliding down them on a snowboard. Sliding down on a bicycle is another story completely... it turned out to be a lot of good fun that was not without a couple of good crashes. Biking is very similar to driving a car down a really icy road,you can use your brakes but only until you feel a bit of a slide coming on and then you just have to correct it. Most times we came out lucky but there were a few that seemed like BOB had already commited to the fall and there was nothing you could do but go for the tuck and roll.

We loved the novelty of the snow ride, but were certianly ready for the freedom of dry roads when we hit them. The next couple of mornings (at -10C) we were reminded of the wet snow when our cables were frozen solid and we were unable to shift gears.

Maybe I should do my best to save the snow for the snowboard?

On second thought, I did just read a great quote, "The only difference between an ordeal and an adventure is the attitude." - bring on the adventure!

-Jodie

Up

2008-10-09T01:11:00.000-07:00

Riding up over the 3900m pass between Tosor and Archali was definitely the most physically demanding thing that I've ever done and the hardest I've had to push myself to 'just keep going'. All day the road zig zagged up and up and up, much of the way too steep or rough to ride and so we pushed. To break down the 24 kms that we rode that day, approximately 4 of them were ridden downhill at the very end of the day, another 4 were ridden uphill where the road allowed and the remaining 16 were pushed... and pulled, and heaved and ho'd. On the steepest and roughest sections, the process was to take one step forward, find solid footing, then pull your bike up a few feet, squeeze the brakes hard so that it didn't roll backwards and repeat. This is how we inched forward toward the top of the pass, often moving less than 2kph!

As we rose higher and higher, it was impossible to see where the road would go next and so we were constantly guessing. The lesson for the day: if your guess "doesn't look so bad," you're wrong!

Two vehicles passed us going up over the pass and it absolutely baffles me how they made it, but seeing them gave me hope. "If a truck can do it, then a bike can do it!" I have to admit, though that there were times today that I was questionning that and wondering just how long I could keep going. My legs, arms and back were all cramping from the exertion and my heart was pounding because of the altitude.

The weather was constantly changing and with it my outlook. When the wind was scouring us with dry snow and the peaks weren't visible, I had to fight to stay optimistic about making it to the top but when the sky cleared to reveal the 5000m snowy peaks that surrounded us, my mood and energy soared and I knew we could do it.

When we finally did top out at 3900m, we were both all smiles. What an amazing sense of accomplishment! We shouted out loud and took some victory pictures and a few minutes to catch our breath. We didn't spend long up there, though - it was getting close to sun-down and we had to descend lower than the snow to camp.

Christine

Experience cycle touring at home!

2008-10-09T00:56:00.000-07:00

With this simple cycle touring simulation you, too can experience cycle touring - without even leaving town (We'll make it a downhill day so you don't even have to work too hard)! Here's how:

Soak your shoes in water and freeze them overnight. When you wake up, put them on and wear them until they thaw. If it's zero or colder, have your breakfast (oatmeal and tea) outside. If it's warmer, sit in your car with the AC cranked.

Get out a puzzle, duct tape over the picture on the box and start to piece it together. Every 1/2 hour, take it apart, put it back in the box and shake it up (this is like trying to find your way when your map isn't accurate). If you want help with the puzzle, you may only ask someone who doesn't speak your language and may or may not have any idea of what the picture on the box looks like.

Eat stale bread, cold hot dogs and nutella for lunch...eat enough that you feel quite full. If the fair is in town, go get on the zipper. If not, do 20 jumping jacks, slide down a flight of stairs on your butt and then spin around with your head down on a baseball bat 10 times. Try not to barf.

Work on the puzzle some more.

Oh, and don't foget to keep a collection of the most beautiful picture postcards you can find and look at the often throughout the day :)

See, now don't you understand why we love cycle touring so much?!?!

Pictures

2008-10-02T02:59:00.000-07:00

We're having a terrible time tyring to upload pictures here in Karakol so there are only a few...hopefully we'll have a lot more for you from Naryn, where we plan to arrive on October 11th.

Chris & Jodie

Canadian Moma, Kyrgyz Moma!

2008-10-02T01:29:00.000-07:00

Our first night away from Bishkek we were both very tired and really ready to find somewhere to camp for the night. We decided to look around the houses in Kemin and hopefully find a safe spot to set up out tent.

The first two attempts to ask about our tent failed miserably - maybe they didn't understand, maybe they just thought that there was no where for us to camp, we weren't really sure... so we headed back towards the highway. A man on the side of the road said 'Hello' - we immediately jumped on this opprotuntity, asking and half signing to find out where we could camp. "No No. Come to my family house, my mother, my father, my grandmother, my grandfather all there!"

Once we were introduced, we were given soap and water to wash our hands and were shooed into the kitchen where his mother began madly preparing food. Emil got his sisters notes out from an English course she had taken and we flipped through the pages having great conversations! Emil's family didn't speak english, but between him and his friend and a lot of sign language we were able to communicate and have fun.

The family seems quite well off. The mother is a doctor and is running for 'parliment' in the area. The grandparents used to be teachers and his sister is working in Moscow in business (she speaks 5 languages!). Emil works for the government in Bishkek and is just home for the weekends.

I thought my mom was bad for making way too much food and for making people eat much more than their fill - she's got nothin on these guys!!! Tomato salad, soup, bread, jam, cookies, tea, chocolate, MORE, MORE MORE! You would barely take a break and they would be filling your cup or placing more food in front of you! It was all very good and much of it was homegrown. The father actually made the soup and seems to be the one at home looking after the animals and all of the gardening. It was very cute sitting around the dinner table having the parents trying to speak english; pointing at different things around the table and repeating after us, always laughing...

We were not allowed to help clean up but were sent outside for a tour of the place with Emil and his friend. They live on a small property and it is simple but provides a lot. They have a small herd of sheep, chickens, apple trees, apricot trees, strawberries, potatoes, onions, tomatos, and pears. They have just an outhouse, and then a bathhouse/sauna that is seperate from the house. The kitchen and eating area is also seperate from the house. Our bikes were tucked away for the night and locked in a another little shed. Oh, and mom, there are beautiful flowers planted everywhere!

They have a big stove / fireplace that they use to hear water and to cure their sheep in. They were so kind as to start the fire and give us plenty of hot water for a 'shower.' It felt SO good - it was the first warm wash since Canada! It was quite the bonding experience, Christine and I washing in this little room with dippers and pots of hot water. She couldn't even stand up in there!

Tired and ready for bed, we went into the house and set up our beds in the guest room. Emil and his grandmother came in for some more visiting. She is so cute - ooing about where we are going and what we are doing. Wanting to chat, she kept inviting us back again (translated through Emil), and then giggled as she taught us how to count in Kyrgyz.

We also met the grandfather earlier. He is not as mobile as the grandmother so he stays in a room and they tend to him. It is great to see how well both of them are looked after by the family instead of just being stuffed in a home and forgotten.

Emil is very smart and so keen to improve his english that he got out his notebook and got us to translate as he wrote down words that he wanted to remember. He also brought out his photoalbum to show us pictures of his friends and family.

Ok, now it must be time for bed - NO, back to the kitchen!! The mom (our Kyrgyz moma as she called herself laughing) had cleaned up from dinner and started preparing Kyrgyzstans' national food 'Mante' for a snack. Mante are dumplings with a spicy meat filling and are of course served with more tea! We ate what was on our plates and when we declined more, it was ONE MORE! We were so full! These normally do not sit well with me and tonight was no exception. So it was two Pepto Bismo pills, a few trips to the outhouse :) , more visiting and at last sleep.

What a wonderful cultural experiance! Exhausting, but wow, they were such incredible hosts! It is hard to describe how it feels to be taken into a warm home when you are so far away from anything familiar and be treated like family....

-Jodie

"Christina, I LavYou"

2008-10-02T01:27:00.000-07:00

Words you don't care to hear outside your tent door at midnight...

We thought we had chosen a nice hidden campsite, far from the highway and a ways between villages. It turned out that the nice little foot path that we followed to find our little spot was a well-travelled route between villages and so several people passed by as we sat outside our tent and had dinner. Everyone was all smiles, though and gave us the thumbs up when we gestured as if to ask if it were ok that we camp there.

While we ate, a man came to join us for a few minutes and although he seemed strange (simple, shall we say...), he was nice enough and asked our names and where we were from. And then he went on his way...

Or so we thought. As we settled into our sleeping bags for the night and turned off our headlamps, we heard footsteps approach and then stop right outside the tent. Our 'friend' was back. We heard, "Christina, Jodie" and so unzipped our tent to tell him that we were sleeping and didn't want to visit. He pretty much tried to crawl right in and we had to more or less shoo him away so that we could rest.

Or so we thought. An hour later, he was back, this time standing right outside my tent door saying over and over, "Christina, I lav you!" I'm pretty sure these were the only english words he knew and I'm sure that he would have been coo-ing Jodie's name too if only Russian speakers didn't have such a hard time remembering it!

We frantically flipped through our phrasebook, looking for the words "stop" and "go away" and repeated them over and over to him (he was being pretty persistent). We knew that this man was harmless and just didn't understand that we wanted our privacy and in the daylight, such an encounter wouldn't have been a big deal at all. But oh how things change when the lights are out... When he finally left, we both laid wide awake and alert, trying to disern between noises in the wind and human noise.

Finally, we both had to pee and so opened the tent...and there he was, perched up on a small hill looking down at us. "Christina, I lav you". I'll be forever grateful to Jodie for being the brave one that night, standing up outside in her down jacket (extra intimidation) and yelling at him to "go home".

