An epic two day motorbike trip racing against condors through the desert like pod racers from StartWars.

Nevado Chachani was the reason for journeying to Arequipa in southern Peru, this mountain rises 6,057m above sea level and we wanted to climb it. However, after contacting a few local guides they explained to us that we would have to do it as part of a tour and that tour would cost at least $1000usd.  Not to be defeated we decided on something different, we would hire dirt bikes and ride to the Colca Canyon where the gigantic elegant condors glide upwards in the hot air thermals that invade these canyons as the rocky terra heats up, they scour the dry land for a hearty meal.  After testing the bikes out setting off car alarms and annoying a security guard, we happily agreed on a price and the next day we would be exploring again.

We leave Arequipa before rush hour and we are briskly out of the quaint city before long scrambling on the first sections of dirt with the bloke we hired the bikes from showing us the route for the first few hours so we did not get too lost. After awhile we were just riding by ourselves through magical lands that lead to endless daydreaming. Rising quickly into the altitude we were back on the highway and paved roads, the climate was freshening and getting cooler as patches of snow lay about lazily. We pulled over for a quick snap and to lather more layers of clothing on. By mid afternoon we successfully arrived at the small town of Chivay the largest in the area, where we would spend the night before heading towards the viewing point of the Colca Canyon. With no accidents and only one near call, where I was messing around and glanced over my shoulder to see where the boys were whilst performing this task on a corner I happened to veer off the road. Whilst my mates thought I was heading for the inevitable cliff I saw differently and looked back at the road, pointing the front wheel where I wanted to go and the bike followed.

Wherever we went, my Australian mate would tell the local people in Spanish that he was our tour guide. They would give him a free meal or accommodation, and then we would all split the costs making our expedition slightly cheaper. After a good meal and an accomplished beer, we rested well that night to wake early, pack our gear onto the bikes and set off through the early darkness and crisp pre morning air to get to the condor viewing point before sunrise. We set up just away from the main tourist gathering on the cliff edge basking in the sun's beautifully warming rays. The Israeli prepared us some scrumptious coffee from his homeland full of spice and everything nice. This was my first coffee I have ever drunk and it was the start of an uncontrollable addiction.

                                           (making coffee on the edge of the cliff)

                                           (peering over the edge)

The depth of the Colca Canyon is an astonishing 4,160m, twice as deep as the Grand Canyon in U.S.A to which is deeper than the height of some mountain peaks that litter this vast area. As we feel the rocks underneath us start to gain heat, everyone patiently scouts the air for these prehistoric looking creatures of flight to begin their ritual daily fly by. Suddenly numerous pilots graced us, agilely they stay within the confines of the circulating hot air. If they were to leave the barrier they would drop unless their reaction speed was quick enough it could spell an impending doom as they fly so close to the cliffs hard rocky exterior. However, with years of experience under their belts they know their boundaries and simply glide around the canyon lapping each other as if it were a race, speedily accurate they manoeuvre direction wing tip to wing tip they soar with their friends. It seems like the essence of freedom, to have the wind in your hair and to go wherever the hot air updrafts could effortlessly take you.

                                                   (pretty close flying action)

Once the spectacular stunt pilots vacated the airspace, we surrounded the map and chose to travel a different route back that seemed to be much the same length according to this detailed cartographic piece of paper. Nevertheless, as it was it did not show the kilometres of dirt encrusted switchbacks as well as the reduced speed due to corrugations that have formed from years of weather induced turmoil and lack of maintenance, it was going to be a long eventful trip home. Cruising along we would often pass briefly through small communities that have possibly never have seen white men and to see their surprised reaction was gold. With the afternoon fast deceasing and our reluctance to be riding on these maniac dirt roads at night we marched on riding faster onwards, our tired eyes were beginning to gain a blurred tunnel vision from increased bumps and lack of rest our bodies ached.

                  (just some of the switchbacks, if the were paved would be awesome for a road bike.)

