The Rum Diaries Part XV

For this entry, I think a bit of calypso is required so if you wouldn't mind just clicking on the link below....

Ready Mr. Music

I love Harry, he makes me want to limbo.

Anyway, Ron 100 Fuegos is a very tasty little rum from the party capital of the Caribbean, Trinidad and Tobago. We probably bought this bottle a little late in the evening for a critical review- but I do have to say it went down a treat as we classily swigged from the bottle on the dancefloor at the free electronic music festival. Despite being sponsored by Miller (ick) organisers had no problem with people bringing their own booze (guess they've tasted Miller) so there were many bottles of rum, vodka and god knows what else being passed around.

The Rum Diaries Part XIV

New country, new selection of rums to try!! First up was San Miguel Black, 7 Años, made right here in Cuenca. In fact, the distillery is just outside the city and houses a staggering 200 million litres of rum!!

For a reserva aged rum it was a bit rough to be honest. Martijn didn't rate it...as evidenced by his willingness to forgo a visit to the distillery.

From Chachapoyas to Cuenca- via taxi, tuk tuk, combi, tuk tuk, minivan, tuk tuk, taxi, ranchero, taxi and bus.

Yep that’s how many vehicle changes it took to get from Chachapoyas to Cuenca. First up was a terrifyingly fast taxi ride from Chachapoyas to Bagua Grande, through scenery that would have been beautiful had it not been whizzing past at the speed of light. In Bagua we tuk-tukked (I think I just created a new verb!) to the other end of town to get a combi to Jaen; it was the fastest combi fill-up in history and we were on our way again in five minutes, driving through verdant green rice paddys and banana plantations.

 

 In Jaen we piled out of the combi and into another tuk-tuk, crossing town for the “terminal” to San Ignacio. Another speedy changeover and we were on our way. We arrived in San Ignacio about 2pm and although we’d been told we couldn’t make it over the border in one day, we decided to give it a shot. Yet another tuk tuk took us to the northern terminal and after an hour or so we had four people to share a taxi to La Balsa. Roadworks meant that the 2 hour drive took almost four- we were sweating it a little by 6pm, since the last ranchero departed the Ecuadorian side of the border at 7pm, but our luck held out.

In La Balsa the power had gone out, so the immigration officer borrowed our torch to inspect our passports. We walked across the border and made it with just enough time to change our soles into dollares and buy our first Ecuadorian beer, before the ranchero (a fancy name for a truck with wooden benches on the tray) rocked up to take us to Zumba (Zoe Morris, I thought of you).

The next morning we were back at the bus terminal ay 8am, only to find out that the bus to Loja had left at 7am. We settled in to wait for the 10am bus, only to be told that there was a Agencia Nacional de Transito taxi that would take us for just a few dollars more than the bus!! This turned out to be a blessing since the road was worse than shit, and the government taxi agency is equipped with brand spanking new yellow four wheel drives!

On arrival in Loja we jumped out of the car in the pissing rain and jumped on a city bus to take us to the terminal. We arrived just after 2pm and lo and behold, there was a 2:30pm bus to take us the last four hours to Cuenca.

Phew. Ten vehicles, two days, 650km. Time to chill in Cuenca J

How to Prepare a Shrunken Head and other tales from Chachapoyas

The Chachapoyans were around long before the Inca; they precede South America’s most famous empire by around 900 years. At their height they numbered around half a million, scattered over a few dozen settlements in the cloud forest covered mountains of Peru’s Amazonas region.

The fortress of Kuelep is the most famous of their former citadels, an immense ruin perched atop one of these mountains, with commanding views of the valleys snaking up to it below.

The quarry where they found the bulk of the fortresses limestone is about a week’s walk away. Before the Chachapoyans could even begin building they had to transport hundreds of tons of dirt to extend the mountain top.  

But if I were a Chachapoyan, I’d be pulling out all the stops on defensive dwellings too; their number one enemy was the Jivaroa tribe (aka the Headshrinkers).

Remember putting packets of Twisties and Burger Rings in the oven when you were young to make crispy shrunken keyrings??

Well, that’s pretty much what the Jivaroa did with heads. Since they didn’t have keyrings, they wore the heads on necklaces.

For those who'd like a few more gory details, naturally the internet has the answers:

How to Prepare a Shrunken Head

When the conquistadors rocked up, the Chachapoyan leader Guaman decided to throw his lot in with Francisco Pizarro, having previously been harshly treated by the Inca. Not that it did either of them any good- the Chachapoyan culture was decimated by smallpox (reducing a population of 500,000 to around 10,000) and Francisco Pizarro was eventually assassinated by his fellow conquistadors.

