Goal 75 - Machu Picchu challenges!!

On the evening before our departure our couchsurfing host and potential guide unfortunately had to pull out of our expedition to try to see Machu Picchu. He had been conducting enquiries with officials throughout the day to try to get the latest information, and had been told that the whole area is closed to tourists. Furthermore, any guide now bringing tourists into the area against official regulations may be subject to arrest, and potentially lose their guiding permit. We fully understood Ronnie's decision not to take us, but decided that we would still make the journey ourselves, and see how far we could get.

As an overview, this diagram shows the lie of the land around the Cusco and Machu Picchu area. It is not to scale, or cartographically accurate, but is a fairly good guide:-



There are only three ways to get to Machu Picchu: by train via the railway from Ollantaytambo, on foot via the railway line from Hidro Electrica, both options leading to Aguas Calientes, the town from which you would be able to climb up to Machu Pichu. The only other option is by foot via the Inca Trail. The Inca Trail has been closed since two people died in a mudslide in the recent downpours. The railway line from Ollantaytambo was destroyed by the swollen river, and so it appeared that our best option was to try to get to Hidro and walk in from there.

DAY 1

So armed with as much information as Ronnie could give us, Val and I were up early, and took a taxi in the rainy dawn to the northern bus station, and eventually got a ride in a combi-shared-minibus to Santa Maria. The journey took around five hours, over the most incredibly steep, twisting, turning mountain roads. It rained most of the way, and the road was crumbling away in some places, and huge streams washed over it in others. The drop-off over the edge was dizzying. It was quite a white-knuckle ride!

The tarmac changed to rutted gravel roads as we descended into the jungle once more, and eventually we arrived at Santa Maria, a tiny town hidden in a valley seemingly miles from anywhere. We had some lunch, and got talking to an Argentinian guy who had tried a couple of days before to get to Aguas Calientes, and had run into many problems even getting up to Hidro. His Peruvian guide suggested an alternative route to us, which we made note of.

We found a taxi prepared to take us over the next mountain, along with a couple of locals too, but we had to wait for about an hour or so while graders worked way up on the hillside trying to unblock the road, which had been buried under a huge mudslide earlier in the day. Our taxi driver eventually gave up, and we took a much longer alternate route.

On the way we ran into a mudslide across our road, but with the minimum of fuss, or driver and occupants from a following minibus set-to with picks, and before long our driver had his car up and over the road blockage.

The minibus didn't fare so well, and got well and truly stuck, taking around an hour to get him back down off the top of the muddy slope. The amazing can-do attitude of everyone involved was wonderful to be part of. However, as the minibus couldn't climb the obstacle, we had to leave them to return to Santa Maria, and our little group pressed on to Santa Teresa.

There we found a little hostel, and dropped our bags off before wandering around the town, and going to see the huge muddy-brown fast-flowing river.



I somehow managed to get chatting to the local police, and in broken Spanish managed to explain what we were trying to do, and where we wanted to go. "No chance!" was my understanding of their friendly, but firm response. I asked about the alternate route that the Argentinian guy had suggested, and one of the policemen made a phone call. Again, in no uncertain terms he told us that it was very dangerous, that there had been many mudslides in the area, and that the bridge at the end of our planned alternate route was no longer there. At least I think that's what he told me!

At dinner in a small restaurant in town we chatted to a couple of locals who had just walked out of Aguas Calientes that afternoon, and said that both the railway, and the alternate route to Hidro were fine, and quite safe to walk.

Encouraged by local knowledge, we decided to press ahead with our plan, ignoring police advice, and got an early night.

DAY 2

Rising early, we managed to avoid being spotted by the police as our taxi driver took us out of town, and an hour or so later he dropped us at a place called Lucmabamba, little more than a couple of shacks in the middle of the jungle, and pointed us to the start of an alternate part of the Inca Trail.

Our idea was to trek over the top of the mountain, passing an Inca site called Llactapata, from which if the weather was clear, it would be possible to see Machu Picchu. We had decided that this was the option that gave us the greatest possibility of actually seeing Machu Picchu, even if eventually we couldn't get there.

We climbed steeply uphill on a pretty decent path for a couple of hours, and eventually crossed to the other side of the mountain, and started down, reasonably confident that we were on the right path, but worried that we may not see anything because of low cloud cover.



But we were incredibly lucky, and the clouds parted, and through a clearing there it was - Machu Picchu clearly visible across the valley. It was a wonderful moment, as despite all claims that it was impossible to do, all suggestions that we would be better trekking elsewhere, and all of the dire warnings from the police, we had managed to do the seemingly impossible! And we hadn't seen another soul since leaving Lucmabamba! We may have been the only people to see Machu Picchu this day!



The path down was muddy and slippy, but there were no signs of the huge mudslides the police had warned us of, and in the valley the footbridge was in fine condition. Either I had mis-understood the police, or they had been somewhat untruthful to try to discourage us. I suspect the latter to be the case.

We followed the trail along to Hidro Electrica, and wandering past two security guards without a hitch, thinking all was going to be well, and we only had two more hours along the track to go!

But around the next corner we came upon a checkpoint manned by three policemen, who were very clear that we could go no further! They were soon backed up by two more armed National Policia, who were friendly, but very firm. We chatted with them for an hour or so, trying in my best Spanish to convince them that we had a friend in Aguas Calientes to stay with, and that I was a reporter. Nothing worked, even the offer of a backhander in US Dollars!!

Eventually we had to give up, and joined a group of four locals who were heading down to Santa Teresa. We were somewhat mystified when our group turned off and crossed the river, heading up a tiny trail into the jungle, instead of following the main road down. However, all became clear half an hour later as we rounded a bend in the river, and on the other side could see that the road had simply collapsed into the river and been washed away. It would have been impossible to pass the devastated area.

The route through the jungle took about two hours, and were amazed to find that the crossing back to the other side was in a tiny cart suspended on a cable high above the raging river. What a thrilling end to our journey! Once at the rough road we all piled into a taxi, and headed down once again to Santa Teresa.



From there we discovered that the road to Santa Maria was blocked again, and took a minibus taxi to Quillabamba, in the opposite direction to where we needed to go, but at least on clear roads.

Quillabamba turned out to be an amazing place when we got there. Hidden away in the jungle, it seemed to be a busy, thriving city, teeming with people, and filled with trendy shops selling fashion clothing and expensive electrical items. How did such a place come to be there, seemingly in the middle of nowhere?

We decided to stay overnight, and went out around the town to eat, and for a couple of beers. For two days we hadn't seen a single other tourist or traveller, and in the bar we were quizzed by many of the curious and friendly locals as to what we were doing and where we had been.

DAY 3

The last day of our adventure was a long, six hour minibus journey back to Cusco, highlighted by the fact that the bridge at Ollantaytambo was now being washed away, and no vehicles were able to pass. We had to walk across the rather precarious bridge to get into another minibus at the other side, while his passengers heading the opposite way did the same.

All in all, it has been the most fantastic three days, and was exactly what Val and I had wanted, more of an expedition than a tour. We were both disappointed that we hadn't managed to get to Aguas Calientes, and ultimately to Machu Picchu, but were both extremely proud to have actually managed to see the place, which looks incredible. This way, I have managed to achieve the goal of seeing Machu Picchu, and yet have the opportunity to return one day and do the whole Inca Trail, and see the place again in a different manner, hopefully under much more favourable circumstances.

My thanks to Val for being my travelling partner on this journey, and for his incredibly positive attitude about the whole adventure. I would have been much further outside my comfort zone if I had been alone.

Also huge thanks to Ronnie and his brother Willy for kindly providing accomodation and much-needed local information and advice.

Thanks also to our lunchtime Argentinian contact, Marco, and his guide Julio, without whom we wouldn't have known about the Llactapata trail, and to Percy and his friend, who convinced us that the Llactapata trail would be fine to take.

Also I must mention all of the local Peruvians we met along the way, taxi drivers, fellow passengers, hostel owners, and friendly people in bars that made the trip so special too. Everyone is so incredibly friendly, helpful and welcoming, even the gun-toting policemen! And equally remarkable is the amazingly positive attitude of everyone in the face of all sorts of obstacles and difficulties.

Peru, what a fantastic and fascinating country. I hope to be back soon!