    (As you can see the Isaeli's bike on the left, rear lights are working where as the Australian's are not)

With the sun fast resigning leaving an orange glow that warmingly lit up the sandy rock cliffs. We raced along the land it felt as though we were pod racing like in Star Wars, we would slide around the corners and be squatting on the bikes to provide more comfort for our marriage tackle as we bolted along these ruts at high speed on bikes that wouldn't even pass a road worthy check in Australia. Finally we make it to the glorious bitumen just as the sun was falling asleep and the moon was ready to do it's night shift, However we still had another dauntingly long three hours left to complete the all in all twelve hour return journey. With only the Israeli's full lighting system working on his bike he was then positioned intelligently at the back and with our fingers crossed we set off nervously.

                             (A small town we passed through with a pretty cool statue/water fountain) 

We successfully arrive back in the city of a couple of million people with no accidents, just witnessed the best of the crazy South American drivers along with mad viscous thin unkempt dogs leaping out in front to try and topple you away from their unknown home. It was an absolute accomplishment to make it back in one piece considering we were riding at night and with hardly any lights working or safety gear. My helmet did not really fit nor could I use the visor at night as it was so scratched so when I arrived my air blasted eyes were as red a tomato from riding at 80km/h for three hours whilst squinting dodging bugs and shrapnel.  Near misses were certainly bound to happen, such as a bus overtaking us on a blind hill on a narrow section of road along sections of cliff that line their way to the city also we could barely see thirty metres ahead with our reluctant dimming lights. This was an extremely fun adventure, one we would remember for a long while to come.

                                               (We arrived safe and sound....just)

 After the Australian navigated us through the extensive chaotic night traffic to where the bike's belong, we learned that the owners had gone out searching for us fearing that we might have crashed  and that we might have been hurt or even dead, just kidding they were only trying to make sure their failing bikes were ok. We caught a taxi speedily straight to town, being late at night only a few restaurants were open, one being an empty Chinese place. We stumble in covered head to toe in ample amounts of dirt with clumps of dust puffing off us with every step; my eyes looked as if I had been staring at the sun all day with our clothes torn and smelling worst than ever. It was a very successful trip, on the budget as always extremely eventful. Once again, South America shows that you can travel, explore and have vast amounts of adventurous fun with little money. 

                                    (We found this chef by himself, couldn't resist the happy snap)

The adventurous trek to Choquequiroa ruins sets a path for the rest of my journey in South America.

Stumbling blissfully into the hostel and vaguely filling out forms, I find my bed amongst the scattered belongings of fellow travellers. Whilst trying to keep silent I climb the creaking wobbly bunk, slither into the top bed and nestle myself into an inevitable coma after returning from the last adventurous journey to Machu Picchu. The next day I woke with eagerness and to prepare for the next trip to Choquequiroa, these were the first ruins discovered by Hiram Bingham before Machu Picchu. Whilst at breakfast I started up a conversation with two lads one from Israel and a fellow Australian, they also had done the Salkantay trek at the same time as I but by themselves and not in a tour. After chatting about a few things it came up, they too were planning to venture to Choquequiroa and since I had no hiking experience I asked if I could tag along, they agreed.

That night whilst sampling a few beverages, with only three or four circulating my bloodstream I slipped into an unconscious state at around 10.30pm I can remember up till then clear as day. By the time I regained consciousness it was morning, I was naked in another bed and in a random part of the hostel. I felt my throat crawl as the familiar feeling of vomiting was looming, Sprinting for a more respectable place to release this load like a bathroom I was going for but perhaps a little unrespectable running their still naked and dazed. That day I had come to realise that my drink had probably been spiked, also I had to buy all my food for the next four day trek which I ended up buying mainly candy and to top it all off I had lost my memory card with all the pictures from Machu Picchu.

I woke early, collecting my gear I left swiftly and agilely out of the room with the resonating murmuring sound of weary sleeping travellers. We shuffle towards the bus station, load our gear and jump aboard the old bus that has seen many kilometres of road in its lifetime. Arrivinga few hours later at an intersection, we disembark and hail a taxi whilst briefly consuming some breakfast consisting of a cloudy soup though quite delicious it did come with the bonus of a chicken foot or two. Reaching the start of the trail in a small town, we organise a couple of pack donkeys and a man to lead them. That afternoon we were off, starting with an easy trek in a balmy part of Peru. This small town was in the middle of nowhere but still had electricity, running water, 'western' toilets, a view of rolling hills and snow-capped mountains in the background. A bit different to the ruins we were going to see where these native people's ancestors might have been from.

