Flailing About
The phone rang and rang and rang again. Staggering around the bags strewn around our room I groggily picked up the receiver. A Russian accent on the other end spoke in English: This is Sergei, Oleg’s friend. We have Zaya …
Finishing’s Cool!
Anta, about 1pm and 25 kilometres west of Cusco was the point at which we said goodbye to Fritz with many thanks for all his hospitality and gracious guiding across the Andes. He’d dropped us at the local mototaxi repair …
Vicuñas and Junketeers
Climbing quickly we wound our way up to over 4500 meters. Zaya fell asleep and I struggled, between a headache and lack of oxygen, to stay awake. But the high altitude plain was itself a welcome change from the stress …
Life on the Edge
We pulled into a truck stop on the outskirts of Nazca for a dinner of trucker’s fare which we’d become familiar with. Massive portions of good home cooking for very little money. Mine was a pile of rice with a …
Nazca, not NASCAR
Pulling out her sign, Zaya started waving down trucks. It had been years since I hitchhiked anywhere and never with either a Mongolian or a mototaxi. Sure enough within the hour Fritz pulled over in his huge Volvo 420 truck …
Back to the Grind
Our plan was to be up early. We finally hit the road at 9:00AM – which isn’t particularly early. Zaya was keen to hitch a lift, while I wanted to drive. We compromised. We stood around with our thumbs out …
Kilometre 58
The Pan-American highway forbids pedestrians, horses, bicycles and mototaxi’s, so there we were – living on the edge, fugitives from justice, driving like banshees. Trucks blew by us at speed leaving us wallowing in their wake. In 10 minutes my …
Lima Redux
Plantains offloaded and Chiclayo toured, we were now heading down the Pan-American Highway towards Lima. Sea mist off the ocean diffused the bright sunlight, but the landscape was as arid as anywhere I’d seen. There’s no shortage of archaeological sites along the …
Dead Trucks and Busses
Leo muttered to me in Spanish, breaking my reverie. When I stared at him blankly he tugged my shoulder and pointed out the window. It was pushing midnight and it had been a long day – mostly spent watching Cyrano …
Lamas, not llamas
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