Mal de altura!

I would have had a great day in Cusco yesterday if it wasn't for the awful altitude sickess that made the day pretty miserable. At over 11,000 feet above sea level, it is a very sudden change from Lima, and on my arrival day, apart from a little dizziness and plenty of huffing and puffing walking along anything but flat ground, I thought I was going to be fine.

However, as evening approached I started to develop a bit of a headache, and went to bed fairly early. I had a very restless night, sleeping very little, and feeling somewhat feverish. Yesterday morning I felt truly dreadful, and after a quick chat with Ronnie and his brother Willy, who had booked me a tour in the afternoon, I went straight back to bed.

I felt much better when I woke again, and walked into the city centre to catch the tour bus. The tour was very interesting, taking in five Inca locations in and around town, but at the first hint of uphill walking, my head was pounding again. I hadn't eaten much, and really didn't feel like anything at all.



As the tour progressed we climbed higher into the hills around Cusco, and the views of the city were fantastic, but now at over 12,000 feet I found it hard to be very interested at all. I was simply longing for a headache tablet and my bed. It is hard to describe just how awfully debilitating altitude sickness can be.



I managed to force a sandwich down with a cup of coffee on the last stop of the tour, and I felt a little better by the time we got back down at Cusco. In the first pharmacy I found I bought some tablets for "mal de altura", and an hour later felt fine. I managed some dinner, and had an early night.

I woke at 6am, and felt absolutely marvellous. I had another altitude tablet just to be sure, and headed for the airport to meet Val, who was coming in on the early flight from Lima. I have been looking forward to joining up with Val again, as I had such a good couple of weeks with him and his friends in Colorado back in August last year.

We dropped his bags off at Ronnie's, and went for some breakfast and a quick walk around the city. Continuing our Machu Picchu research, we called into a couple of tour operators to ask about the possibility of getting there. Most responses today were very negative, and the tourist information office in the city centre gave us a very definate "No way!"

We found one agent that was a little more encouraging, but had nothing definite to offer. Back at Ronnie's he seemed much more positive about getting to Aguas Calientes, but from there says that he can make no promises, as the bridge which crosses the river there was possibly going to be demolished, as it has suffered so much damage. If the bridge is gone there is no way across to the Machu Picchu side of the river at all.

So we really have no idea how this may all pan out, but as of this moment the plan is to set off early tomorrow and try to get to Santa Maria by bus, from there by car to Santa Teresa, car again if possible to Hidro Electrica, and then trek along what remains of the rail line to Aguas Calientes. This section may involve some detours into the jungle around missing or flooded sections of line, but we hope to get to Aguas Calientes by the end of the day. It is certainly going to be a challenge and an adventure, to say the least, as we will be some of the first people to try to do this since disaster struck, and nobody knows how bad things are yet on this route.

Obviously I don't intend to take the computer with me, so if all goes according to plan, and we set off early tomorrow, this will be that last blog for a few days, until we return to civilisation!!

Machu Pichu misery.

My goal of seeing Machu Picchu has increaced in difficulty, it would seem almost to the point of being impossible. A week or so ago the Cusco and Machu Picchu area suffered torrential downpours, resulting in mudslides and avalanches throughout the region. On the Inca Trail, the four-day trek leading to Machu Picchu, a local guide and a tourist were killed by a mudslide. Th Inca Trail has now been closed.

The railway line which connects Cusco with Aguas Calientes, the town which is the base for visiting Machu Picchu, runs along the banks of the River Urubamba, and large sections of rail have been swept away, effectively cutting off the town of Aguas Calientes. Tourists and locals had to be airlifted out of Aguas Calientes over a period of days as weather closed in again, and food and water supplies ran out.

It is now estimated that the rail line will take around two months to repair, and Machu Picchu has been closed, for an estimated similar period of time.



My visit to Machu Picchu has been planned to fit nicely between seeing Easter Island and the Carnival in Rio in mid February, with a stop off on the way for a quick visit to Iguazu falls. And so I have had my flights all booked since the end of November, from Santiago to Lima, Lima to Cusco, and then on the 9th of February, from Cusco to Lima and on to Buenos Aires.

Over the past few days I have heard nothing but words of warning, and messages of doom and gloom regarding my chances of getting to see Machu Picchu, and the realistic side of me has to agree, it does seem like an impossible task under the current circumstances.

However, as I had already paid for my tickets, and any change will incur heavy penalties, I decided to continue on to Cusco, and see how the situation looked when I got there. As always, I try to maintain a positive outlook, and hope for the best. I also tend to think that you have to look at the problem from all sides, and seek an alternative option that others may not consider. I have a couple of ideas that are worth investigating, and haven't given up on this goal yet!

It's only a short flight from Lima, and I arrived in Cusco at around 11am, and made my way to Ronnie's apartment. Ronnie is another couchsurfing contact that my friend Val got in touch with, and he is kindly accomodating us for our stay in Cusco. Val is scheduled to arrive a couple of days after me, so my task now is to try to find some way of resolving our Machu Picchu dilemma.

Cusco itself was also hit by flooding, but as I have wandered around town this afternoon, it is hard to tell, as all seems to have returned to normal now, apart from some obvious places where water has pulled away alot of earth, or part of a pathway.

The city is very eyecatching, with green mountains on all sides. I was surprised to find that it is much bigger than I expected, and I discovered that around 500,000 people live here. At an altitude of 3,400 metres (I think that's around 11,000 feet) it is one of the highest cities in the world.

I wandered around taking photos of the city squares and ornate cathedrals and churches, ate in a tiny cafe, and wandered some more, and then attended to practical matters, and took most of my clothes to a nearby laundry for some much needed cleaning.



I had a long chat with Ronnie about Machu Picchu possibilities, and also did some research around town. More news to follow if and when we get anything organised!

Lima, Peru.

Lima is an interesting place, filled with unusual contrasts.

I arrived late on Saturday evening after my flight from Easter Island to Santiago, and my connection from there to Lima. Despite it being well after midnight when we landed, the line to go through immigration was enormous, and took over an hour. After collecting my bag, there was another huge line for customs. It took over an hour and a half from getting off the plane to getting out of the airport - the worst airport exit experience so far!

I had been in contact with couchsurfer Claudio, and he had arranged for a taxi to collect me at the airport, and I think for the first time in my life, as I came through customs there was someone I didn't know, with a sign with my name on it!

It was well after 2am when I got to Claudio's house, but he didn't seem to mind, as he had only just arrived home from a party.

The next morning he took me on a fantastic tour of the city, and we visited the older, historic centre. I got to try the favourite local drink pisco sour, an alcoholic drink made from raisins and flavoured with strong lemon, in the finest hotel in the city.

Claudio is very knowledgable on the city's history, and gave a great toor.



We headed to the beaches and took a look along the spectacular coast, and finished the day at a sports club where we ate a local favourite, ceviche, a very tasty, and very healthy, raw fish dish, and then ended the day with a sunset swim in the ocean.



Today I had to take care of much more practical matters, and my first job was to take a taxi to the vaccination centre to get my jab for Yellow Fever, which I will need to enter Brazil.

I then wandered back into the city, and took a guided tour around the Franciscan Monastary, the most fascinating part of which was the walk through the catacombs filled with bones and skulls of an estimated 25,000 people.

The city is fascinating, because of the amazing differences between modern and old, and the obvious gap between rich and poor too. Some 8 million people live here, a large part of them in huge sprawling shanty towns on the hillsides above the city. But in stark contrast, on the other side of the hill there will be a gated community with scattered mansions guarded by well-armed security guards.

Compared to European prices, everything is so cheap, and I was amazed at the amount of groceries $10 bought me, and how far $4 or $5 will take you in a taxi. The taxi driving is a little nerve-wracking, to say the least though.

It is a fun city to explore, and I'm glad I managed to schedule a couple of days here for a quick look around.

Many thanks to Claudio for his wonderful hospitality and the hugely informative tour of his city.

Leaving Easter Island.

On my last full day at Easter Island I woke at the campsite to a bright, crisp, clear, sunny morning, and decided that I would again climb to the top of Terevaka volcano for the amazing view. After a quick breakfast I was off on the scooter, and parked by the spectacular "7 Moai", and within the hour was on the summit again.