At last he finally did and after an hour or so more of straining our ears against the flapping of the tent and a final look outside to see that we were alone, we fell asleep.

It was an uncomfortable night and a good example of the different levels of privacy that we expect at home and that we get when we're travelling. From now on, though, I prefer to meet my crazy people during the day :)

Our personal security guards: Abdul Karim and Azamat Ali

2008-10-01T02:54:00.000-07:00

It was nearing 5:00, two hours before dark and the time that we normally like to start looking for a place to camp for the night. We were on a long stretch between villages and saw what looked like a promising spot hidden in the trees on the shore of Issik Kul lake. As we scoped out our potential site from the highway, we were waved over by a Abdul Karim.

I'm going to be very honest here, even if I don't like to admit this about myself, but if we were to judge a book by it's cover, this would have been a man who made us want to turn and run. Decked oun in camouflage, dark skinned and with a sgraggly beard, he's just the kind of man that we are taught to fear in western media.... We warily followed him into the compound where he was the head security guard, each of us thinking the same thing: that we'd give him a chance, but that we would be assertive and leave if anything at all made us uncomfortable about the situation.

He lead us down to the lakeshore where there was a beautiful camping spot right on the beach. He told us that we were welcome to camp there and offered us a radio so that we could communicate with him and the other two security guards if we had any problems through the night. Then he disappeared and left us to set up camp. We enjoyed a great dinner while the sun set over Lake Issik Kul and just as we were finishing up, Abdul Karim came back with his fellow security guard Azamat Ali and his huge guard dog, Tarzan. Azamat Ali was very excited for us to take pictures of him and his dog on the lake-shore, which we promised to share by email.

We offered to share some food with them, but they declined since September is Ramadan and as muslims, they were not allowed to eat between 4am and 7pm for the month. We had a brief converstation about religion in our respective countries and Abdul-Karim told us that most security guards in Kyrgyzstan are muslim because they are know for their honesty and for not stealing or harming people. He explained that there were many different religions in Kyrgyzstan and that they all got along well with one another and was happy to hear that the same was true in Canada.

At 8:00pm, just as we were ready to retire to the tent for our nightly knitting and reading (such an exciting life on the bikes, I know!), the two of them were back, this time with a third security guard in tow. We pulled out our sleeping pads so there was sitting room for everyone. Abdul Karim had a loaf of bread and a jar of milk mixed with oil for dunking it in and we all shared it together, and then we shared a bar of chocolate with them, all the while talking about our trip and our country and asking them about theirs, with the help of our phrase book, our picture book and very limited english and kyrgyz. It was a great evening of sharing and we went to sleep that night feeling extremely secure under the watchful eye of our three personal security guards!

Christine

Issik Kul

2008-10-01T02:14:00.000-07:00

Issik Kul is like the Saskatchewan of Kyrgyzstan. In a country that is over 90% mountainous, the shores of this huge lake are the flatlands. Fortunately for the cyclist (for whom flat often equates to boring), this is also the most fertile region and thus the most heavily populated and so a great place to take in some Kyrgyz culture....

In each of the small town and villages that we passed through on the highway between Bishkek and Karakol, small children came running to the roadside to wave and hollar, "hello!" and sometimes "how are you?" as we rode by. The adults were more reserved; some waved and said hello, others would wait until we initiated some sort of interaction, be it a wave or a nod, and then smiled broadly as they returned the greeting. Many people called out, "asgooda?", meaning, "where are you from?" as we pedalled past. A few stopped to chat when we took breaks or stopped at a small shop; all were eager to know where we were from, how far we had ridden and where we were headed. These converstations all took place through an exciting combination of rough english, kyrgyz and sign language and even when they were brief, were beautiful little cultural exchanges. A strange thing that we've noticed is that everyone we meet wants to give us their address and phone number and wants ours in return, even when we cannot speak the same language!

The highway so far has been paved, but 'pavement' means different things in different places and it hasn't always been the smooth black top that is so easy to cruise along. I tried to think of the best way to describe it as we rode along, and this is all I came up with.... You know that trick that you do for little kids, putting a finger horizontally between your lips and wagging it up and down while trying to speak so that the words come out all garbled?! Well, that's what some Kyrgyz asphalt feels like!!

The highways here are shared by belching soviet transport trucks, shiny new BMWs and Mercedes, childern on bicycles far too big for them, terminally ill Ladas and donkey-and horse-drawn carts. Herds of sheep, horses and cows cross frequently, driven by herders on horseback. The contrasts are incredible. One day we even saw a young man steering an old wooden horse drawn cart pull his horse to a halt so that he could answer his cell phone! Acutally, it seems like we're the only people in this entire country without cell phones, which really puzzles the locals who are constanly asking for our number or for us to call them.

The typical rural home here is made of cement or mudbricks, but finished on the outside and painted white, almost always with blue trim (we've seen one house with pink trim, otherwise all blue!) around the windows. The nicer homes are more ornate around the windows, with fancy shutters or glittery mirrors as decoration. The apexes are often done in wood and is the most aesthetic part of the home. There is usually a small door leading to a balcony and the wood is usually quite decorative. Each home has several small out-buildings (kitchens, tool sheds, etc.) and is surrounded by a fence which also includes a courtyard where most of the day's work and chores take place: this time of year, there is corn drying, potatoes and apples waiting to be taken to the market, laundry hanging, hay piled up for the winter, childen playing, etc. Apples and pears are both in peak season right now and there are buckets-full of each outside just about every home. We've been indulging in these often and they're delicious!!

Every day, we ride past a million and one incredible photo opportunities of people going about their daily business, but we try to be discreet and take photos only when appropriate. I hope that our picures will help to fill in any gaps and do better justice to this wonderful place than I can with words....

Christine

a wee warm-up ride

2008-09-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

Tired of hanging around Bishkek waiting for our Tajikistan visas to get sorted out, we loaded up our bikes and headed out on a short warm-up/test drive to the nearby Ala-Archa canyon. Only 40km from the city, it was the quickest way to get out of the smog and into the mountains and would give us a chance to make sure that our bikes were in good working order and that we had all of the camping gear that we needed.

It ended up being a pretty ambitious venture. People often ask us what we do to get ready for a trip like this. Do we bike all the time at home? How to we train? The truth: we don't... I mean really, what better way to train for cycling for 8-10 hours a day and riding over high mountain passes on rough roads than doing just that? So this trip was sort of meant to be 'training'.

And if "No pain, no gain" is really true, then we gained a LOT on that little adventure. In the 40km from Bishkek to the park, we gained over a kilometer of elevation, and then another 600m on our hike the following day! If that isn't training, I don't know what is!

Still, the long slog to the park was well rewarded with wonderful mountain scenery in the steep valley, fall colors, ibex sightings and incredibly clear starry skies at night!

Now, we're even more excited to really hit the road and see the rest of this country...

Maps

2008-09-25T03:26:00.000-07:00

Here are the best maps that we could find of Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan for those that want to follow along.

We have finally learned better than to draw lines on them since our plans change more often than our bike shorts (which is probably less often that it should be!). Instead, each time we leave a large-ish centre where we have internet access, we'll let you know where we're headed next.

With our Tajik visas finally and firmly in hand, we're heading out tomorrow morning around the north shore of Issik Kul lake to Karakol. The next updates (and hopefully more exciting ones) will be from there in about 5 days.

Christine & Jodie

How to get a Tajikistan Visa (cont'd)...

2008-09-24T22:16:00.000-07:00

Step 16: Drop off passports at the embassy and tell them that a letter of invitation will be faxed there soon. Get out of town for 2 days, knowing that your visa will be ready when you arrive.

Step 17: Come back to the city, go to get your visa and learn that your letter of invitation was never sent.

Step 18: Hurry to an internet cafe to see what the problem is...learn that you gave the wrong code to the person who was going to write a letter.

Step 19: Realize that you lost the code. Phone Western Union and learn that they cannot give you the code.

Step 20: Have another beer at 11am to calm your nerves.

Step 21: Have someone translate a note for you into russian explaining that you sent money last week and need the code again.

Step 22: Go to Western Union and get the code. Email the man.

Step 23: Get confirmation that your letter has been sent.

Step 24: (this is now day 8 of this project!) Go to the embassy and get the visa!

Step 25: Do a happy dance and ride your bike back to the hotel with no hands, singing loudly :)

Tajikistan wins the president's cup 2008!

2008-09-21T07:50:00.000-07:00

It was a tense game. With kyrgyz flags flapping, drums pounding, horns sounding and the crowd cheering, "Nada! Nada! Nada!" (goal! goal! goal!), the national soccer team put up a good fight. The game was tied 1-1 at the end of regular time, the same after 2 extra times and it finally went to penalty kicks. Everyone was on their feet and cheering loudly (or boo-ing when the Tajiks kicked) but unfortunately their enthusiasm wasn't enough (nor ours) and the Tajiks took it.

A bit of a disappointment, though we still had a great time cheering with the crowd and being taught how to cheer in Russian :)

Christine

How to get a Tajik visa in Bishkek (in 15+ easy steps)

2008-09-20T08:39:00.000-07:00

Step 1: Spend two and a half hours riding around the suburbs of Bishkek on your bike (dodging people, busses, cars, and manholes without covers) with a scrap of paper with a street name on it, and trying to follow directions given in a clear-as-mud mix of russian, kyrgyz and sign language.

Step 2: Arrive at embassy just in time for it to close for lunch, back track to the nearest food stand and enjoy some delicious samsas while waiting for it to reopen in an hour and a half.

Step 3: Fill out necessary forms and hand them in, only to be told that Canadians now need a letter of Invitation from a tourism company in Tajikistan (this wasn't the case about a month ago).

