Given this blog is mainly for our future selves I make scant apology if much of the following makes little sense to someone who doesn’t ride a mountain bike…
It is an unmarked door in a low grade neighbourhood. Inside a man has a bucket grain alcohol, a ladle and two square meters of straw matting. He is here to die. Continue reading “La Paz – female pantomime wrestling and grim reality”
I am here because I need a city. I need to do things like organise insurance for the truck. Like buy food that isn’t noodles and frankly try to dry everything out. Thing is, Salta is actually quite beautiful so I stayed, and made some photos….
The dust blows across the high plains in grey swirling red clouds. The ‘painter’s palette’ landscape rolls by in a blur of brick red, ochre and ethereal greyish greens. Stepping out to buy goat cheese and bread is like stepping into oven. So it is surprising that just 12 hours later I was bailing out the tent with a bath sponge…
A vignette from the past few days:
Coffee by a thorn tree
The hot oven-dry wind plasters my shirt to my shoulders as I sit in the sparse freckled shade of a lone thorn tree watching the mercury-silver shimmer of the road twenty meters away. On the other side of the gravel is a cinderblock hut, roof of plastic sheeting held by logs and rocks, a small wooden door, more propped than hung, in the doorway. Behind the hut is the white-bleached sky the sand wash of a desiccated riverbed, and corral of twisted sticks. Continue reading “A desert (puna) vignette – life out here”
A handful of notes to bring us up to speed (now I have wifi)
The sign, after careful translation read:
In the event of seeing a puma:
- Gather your children together
- Shout and wave your arms
- Do not run
- Tell a ranger as soon as possible
It is with these wise words forefront of mind that I set off for a run to the observatory and back, at dusk. Continue reading “Mendoza and around (part 2)”
The Shimano LATAM Open DH race was held in Cerro Cathedral last weekend. Not having a bike to enter with, I strolled up the hill to shoot a few images. Woah, I am out of practice at action shooting. Have relied on some ‘arty’ shots instead 🙂
Taxi or walk? its a 30 minute stroll to La Boca, down by the port.
Well we want to get there with good photographic light so lets jump in a taxi. Hail one down, La Boca pro favor. Dos cientos. Be a good spot and flick the metre on. No. Dos cientos.
It is relevant to point out at this point that we look like quintessential tourists. Carrying back pack at the front, clutching a guide book and clearly not speaking the language. This is relevant because we were about to find ourselves in the back streets of one of BA’s most notoriously crime ridden barrios.
In which we climb to a ridge for a view of ‘The Fitzroy traverse’ at dawn, and meet the mountain’s legends.
Another weather check, another pensive look exchanged. 24 hours. We pack bags, check food, water and waterproofs and set off in light rain from the far end of Chalten in late afternoon. The plan is simple: a 10k hike to the foot of a ridge ascent that promises panoramic views of the Fitzroy skyline.
One last trip through London town on a cold November evening. The condensation of the bus windows gives dazzling bokeh to the bright lights of this global capital. Slowly we shunt through the traffic, watching the panic buying trinket seekers, satisfying Christmas consumer demands. Crowds of people eager not to miss out.
Now, now we’re off. And I’m mid way through rare beef fillet and a good way down a fine chateauneuf du pape, mid Atlantic on the BA2239 to Peru.