I really enjoyed the climb, and the view was so much clearer than the previous day. You really could get a feel for how isolated the island is. Take a look here:-


After a bargain empanada lunch at a takeaway van I went to the museum, which gives a fascinating overview of the history and culture of the island. From what is known they had a very rich society and culture, but the arrival of the European explorers in the 18th century changed things forever. Due to several combined factors, including famines, epidemics, civil war, slave raids, colonialism, and near deforestation, a population believed to numbered somewhwere between 7,000 and 17,000 was decimated, and in 1877 only 111 Rapa Nui people survived, and so much of their history was lost. Of these 111 only 36 had offspring, and all Rapa Nui people now claim to be descended from these last remaining 36.

Once again, more information, told in a much better way than I can explain it, can be found at Wikipedia here.

On my last evening Andres and I arranged to meet for a beer or two with Diana and her guests, and Roberto, the third couchsurfer on the island came along too.

It was the first night of a big Rapa Nui festival on the island, and we went along to watch some of the singing and dancing, and then at midnight, as the full moon climbed higher in the sky, Roberto, Diana and I decided to take a drive out to Anakena Beach. The full moon illuminating the dark and silent moai was very atmospheric.



The next morning I took my large bag to the airport and checked it in, and then kicked around at the campsite for the rest of the morning, I had a quick lunch and went to drop Andres's scooter off, and he very kindly took me up to the airport to see me off.

It really has been a fantastic week on the island. It is such a beautiful and unique place, and it has been great to see it through the eyes of people who live there. Huge thanks to Andres, who has made the week such a pleasure, and has been so helpful and generous. I hope I get to return the favour soon. Thanks also to Annette for our day out in her hire car, and to Diana and Roberto too, and of course, not forgetting the people of Easter Island for their wonderful hospitality.

If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend you go to see Isla de Pascua.

"100 Goals" final day big party invite!!

With a bit of spare time on my hands over the past week or so I have been working on an idea I have had for some time now. I have pretty-much got things organised as I had hoped, and now I am inviting you, Dear BlogReader, to join me to celebrate the end of my two-year journey. Please read on....

I would like to invite you to come along to:-
"Ian's End Of 100goals100weeks Big Goal Achievment Celebration" !!

Date:
Sunday 4th July 2010

Location:-
Statue of Liberty, New York: 11.30am
Central Park, New York: 3pm
When I first started on my 100 weeks adventure, flying on Sunday 3rd of August 2008 from Perth in Australia to Dubai, to achieve my first goal there, I had not worked out what the actual end date of my adventure would be.

It was about eight months later, back in Perth again, after my first seven-month journey, and achieving over thirty of my goals, that I sat down to plan my second trip, and worked out when the 100 weeks would actually come to an end.

I have always seen this whole idea being controlled by the time period, rather than the goals themselves, and have always imagined ending it all at the end of Week # 100, hopefully with 100 goals completed, but satisfied if I have only managed 86, 93 or 97. It is the adventure and the people that have been more important to me. The goals themselves have just acted as a sort of framework to build my adventure around.

To me, it would be nice to achieve them all, but as well as being an optimist, I am also a realist, and accept that some things may be beyond my control, and may hinder the completion of one or more goals. And of course, I can always complete any unfinished goals at any time after the 100 weeks.

So I worked out the end date, 100 weeks to the day from when I first flew out of Perth, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it falls on the Sunday 4th July 2010. Now I am sure that most of you are aware that July 4th is a pretty big day in America, being Independence Day, when the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 is celebrated.

A large part of my first trip was spent in the States, and again on my second trip I spent several months there too. In fact, overall, USA will be the country that I have spent more of my 100 weeks in than any other, including Australia!!

And so it seems only fitting that my journey should end there on this big celebratory day. I have thought long and hard about where I should hold my celebration, and have eventually decided that New York seems like the best place.

Why? Well New York was place where I first arrived in the States back in October 2008, and my first US goal (Goal #9) was achieved here when I went to see the Statue Of Liberty. Lady Liberty has for many years represented, among other things, hope and freedom, and has for many people arriving from other parts of the world been a symbol of a fresh new start.

And that, I think, is what the past few years has been all about for me too. My life took a dramatic and unexpected turn towards the end of 2005, and still looking for answers and closure, a couple of years later I put my whole life up for sale on eBay. That led on to this goal-setting adventure, and I have certainly made a huge change in where my life was heading.

And the end of my 100 weeks is also going to be a new starting point for me. As I write this I have only the vaguest idea of what that new start might be, but do have some ideas and possibilities rattling around in my head.

So what better place to end my journey than in the city where my first American goal was achieved? At that time it wasn't possible to go right up the statue, and so along with a few others who joined me, I only managed to get to the pedestal. Now however, it is possible once again to go right to the crown, and a few days ago I managed to make a booking to go once again to see the statue, this time on 4th July 2010, and am planning on finally going up to the top.

You are more than welcome to join me in re-achieving my New York goal, in an even better way than last time, but I imagine that bookings for the 4th July will fill fast, so if you do want to come along, you will need to book as soon as possible. I am booked on the 11am ferry from Battery Park, New York, and propose, as last time, to meet anyone who can come along at the flagpole on Liberty Island at 11.30am.

I picked the 11am ferry, as there are 10am and 9 am ferries prior to that, which at the time of my booking were available too, so if you wanted to come and the 11am sells out first, I guess you could get an earlier ferry and wait on the island - see you at the flagpole at 11.30am. There is also the possibility of booking your ticket departing from Liberty State Park on the New Jersey side of the river too, and there are ferries available from there at 8am, 9am, 10am and 11am too.

Tickets, including ferry ride and access to the crown are a bargain $15 - what better way to celebrate Independence Day? - and can be bought online here:-
Statue Cruises

Whether you can make it to the statue or not, a big (hopefully!) celebration will take place afterwards, when I plan an open invite party in Central Park in the afternoon. Meeting place will be as marked on the second map, at 3pm. Please feel free to bring along any friends or family, anything you may care to drink, and perhaps some nibbles too.

I am a bit vague on New York's policy about drinking alcohol in public places, but I do plan to have a beer or two - might just have to keep it hidden in a brown paper bag in true Central Park style! Hey, but maybe getting arrested on some sort of public nuisance charge would be a fantastic end to the whole adventure, and perhaps the book too - which is goal #100, of course!

I really hope you can make it. See you there.

Best regards,

Ian


Details:-

11.30am, Sunday 4th July 2010, at the flagpole on Liberty Island, New York:-


3.00pm, Sunday 4th July 2010, Central Park, New York
(a short stroll from 72nd Street Subway Station on Central Park West):-


Google Map Link:
100goals Final Day Map

There may be trouble ahead ...

With my Easter Island goal well and truly achieved, I have been enjoying my time on the island, practicing my Spanish with Andres, and riding around on his scooter checking out things I haven't seen yet. I have also spent a bit of time catching up on emails and website tasks which I have let slip a little recently.

While checking my email yesterday I got one from Val, who I meet up with again very soon in Cuzco in Peru. He suggested that my next goal, our trip up to Cuzco and onwards to see Machu Picchu may present us with some serious challenges. He sent me a news link which reports that heavy rains and mudslides have blocked the train route that we will be taking, stranding tourists there, and causing the government to declare an emergency!! People were being airlifted out, and we are wanting to get in within the week. Oh dear!

"This year is absolutely atypical. This situation hasn't occurred in the last 15 years. ... the river has never been so high," Tourism and Foreign Commerce Minister Martin Perez said at a news conference.

What timing! More at Yahoo News here. Oh well, nothing we can do about it until we get there and see what the situation is. It has been suggested that Machu Picchu will be closed until the 8th February, and our flight out of Cuzco is on the morning of the 9th, so maybe all is not lost!

However, these pictures suggest otherwise - that railway is certainly going to be tricky to repair:-


I once read that if you are worried about something, there are two possibilities:-
1). You can do something about it - if so then get on and start doing something!
2). You can't do anything about it - then you may as well stop worrying!!
I think that this certainly falls into the category of "There's not much I can do about that at the moment!"

So, in the meantime, I still plan to enjoy my last couple of days on Easter Island, and then a couple of days in Peru's capital, Lima.