Step 4: Return to the city centre and spend the rest of the day searching for a tourism company in Bishkek that could help us get the letter. Find none.

Step 5: Eat and Sleep, business hours are over and there's nothing you can do until morning. Sleep in a -30 down sleeping bag in +25 degree heat in order to escape the mosquitos in your hotel room.

Step 6: Continue the search for a letter of invitation, this time via internet. Frantically email all of the english-speaking tourism companies in Tajikistan for help.

Step 7: Become so frustrated that you take a break over a cold pint of beer (9 %) at 11am.

Step 8: Get a reply from Tajik Tourism that they will write the letters for 50 USD each, wired through Western Union. Get your hopes up that everything will work out before the weekend (this is Friday afternoon, by the way).

Step 9: Return to the embassy to hand in our applications and tell them that a letter will be faxed to them soon. Once again, arrive just as it is closing for lunch (at a different time, we didn't really make the same mistake twice).

Step 10: Eat pizza (it's the most common food around here!) because you've been on such a rat race that you're starving.

Step 11: Begin the search for a Western Union, following the same method as to find the embassy. Finally track down a Western Union sign, only to find that there is no longer actually a branch there.

Step 12: Return to the embassy. Determine through some rough hand gesture and even rougher russian that lunch was actually turning into a full day affair and that we'd better come back on Monday.

Step 13: Race back to the city centre to continue the search for a Western Union. Arrive just as they're closing at 5:00. Consider crying, but laugh instead.

Step 14: Eat and sleep. It's the weekend now and there's nothing you can do until Monday.

Step 15: Stumble accidentally upon an open Western Union on Saturday morning when you're not even looking for one (we were actually looking for a toilet since the water and power in our hotel were off). Wire the money for the letter of invitation. One small success!

To be continued(on Monday, when we can go back to the embassy)......

Nightmare in Urumqi

2008-09-19T00:39:00.001-07:00

Our flight to Urumqi, the second stop on our long journey to Bishkek was 3 hours late. It had taken some time to convince the immigration officials at the Beijing airport that we didn't need a visa because we promised not to leave the airports there or in Urumqi and we'd be out of the country within 24 hours. We tried desperately to get some sleep while we waited for the flight, but with no one able to communicate with us in English to tell us what time the plane was expected, we had to keep an ear open for announcements and an eye on our departure gate. I had a migraine and my pills were all in the checked luggage. By the time we finally reached Urumqi, we'd been up for well over 30 hours and it was the middle of the night local time.

We were quite shocked when they kicked us out of the airport because it was closing for the night. Technically, we weren't legally allowed in China at all. So when 5 friendly taxi drivers tried for nearly an hour to convince us to go to a hotel to sleep for a few hours before our flight, we kept smiling but refusing. If we were going to be hassled about not having visas, we wanted to be as close as physically possible to the airport....and so we sat on top of our luggage, right outside the door all night until it opened at 6:30am.

And then the fun really started. My bike box had to be searched before we could get in the door, then we had to pay nearly $200 at 2 different offices before they'd let our bikes on the plane. The fact that we had to pay didn't bother us nearly as much as the rudeness of the airport staff who wouldn't even try to understand our sign language or communicate with us at all beyond yelling "pay money!" and shouting directions in their own language.

Sweating and physically and mentally exhausted, we finally battled our way through security and sat down to enjoy some noodles - our first meal in far too long...only seconds before we were called to board. We scalded our mouths trying to wolf down as much food as we could before the lign-up disappeared, then got on one last plane to Kyrgystan.

Despite hitting an all-time low on the way there (tearfully wondering why we were doing this to begin with), we were hugely reassured as soon as we arrived at the Bishkek airport. The people here are so incredibly friendly and polite and helpful - we are sure that travelling around this country will be wonderful!

Christine

"Hello!"

2008-09-19T00:17:00.000-07:00

Despite all of our stress and headache trying to get here and then to get visas sorted, it's the little moments make this all worth while:
-We were sitting beside all of our gear in the dark outside the airport in Urumqi when a van drove by; we'd been watching the driver unload parcels for an hour or so and he had been too shy to come over and talk to us. When he zoomed by us he leaned out the window and yelled, "Hello! Welcome to China! Bye-Bye!"
-Yesterday as we were walking to dinner we met a group of young children just getting out of school. As they got closer they were looking at us and talking and giggling. Finally one of the boys said a loud "Hello!" and then they all laughed and kept saying it... I replied with a "How are you?" and they all took off running and yelling "How are you! How are you! Hello! How are you!"
-Last night, again walking we heard someone behind us say hello, and turned around to see two Turkish students offering a handshake saying, "Hello, can we meet you?" We talked with them for a bit. They were shy but excited to get a chance to practice their english. They told us how all of their textbooks for computer programming were in english and they realized how important it is.
It is challenging to be in a country where you do not speak the language, but all of these moments make us smile and remind us why we are here. They also encourage us to try that much harder to practice learning the local language. It is so much fun to hear someone putting themselves out there while trying talk to you!
-Jodie

We made it!

2008-09-18T22:07:00.001-07:00

I don't know if we could have chosen a tougher place to get to in the world! 30 (quite unpleasant) hours in transit, but we're here and we can already tell that Kyrgyzstan is going to be a wonderful country to travel around. The people are very friendly and helpful and the mountains that we saw on the flight in were incredible!

We've spent the last 2 days running all over town trying to sort out visas for either China (not going to happen) or Tajikistan (proving to be difficult, but we're working on it) so we haven't had time to sit down and blog or upload pics. We promise they're coming though, before we head out on the bikes.

Update

2008-09-10T14:17:00.000-07:00

Last week, Jodie and I met up in Vancouver for a one-day visa-getting and trip-shopping marathon (chauffered by Corey - thanks!). Project #1 was appyling for our Chinese visas. No problem...just show up at the consulate at openning time and we'd be good to go. Or so we thought. When we showed up, we saw the beginnings of the line. We asked someone where to go and were told, "through the hall, down the stairs, out the door and down the back alley." "Ha ha ha," we laughed. But it was no joke. I guess the first person in line got up at 5:00am. Showing up at 8:30am set us back about 200 people...

So we left. Visa-less. With our only option being to pick up the visas the morning of our flight, we didn't want to run the risk of not being early enough in the line and not getting our passports back. Fortunately, our flight takes us to Kyrgyzstan first, where we know we can get a visa at the airport. From there, we'll be at the mercy of the Chinese embassy in Bishkek...who, by all reports, still aren't issuing visas to foreigners because of the olympics.

But fear not! Chronic planner that I am, I'm alreay looking into back-up plans. We could stay in Kyrgyzstan and get to know just about every road in the small little country or there's Tajikistan to the south, that is supposed to be even more mountainous...

The Plan

2008-09-02T14:32:00.000-07:00

Coming up with a general route for this trip over the past couple weeks has felt almost as exhausting as riding the route will be. It wasn't very convenient for us to want so badly to visit China and Tibet right after the Olympics. Tourism has been very restricted since March of last year and with the legal status of travelling in Tibet changing on a whim at the best of times, it just didn't seem worth the risk of ruining our trip to plan on going there and get turned back.

So there's a new plan...one that, after a bit of research (a whole lot of google-earthing and blog-reading) and letting go of the idea of Tibet, we're just as excited about.

Voila:

We leave Vancouver on September 15th and after a quick (30-hour!) hop across the ocean and most of another continent, we land in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. Kyrgyzstan (I just love spelling it) has a lot of the same appeal that Tibet did: huge mountains, nomadic traditions, friendly people and lots of rural culture. We'll spend up to a month exploring that country, making our way towards the border of China where we'll cross into Xinjiang province along the historical Silk Road.

Once in Xinjiang, we've got a few options based on the weather. The climate there is much like here, and being in the mountains, we could have to reroute a bit if passes are closed due to snow. We hope to take in a section of the Karakoram Highway (the southern loop on the map, where we can see some of the world's highest peaks, including K2), visit the Taklimakan desert (third largest in the world) and hopefully ride over an impressive pass in the Tian Shan mountains before ending up in Urumqi (pronounced 'a room key'). This province of China won't be at all like what we all consider 'Chinese'. The people in this province (actually an autonomous region) are mostly muslim and they are more ethnically similar to their neighbors in the former Soviet Union than the rest of China.

So that's the plan. Subject to as many changes as we need to keep the adventure rolling...that's all part of the fun!

A New Beginning...

2008-08-11T08:32:00.000-07:00

We swore that South America wouldn't be our last ride...and so we're back! The details are still fuzzy but my living room is scattered with maps of Western China (Quinghai and Xinjiang provinces) and Tibet and my butt is slowly getting used to my new Brooks bike seat. We loved the high altitudes and rural cultures of Bolivia and we love mountains and that is why we're drawn to the Tibetan region. It is on the world's highest mountain plateau (over 4000m, with mountains rising up to 8000m) and home to nomadic yak herders, buddhist monks and many han chinese people who have chosen to make this harsh and remote environment home. Travelling in the fall, we expect to encounter some less-than-pleasant weather - from freezing cold nights to snow-covered mountain passes to bitterly cold winds and maybe even the odd scorcher in some of the drier desert areas. What we know for sure is that it will be another awesome adventure! So stay tuned - we'll start riding (and writing about our experiences) in mid-september.

Mark your calendar!

2007-04-21T13:31:00.000-07:00

Ok, so we finally have a time and place for our slide show. We are planning to put together our favorite pictures and stories with music so everyone can see what we were up to all winter (and hear our favorite cycling tunes). We've got a big room with lots of space, so feel free to bring along anyone who might be interested in the trip.