The start of the trek reminded me of regional Australia with gumtree laden rocky dry grass hills that surround abundant crop filled valleys. First day was an easy stroll the next two were not going to be, consisting on descending from atop the hills at 3000m to 1500m at the bottom where raging water storms down collecting more debris and brown cloudiness as it travels. The path that guides our journey zig zags on itself numerous times to drop the height quickly once at the bottom we have a joyful climb back to the same altitude on the other side, in one day this was an intense workout on the calves but a sensational visual feast.

                                          (you can just see the zig zag path right of centre)

Making camp on day two early we decided that we would quickly walk to the ruins and explore around them for the later part of the afternoon before returning to camp as the sun sets on this glorious countryside. We make ground expeditiously so that we have a few hours to discover the ancient ruins that are still half engulfed by foliage and jungle. Humbly strolling amongst these lively ruins, acknowledging the strenuous effort that went into building these magnificent structures atop of these mountainous hillsides along with the aqua ducts that once delivered water smoothly and silently around the community from a distant well is astonishing.  Each stone brick carefully manicured into a perfect fit and calculated into the design back when tools and technology were minimal to say the least, these people were the great architects. As a misty cloud starting to blanket the valleys tops, the sun was beginning to power down and the air was becoming crisp. We set off back towards camp feeling refreshingly alive and eerily humbled as if the ghosts of the ancient past were congratulating us on our journey to see their spectacular village that once protected their families from any intruders and provided a home to a community.

After a deep peaceful sleep, we awoke to day three and prepared ourselves for the leg work out that lay ahead. Still with clear visual images of yesterday's experience we walk, quiet at first reminiscing of the fact the while we were discovering the ruins we were the only ones there. As it is quite hard to get there, the hordes of tourists that flock to Peru to gain an experience of the ancient world avoid it. Personally, I think it was better than Machu Picchu. On the way towards the town, it was agreed that I could keep travelling onwards with the other two boys as they were heading for exciting adventures that I wanted desperately needed to be a part of and release my soul into these activities.  Once again, in Cusco we rest before catching the next bus on our journey to Arequipa. 

The art of tackling Machu Picchu head on, feet first and straight up.

Sticky dew droplets adhere themselves to all jungle life. We wake early, before the sparrows fart and the sun's rays even appear atop the marvellous Machu Picchu ruins. We trek from the hotel to the gates of the park and scout upwards trying to snag a peek through the clouds and mist. We have 45mins to climb this set of Incan stairs consisting of a mere 1500 individual and uniquely sized stairs before the buses pour up with their loads full to the brim of tourists. When I climbed it the first time, the case was the first 200 people to arrive at the Machu Picchu's top gates were allowed to climb Hauyna Picchu. Therefore, technically you could beat the buses by 15 mins and could get to do the other climb it was a sort of bonus for doing the extra stairs instead of the lazy way however now it all comes to money so you have to book in advance.

Incas were absolute geniuses at constructing magnificent structures perfectly accurate on such steep inclined muddy slopes but their ability to build stairs is to be argued, unequal with each stair a different size varying between a few inches to a foot and a half. By the time you arrive you are wrecked and it's still early and most of the surrounding mountainsides including Hauyna Picchu are still blanketed in dense mystifying cloud. After taking a brief guided tour, I found myself resting against an ancient wall leaning back in the sun and gazing at Machu Picchu's visual succulent vistas for a while before pulling my hat over my eyes and examining the back of my eyelids for a moment or three.