Last night Andres took me on a bit of a tour, and we explored a couple of caves that I didn't know about. One was very interesting, with a tiny little crawl-hole entrance, leading to a cavern which split into two, each branch opening out in a spectacular window halfway up the seacliff, looking out over the ocean.

This morning I headed out on the scooter to the foot of Terevaka, the highest volcano peak on the island. I climbed towards the summit, and teamed up with Janet and Jose, mum and son from Santiago who were just ahead of me.

At the windy summit the horizon was a bit cloudy and hard to see, but the view on a clear day must be awesome. You can see the whole island, and then beyond in every direction, nothing but the vast Pacific Ocean. Easter Island is so incredibly isolated. The nearest populated land is Chile, 3,510 kilometres away to the east, and to the west the next populated place is Tahiti, at around 4,000 kilometres distance. It was a bit hard to make out today, but apparently the curvature of the Earth is easily discernable from the summit.



This afternoon it was back to more immediate practical matters, as I had nowhere to sleep tonight. Andres's sister and brother-in-law return home today, after a week on duty at the fire station, and the house is full once again, so I need to find alternative accomodation. At least I had the scooter for the afternoon to go searching!

My first port of call was a campsite I had spotted down by the beach, pretty close to Andres's house. I had soon managed to rent a tent for a couple of nights, and got myself settled in and connected to their wi-fi.

Around Easter Island.

I still had Annette's hire car the next morning, and deciding to make the most of it, got up at 6am and drove north-east in rainy darkness to see sunrise at Ahu Tangariki, on the east coast. Quite a few others had the same idea, so there were quite a few of us wandering around in the gathering dawn enjoying the atmospheric spectacle.



I had planned to go out later in the day on Andres's scooter, but the rainy weather continued, and I decided to use the rest of the day to relax and unwind instead. I read my book, dozed a bit, watched a movie and read some more. I think I must have been pretty run down, as I ached a bit after my bike crash, and despite sleeping for a couple of hours during the day, after another Spanish lesson with Andres, I slept for ten hours!

I felt wonderful when I woke this morning, and headed out on the scooter to see more of the island. It was a great ride in the sun up to the north coast of the island. I took the scooter down some narrow, unmarked tracks, and enjoyed the rugged coastal scenery. It is all very wild and spectacular.



My main goal was to see Anakena, on of the island's very few beaches, and another fascinating and picturesque moai site.



I also swam at the beach, as it was such a nice day. There was a decent surf rolling in, and I did a bit of body-surfing, but gave up when I lost my goggles - don't want to lose my contact lenses too!

Goal 74 - Rapa Nui.

Last night I was invited to Diana's house for dinner, the second of the three Easter Island-based couchsurfers that I have met, and she made a fantastic spagetti bolognese. She is from Switzerland, and has been living on the island for a year and a half, working as an alternative healer. I met five of her Swiss friends who were visiting, as well as Annette, another couchsurfer staying there.

Annette is from New Zealand originally, but has lived and worked all over the world. She is right at the end of her own incredible journey, having just rode a motorcycle all the way from the tip of Alaska, down through Canada, USA, Central and South America. She made it to Tierra Del Fuego, and with the end of the momentous journey in sight, only 200 kilometres to go to the very tip of South America, remembers nothing more until she woke in hospital five days later.

She has a broken collarbone, and her crash-damaged bike is currently in a repair shop in Buenos Aires. She still has no idea what happened to her, and how she crashed the bike. You can read more of her adventures on her website:
www.alaska2argentina.co.uk

We found we had alot in common, and spent the evening comparing travel experiences, injuries and adventures. We met the next morning for breakfast in a cafe, and Annette had decided to hire a car for her last day on the island, but needed me to act as her driver, as her shoulder isn't up to the job.

By 11am we were in a Suzuki 4WD and heading out of town for Rano Raraku, a volcanic crater on the north-east side of the island, which was known by the original inhabitants as Rapa Nui, the navel of the world. The crater was used as a quarry, and it was here that many of the amazing stone heads, called moai, were originally quarried and carved, before being transported to their standing locations.




The place is absolutely extra-ordinary. There is a lake in the volcano crater, and dozens of wild horses roam around freely. On the inside slopes of the volcano crater, many moai stand looking westward. Some have fallen over, some are only half finished. We wandered around between them, marvelling at the work involved to put them there. On the outside of the crater there are many more heads, even bigger and more impressive. The whole place has a strange, slightly surreal feel about it, and we happily soaked up the atmosphere.



Not far away at the coast we stopped to look briefly at Ahu Tongariki, where there is an impressive, and much photographed line of fifteen heads standing silently side-by-side. It is quite breath-taking.



We followed the road all the way around the island, stopping at several other sites, including the spectacular Ahu Akiva, where another line of 7 moai face directly towards where the sun sets at the equinoxes.



The whole island is steeped in history, and much mystery still surrounds the moai, and the reasons for building them. Read more about what is known of Rapa Nui's unusual and fascinating history at Wikipedia here.

We returned to town, and ate wonderful empanendas, a sort of huge pie filled with meat and cheese, and watched surfers on the popular surf break, and then it was time for Annette to pack her bags and I dropped her off at the airport.

Back at home I met Andres, and as promised he was ready to give me my first Spanish lesson, and we spent an hour or so working through numbers and colours, using pool balls as teaching aids.



Annette had only needed to hire the car for the minimum 8 hours, but for 5,000 Pesos more (about $10) the hire could be extended to 24 hours, so I had paid the extra, and have the car until tomorrow morning. Andres had some work to do, so headed up the hill out of town to watch sunset at the lovely high point at Orongo. Viewpoints here look down one side into a huge volcanic crater.



on the other side there is also a wonderful view westward over the sea to the two tiny islands offshore where clans would compete against each other in a dangerous "Birdman" competition. This involved climbing down the steep cliffs, swimming out to the further of the two islands, getting a bird's egg, and being first back to shore and up the cliffs with an unbroken egg. A representative of the winning clan would hold the powerful position of "Birdman" for the next year.



Just before I arrived on the island I downloaded and watched the 1994 Kevin Costner-produced movie "Rapa Nui" which wonderfully dramatises the making of the moai, and the birdman competition. It is well worth watching, particularly for some historical context and the spectacular locations.

My thanks to Andres for kindly providing accomodation, bicycle, Spanish lessons and more, to Diana for a wonderful dinner. And of course, huge thanks to Annette for taking me along with her on her last day on the island, allowing me to achieve goal 74 with her. What a wonderful day.

Andres has said that I can rent his scooter over the next few days, and I plan to be out as much as possible, exploring more of the interesting locations on this fascinating island.

Basic bicycle blunder.

Do you ride a bicycle? I'd like some feedback from you on a question I have, which I'll come to shortly.

I have ridden bicycles since I was a kid, and have ridden motorcycles since I was 15. I've had my fair share of falls and scrapes, even breaking my collarbone in a spectacular cycle incident at the age of 12. And although I don't consider myself any sort of cycling expert, I've always thought of myself as pretty capable on a bike.

And so yesterday, when I found myself off the bike and on the ground, sliding quite painfully and, I imagine, quite spectacularly through the gravel, I cursed myself for making a error so basic as using the front brake on a gravelly surface. How could I be so stupid? I knew better than to use the front brake, even in a quick automatic reaction when a car suddenly appears around the corner. I could ride better than that, couldn't I?

I am starting to think that this type of photo of myself is becoming a little to common:-



Andres, the couchsurfer I had heard from just before flying to the island, came to visit me at the hostel on my first day on the island, and that evening we went out for a couple of beers. He said I could move into his spare room the next day, and as I ate breakfast at the hostel yesterday morning, he dropped his bicycle off, which he said I was welcome use throughout the week if I wished.

It was quite a tricky ride from the hostel to his house with both of my rucsacs on, but I'm pretty good on a bike, I thought! I made it without incident. Later in the afternoon I decided to head up the hill to the south of town to one of the island's interesting locations.

I was going quickly downhill towards the main road, and at the junction ahead, unwisely decided to cut the corner and try to keep my speed up. I was unlucky, and there was a car coming the other way. I hit the brakes. The front wheel locked instantly, and down I went at high speed, onto my left side, re-scraping the same arm injured in my fall off the ostrich, and hurting the same ribs again! I was winded but basically okay, and the concerned car driver was soon on his wayagain, after stopping to help me.