Where: The Cultural Center - meeting room
When: Sunday, April 29th. 7pm.

Hope you can make it!

well, that's a wrap!

2007-03-21T18:39:00.000-07:00

Our butts are happily clad in comfy, flowy skirts rather than bike shorts and our bikes are boxed up and resting happily in the basement of our hostel in Buenos Aires.

6700 kms later, we're done riding for the year and are enjoying a week of relaxing and shopping in the big city before we fly home for another fire season.

The "end" hasn't really sunk in yet so there's not a lot to say about it...it was an amazing ride and certainly won't be our last. On our final night of camping, we were surrounded by cacti in a dry river bed, nestled between mountains. We cooked delicious Argentinian steaks over a campfire fueled by cactus-wood and drank wine, staring at a black sky full of stars and dreaming of future cycling trips. And of coming back to Argentina, because we've only had a small taste of this wonderful country and there are so many more roads to ride! So, maybe this isn't really an end at all...

We're planning a little fiesta in Fort St John when we get home (towards the end of April) to give a slideshow of the whole shebang. We would LOVE to meet any lurkers that have been watching the blog but that we don't know in person yet! So check back and we'll post details here once we've figured them out.

Christine

uphill both ways

2007-03-21T18:31:00.000-07:00

Chugging along south of Salta, I was surprised by how hard the riding felt and I figured that all of the riding on gravel and pushing that we did in Bolivia must not have left us in very good shape for highway riding. For 2 full days, I kicked myself for being in worse shape that when we were riding in the US and Mexico...

On the 2 night, at camp, I turned on the GPS to see what our elevation was - turns out we'd being going uphill the whole time and were over 500m higher than we were in Salta! The crazy thing was what an illusion it was....for most of the way, it actually looked like we were going slightly downhill!

Christine

hitchin a ride....or trying to, anyway

2007-03-15T18:08:00.000-07:00

We decided to hitch hike to Belen....

At 7:30am, we stuck our thumbs out. Well, not really, since there weren't any cars going by. We actually sat on the side of the road playing crib and jumped up once or twice per game to wave down passing vehicles. An hour later, the third car to pass picked us up.

40kms later, we were back on the side of the road. And we sat. And sat. And sat. For 5 hours!! During this time, about 10 cars passed in our direction. Most were full or unable to carry bikes, and some of those stopped anyway just to see if things were ok and to ask what we were doing so far out in the middle of nowhere. The three vehicles that could have carried us didn't stop....and we cursed them appropriately before going back to sitting and throwing rocks under a scortching hot sun.

Finally, along came a red pickup truck with 4 people crammed in the front and one already in the back. They were headed another 40kms down the road, so we piled our stuff and ourselves in and off we went. We were in for quite a tour....the driver, his cheek puffed out with coca leaves, stopped the first time to buy a litre of wine, which he poured into a coke bottle for easy drinking while he drove. It was polished of within minutes but the wheel was still steady. A few passengers were let out along the way until only Jodie and I remained with the driver, his wife and young daughter. We pulled up next to a house and stopped, but the driver told us to just wait, we'd be on the road again soon. We waited in the back of the truck through somewhat of a family reunion and some more boozing... Half an hour later, we were on the road again, a new bottle of wine in hand and music blaring so that we could hear it over the wind in the back of the truck.

We pulled into the driver's yard just as the sun was setting and we were wondering what to do since we hadn't managed to make it to Belen. The only other vehicle in sight was a utility truck with three men and equipment already on board. Ah, but they couldn't refuse to gringas and as fast as we could load our bikes and hop on, we were headed to Belen!

We pulled into town at 8pm, having travelled 120kms in 12 hours..... it was more exhausting and time consuming than if we had just ridden!

Christine

Welcome to the Jungle

2007-03-09T12:24:00.000-08:00

I believe that we may have ridden one of the most perfect roads on our way to Salta! First of all, from the Bolivian border to Salta we dropped 2,500m and it was ALL paved – 380km of luxury. The roads were windy and so much fun! But, it was about 100km out of Salta we hit heaven…

The road was narrow and only one lane wide but had wonderful fresh, smooth pavment; it wound its way through lush fields and ranchland and then into the thickest jungle! We saw birds, butterflies, flowers (even hibiscus), and so much lush green vegetation… oh and one small snake.There were so many sweet smells and sounds (and a lot of oxygen) in the air – it was a shock to our senses after being up on the altiplano for so long! We didn´t realize how much we´d missed everything but as we dropped down into the land of plenty – it was incredible. The road wound up, down and around through this amazing jungle until we finally dropped down, through the warm pouring rain into the cute town of La Caldera. We rode 145km that day because everything went so smoothly, really, it was the perfect cycling road.

-Jodie

Argentinian Escort Service

2007-03-08T11:44:00.000-08:00

It was 5pm, 2 hours before the sun would go down and we had already travelled 100kms. We were stopped for a quick snack when we met Roberto. He had seen us ride through town and ran to get his bike to catch up to us. He loves cycling and often competes in mountain bike races in his hometown. Once he met a French cyclist at the Bolivian border and rode with him over 200kms to Humahuaca. He insisted on riding with us to Tres Cruzes, the town at the top of a pass where we planned to camp for the night. It was 25kms away, uphill. He rode far ahead, easily outdoing us on our loaded bikes after already ridden for 5 hours, and he stopped every few kms for a break and a sip of Coke, which was all he carried. He raced far ahead near the top of the pass and when we got to the town, we thought we might have lost him. We stopped to look around, and there he was, riding towards us with a big smile, but obviously tired, with a 4L jug of water and 2 packs of cookies for us! He bid us good night after we exchaned addresses and he loaded his bike onto a bus that would take him home.

The next day, it was 5pm again and we were already well over 100kms when Juan caught up to us. He is also an avid mountain bike racer from Jujuy who was just out for a leisurely ride. He rode with us for the final 30kms of our day, again easily cruising far ahead on his unloaded bike, but stopping to wait and for a chat every few kms. We parted with him when we saw a good camping spot and he raced off down the highway.

There are so many people out on bikes just for fun here in Argentina and it's great to wave, say hello and have a chat. But these escorts are fast! And they always seem to catch us when we're already tired at the very end of the day and as much as it seems like a great idea to get to know them as we ride together, we just can't keep up!

Christine

the land of plenty

2007-03-03T12:56:00.000-08:00

We made it! Argentina at last!

The last few days' rides were uneventful, save for one more big climb and a whole lot of busses and trucks flying by kicking up dust and rocks with their horns blaring. It was the destination that drove us on, and since there aren't many songs about Argentina (or at least we don't know them), we sang our California and Mexico songs, exchanging Argentina in the lyrics...

"Going to Argentina, going to life the life, sipping on red wine night after night..."

The border was chaotic, but thankfully our bikes bought us a ticket to the front of the line, where I only had to wait for an hour rather than five like everyone else. Still, it was a battle. When I got to the line, I was third. At least 10 people were helped before me. Everytime I would let myself get distracted, I would look back to see that 3 more people had snuck in front of me. At one point, the border guard refused to help anyone until a straight line was formed. After a 5 minute stalemate, he simply accepted the passport of the woman that had just butted to the front. Finally, I used my long limbs to secure my place in line by putting one hand on the wall and stretching the other one out so that no one else could get by. And finally we were in....

But alas, the land of plenty does not seem to have plenty of hotel space and we spend another hour riding around in search of a place to stay, hearing "no hay" as much or more as we did in Bolivia!

But plenty of pavement, there is. The 3 kms of it between the border and town were blissful and we can't wait to hit the smooth black road again tomorrow!

Christine

Off the map and off our rockers!

2007-03-01T13:11:00.000-08:00

"I know I´ve really lost it when shit like this starts getting fun!"
...That was my breaking point (Chris was long gone) after pushing my bike for 25km on a very sandy (and uphill) road that MIGHT be the right one from Atocha to Tupiza! We were told that we could just follow the train tracks and then take the first road to the right... well, my friend, that was not the best advice that we could have taken. The train tracks were a cool novelty at first, but believe me pushing your bike in sand is not fun, even if there are two big pieces of steel beside you. After the first 15km we figured that we really needed to ask someone about the road but there was not a soul to be found, and we seemed to be heading the right direction so we pressed on. It was the next morning that we met our first vehicle. The driver told us that we were not headed to Tupiza, but were on a dead end road! Ahhh, so that sand was just for fun! ...but there was a little 7km trail that we could cut across on to hit the main road.
We made it.
See our photos to understand, I mean really understand how we feel about sand.

-Jodie

bike up, bike down, repeat

2007-03-01T12:48:00.000-08:00

So we heard that there were a few hills between Atocha and Tupiza. I'm not sure who we heard it from, but I'm pretty sure they didn't mention that there are actually 9 (count 'em - NINE) mountain passes between the two. In retrospect, maybe I'm glad that they didn't tell us that, because I likely would have gone 200km out of the way just to avoid so many hills and missed out on some of the most spectacular scenery I think I'll ever see anywhere.

The road snaked up, around and over mountains for 100 kms, keeping us above 4000 meters for most of the way and offering amazing views that seemed to stretch on forever. Exciting plunges to 3700 m, some of which were as steep as black diamond ski runs, were followed by gruelling climbs to 4200 m that had us pushing much of the way.

We didn't learn just how many hills we had to climb until we had already crossed 4 passes and ran into a couple of Italian cyclists that told us we still had 5 more coming! Ouff!