Which just goes to show that as far as the indigenous South Americans were concerned, you're damned if you do, and you're damned if you don't.

The Rum Diaries XII and XIII

Jesus, these rum diaries have a way of creeping up on me. Before I know it, empty bottles are bleating at me so as not to be left out of the great annals.

So first off is a bottle we drained many, many weeks ago...so fast in fact that there wasn't even time to capture the moment on film. Colombia's Medellin 3 Años was a tasty drop indeed- our second bottle came on the Santa Cruz trek with us, and although it was supposed to be a celebratory last night's reward, it ended up being a first afternoon 'fucking hell it's freezing let's drink rum' escape.

We came back to Peru with Ron Cartavio's Black Label- it's ultra cheap and surprisingly drinkable, particularly when it's cold outside and you need to warm your cockles!! Still, nothing really to write home about...stay tuned for the fancy pants 12 year version which I am certain Martijn will not be able to resist much longer.

Vamos a la playa

Huanchaco is not the world's most beautiful beach town, but we haven't been to the beach since leaving Australia so despite it's less attractive features (less than perfect weather and trash-strewn sand) we are happy to be here!!

Even though we've been stuffing ourselves with ceviche since we arrived in Peru, somehow seafood tastes better when you're in view of the surf and sand.

Martijn has been spending some time getting reacquainted with the art of surfing. I have been getting into some serious Inca-style sun worshipping. No children have been sacrificed...yet : )

Avoiding the Void

If you haven’t seen the incredibly hairy documentary ‘Touching the Void’, go see it. But maybe not before embarking upon a trek in the Huaraz region. Listening to Joe Simpson and Simon Yates recount their disastrous climb of Siula Grande makes hoofing it up a 6344m mountain seem even less fun than it already sounds.

Trailer for Touching the Void

Although we considered a 9 day hike through the Cordillera Huayhuash (where Siula Grande is located), the high probability of shitty weather and my aversion to intense physical pain swayed us towards the Santa Cruz trek, a comparative walk in the park at just four days and only one pass of 4750m.

The trek winds through the Cordillera Blanca, one of the world’s most spectacular mountain ranges with 33 peaks over 5500m, including Huascaran, Peru’s highest mountain at 6768m. We had a great group- Austrians, Swiss, Irish, English, Israeli & USA- ten of us all together.

Stuffing our faces with coca

 

The start to our trip was a little inauspicious- about an hour into the trek it started to rain and our guide announced that they had forgotten the cooker. Rather than surviving the next 4 days on a diet of raw eggs and hard noodles we decided to make camp early so we could arrange with another group going the opposite way to borrow their stove. Since the rain was pelting down, we were pretty happy to be stopping early, hopeful that the next day would be better.

Sadly we woke to more torrential rain which soon turned to snow as we began to climb towards Punta Union. Our guide had looked at my adidas trainers in dismay on the first day; I was beginning to understand why. Despite wrapping my feet in plastic bags, the freezing water soon seeped in and I slushed and squelched my way up the mountain.

About halfway up, the snow finally stopped and we could enjoy the stunning views all around. No matter which way you looked, huge snowy peaks and sheer black faced cliffs towered above. Even when we reached Punta Union, the 4750m pass was dwarfed by the peaks on either side. It was a stiff climb from the campsite (3700m) to the pass but for once I was actually happy to be hiking uphill, since moving was the only way to keep warm. Eventually even the water in my shoes warmed up, creating a nice Jacuzzi feeling.

From Punta Union we hiked down into the next valley, where mercifully the weather was much brighter, and made our way to our next camp, at 4200m. This was the most beautiful camp- we were surrounded by Alpamayo (winner of the Miss World equivalent of mountain beauty contests), Quitaraju & Taulliraju peaks, all close to 6000m, and clear skies so we could enjoy the sun setting over the western end of the valley.

We woke to more beautiful weather on the third day and made a small detour to a mirador and glacier lagoon about an hour or so away, before continuing along the Quebrada de Santa Cruz to our third camp. The weather was so lovely that even my shoes dried out : )

That night we played several high octane rounds of Yanif (Israeli card game) and probably caused a few minor avalanches with all our shrieking and yelling…who knew card games could be that much fun sober!!!

The last morning was bright and sunny for our 800m descent from the campsite to the finishing point of the trek, Cashapampa, where we fell upon the one lonely tienda and bought up her stock of cervezas heladas to celebrate.

That evening back in Huaraz we met up at the Sierra Andina brewery and celebrated with slightly more enthusiasm…hands down the best beer we’ve drunk since leaving Australia. Today has been spent largely getting over a well-earned hangover.