I abandoned my journey, and headed back to Andres's house to painfully clean the gravel out of my wounds. I was cut, scraped bruised all over - left thigh, left hip, ribs, left shoulder, and right palm.

Later in the evening I was invited to Diana's, another of the island's couchsurfers, for a fantastic dinner, and decided to cycle there. I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, and made sure I took it pretty carefully, weaving my way home at midnight, but at one point had to brake approaching a junction.

"Wait a minute..." I thought to myself, "there's someting odd here!" and I stopped to examine the bike, testing both brake levers. Now, every motorcycle I have been on, and I am pretty sure every bicycle I have had, had always had the fornt brake on the right. A motorcycle will of course have the clutch on the left, but a scooter or bicycle will have the back brake on the left.

As I examined the bike in the darkness my spirits soared. The front brake was on the left! When I had reacted automatically in the face of gravelly danger I had pulled the left lever pretty hard, and on most bikes this would have resulted in a controllable rear-wheel slide. But not on this bike! It had locked the front wheel and down I had gone! I was so pleased that I hadn't made a stupid error. My only mistake was not to have realised earlier that the brakes were the other way round.

And so I ask you... Which side is your front brake on? Does anyone else ride a bike with the front brake on the left? Is this a common thing that I need to watch out for? Let me know! It might save me more pain in the future, particularly as I am considering a big mountain bike descent in the mountains of Peru. Thanks.

Isla de Pascua.

The flight to Easter Island, or Isla de Pascua in Spanish, took around five hours, and I was met at the airport by Barbara from Kona Tau Hostel, which I had booked for one night. I have been trying to find a couchsurfer to stay with on the island, but I have only found three people here registered on couchsurfer.org. I managed to get in contact with two, but unfortunately both have their couches occupied during my time here. However, at the last minute, late night on my last evening at the hostel in Santiago I got a message from Andres, the third person I had written to, and he said I could stay at his place for a couple of nights. Fantastic, I think it will be great to get a bit of local insight into the island, rather than just joining an island tour.

After dropping my bags off I took a walk into the little town, Hanga Roa. The whole place reminds me very much of Christmas Island, where I spent two weeks in December last year. The islands are similar in size, Easter Island being a little bigger, I think. Both are formed by past volcanic activity, both pretty tropical, although the slopes of Easter Island are bare compared to the thick jungle of Christmas Island, and both are very remote. The population on Easter Island is bigger than Christmas Island, around 3,800 here compared to 1,400 on Christmas Island. The whole little town has a very similar, local, friendly feel to it, with small shops filled with hideously expensive food, all of which has to be flown in from afar, just like Christmas Island.



I walked down to the seafront, where there was a surf competition taking place on what looked like a pretty dangerous break with some nasty hidden rocks. Just along the coast by the tiny little harbour I came across my first carved moai, one of the huge, elongated head-shaped sculptures that the island is famous for.



In town I researched car hire prices, which are, unsurprisingly, expensive. I think a scooter, at $60 for two days represents better value than $80 per day for a car. The island is only 24 kilometres long and 12 kilometres wide, so shouldn't be too bad to get around on too wheels. I am looking forward to doing some exploring over the next few days.

Santiago de Chile.

It was a long day of travel, flying from Johannesburg, in South Africa, to Santiago, in Chile, South America. I was up at 4.30am, and dropped off at the airport just after 5. The first short hop took me back into Cape Town, and flying in I got a great view of Table Mountain from my right side window seat. On the way out I was again on the right and as we turned west across the cape south of the city I got my last glimpse of the spectacular mountain, with it's tablecloth of cloud.



Next stop was Buenos Aires after a long flight over the southern Atlantic Ocean. I was lucky there, and at the LAN Airways transfer desk I was asked if I wanted to be changed to an earlier flight onward to Santiago. This was great, as it meant I would arrive in Santiago around 9pm rather than well after 11pm, and would still be able to get into the city to find accomodation, rather than spend the night at the airport, as I had originally planned.

A bus took me to the city, and after a short journey on the Metro I found the hostel that I had booked for the following two nights, and was lucky again, they had one bed left that night.

Despite a long day and late night, the next morning I was up really early, as Santiago is five hours behind Johannesburg, and as it got light at 5am, it felt like 10am to me.

After breakfast and a quick study of a map, I took a wander into the city. It is wonderfully refreshing after three weeks in Africa to wander around a city and not feel that you have to have be constantly looking over your shoulder, watching your pockets, or fending off unwanted sales pitches. I really enjoyed Africa, but it is nice to just blend in again, and be able to wander freely and at ease.

I ended up climbing the 800 metre peak just to the north of the city centre. On the summit there is a huge statue of the Virgin Mary, called Madre de Santiago. I had scrambled alone up the steep slopes, having decided to take the more direct approach, but the cafes at the top were busy with tough cyclists who had ridden up on the road, and less hardy tourists who had come up on the cable railway.



The sweeping view of the city was marred somewhat by a smoggy layer, and the snow-capped mountains to the east, I am sure, would be spectacular on a clearer day.

Back in the city I did some necessary grocery shopping and headed back to the hostel for a late lunch. Ventana Sur Hostel is a friendly little place, with a swimming pool, free Wi-Fi (always a big plus for me!), a great breakfast included, and wonderfully helpful staff. I spent the rest of the day hanging out by the pool, chatting with other travellers, and catching up on some overdue email tasks.

I planned to explore more of Santiago the next day, but was still battling the jetlag a bit, sleeping only five hours or so again. The lure of the sunny poolside proved too strong, and I ended up spending the whole day at the hostel relaxing and while I had a good internet connection I thought it might be wise to sort out some necessary practicalities for the next couple of weeks of travels.

I tried to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, as another early morning was required to catch the first Metro at 6.30am, and then the bus back to the airport, and finally another long flight to the world's most remote inhabited place, Easter Island.

Money matters.

I have become slightly obsessed over the past couple of days with the huge denomination, but totally worthless, Zimbabwean Dollar notes.

There are many different sets from different years, but the most recent, which went out of circulation last year, are the nicest looking, and easiest to collect. It is also the best, because there are note in millions, billions and even trillions of dollars!

So I had a couple of notes from my initial disastrous financial transaction in Bulawayo, (Ah, but who really won, him or me? He may have got US$20 from me, but I ended up with Zim $60,000,000,000 (60 billion) and a brief new hobby!) I had also gathered a few more random notes in Victoria Falls.

It was only when I moved across the bridge into Zambia, and took a closer look at the small collection I had gathered, that I thought it might be nice to collect a full set, and maybe one day frame it, if I ever have a wall to hang it on. My favourite is the amazing 100 trillion note - $100,000,000,000,000. I was told that just before they withdrew the nose-diving currency, you needed four of these notes just to buy a loaf of bread!

So I made a list, and back on the bridge, and among the groups of taxi drivers, and the touts in town I gathered some of the notes I was missing. But there were still gaps. Some people would tell me that those notes had never been printed, but then the next group would produce one of those notes! I took everyhing I was told with a pinch of salt.

One guy on the bridge took a copy of my list of missing notes list, and promised me that the next morning he would have some of them. The one I really wanted was the 20 Trillion Dollar note. I knew it existed, everyone agreed, but all said it was very hard to get hold of, and quite rare.

On my return to the bridge this morning my contact had not arrived, and his mates laughed, suggesting that he dared not show up, as he had failed to find any of the notes I wanted, after his confident promises of the previous afternoon.

Another guy, Emanuel, who I had met a couple of times before, produced two more notes that I didn't have, and offered to help me find the elusive 20 Trillion, and reckoned he knew many people in town who might have one.

So we took a taxi back to town, and trawled the craft market stalls. Emanuel certainly knew alot of people there, but we couldn't find the rare note! Eventually I had to call it a day and head back to the hostel to grab my bags, and head the airport.

I thanked Emanuel for all of his help, and happily gave him a big tip. It had been a lot of fun scouring the town with him. I have really enjoyed my couple of days in Livingstone. It is a wonderfully friendly place, and the people are quick to smile and laugh, and are very welcoming to strangers. I think I got to be fairly well known as the eccentric note collector guy, and would often be asked by someone, "Hey Aussie, have you got your 20 Trillion yet?"