Here are some stats:

- highest pass was 4259m
- three passes over 4200
- all passes over 4000
- elevation in Atocha 3600
- elevation in Tupiza 2900
- longest continuous descent 1300m vertical
- most passes in a day 8 (after climbing most of the first one the day before)

Finally, we hit the river valley that would lead us into Tupiza. It was instantly summer and the temperature, which had been near freezing when we woke up at 3900m, soared to 36 degrees. We were riding by fertile fields boardered by red sandstone cliffs hundreds of feet high that had us looking everywhere but at the road and exclaiming "wow" every time we'd crest a hill and get a new view.

What a ride!

Christine

Two Gringas vs. Every Salina Kid

2007-02-24T13:13:00.000-08:00

A huge part of Carnival is water – there are kids everywhere with water guns, water balloons, and spray foam that are attacking each other and everyone else on the street. Once we decided that we had been blasted by too many times by one group of boys, we needed to get some sort of defence. We each bought a $1.50 can of spray foam and ambushed them! Up to that point, most kids were after each other but once we were involved they all joined forces. We raced up all around the square, chased by screaming kids – I think every kid in town was after us!

Our foam cans ran out and we were left standing with our hands in the air, soaking wet and covered in foam. The kids were laughing wildly (still spraying) and the adults were pointing and giggling.

It was good fun, but made going out anytime afterwards a wet event – of course they would all recognize the only two gringas in town!

-Jodie

Across the Salar

2007-02-24T13:01:00.000-08:00

It was a big disappointment, but one that we were prepared for. Like everyone we asked had told us, there was too much water on the salt flats to ride our bikes across it, but our optimism told us that we had to see for ourselves. So we left Salinas with our fingers crossed and enough food and water to get us to Uyuni. 35 kms of the roughest road we've seen so far (we had to push our bikes DOWN hills because of all the loose rock!) brought us to the Salar's edge, where we met a truck completely caked in salt, whose driver told us about the "harto agua" and gave us a ride back to Salinas.

We waited through the last day of Carnaval until things started to move again, then loaded our bikes onto the roof of a big old bus that would take us to Uyuni. We asked the driver if we could ride on the roof rack with all of the luggage to get a better view of the Salar and once we were settled in, away we went. They had to bombstart the bus and even once it was running, it chugged so badly over bumps and up hills that we wondered if it could actually make the journey.

What we expected to be a 3 hour trip turned into an 8 hour journey. When we finally hit the town on the edge of the Salar, we laughed that we could have ridden our bikes the same distance in less time. It seemed like every person we passed on the road would wave the bus down just to chat with someone on board.

But at last we were on the Salar, and it was every bit as amazing as pictures and stories make it out to be. Where it was covered in water, the sky and clouds were reflected so perfectly that it was hard to tell which was which. Beyond the water, when we were driving over solid salt, we felt like we were on a huge frozen lake except that it was nearly 30 degrees out. The bus stopped for a pee break in the middle of the salar and we took the chance to run and jump and do cartwheels on the salt before crawling back onto the roof.

It was just like our own personal tour of the salar and quite a bargain for only $4 each!!

-Christine

One River = One Beer

2007-02-24T12:34:00.000-08:00

They started small and were a bit of a novelty… but got deeper and softer way too quick! The first one was ok and you could even ride through it. The last was up to my bellybutton with very sticky mud along the bottom… and the Bobs weighed about 65 or 70 pounds. That river was at the end of a huge mud flat that seemed to have a creek or river every few minutes. We made it 10km in 3 hours! Somehow the water was not as much fun anymore! That is, until we decided that we would drink one beer for every river that we had to ford (and a shot for every flat).

One river was super soft on the bottom, and after crossing it we couldn’t figure out how a vehicle would ever make it through when a little truck pulled up with six guys in the back. They said hi, shook our hands and went to work. They tramped back and forth with lots of yelling and hand waving until they had packed two tracks in the soft river bottom, then marked them with willow branches. The driver took a huge run at it and all of the men jumped out of the way as he splashed on by. They then chased him, ready to push. Yup, cleared it! Who needs a bridge?

But a modern bridge we did find! From our map, we knew we had at least one more river to cross and we joked that it would likely be swimming water from the way things had been going. We came around the corner and we couldn’t believe our eyes - a brand new fancy bridge! We decided that it was ok to give up one beer and took it with a smile…

-Jodie

"No, today they are dancing!"

2007-02-24T12:29:00.000-08:00

That was why no stores were open as we tried to find food and water for our ride. And why, when we realized that we couldn't cross the salt flats, we had to spend two more nights in Salinas de Garci-Mendoza before a single vehicle left for Uyuni.

Carnaval brought the otherwise sleepy little town of Salinas to a near riotous state for three full days and nights. Busses, tractors and motorcycles were covered with colorful garland, and tables out front of each were full of empty beer bottles, while those nearby were pulling new ones from tall piles of crates. Men and women, their traditional dress completemented by streamers and party hats, danced wildly to a marching band that played the same song over and over for 3 full days as it followed the dancers through the streets and around the plaza. Two litre jugs of 'potable alcohol' (which looked and tasted like coolant) were everywhere and women tried quite agressively to force it on us. Kids played with water balloon, squirt guns and spray foam (for which we apparently made pretty good targets), while adults threw confetti at onlookers. There was even a poor llama caught up in all the excitement and completely covered in confetti!

As we wandered through town looking for food and water, we were swept into the passing parade by a tiny little old woman who looked to be about 70 but who muckled onto both of us and swung us around with the strength of a man half her age. She whirled us and twirled us all the way to a backyard party where a large group of partiers were surprised to see two gringos among them and increased their efforts and forcing us to drink their poison (we tried it, but I swear more than two shots would have blinded me).

We watched most of the festivities from the doorway of our hostel, where we felt safe from the fire crackers and rockets that were going off all over the place, and from the watergun and balloon wielding kids.

The stamina of the musicians and dancers was impressive, and far outlasted our own as spectators. For three days and nights they drank (more than I think I've ever seen anyone drink and still stay standing!) and danced (until the average mortals legs would have fallen off!) and played music (always the same song, and always out of tune). On the last night, the festivities lasted until 5am! Or so Jodie tells me, I managed to sleep like a rock...

Ah Carnaval - the wildest party ever!

-Christine

550 kilometers of adventure

2007-02-24T12:05:00.000-08:00

…and sand, gravel, dirt, grass, washboard, river crossings, mud, “intense animal crossings,” shortcuts, and many Ys in the roads. We have definitely found the roads less travelled and have loved the experience! We had several days when the only traffic was llamas or the occasional bicycle.

These quiet roads resulted in two very, very fat Bobs! Leaving one town we each had 16 litres of water – that is an extra 32+ lbs!!! It definitely took some creativity and coaxing to get them all loaded up and in the trailers in the mornings.

The weather ranged from pouring rain and hail that resulted in raging rivers and creeks to gorgeous hot and sunny days. The stars on the clear nights up on the quiet 3,700m altiplano were absolutely amazing! We never really stayed out to watch them for long though because they were very frosty nights. The wind always picks up in the afternoon and it really is a great way to navigate- as long as it is a headwind, we are going the right way!

One night the wind even had us huddled inside of a mud brick llama corral for a campsite. Believe it or not, a thick layer of llama shit provides quite a comfy sleep. ;)

Sleep was definitely not a problem though; we worked hard to gain those kilometres! We love mountain biking with our skinny tires and Bobs bouncing along behind. A certain number of bumps, washouts and puddles keep us entertained and having fun, but, when we ride only a few meters and then have to get off and push through sand over and over again or hammer ourselves over rough boulders for hours we are not such happy little bikers. There are narrow off road bicycle trails that help us to regain our sanity a little as we race one another alongside the road. Oh, and chasing emus can also add to our riding pleasure…

A huge highlight of reaching Uyuni is the hot shower and the laundry services as there were none to be found over the past 13 days. There was one river that we used for washing. We just had to ignore the llama shit floating by, a reoccurring element in our lives lately. We thought that people gave us funny looks because we were crazy, but maybe it was the smell… Ahhh life is good!

-Jodie

From the development studies student....

2007-02-24T11:39:00.000-08:00

Travelling by bike allows you the opportunity to see more than just the pretty side of a country, full of pizza parlours, tour agencies and hotels boasting hot showers and free breakfasts. These touristly areas are always a welcome respite when we get to them....we love the chance to speak our own language, and pizza and cold beer taste delicious after countless meals of pasta and carrots.

But the reason that we love riding is that it lets fully experience a place and its people. Here are some observations from rural Bolivia (and in case anyone with an IDS background is watching, these are not generalizations, simply observatons and I fully understand that my views are tainted by the fact that I'm both female and a foreigner):

- As we rode further away from main roads and highways, the small dots on our maps representing towns began to mean less. Small towns were terribly run down and we would often believe that they were completely abandonned until we'd cross paths with a lone inhabitant at the far end of town. Cemented basketball courts are cracking with weeds and have bent, rusted hoops and many homes have been gutted and are left without roofs or doors. There are no schools, offices or stores. The road through town always passes by the main plaza and church, and although these were in awful disrepair, it was obvious that they were once beautiful and had been buzzing with life. Then along came the highway, and with it came industry and opportunity in the cities and slowly these wonderful little villages emptied and were left to ruin. Its a stark and sad result of modernization in Bolivia.

- I read just today that the poverty rate (not sure by what standard) is around 70% in Bolivia. There is a notable lack of money in many rural places, but it's a different sort of poverty. No one here appears to be going hungry. The ground is fertile and the livestock are fat and plentiful. Homes are made of local materials (mudbricks, stones or salt blocks), and yards are large and generally well kept, often with flower beds out front. Kids are at least educated enough to know to say "Hello, how are you?" to gringos and all that we asked went to school. The people that we've met have all seemed healthy and content despite their lack of money, begging the question of whether income is really the best indicator of poverty. Still, the growing importance of money to the people is obvious. They love to ask the cost of our bikes, our plane tickets to get here, and how much I plan to sell the scarf that I'm knitting for. These questions are definitely uncomfortable ones to deal with and we try our best to avoid them, though they seem to be asked out of genuine interest and not bad intentions.

