House building

Yesterday we built our ideal homes out of cob. This is something that I've given a lot of thought to over the last few years - building a sustainable home. We've covered landscape and building architecture in this course, which is what led us to building our homes yesterday. Mine was a round design, with a glasshouse to catch the morning sun on the east side, adjoined to the kitchen. Large windows and patio doors open on the south side, overlooking a pond/natural pool. And a door on the west side leads on to the dance floor (for the late night Blues and Tango). There will be a circular wood burner and stove in the middle of the room with a bench around it for eating. It will be built out of cob and crafted by hand. Natural, breathable, warm. Awesome. Can't wait to get started for real.

Balance

There was a definite change in atmosphere on the truck after about 10 weeks. It's hard to pinpoint what caused this change. Some people had been on the truck for 10 weeks, some for 20 and some for only 2. We'd gone from the generally warm climates of Argentina and Brazil to the beauty but bleakness of the Andes. Both the altitude and the coldness were having an impact on us. We were also travelling further north and further into winter and so the days were getting shorter. Much shorter. Perhaps SAD (seasonal affectiveness disorder) was also affecting the group.

It's kind of natural to go to bed shortly after dark and to get up at sunrise. Now we were sheltering in our tents until well after sunrise, waiting for either the breakfast gong or for some general warmth in the atmosphere outside. Some motivation to get out of bed was required. Whereas previously we had stayed up in the evenings a while after dinner, entertaining ourselves with dance lessons, bridge playing, slacklining (more balance required), learning spanish, or drinking and chatting, we now scampered to our sleeping bags immediately after dinner. So we ended up spending up to twelve hours in bed - this can't be healthy.

This new pattern and atmosphere began in Tuzgle which is beyond doubt the coldest and windiest place we've been, but it has stayed with us even through milder climates. There is one other factor it could be, and that is sickness. We'd never had much sickness on the truck throughout Chile, Argentina and Brazil, but throughout Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador there's been at least one or two people ill at any one time. I've been sick a few times, and am certainly sick of being sick. Most times when you are sick you start to think about being in more comfortable places, mostly back in England. Hatun Machay was the one exception - I was sick but still so happy to be there.

I went through a phase of thinking about life after HotRock. Perhaps 10 weeks of this lifestyle was enough for me - I equate 10 weeks with a university term, and maybe there is something about that period of time that fits with our natural cycles. Having said that, I've had a second wind where my climbing enthusiasm has returned. And having said that, today is a day which is a little bit drizzly, but otherwise good for climbing, and the climbing is very good here - yet still I choose to spend the day in an internet cafe, having good food, good coffee, and catching up on internet life. Another thing that makes me laugh is how our group of chilled people who have all the time in the world on our hands get so vexed when we have a slow internet connection. The internet giveth and the internet taketh away. As a bonus, there's a pool table here and so we've spent half the afternoon playing pool - something I haven't done since I was a student, and how much fun it was!

I know some people who work far too hard and it isn't good for them. Right now I am playing way too hard, and that isn't good either. I think we have too much free time on our hands. Whilst it's great to have a relaxed lifestyle, where you while away the days reading and climbing, there is a limit to how long you can do this for. Much as many people complain about work, I think many of us want to apply our minds in ways that add value. I've certainly been thinking a lot about setting up my own business when I return to Britain. In a way it's frustrating because at the moment all I can do is think about it and not actually do anything. Still, it's a start...

When I began this journey I had the basics in my tent to get me through the nights - not even a pillow, just clothes bundled up under my head. Now I've added two blankets, two rollmats, and two pillows.  So I guess that whilst I can live with minimal comfort for a while - this too has its limits. Everything has a balance.

Not all so good

I had a scary experience last night. Loads of the locals are very friendly. They will stop to chat to us, ask us a bit about our lives. Some will try to sell stuff, and others are just interested. So I didn't think anything about it when I stepped out of our hostel the other night and this guy offered to shake my hand. Our truck was parked right outside the hostel, effectively creating a small dark alleyway. I shook the guy's hand, and went to walk away, but he held onto my hand. I couldn't understand what he was saying - it seemed friendly and I had previously experienced other people holding on to my hand for longer than comfortable, so I wasn't overly concerned. I started moving us both towards the end of the truck. Then another guy appeared there, blocking my exit. Now I was concerned - the two guys conversed with each other and I couldn't follow what they were saying. Eventually the first guy let go and I pushed myself past the other guy. Watching later from our hostel window, these two guys were hanging around the street corners - I would guess they were up to no good, but thankfully I was of little interest to them.