On the flight down to Johannesburg I met a fascinating guy, Bjarte, who has a very interesting family background, half Zambian, half Norwegian, with a bit of Canadian in there too. He was heading back to Norway after spending several months working on the family's retirement house in the Zambian bushland. We got onto the subject of films and TV series, and found that we had very similar tastes, both amazed that we knew of the same obscure actors and TV series. The flight passed very quickly and pleasantly.

At the airport, I decided to try one of the backpacker hostels nearby, and gave them a ring as I waited for my bag to come off the carousel. Rob and his family and staff at Shoestrings Airport Lodge were wonderfully helpful, picked me up from the airport, and dropped me off again at 5am the next morning to check in for my flight to South America. Alot better than a night on the airport floor! Rob later told me, "Jo'burg isn't the safest airport to sleep in!" I think I made a wise choice, and got a good safe night's sleep instead.


Footnote: Further research:-

I had a look on Wikipedia, and found a few interesting articles relating to Zim Dollars. The first one (Zimbabwean Dollar) gives a good general overview, and lists all the notes available from the 2008 series that I was collecting as follows:-
$10, 20, 50, 100, 500 thousand
$1, 10, 50, 100, 200, 500 million
$1, 5, 10, 20, 50 billion
$10, 20, 50, 100 trillion
I wasn't too bothered about collecting the $,000s, but am missing the 20 and 100 thousand dollar notes.
But more importantly, I didn't even know there was a $200 million, and of course, I never did get my $20 trillion.
Can anyone help? Only four notes needed to complete my set!
$20,000
$100,000
$200,000,000
$20,000,000,000,000



Other articles:-
Banknotes of Zimbabwe
Hyperinflation in Zimbabwe - fascinating, inflation rates of millions of percent!!
Balancing Rocks

Victoria Falls video.

Dr. Livingstone, I presume?

When I first went to see Victoria Falls, I had one of those wonderful days when everything just falls into place, and the day just couldn't work out any better.

After seeing the Falls I collected my bags from the security post, and walked down to the Zimbabwean border, exiting the country, and then out onto the bridge, and across to the Zambian border on the other side. I knew my visa here was going to cost US $50, but only had $30 left. A bit of negotiation meant my visa cost me $30 plus 10 Pounds Sterling - for once I was on the winning side in a currency exchange.

I managed to find a taxi, and shared with three local heading into Livingstone, paying a bargain price of $2. The town was named in honour of Dr. David Livingstone, who discovered the Falls in 1855. He, of course, had named the Falls after his Queen.

I was dropped off at the door of the backpacker place I had chosen, Livingstone Backpackers, and was very pleased that it was less than half the price of any other place I have stayed in Africa so far, and has twice the facilities! Free internet, swimming pool, climbing wall, and in the afternoon that I arrived, climbing and canoeing practice!

I met Cameron, who was sharing my dorm room, and on the advice of one of my fellow canoeists, we headed by taxi to the Royal Livingstone Hotel, where on a beautiful wooden patio we sat sipping local beer, watching the sun set over the Falls.



Back in town we headed to a local bar, as Zambia were playing Cameroon in the African Nations Cup (soccer), and the atmosphere in town was very festive!

We were the only travellers in there, but were made very welcome, as we were cheering for the local team, of course! Unfortunately Zambia lost 3 - 2, but each time they scored, the place erupted - what a great end to a fantastic day.

The next morning I headed by minibus taxi to the Zambian side of the Falls, and was equally impressed once again, The views are magnificent, and the sheer scale of the whole scene is hard to comprehend. It truly is an extraordinary place.



Across the Knife Edge Bridge, I wandered around the rocky outcrop a couple of times, once taking photos, and once just to try to soak up the view for myself. The rainbows at the base of the Falls were beautiful.

A path led down rhe steep vally to the Boiling Pot, where the river exits from the gorge below the falls, and the view up to the bridge high above is impressive.



What a place! I really am glad that this was on the list of 100.

And that pretty-much brings to an end my time here in Africa, at least for now. I would love to come back, and spend more time travelling around - it is so friendly, and so much fun.

On next to South America. I fly from Livingstone to Johannesburg, and plan an overnighter at the airport, as my flight to Santiago, via Buenos Aires, departs early the next morning - another couple of long days of travelling ahead!

Goal 73 - regal Victoria Falls.

The town of Victoria Falls itself is pretty small, and it's only a short walk from the station to the town centre. However, it is possible to attract double-figure pesterings in such a short distance! I think being white here means that you have a huge $$$ sign above your head, as it is absolutely impossible to walk anywhere without being offered taxi rides, tours, statues, figurines, necklaces, food, drink, and of course, Zim Dollar notes! I will be very careful if doing any further note trading!!

Once I found a hostel I showered and changed, which was wonderful after a couple of long days and nights of travel. After lunch I wandered back into town, and then down towards the Falls. Chatting to a family returning from viewing the Falls, I decided that I would need my waterproof camera case - they were soaked! So I opted to save my entry fee for the next day, and instead took a wander just down the road to the border crossing into Zambia.

There I found out that I could pass throught the Zimbabwe border, even without my passport, and wander down to the bridge over the Zambesi, in no-man's-land, between the two countries. There were more enthusiastic touts on the bridge offering bungy jumps, zip-lines, statues, jewellery, and of course, more Zim Dollar notes - I was very tempted to buy a 50,000,000,000,000 (fifty trillion) note for a couple of dollars!

The view from the bridge back upriver to the Falls is spectacular, and the view downstream too is of a deep gorge, huge river roaring through the middle, with the spectacular-looking Victoria Falls Hotel perched on the edge in the distance. You can't really see all of the Falls, as much of it is hidden around the corner, but the height is spectacular indeed, especially when seen with a couple of people on the island in front to give some scale.



One of the local tourist policemen took me down a little back path to a great viewpoint looking back up the river to the bridge. The spur of land inside the sweep of the river is part of Zambia.



In the evening I found an internet cafe, and managed to book a flight back to Johannesburg from Livingstone in Zambia, so my plan changed slightly. I had decided that flying back to Jo'burg was the only option, as overland would have taken two more days, and I didn't have enough time or patience for more bus journeys. I had expected to fly back from Victoria Falls, and just take a one day trip into Zambia, thereby avoiding another hefty visa fee. However, flight from Livingstone and visa are the same total cost of flight alone from Vic Falls.

So the next morning I packed my bags again and walked down to the Falls entrance, running the gauntlet of touts once again. Entry was a multi-currency option, and I decided to pay using some of my remaining SA Rand, saving my US Dollars, which are much more widely accepted here.

The views of the Falls are stunning. I started at one end at the Devil's Cataract, and then followed the gorge along on the opposite side to the Falls, seeing the Main Falls, Horseshoe Falls, and ending up at Danger Point, where you can see the river exit the gorge and head down under the bridge.



The Horseshoe Falls are amazing, at over 100 metres high. The noise and spray is incredible, and at Danger Point it was impossible to avoid getting soaked. I was glad I had waited to bring the waterproof case for the camera!



After achieving my goal of seeing the Falls, having spent a good long morning admiring the Zimbabwe side, it was time to cross the border into Zambia.

African travel adventures.

Like many of the things I decide to do, such as selling my life on eBay, or setting out with a list of 100 goals, a familiar phrase can be used to explain my decision to head north into Zimbabwe by travelling overland... "It seemed like a good idea at the time!"

I had enough time on my hands, and the idea of a train, then bus, then another train to get up to Victoria Falls sounded very relaxing, and a refreshing alternative to yet another flight!

After meeting with helicopter pilot John, and his flying instructor buddy Gerhard first thing in the morning, the first part of the journey involved a shared minibus taxi from John's hostel in Port Elizabeth to the railway station. I had bought my ticket for the overnight sleeper train in advance, and was very pleased to discover that I had a two-person sleeper coupé all to myself. Unfortunately the shaver power socket did not work, so I was slightly limited in the time I could use the computer for.

We departed at 1pm, and headed along the coast before turning northwards into the countryside. I read, relaxed, and headed to the very plush restaurant car for dinner, for a bargain $5, It was very atmospheric, as outside the window the sun set over the African bush. Finally I watched a movie before bed. The cabin was very comfortable, if slightly warm, and I slept so well after a few shared dorm nights in hostels.