- From our pictures, I'm sure you've noticed the beauty of the native women here, in their large, bright skirts, colorful backpacks and bowler hats. Most women older than 30 or so dress in their traditional (if imposed by colonialists) dress on a daily basis. Those who work as laborers in the public sector are even issued yellow coverall dresses to work in! Men on the other hand, dress in plain dress pants and shirts, and the only time that we've seen them in their traditional dress is during festivals. As is the case in many cultures, it seems that women in Bolivia are the carriers of culture.

That's all I got....wouldn't McGill be pround of the worldly little graduate they produced (or would they rather I get a real job!?)

-Christine

And we're off!

2007-02-10T14:40:00.000-08:00

Across the Bolivian Altiplano. If you can get your hands on a map of Bolivia, we're heading west from La Paz to Sajama National Park, then southeast from there in as straight a line as we can find to Uyuni and the salt flats (which we hear may actually be ride-able now!). We plan to be going through some pretty remote places and travelling some pretty rough roads between here and there and expect that the next time we see a computer will be in about 2 weeks time. So the blog may be quiet for a spell, but then I'm sure we'll have many adventures to share...

Biking the backroads

2007-02-08T07:05:00.000-08:00

You know the road is rough when you have to go just as slowly down the hils as up....and when your odometer actually reads zero at times (we didn't realize that you could actually balance a bike at less than 4kph)!

That's what riding the backroads around Lake Titikaka is like - miles and miles of the roughest road that I've ever seen (actually less a road than a sandbox slash rock garden). It was impossibly steep in sections, so that we spent quite a lot of time pushing. Also repaired quite a few flat tires and retightened a lot of screws that had come loose (and lost a few, too).

After bumping and rattling along for 3 days, our shoulders and arms were more sore than our legs (though our whole bodies were exhausted). Still, though (and does this mean we're suckers for punishment?), we've opted for 700 more kms of dirt before we leave this crazy country!

Christine

"Gringo! Gringo!" and other everyday interactions

2007-02-07T14:35:00.000-08:00

- We can hear them before we can see them. Little kids tending livestock far out in a field yelling, "Gringo! Hola gringo!" from so far away that we don't know how they can tell what color we are.

- A man herding his sheep down the road stops us to ask where we are from and shakes both of our hands and wishes us well in our travels.

- Enrique, a man from the north end of Lake Titikaka, runs back to his house, way up on a hill to get his camera so that he can take our picture. He explains that he is trying to get tourism started in his community (it's so beautiful, it deserves it) and plans on doing his own bike tour around the lake in the fall to promote it.

- Riding into a village at the end of the day, a woman stops us and says, "Congratulations! I saw you in another village! I came here by car and you rode your bikes! Congratulations!"

- We cross paths several times with a van full of people on their way to a fiesta in Moho. Part way up a big hill, we find them stopped by the side of the road. A woman from the group comes running up to us and gives us a bag of cheese to snack on. Meanwhile, 2 men with video cameras have them running and aimed at us, while another asks where we are from and where we're headed.

- On the way up an even bigger hill, we pass a group of construction workers. One runs up behind Jodie and pushes her for a few hundred meters while they all cheer us on.

- Men hawking their fruits and vegetables over a loudspeaker on the side of the road stop mid-word as we pass to say, "Hola Gringas!"

- A group of school kids on the side of the road, yell "Good morning, teacher!" to us - likely the only English words they know.

- When we stop for water in a small town, a group of kids surrounds us and asks all kids of questions about us, our trip and our bikes. They wonder if we stop to sleep at night or ride around the clock. I'm dying to tell them that gringos don't actually need sleep, but I'm not sure how the joke would go over with the adults in the background.

- A man rides towards us on his bicycle, trying hard to mind his own business and ignore us, but when he sees us smile at him and hears us say hello, he breaks into a huge grin and laughs as he says hello back.

These are honestly just a few of the interactions that we've had with people as we travelled around Lake Titikaka. The further off the beaten path we go, the friendlier and more interested people seem to be. The scenery was pretty spectacular, too, but the people are really what make riding around here so rewarding!

Christine

Sunday in Copacabana

2007-01-28T12:32:00.000-08:00

It's 8am and cars are lined up three abreast for at least 3 blocks from the cathedral. Their owners are busily decorating them with flowers, ribbons, and minitures of the Virgin Mary. They are waiting until 10:30, when the priest will come around, sprinkle holy water and over each one and pray for its safe travels. For the few Bolivianos this costs, everyone seems to prefer this blessing over auto insurance.

Once their cars are blessed, the hoards move towards the mountain that rises up from the lakeshore just a few blocks from the cathedral. Here, they work their way up the old stone steps, past the 14 stations of the cross, stopping at each to toss a rock at its base and cross themselves. Midway up, they take a break and have an indigenous priest pray over them. He prays aloud for each person after asking them what they need prayer for, then swirls a burning pot of inscense around their heads and rings a small bell near their ears.

At the top, families and friends gather to enjoy drinks and snacks, as well as the spectacular view over Lake Titikaka and Copacabana.

From the mountain, it's down to the beach, where Bolivian vacationers rent kayaks, small sail boats, and animal-shaped paddle boats, eat ice cream and popsicles, rip around on rented motor- and bi-cycles, and play fussball on outdoor tables. It's an incredibly colorful show and the perfect place to kick back and people watch.

Christine

Dear Creepy Italian Guy,

2007-01-26T14:07:00.000-08:00

Please don't interrupt our journal writing in the sun to try and charm us with your rudeness.

Please don't tell Jodie that she must be slower going up hills on her bike because she's got bigger boobs.

Or that her horse must hate her and hopes that she never comes back from South America.

Please don't tell us that we'd have to dress better if we ever came to Italy.

And please, please, please tell your non-english speaking friend to get out of our bubble and stop throwing out the vibe.

Sincerely,

Christine & Jodie

"I´m high as a kite and I just might..."

2007-01-26T13:49:00.001-08:00

...is what we sang (or yelled) when we could finally see Lago Titicaca and the long down hill that would take us there. Yesterday was deemed to be physically the hardest thing that either of us has ever done! We traveled 75km in 6hrs of riding time (that's SLOW!), including the 30km hill that topped out at 4,275m (14,000ft).

We woke up early to cows that were tied next to our tent - after hearing them breathing, munching and moving around all night. Since we were sleeping in someone´s front yard, our morning business had to wait. However, the area was incredibly populated and there were no public baños so a couple tufts of high grass on the side of the highway had to do. :)

Christine had two flats within about an hour of riding. This was frustrating since it was only day two on the new tires. Other than that, the morning was great with a bit of a climb and then a good downhill into San Pablo de Tequina. The views of the snow capped Andes and Lago Titicaca were amazing!

There were a bunch of big wooden barges waiting their turn to ferry people and their vehicles across from San Pablo to San Pedro. We rode our bikes on and were slowly floated across the water. We were a little concered when we first pushed off as the little outboard engine on our barge seemed to take quite a lot of convincing to start...

Ok, this is where we began the hardest hill of this entire trip! It is true what they say about everything being harder at altitude! At the top of the first hill we were stopped and bent over our handlebars wondering if we were going to pass out or puke! We took our heart rates and they were both >200bpm. weeeee!

From there we slowly climbed up for the next 30km. We passed people hanging out with their sheep, crops planted all over the terraced hillsides, children playing, and houses scattered throughout the hills. There were also roadworkers that ride their bicycles up these crazy hills every day to do maintenance - they must be the fittest people on earth. We were even passed by a guy flying down the hill with a wheelbarrel bouncing along behind his bike! Several people said hi and waved, some yelled "Da-le, Da-le!!" (give'r, give'r!) and one group of kids 'yipped' back and forth with us as we pedalled by. My favorite was a sheep herder who played his horn for us; he first played up on the hill with his sheep, but after we passed, he ran out onto the road and played loudly until we were out of sight. These small but special moments were so wonderful and they gave us all of the extra energy we needed to keep pedalling.

Upon reaching the final summit (after several false ones) we were so exhausted that even the downhill seemed like it would be work. It was all worth it though! We had a blast winding down through the beautiful views, past houses, locals on bicycles, music and even a dance, to the rewarding destination of Copacabaña, where we celebrated with a cerveza and a long deep sleep in a comfy bed!

Jodie

All you ever needed to know about Coca

2007-01-22T13:01:00.000-08:00

You can't avoid the coca leaf in Bolivia. Women sell it out of huge garbage bags in all of the markets, every cafe serves coca tea and it's often touted as the best treatment for altitude sickness. And then there's the coca museum, displaying an overwhelming amount of info on the leaf, the refined product, and all of the implications that both have had for Bolivia throughout history.