Waking up surrounded by hordes of tourists, I stumble away from slumbering sunny spot and head for the final ascent. The final leg is worst than any Stairmaster in the gym and twice as steep as the first set, near vertical and without any form of hand rail it rises skyward into the heavens. Artfully dodging people is a skill to make the continuation of the journey seamlessly effortless; otherwise it would make the trip twice as long.  Once up the view is spectacular, you can see Machu Picchu in full glory with the morning sun beating down just like it would of hundreds of years ago. You can visualise the hard enduring work the Incas put into to constructing their kingdom for their royalty. Alongside, the raging river wraps around the bottom like a mote of a castle guarding their home against intruders with ease.

 Back in the main ruins, I take my time exploring every nook and cranny looking for my Inca gold that the Spanish may have wishfully missed. Nothing. Time to leave I briskly start to run down the stairs back to the river to keenly avoid paying $8 for the bus, what started as fun run quickly escalated as I figured that the bus that would pass me as I crossed each section of the its zig zag road was the same one. The race was on. Sure enough the athletic guru I am, I won but then walked the last few kilometres in the buses dust. Once exhaustedly back in town I gathered my strength and went straight for the famous relaxing hot baths after all that's the name of the town, Aguas Calientes. That night I would be back in Cusco.

The bus route is the white zig zag, the walking path aka first set of grueling stairs cuts straight up the middle.

CAUTION: Starts off peacefully but the ending may not be for the faint-hearted reader or guinea pig lover.

After an overnight double decked bus ride, which was filled with my nose bleeding and Hillary Duff movies, I arrived high in the clouds in majestic Cuzco. I journeyed here not for Machu Picchu or any awesome sightseeing but for a job, as I had been in the process of emailing the owner of a hostel there to which had organised to work at the bar in return for free accommodation, which is common practice as a poor backpacker. However, with my luck fluctuating as per usual the owner was not there and the bar manager had not heard of this arrangement. Therefore, I went for a walk clear my head of the thinness of the air, after struggling on a set of stairs in a monument and getting lost in the back streets of Cuzco I decided that I wanted to do a hike as I had all the camping gear needed for such ventures. Whilst conversing with a travel agent at the hostel I came to a plan that I was to walk the Salkantay trek to Machu Picchu on a tour but I were to leave the next day.

Standing in the street in the early hours with the air fresh and crisp, people jostle around on the brick laid paths heading to work or to gather the best position to sell their wares onto the next weary confused tourist that stumbles past. Half an hour late, early for them and on time for some they arrive and we were off to the start of the next venture. We reached the small town early and promptly started trekking, by that afternoon we were climbing higher and higher. Gasping for air with every step, sweat dripping from every pore and at the back of the pack perhaps I should have stayed a little longer in Cuzco to acclimatize before heading into the clouds. Eventually I reach camp and I'm wrecked, wet and starving with my stomach turning inside out for food then I realized that the guides couldn't work out how my tent goes together, 'arrrgh why did I bring it' I sighed to the amused guides whilst erecting it rapidly and carelessly.

Next day awake early, rough night sleep due to the lack of oxygen we power forwards. Today was a big push, today we head for the highest point on the trek at 4600m, which is in the shadow of its neighbour Salkantay that dwarfs it at 6264m. Towering monstrous mountains surround the valley to the top, covered in treacherous icy slop with the distant rumbling of small avalanches to keep harmony. Gruelling hours tick by, cocoa leaves are munched out of existence to try to get a small amount of relief to the ever deteriorating mind, body and soul. We make it.

After this achievement of reaching the top, we gathered our strengths for a group photo and lunch then it was a gentle brisk walk to camp which the last half being through jungle. The next day quite uneventful apart from the local mad taxi driver turning and weaving through the jungle perilously alongside the cliffs that are unseen from the windows of the minivan. That evening we had the delightful choice of eating guinea pig that we all agreed to unanimously but we also had the chance to kill our own before being cooked which I jumped at the chance to experience though it did not fare well for lone survivor that reached my pitiful hands. After being shown briefly the way of a master it was my go, standing there with a squealing fidgety furry rat amongst my mitts was not what I thought was going to happen when I had risen from my slumber that fresh morning.