The next morning I managed to recharge the computer in the restaurant car at breakfast, and had a shower too, (what great facitities!), before we arrived in Johannesburg. My plan here was to try to find a shared minibus heading north into Zimbabwe, and hopefully make it to Bulawayo in time for the 8pm overnight train. But we had arrived late in Jo'burg, and my initial wander around the streets to the area Martin's guide book had suggested had produced no results, so I headed back to the station for a coffee. By now it was pretty obvious that I was never going to catch train from Bulawayo that evening.

My first taste of big bad Johannesburg came as I sat drinking my coffee. I had put my bags carefully down at my feet when I sat, and was lost in a tricky Suduko puzzle, when some sixth sense told me to look around, just in time to see my smaller rucsac, with computer, money, passports, everything of value in it really, being spirited away by my seated neighbour.

I was slightly lost for words, a surprised "Heyyyy..!" being the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment. "Yes, you mustn't leave it on the floor," he helpfully suggested. "Or what? Someone will take it?" I retorted, sounding annoyed now, I think. He left the bag and scuttled off, leaving me laughing in surprise and relief.

I bought myself a ticket on the only bus I could find for that evening that was going to Bulawayo, and headed out of the other station entrance with a few hours to kill. I got chatting to Tony, who runs a second-hand book stall outside in the square, and he was astounded when I told him I had been wandering around with my bags looking for a minibus. "You did what? With your watch and rings on, carrying your bags? Man, you really must have a guardian angel."

"It's not really that bad, is it?"

"Man, I'm telling you, it's wild out there!" this tough looking guy told me. "They'll mug you for a cell phone, and kill you just so you can't identify them. If they can't get your ring off they'll cut off your finger to get it. I warned a traveller once, and he went around the corner just there, fifty metres away, was mugged and lost everything he had!"

I spent most of the rest of the afternoon chatting with Tony, and headed back into the relative safety of the station for dinner, before the bus was due to depart. I kept a very close eye on my bags.

The bus wasn't the most comfortable, but I was lucky enought to bag three seats together on the back row, and managed to get a good amount of sleep throughout the night. We crossed into Zimbabwe at around 4am, a process that involved a US$30 cash fee for a visa. (It would have been $55 if I had used my UK passport instead of my Australian one!) A further unnofficial payment was required so that customs didn't have to bother searching our bus. Our communal bus bribe of 10 Rand each kept our border crossing time down to only two hours instead of three.

In my bus there wasn't one other white face, and among the many hundreds at the border crossing I was completely alone in the huge crowd of locals. My bus-seat-neighbours were very friendly, and I spent some time chatting to Tony (another one), who gave me plenty of local Bulawayo info, including some help to get to the railway station.



At the station I had breakfast in a nearby cafe, and decided to change some money with one of the dodgy looking, illegal money changer touts, who was offering a good rate. I was keen to get my hands on some out-of-date Zim Dollars, and we struck a deal. As we changed the money he rolled his half of the transaction up and surreptitiously passed it to me under the table, as there was a policeman nearby. What fun, I thought, trading on the black market like a professional already, and I've only been here five minutes!

My connection left, and I looked at the bundle he had given me, and an alarm-bell suddenly went off in my head. I knew immediately what had happened, and unrolled my bundle with a sinking heart. I had 60 billion Zim Dollars, but not the 150 Rand I should have had too. He had switched his bundle to another pre-prepared one as we exchanged, and what I had was worthless paper and nothing more. I dashed to the door, and down the street, but he was already gone!

Back at the cafe I sat down again and laughed. How could I have missed that! I thought I was a pretty seasoned and worldly-wise traveller, and yet had fallen for one of the oldest ones in the conman's handbook! Still, I thought as I smilled to myself wryly, it could have been alot worse, I was only US $20 out of pocket. It was a very cheap lesson really, and one I won't forget anytime soon.

And of course, I can't be too upset, as I am now a billionaire! Unfortunately the Zim Dollar was taken out of circulation last year as it's value went into freefall, and a million dollars would no longer cover even the cost of a loaf of bread. The currency here now is a wild west sort of mixture, with prices in US Dollars, South African Rand, and purchases being able to be made in any other sort of well-recognised currency, such as Pound Sterling, or Euros.

Despite my lesson learned, Bulawayo is much nicer than the tiny part of Jo'burg that I saw. I left my bags in a baggage room and wandered into town. Although there isn't much to see, it's all very relaxed and friendly, and peolple seem very cheerful and happy. I did some shopping, and stumbled on a movie theatre showing a pretty average bawdy romp called "Virgin Territory", starring Hayden "Star Wars" Christiansen. It only cost $2 entrance.

I also treated myself to a badly needed haircut, and paid $1 in a little shop that doubled as a bed salesroom too! However, if you pay a buck for a haircut, you do end up with a true one-dollar-haircut! You may spot it in future blog pictures, but I will be wearing my cap for a while!

I bought chicken and rice for dinner and sat on a pavement to eat it, feeling quite at ease and unthreatned, despite having seen only three other white people all day among the thousands in town.

More coffee at the station cafe allowed me to recharge the computer, ready for the third overnight leg of the journey, and at 8pm I was aboard the train departing for Victoria Falls.

The Zimbabwe train cost me an amazing bargain $12 for a first class overnight sleeper ticket, and although the old British rolling stock has long ago seen better days, the journey was reasonably comfortable. However, calling the journey first class is somewhat mis-leading, and true only in that it is a step above second class, where more people have to fit in the same size cabins.

Again I was lucky enough to have a cabin to myself, and was amused at how little worked. There were no lights at all, just bare wires hanging from holes where lights may once have been. The window was jammed, the sink held in place by wire, and the small table kept collapsing. However, being in first class meant that sheets and blankets were included in the ticket price. I slept really well again.



We arrived at around 10am at victoria Falls, and I soon found a backpacker hostel, dropped off the bags and had a coffee and a shower before going in search of spectacular goal 73.

Lucky meetings.

After the bungy jump, back at the hostel I chatted with John, a helicopter pilot who runs tourist flights, and he told me of the backpacker place he also owns in Port Elizabeth. We swapped stories for a while, and I told him about achieving my helicopter goal, as well as my goal to learn to fly a plane. He soon had me on the phone to Gerhard, a pal of his who runs a flight school. I will try to meet him when I get to Port Elizabeth, although time on this trip is too short before I fly to South America.

After their day out trekking, Sandor and Melanie picked me up at the hostel, and we drove to surfer town Jeffreys Bay, where we stayed at the surfer-packed hostel there. The place was lovely, right on the beach front, very relaxing.



The next day my new travelling companions' route took them through Port Elizabeth, so I grabbed a lift again with them, and they dropped me off right at the door of John's Helicharter Hostel. Their kindness and assistance has been very much appreciated.

I met up with John for dinner, and the next morning headed out to the airfield with him to meet his buddy Gerhard, who runs Madiba Bay School of Flight. It may well be worth coming back here to do my flying lessons, as Gerhard and his wife Yvette seem very enthusiastic about my project, and can offer a very competitive package to get me flying solo.

And so this afternoon it is time to head for the train station to catch the sleeper train to Johannesburg, beginning my long journey up to Zimbabwe, aiming for my next goal - to see Victoria Falls.

Goal #2 revisited.

Martin and Rachel have flights booked out of Cape Town to Johannesburg, where they plan to go on safari to Kruger National Park, so it was time for them to start heading westwards once again, and after a last night in a lovely waterfront apartment in Knysna, we drove to Plettenberg Bay for a quick look around, and then they dropped me off on the main highway, where we said our goodbyes. My plan was to try to hitch to Bloukrans Bridge, about 50 kilometres further east.

I was stood there for about half an hour, when I got the offer of paying for a ride in a shared minibus taxi. It was cheap enough, so I was on my way, and soon booked into the hostel just by the bridge.

Bloukrans Bridge is the highest single span concrete arch bridge in the world, and with a maximum height of 216 metres above the stream far below, it is very impressive. At the bridge, Face Adrenalin runs the world's highest bridge bungy jump, even bigger than the Pont de l'Arluby in France, which I jumped off in 2008, achieving my second goal. The French jump is the third-highest bridge bungy at 182 metres.