Let's see how much I can remember:
- when the spanish invaded bolivia and peru, they made chewing coca illegal because they thought it was 'diabolical'. it's interesting that this was before cocaine existed, so the leaf was not known as a drug...it was only made illegal because of the important social and spiritual role that it has for the indigenous people that spain was trying to convert to catholicism.
- when they noticed that productivity in the gold and silver mines dropped significantly when the miners couldn't chew coca, they actually did a complete 180 and made it mandatory for the miners to use coca and imposed a tax on its purchase.
- indigenous people have been using coca for ages as an anesthetic for medical purposes, the west didn't catch on until the late 1900s
- cocaine was never produced by bolivians or peruvians. it was western countries that came up with the refined product that quickly became a huge problem in the developped world.
- Freud was the first recorded cocaine user in the world.
- the main ingredient of coca cola was originally coca
- since cocaine became a problem in the west, political forces have been trying to cut it off at the source by making coca cultivation illegal. this in turn has all sorts of social and spiritual implications for indigenous people in Bolivia and Peru who still use coca on a daily basis (there are no known health problems associated with chewing coca). it is so important to the people here than they even use it as a currency for bartering in markets.

well, that's all i got for now. the moral of this story is - The coca leaf is not a drug!

Christine

No hay cambio!

2007-01-22T12:37:00.000-08:00

Sorry, no change!

When you go to a bank machine in La Paz, it spits out 100B notes (equal to about 12USD). And yet for most day to day interactions, these bills are completely useless. Things are very cheap here, and no one has change. Those who do guard it closely. To the point that it seems they would rather not make a sale than part with their small bills and be stuck with a 100!

Forseeing that this might be an even bigger problem in rural areas where money is more scarce, Jodie and I headed to the bank today to get enough money and in small enough bills to be useful for the rest of our time in Bolivia (we don't plan on seeing any more banks for quite a while!). By the time I was through with the teller, I had 3 different pockets completely stuffed with Bolivianos in denominations of 10, 20 and 50! Even though it didn't amount to a ton of money, it was our allowance for the next month or so and it felt quite conspicuous. We left the bank sweating as though we had just robbed the place and bee-lined it for our hotel!

Christine

The day that could have been

2007-01-19T17:49:00.000-08:00

January 18th, 2007 started out like any other. We were lazing in our room at the youth hostel in La Paz, Bolivia when all of a sudden an apollo 25 paper spacecraft came soaring in through the window. Folded into it was a note issuing a challenge that may have changed our lives:

"Go a block and a half down the street and pick up a small package that will be waiting for you there. It is to be delivered to an oasis high up in the Bolivian altiplano. Your route will cross some of the most difficult terrain that you have ever encountered. Llamas are the animals best suited to carry you on this journey - they will be waiting for you in the Plaza San Fransisco. You will not be disappointed with the reward that you will receive should you succeed. Good Luck."

Not being ones to turn down a challenge, we hopped out of bed and quickly collected the parcel and our llamas. Downtown La Paz proved a difficult place to learn to ride llamas. The aggressive, honking drivers frightened our steeds, who nearly threw us off several times before we finally reached the city limits.

But this was not to be the hardest part - before reaching the oasis, we had to ford a raging river filled by the monsoon rains, cross a snowy pass at 4800m and fend of swooping condors. Throughout these hardships, we were chewing coca leaves to relieve our altitude sickness.

At long last, when we thought that we could not go on any longer, the oasis appeared.

In the middle of the clear blue lake, two princes were floating in a totora boat, fishing and enjoying cold beer in the warm sunshine. When they saw us approach, they paddled in to shore and and congratulated us. They invited us to feast with them, and took the package that we had carried from La Paz. In it were four Whopper Combos from Burger King.

As we ate, they told us about the reward for our success: we would be granted a guided cycling tour through some of the most spectacular mountains of Switzerland!!!!

After our meal, we laid back for a nap in the warmth of the oasis. When we finally woke up, we were back in our hostel and it was January 19th.

La Paz -WOW!

2007-01-18T09:39:00.000-08:00

I think I am having a sensory overload at the moment. Cars, busses, and vans buzzing everywhere honking like crazy. Most have men hanging out of them constantly yelling prices and destinations ... also diesel exhaust pumping out of them like you would not believe. Crossing the street is an art that we are slowly learning. You must wait for the perfect moment to dart out lane by lane and you often find that you are standing in the middle with vehicles passing on each side. Another very reliable method is to find one of the little ladies to stick to as they wander through the traffic - they seem to have it figured out.
We just came back from Mercado Negro; blocks and blocks of little market stands selling everything from mouse traps to lingrie. There are little round Bolivian women dressed in layers upon layers of bright clothing. They are minding the stands and are often crafting more merchandise. Everything is incredibly colourful and completely fascinating.
The smells go from sweet fruit to raw meat and fish, all of which is neatly laid out under on the small stands.
People are so strong - you see them walking with huge loads tied with rope or cloth onto their backs, slowly bumping their way through the crowds.
Chris and I have been practicing our undercover photography as we wander through the bustling streets. You´ve got to be quick and descreet, often it´s a shot from the hip. Yes, we are that good. ;)
There is so much more to describe, but I believe my brain is shutting down from all of the activity - hopefully our pictures will help to show more of what we are experiancing here... I need a nap!
-Jodie

40 hours on bus later...

2007-01-16T15:18:00.000-08:00

...and we're in the highest capital in the world - La Paz, Bolivia. With headaches and very high heart rates because of the altitude. Walking into the office at the border (4500m) got my heart rate to 100bpm. Hauling our bikes up the stairs in La Paz (3700m) got it to 160! I wonder how riding with a 50 pound trailer will feel?!

More on the awesomeness of being in La Paz when my head clears a little.

Christine

Crazy Canucks Hit Puerto Natales

2007-01-12T10:09:00.000-08:00

We celebrated the end of our hiking and one of Anthony's last nights in Chile in fine style in Puerto Natales. With a bunch of others from our hostel, we enjoyed a fancy all-you-can-eat parilla (BBQ), then hit the liquor store up for some pisco and coke and played cards and enjoyed piscolas until it was time to head to the live Elvis impersonator that was entertaining the town that night. As seems to be the norm down here, the party lasted until the sun was on its way up. Never a dull moment...

Christine

Pain on the Circuit of Paine

2007-01-10T06:43:00.000-08:00

Back in town after 7 days and 112kms on the circuit of pain and resting all of our aching muscles and joints. We've definitely learned that biking muscles and hiking muscles are not the same and getting back on our bikes in a week or so will feel like quite a treat!

On our first day in the park, we took advantage of the blue skies and made the steep climb up to see the Torres del Paine, the incredible granite towers that are the centrepieces of the park.

Not being one to do things the easy way, I decided to sprain my ankle on our first evening. I'd love to impress you all with some exciting story about how it happened, but the plain and boring truth is that I was walking down the stairs out of the bathroom at the campground and bailed.

I took the next day off and spent as much of it as possible with my foot stuck in a glacial stream hoping that the swelling would go down enough for me to hike the next day. Jodie kept me company, but I was jealous of Anthony who went for an awesome ridge walk overlooking the towers and came back with a handful of crystals he had found on the rarely-travelled ridge.

The next day, we packed up camp, Jodie and Anthony taped my foot up solidly with a combo of athletic and duct tape and we were off on the circuit.

For the first 2 days, the trail followed lush valleys full of daisies and other flowers. The green vegetaton, brilliant blue glacial lakes and flowers combined to create a beautiful and colorful landscape that made for very pleasant hiking.

Then it was up over the pass, offering great views of the surrounding peaks and the enormous Grey Glacier that flows down off of the Patagonian Ice Cap. The hike up to the saddle was long but gradual and the real work began with the descent. The trail plunged more or less straight down from the saddle for 3 knee-jarring hours. Because I was favoring my sprained ankle, I ended up with a swollen and sore knee on the other leg from letting it take all of the abuse. Jodie and Anthony had some good laughs watching me hobble around camp and getting up and down that night!

The rest of hike was along rocky hillsides (which reminded me of northern Ontario) overlooking lakes of all shades of blue and green.

We woke yesterday morning to rain and very low clounds and decided that there wouldn't be much to see with such weather and hiked back to the trailhead, calling it quits a day earlier than we planned. Even with some rain on the last day, we were incredibly lucky with the weather. A man we met who was leaving as we were arriving told us that the had had either snow or rain every day for the week that they were there!

Overall, a great week of hiking, aches and pains and all!

Christine

Whoops!

2007-01-02T16:46:00.000-08:00

I can't believe we forgot to blog this!

We went skinny dipping in the Beagle Channel! With complete strangers! How fun!

Happy 2007!

2007-01-02T16:29:00.000-08:00

Feliz Nuevo Ano!

We celebrated in style with fine argentine wines - 4 bottles worth of it!

And after ringing in the new year at a little restaurant, we eventually ended up at a crazy house party where just about the entire town was crammed in the mosh pit, which actually filled the entire lower floor of the house, save for the stage, where a band played latin hits all night long. When we finally left at around 3:30, after being forced outside by a lack of oxygen, there were still a ton of people waiting to get in! They sure know how to party in Argentina!

Cerro Torre

2007-01-01T08:17:00.000-08:00

Until a few months ago, the huge granite spire of Cerro Torre was all I knew about Patagonia and seeing it was enough to make we want to travel all the way down here. Finally, I got to actually see it. We make the 4 hour trek up to the base of the Torre Glacier, looking ahead at nothing but clouds where we knew the mountain should be. At the glacier, there was still no view of the mountain, but we hunkered down behind some rocks to block the wind and waited and watched and did our best to will the clouds away. Very slowly, the clouds lifted and parted, until over 2.5 hours later, we could finally make out the sharp top of the spire. What an incredible way to see such a huge mountain - shrouded in clouds that made it look so daunting. It greatly added to the respect that I have for the people that have climbed it. Wow.

I'm not sure if it was because it was Jodie's birthday or if the weather gods just knew how disappointed I would have been to have come here and not seen Cerro Torre, but we've been told that the day we hiked up to see it was the first clear day in almost a month! What luck!