The first go resulted in a high pitched 'rrrrreeeeeeee' and followed by disheartened pitiful awkward laughs from fellow people. The second attempt fetched a higher squeal that could pierce ear drums as my fingers gripped in tighter around the poor things throat. The third endeavour produced the clean snap like the crunch of twigs under foot and dinner was now ready to be prepared. That night I slept under a table, as I could not raise my tent on the concrete slab. The final day was concluded with a couple of taxi rides, a brief walk around a rocky avalanche and the finishing leg was a 9km stroll along the raging river that winds its way down through the valley's of jungles that would of once carried the Incan lifestyle. After temporarily passing under the Famous Machu Picchu ruins, we successfully arrived at Aguas Calientes.

Too be continued....

This is a great video from one of my favourite channels, Infinity List.

http://www.infinitylist.com/video/to-be-a-poet/

Stumbled upon this, is quite nice.

A photography slideshow of a few photos I took whilst in South Africa.

This a video compilation of some of my best photos from the photography internship that lasted one month on the eastern side of South Africa. Although the course structure didn't go swimmingly I did make a few awesome mates !!

Traveling alone is safe just not when you're me. Getting shot at in Peru by a renegade security guard.

Standing amongst two Peruvian gentlemen atop of a soaring sand dune that's nestled behind a small coastal surf riddled town of Punta Hermosa I stood. Gazing west wood into the orange glow of the ever-receding sunset I pondered. After gathering a prompt happy snap of the beautifully deserted landscape, I heard a noise that sounded like a distant truck back firing perhaps from the quarry that lay just across the way. Then my ears perked up as I heard an alarmed whistle for then I saw this little man across the way and over the ditch waving profusely and another bang. Is this mad man shooting at us?  I exclaimed to my Peruvian mates who had started to yell back to chill out, as we were only taking photos to the little man. To which the man started to propel himself towards us.

We decided to vacate quickly with our heading towards the ocean over the four-lane highway. We were all but there, one last dune lay between the highway and us which to cross would be safety. Suddenly I heard a piece of lead cutting through the air like a runaway helicopter come whizzing past. I took a fast look behind as I had started to sprint and keep my head low like the action movies I watched when I was young. The man a mere 80 metres behind had caught up and was excitedly still shooting.

Stumbling frantically down the last dune, highway insight more bullets being flung over head. We crossed the first part of the highway swiftly, whilst on the island I took a speedily peep behind and I saw a black tinted SUV had caught up with the man to who he was pointing vividly towards us. I turned back to see my mates had already started the race across the last section of traffic, I looked right and saw impending traffic, a mass of headlights like a flood of water from a burst dam surging down a river was coming. Without thinking I went for it, as soon as I started horns were sounded at alarming rates. My main concern was making it past the last lane to which a two-story bus was taking space no more than a 100 metres down the way and was closing in fast with horns flaring. Two steps into the pull over area and one jump over the guardrail and the bus that felt like a house on wheels flew past with such speed and no sign of slowing down for mere boy.  I was twenty and that happened in my first week of entering Peru alone, I then looked excitedly adventurously towards the next nine months of travelling South America.

Oh and if you were pondering why that man was shooting turns out he was a security guard for the quarry. He thought we were a part of a movement that happened a few months prior, where a large group of people came to the land that at that stage was owned by no one in particular and had set up camp like a shanty town. To which they were trying to claim it for themselves but the army and police had stepped in and taken down the camp, got rid of the people. Therefore, when this hero gazed upon the top of the dune and saw the three of us standing scanning the land, his first thought must have been to shoot and chase away. Act now think later. To which I suppose he prevailed. 

Adventuring Laughs.

This is a fun video of an epic road trip full of adventure and good laughs.

Travelers inspiration valid for day dreaming and subconscious planning.

This is a cool inspirational video for travellers.

Traveling poems formed by my creative conscious whilst blissfully ignorant

Maybe one day
my free spirit
will find your
lost soul and 
we'll wander
until our feet
are sore
and our hearts
are full.



The lust for travel.
To journey into the unknown,
To venture where your peers not go.
To find out firsthand what the world is like,
To find yourself and grow.




One's own personal assumption 
is the biggest liar.




Curious Minds Will Wander.




Fail Hard Win More.