Noisy south america
We were chatting the other day about "pet peevs". One of mine is excess noise - and there is a lot of that down here. Traffic noise is everywhere - loud motors, and horns used relentlessly. People hoot to tell you they are there. They do this at every intersection rather than pay attention to traffic lights. Taxis hoot to see if you want picking up - some vehicles have several different horn tones. Everyone hoots to say hello, and everyone hoots to say hurry the hell up and get out of my way. Relentless. This both amuses and bugs me. It's impossible to get away from. The one time it really got to me, is when we were stuck in a traffic jam, the cause of which was a dead body in the road from a traffic accident. Still everyone honked to say hurry up. Vexating!

I've struggled to get into the music as well. Brazilian music was terrible. Loud drums with people shouting over the top -played very very loudly, everywhere. I went to a salsa club the other night, and every track sounded the same - drums everywhere with a bit of trumpety type thing over the top.

Although I always try to seek a cultural experience it was such a pleasure when we went to a bar in Huaraz, Peru and another "Sergeant Pepper's" in Lima and they played lots of Western music. We danced the nights away and they were fantastic. Equally, we've had some great nights on the truck, playing lots of disco music and dancing in the tiny confines of the truck.

Perhaps The Grass Is Greener

We´re camping near this mountain refuge high in the Peruvian Andes. There´s a small field surrounded by a stone wall, big enough for a handful of tents. Outside of this wall is mile upon mile of grassland, suitable for cows to graze upon for an eternity. Why is it then, that the cows insist on climbing over the stone wall, and chewing the grass next to our tents?

Have you ever heard a cow munching just inches away from your head whilst all else around is completely silent? It feels like a train is about to plow through your tent.

This is a place of stunning scenery. Hatun Machay. Inside the refuge is a wood fire so we can warm ourselves at night before retiring to our frosty tents. The mountains are rolling grassy plains with outcrops of rock on them. In the valley, a forest of rock spires. In the background, snow clad peaks and further back the Pacific ocean.

It´s a rock climber´s dream; an outdoor enthusiast´s dream. The sort of place I travel for. Yet it is in this place that I´ve most found myself yearning for home. The landscape reminds me of both the Peak District and the Lake District. The mountain hut reminds me of skiing trips throughout Europe. The stone wall we camp next to reminds me of Wales.

So why, when I am in this place that is fantastic in its own right, am I yearning for distant, but more familiar, places? Maybe it´s some atavistic connection to England´s green and pleasant lands, but I suspect it´s actually the people. I am surrounded by friends here - a really nice group of people. But they´re not my friends and family of old. I think I´m missing my friends of old. Why can we not travel and take all of our friends with us? I never wanted to settle in New Zealand, beautiful as it is, simply because it is too far from the people that I love. That same instinct to return home is returning to me now.

I walked alone to the top of the nearest big hill (4400m above sea level), and sat for an hour contemplating my position. (It´s strange how we have so much time on our hands, and yet for real clarity of thought you have to find isolation at the top of a mountain.) I´ve been away for almost six months, I´m living a life that I regularly am so thankful for - it´s such an easy existence at present - but once again I find myself looking to the future and searching for something different. So in this moment of clear thought I´ve managed to plan the rest of my travels, and to put together a business plan for when I return to the UK early next year.

If only I could climb a hill every day.

Emergency in the mountains

We arrived at Lago Antacoche, Peru, in the late morning. The place is stunningly beautiful and the sun was beaming down. We were camped right down on the side of this pristine(!) lake with the climbing mountain right behind it and snow capped peaks in the distance. Four of our group headed off to climb a multipitch route whilst the rest of us decided to just chill the afternoon away. I describe the lake with a (!) because it looks crystal clear and screams at you to come and swim, however we had been warned that the waters are contaminated with arsenic and cyanide from nearby mining in the past. I couldn't resist a quick dip though.

All went well for several hours, but then some clouds from the distant snow capped peaks drifted into our blue skies.
It wasn't long until the wind picked up, we heard some distant thunder, and then we were bang in the middle of a hail storm with temperatures plummeting. We could see the four people on the wall, three pitches up and only wearing summer clothes. We knew they would be cold, but that it shouldn't take them too long to get down. An hour later, they hadn't moved and it was beginning to get dark. We later found out that their rope had got stuck and one of them had to climb up a wet rope with frozen hands to try to free it. Once free they still had to abseil down the rest of the route. They eventually made it down - all four were soaking and shivering, the girl who had climbed back up the rope was hypothermic. What was brilliant about this experience is how everybody in our group jumped in to action to help these four. We were fairly impotent whilst they were still on the wall - we couldn't help get them down, frustratingly, they had to do that for themselves. But as soon as they were down, we brought them warm and dry clothes, stuffed the girl inside a sleeping bag with another girl and some hot water bottles, we supplied hot water constantly, and hot food as soon as possible. Every single person did something to help - that was fantastic to see and to be a part of.