It is a very slick, professional setup, with a fantastic viewpoint. There is even a pub overlooking the jump, with a live video feed too. The hostel is also only metres away, and I was the only person booked in at first, and was left with the place completely to myself for the afternoon and evening. I took a wander out onto the bridge in the evening after the bungy jump shut down - it really is knee-tremblingly high!

Yes, there is a jumper in the picture below!! See if you can spot him. If not, click here for a picture with the jumper circled.



Later in the evening a young German couple, Sandor and Melanie, joined me at the hostel, and the three of us had a quiet evening in the otherwise empty hostel.

In the morning I hummed and hah'ed about jumping, as it's pretty expensive, although quite a bit cheaper than the French jump had been. But in the end, I decided that I may never be back this way, and after all, it is the biggest bridge bungy in the world!!

Nobody is allowed to take cameras out onto the bridge at all, but out on the bridge I had a quiet chat with Clive, whose wife runs the hostel, and he sent me back to get my camera and glove, which is very secure when all fastened up.

The jump itself is fantastic, with about four seconds of freefall before the elastic starts to stretch, and as I jumped, I counted and did a practice parachute pull, as if it was a BASE jump - maybe one day, I don't know!! One of the jump operators spotted me do it, and as he collected me at the bottom of the elastic, he asked if I was a skydiver.

After the jump I also bought their DVD footage, but the video here is just from my camera, as I have no way to get their stuff onto my little computer at the moment. I will probably re-edit the video later when I manage to do so.



Goal 2 achieved again!! Awesome!!

Goal 72 - riding a real ostrich this time!

After the excitement of the shark cage dive we headed further east along the coast to the Garden Route, and stopped in a picturesque little town called Wilderness, where Martin and Rachel found a luxurious room, and I got a cheapie dorm bed at the backpacker hostel, which had a fantastic view along the coast.

The next day we took it easy, and played a round of golf, in which I was soundly thrashed by both Martin and Rach, and then spent another night in Wilderness.

A drive up into the spectacular mountains early on Saturday took us to the ostrich-farming town of Oudtshoorn (prounounced "oats-horn") where at the huge Safari Ostrich Show Farm we met up with marketing manager Billy.

I had emailled a couple of ostrich (or volstruis in Afrikaans) farms, and Billy had replied, offering to help out with my ostrich-riding goal. He introduced me to ostrich handler Leon, and before long Martin and I were climbing aboard a huge male ostrich called Sarkozy for a couple of photos.



And then it was time for me to try to actually ride Sarkozy. The last time I was aboard an "ostrich", it was much easier to handle, as I completed Goal 55 back in August last year, leaping from Worthing Pier in the annual Birdman competition.

This time the real thing was alot more fiesty, and I climbed aboard, following Leons instructions. He had asked if I wanted the tame, tourist ride, where the ostrich handlers would support me, or if I wanted the "adventure ride"! I imagine you can guess what I picked - I should have maybe stuck with the tamer option, as the eventual, inevitable fall off was pretty painful! Check out the video below, which is accompanied by an awesome laugh-track from Leon. After my ride, there is an idea of how the professionals do it:-


Afterwards we went on the farm tour, which was very interesting. They really are quite incredible birds. The whole set up is very professional, and the tour we took was the sort of thing I had expected from the shark dive operator too.

We saw video of the hatchery where the eggs are incubated, and then saw chicks in the paddocks, and several different types of ostriches from different areas of Africa - all very educational and informative. After photos and rides for some of our tour group, the grand finale, the spectacular ostrich race, was brilliant.

The final picture below was taken in the local supermarket - I don't imagine there are too many places in the world where you can buy ostrich eggs right alongside the hens eggs!



What a fantastic fun goal to achieve. Huge thanks to Billy from the Safari Ostrich Show Farm for making this possible. And thanks also to Martin and Rachel for getting us there, their immense patience for driving me all over South Africa, and for joining in with yet another goal.

This completes the final goal of the five extra goals added by people voting on what they thought I should add to the list of 95 goals I had come up with for my 100 weeks adventure. Furher details on the five added goals here.

Goal 71 - A murky glimpse of "Jaws"!

The next morning we visited Drakenstein Correctional Centre, previously known as Victor Verster Prison, where twenty years ago, on 11th February 1990, Nelson Mandela took his long walk to freedom when he was released, after 27 years of incaceration in South Africa's prison system.

It is a low security place, and looked more like a holiday camp with orange uniforms than anything else. Somehow we managed to talk our way in at the gatehouse, and ended up in the prison restaurant for breakfast, which was interesting and unusual.

There is a statue of Nelson Mandela at the gates, and I liked his words, printed on the plinth below:-

For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.

The true test of our devotion to freedom is just beginning.

I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter, I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.

I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.

We drove on into Franschhoek, which has a huge amount of wineries, and stopped at a few places to try some samples. It is so much like the wine areas around Perth in Australia, and if it wasn't for the mountaunous backdrop, I could have believed I was back in the Swan Valley.

The southern coast is lovely, and we stopped at various towns and villages along our route to Hermanus, where we stayed at the backpacker hostel for the night. They were offering a great deal on shark cage dive excursions, which included a free night at the hostel, and a much cheaper tour than I had found anywhere else.



We were up at 5am the next morning, and drove to the "shark-central" town of Gansbaai, where we were relieved of our money by a surly shark dive leader. I never did find out his name, as he never introduced himself, and didn't bother interacting enough, other than the swift financial transaction, for me to be interested enough to ask!



Down at the harbour our boat was lowered into the water, and we were off by 7am. At the shark site the worryingly small cage was prepared, and we got an overview of how the morning would work. The water clarity was poor, and the surly operator voiced doubts about whether we would see anything at all today. He wasn't quite as vague on the "no refund" policy though!



However, we soon got a tantalising view of a shark on the surface as the blood-and-guts mix of chum was thrown into the water. The surly operator seemed slightly happier, as everyone had now seen a shark, and any chance of any sort of complaint, or refund request had been completely negated.

We quickly donned wetsuits, and I was swift enough to be second into the cage, soon followed by Martin. (Rachel had stayed ashore, already asleep again in the car before we had even boarded the boat, having been very clear about her complete lack of interest in seeing any sharks at all.) There was another shark which swam passed the cage, and I managed to get one gloomy picture.

We then waited for quite some time, as people got in and out of the cage. Some didn't bother at all, a few only lasted a couple of minutes, as it was quite cold, but Martin and I remained in, determined to see more.

The next shark bashed right up against the cage, and as it's tail thrashed right in front of me, the bottom part of it hit my wrist, and I bacame the only person on our trip to touch one of the sharks! You are not allowed to do so unless a fin or tail pokes throught the bars and you can't avoid it!

The three pictures below are the best underwater pix I managed to get, which was a bit disappointing! Never mind though.



There were more sharks, or maybe it was the same one, I don't know, as it was impossible to tell in the murky water, and an estimate from up on deck, where they could see them a bit better was that they were between two and a half to three and a half metres long.

Eventually I gave up on trying to get any sort of decent underwater picture, and enjoyed watching from surface level as a shark, attracted by the big fish-head on the yellow rope, swam past just a metre or two away.



It was a great experience to be in the water, right there with such magnificent creatures, but quite safe and secure. I was a little disappointed with the visibility, but of course that is the nature of any of these wild encounters, sometimes conditions are fantastic, sometimes not so good. It is always too easy too look at the amazing National Geographic/Discovery Channel pictures and videos of such encounters, and hope for something like that, but it is important to remember that they may have had to spend months or years to capture such amazing images.

I thoroughly enjoyed the cage experience, but in what is probably going to be my first negative review of pretty-much anything in my 100 weeks journey, I have to make some comments on the company we went out with. Unfortunately, I felt that were were treated merely as a revenue source by the uncommunicative, uninformative operator. For a company that sells itself as an "eco-tour operator", there was not one word about the sharks' habits or life. I would have liked to see some sort of video intro, a bit of shark natural history, and some talk about the huge mis-understandings, and some de-mystification of the fears that people generally have about sharks.

What did we get? Nothing!! "Everyone has seen a shark now, so there should be no question of a refund!"

My advice, if wanting to go shark diving, try an alternative operator to White Shark Ecoventures!!