Chris

Ushuaia

2006-12-28T19:29:00.000-08:00

Oh, Ushuaia. Paradise. How can you not love a place with mountains, penguins and tango?! This amazing southern city is a close tie with Whitehorse for my favorite place ever. I'll be back....

Christine

Let's Dance!

2006-12-27T06:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we rested up our tired feet and legs, and after a delicous BBQ buffet we were ready for some TANGO lessons. Yes, Tango! For a low price of 10$ we got a beer and about 3 hours of great coaching. We started by learning simple steps individually and by the end of the night were combining the steps and dancing with partners. As much as she would argue otherwise, Christine proved that she is indeed a great dancer - she was even used to demonstrate new moves to her not so graceful friend...
I had trouble not laughing at the move where I had to rub our foot along my partners shin, making me feel like a cat rubbing up against a random leg... but all in all it was a great time! It was definitely a little more challenging than two steppin at Looney Toons, but well worth the effort!
The evening wrapped up with two of the instructors dancing to one of their favorites just as they would in competition. They flowed together perfectly - it was incredible!

Jodie

canadian beavers doing us proud

2006-12-26T07:19:00.000-08:00

Tierra del Fuego is full of Canadian Beavers. Seriously. Apparently they were introduced here a while ago and have really been thriving. We were told by some locals as we headed out on our hike that we would definitely see the 'destruction' they have caused in the Fuegan mountains.

So we knew we might see some beaver dams. But we had no idea that we would find them way above the treeline surrounded by rugged snowy mountains. And that some of their dams would be over 10 feet high and that others would be over 100 feet long.

It seems that Canadian beavers are doing even better at the tip of the world than they are at home!

Christine

Hiking the Fuegan Andes

2006-12-26T06:43:00.000-08:00

"We're hiking in the Fuegan Andes, guys! I can't believe we're hiking in the Fuegan Andes!"

(This actually sounds really funny when you say it out loud [Fuegan is pronounced fweg-in])

Even though the forecast was for 3 days of rain with only one morning of potential sun, we were determined to start hiking and we set of for the Valdivieso Circuit as waterproofed as we could make ourselves.

Thankfully, the weather held out and we enjoyed dry weather and great visibility for most of the hike.

The 'trail' was actually more of a rough route, but for the most part we were above the treeline and could easily see where we wanted to go. The first day took us up over the Beban pass, which offered incredible views of the jagged and snow-covered peaks that surrounded us. We took advantage of the long summer day (2 days after summer solstice) and hiked until 9pm and cooked dinner as we watched the sun cast its last light on the impressive rock faces that surrounded our campsite.

The next day, we climbed up over two passes (Mariposa and Valdivieso), which both overlooked beautiful alpine lakes surrounded by incredible peaks and beautiful snowfields. This was Christmas eve and we camped near a small waterfall and celebrated with hot mulled wine as our bed-time drink.

Christmas morning, we awoke to pouring rain but it had more or less cleared by the time we we ready to head out. The final day of the hike took us down a long valley that was mostly skeg and Jodie and I laughed at the fact that we were tromping through ankle deep moss for fun when we get paid for it all summer.

We made it back to the road and hitched a ride back to our hostel with enough time to make our Christmas phone calls and cook up a makeshift Christmas dinner. All in all, it was a beautiful hike and definitely got us excited for more!

Christine

Feliz Navidad

2006-12-25T14:59:00.000-08:00

from the bottom of the world: Tierra del Fuego!

More on the past few days' adventuring tomorrow morning...tonight its dinner, wine and lots of sleep in a warm comfy bed!

Merry Christmas,

Christine, Jodie and Anthony

Whirlwind

2006-12-23T03:13:00.000-08:00

Ouff! 4 days after leaving La Paz and 2 flights and many hours on the bus later, we're at the end of the world in Ushuaia, Argentina. The trip has been quite an adventure in itself and I'm not convinced that biking here wouldn't have been more relaxing!

We left La Paz afer a fun night of partying with some cyclists that we met from Vancouver that involved a midnight dip in the ocean in downtown La Paz and a lot of hair gelling with the 1L of gel that Jodie and I found for a dollar!

Needless to say, we weren't in the best shape ever when we got on the overnight flight to Chile the next morning. Or the overnight flight the next night to Punta Arenas. By yesterday morning, we were running on 10 hours of terrible airplane sleep in three days.

We were exhausted, but not too exhausted to go check out Punta Arena's most interesting attraction, the Penguins on Magdallena Island. WOW! There were over 100,000 of them all over this little island and you could get up pretty close for pictures. Such funny little creatures!

A 12 hour bus ride brought us all the way to Ushuaia, on the island of Tierra del Fuego and we're ready to stop moving and do some exploring.

EXCEPT, somewhere between La Paz and Ushuaia, I managed to lose a pair of jeans, a tanktop, my binoculars, $80 cash, my passport (luckily I got this one back), and possibly my mp3 player (it might be with my bike). At least my backpack is a little lighter, I guess.

WEEEeeeeeeEEEEEeeeeeeEEEee!

Christine

touchdown

2006-12-20T07:39:00.000-08:00

We made it to Chile safe and sound and have met up with Anthony, who we'll be travelling and hiking with for the next 3 weeks. We're running on 5 hours of poor sleep in 2 days, and have another night flight tonight to get us to the bottom of the world for Christmas.

More later, when we've woken up from this travelling haze :)

Christine

¡adios mexico!

2006-12-18T09:34:00.000-08:00

Well, we've seen the Baja - the good, the bad and the ugly of it. There are things we'll miss and things we'll try to forget....and here they are, in no particular order:

We'll miss...fresh fruit shakes for breakfast...hot dog stands...churros...loud mexican music...sandy beaches...clear blue water...pinata stores...margaritas...1 dollar beers...chihuahuas...creative gel hair styles...

We'll try to forget...creepy mexican men whistling and catcalling...hairy man-eating tarantulas...angry guard dogs that aren't kept tied up...cactus thorns that puncture our tires....

It's been great, but we're looking forward to the new adventures (and foods!) waiting for us in South America. We fly to Chile tomorrow (!!) to start round two so stay tuned.

Christine

For all the fun in La Paz

2006-12-16T17:37:00.000-08:00

You were the perfect host! Thanks for the welcome ballenas, balandra beach, the local eats and guiding us to (and most of all, home from) the casa de villa. Sorry for keeping you out so late ;)

The Myers hit Mexico!

2006-12-16T17:02:00.000-08:00

...and Gary, Marcy, Jane, Brandy and Julie! We just had a great week-long vacation with a good FSJ crowd- here are some highlights:
*Dad braved the elments and traded in the Wranglers and the long johns for shorts, earning the affectionate nickname ¨wittle white woper¨from Jullio.
*Jane gave him (Dad) a good run for his money with the ´fish-belly-white´ skin in the early phases, but definitely was the tanned one by the end.
*Marcy provided some incredible dance lessons which made good use of the piñata stick and 80´s hits.
*Mom oooed, awwwed and took pictures of the flowers, ocean, birds, fish, us, and well, pretty much everything...¨Pretty Darn Nice eh?¨
*Chef Boy-ar-Doyle once again showed his talents as he worked his magic in the kitchen to impress Brandÿ. He also kindly sacrificed his kayak when she was getting attacked by the shark- what a nice boy...
*Gary lost count of the Gin and Tonics as his glass overflowed with the limes that were supposed to be used for keeping track of how many he´d had...
*Chris and Jullio harmanized nicely to ¨Punta Pascadero La La La La La¨ and ¨Ole Ole, Ole Ole Ole!!!
There was plenty of swimming, singing, dancing, tequilla and beer drinking, exploring, and tons of laughing - it was a great way to wrap up our US/Mexico journey! Thanks guys!

-Jodie

SHOUT OUT TO JOE!!!

2006-12-16T16:42:00.000-08:00

...it could never be as good as the SF Bitter End party! But, yes it was good fun! We are landing in Santiago on the morning of December 20th - see ya there!?!?
If not, send us an email myers_jodie@hotmail.com & likethepear_9@hotmail.com

¡Baila! ¡Baila!

2006-12-09T10:19:00.000-08:00

We´ve been saving up for a good night of partying for quite a while now - our last one was in San Fransisco over a month ago...

So we put on our best get-up last night (which looks quite a lot like what we wear every day!) and headed out for a night on the town with Gerald, our host here in La Paz (and our boss`s father!). He took us on a tour of the best watering holes early in the evening, including one that was decorated with dead pufferfish lit up by colored lights inside of them. Then it was to the rooftop bar on the waterfront where the real fun began. Before long, then entire place was packed and we were sitting front row for the best entertainment in the house: a cheesy mexican guy hitting on (maybe a bit of an understatement) a girl with all the classic moves - leg up on the stool, arm sway, flexing, unbuttoning his shirt and dancing disco-style to very not disco music. We decided that rather than just sit there and stare at them, we might as well make some friends, so we ordered up a round of drinks and started dancing. Three more gringos showed up after a while and joined our little gang and we tore up the dance floor (Gerald, too!) all night long.

We were having such an awesome time that we didn´t even realize that bars here don´t close at two and when we finally stumbled out of there, we were shocked to see that it was 4 in the morning!

Arriba!

Christine

We made it!

2006-12-07T16:32:00.000-08:00

La Paz! Our destination, 4100 kms later. It´s a little overwhelming to be here and be done the first part of our trip. A big part of me just wants to hop right back on my bike tomorrow and keep on pedalling. But other parts (particularly my thighs and stomach) are desperate for a week or so of lying in the sun.

So, I´m off to grab a cerveza and then take a siesta...this is the time to relax!

Christine