Richard's jaunt

Addendum

2005-03-01T23:47:00.000Z

Went skiing in Italy with friends almost as soon as I got back, which was not really part of my journey, but turned out it had a twist.

In terms of embarrassment try this. Let the plane taxi to the stand, and let everyone pack the aisles ready to leave. Then punch yourself in the face so hard your nose spouts blood. Shove large tissues part way up your nose to try and stem the blood while every one looks on agog. My only thought was how am I going to explain this while trying to get through immigration.

Some advice if you ask for a shot in Tonale be prepared (single malt please no ice, thanks) for a wonderfully full glass.

Now for the random event. Checked email mid week and by chance a diving buddy is going skiing and has a spare place, not only that, its for this Saturday and its just a hop and skip from where I was staying. Bing! a one week skiing holiday turned into two!

The bus journey getting there was a little tougher than expected, requiring changing buses four times, as I hopped from village to village. Oddly (I felt) you buy bus tickets from the local bar. I dont speak any Italian (apart civilities and ordering hot chocolate) so this made things a little more challenging. Especially for one leg, when given some duff info I missed the only bus. Stuck at an empty freezing station, no map, while wondering what the to do next I surprised myself that armed with a phrase book I actually managed to find a call box and phone a cab. Apart from that everything went swimmingly.

So that's it, end of adventures, back to reality, time to grow up, buy slippers, settle down, be sensible, hmmm.

and thanks again for reading and joining me on this trip,

and by the way I have told about this idea I've got....

Credits, thanks, lists and thoughts

2005-02-05T19:34:00.000Z

Well its over. One of the most intense, happiest, tiring and eventful periods of my life. No regrets. It cost me approximately £3500 for the trip. Most of the expense was in the US and Canada, but I did everything I wanted to do and a few things I never imagined.

In hindsight I would have made a few changes to my itinerary to ease my passage. There are parts I would skip out and maybe doing the whole of the West coast meant I traveled too quickly at times. In Latin America I would have definitely benefited from going to learn Spanish in a language school.

The highlights for me were San Fran, Guatemala and Panama, mainly due to a mixture of great scenery and good company. I would certainly like to go back to Guatemala and get to know the people more, San Fran I could I live there, as I would Vancouver.

Thanks for reading the blog hope you enjoyed it. I give special thanks to all those at home who mailed me and gave support during my journey. In particular:

Mum and Dad - for sorting out my mail and hassles with credit cards
Jill and Neil - For providing equipment, a home, numerous other stuff
Alan and Judy - For providing equipment, storing my junk
Mark - For setting up the web site

This is the equipment I ended up with, which I would probably take again for a following trip. The only changes would be to use a digital camera and I would possibly consider adding a mosquito net and a sleeping bag.
Generally I tried to travel as light as possible as I often added extra gear (such as a tent) and food and water, which really up the weight.

Luggage
rucksack - Berghaus Voyager 55 litres
Daysack - drawstring gym bag

Bicycle cable lock (to lock rucksack to immovable objects)
Small padlock (for lockers)

Apparel
Merrill sandals, (these slowly fell apart and were difficult to clean)
Montrail Goretex walking shoes, (recommended)

Berghaus Extrem Paclite Goretex waterproof shell (expensive, but effective)
Body belt
Wide brimmed hat (avoids red ears)
Long sleeve shirt
2 Dryflo T shirts (1 got lost)
Swimming shorts
Windstopper fleece
2 trousers (no zipp off legs, its not cool)
2 pr walking socks (designed for Goretex shoes)
3 pr Dryflo underpants (so they dry over night)

Misc
2004 Footprint guide book (okay, bit out of date)
Spanish phrase book and dictionary
Silk sleeping sheet (keeps bed bugs out)
Inflatable neck cushion (great for long bus journeys)
Two Platypus collapsible water bottles (take up less space)
Camera, Olympus mju zoom and 35mm films (broke)
Duck tape
Sun glasses
Pegless washing line (lost, but useful)
Swiss Army knife
Ear plugs (vital)
Compass
whistle (never used)
Petzl head torch (best thing)
Sketch book and pencils (got trashed)
Moleskine journal
Post-it notes, pens
Paperback books (too many at times)
Paperwork: Passport, drivers license (for photo id), 3 credit cards, insurance, cash in $, TC in $, etc

Health
Basic first aid kit
Vitamins (vit B1 to annoy mosi's), 100% DEET, F35 sunscreen,
Toiletries: solid anti-p, lip balm, tooth brush & paste, razors & shaving oil, shower gel
Travel towel
Toilet roll

Oh and a half a hollowed out gourd like thing, used as a drinking/eating vessel, which I am very proud of.

Back to Canada

2005-02-01T21:17:00.000Z

The border crossing to Costa Rica is to be believed. Just a mess of random buildings, not unlike a rough industrial park. Go into a unsigned waiting room the size and feel of a small garage where after 20 minutes some guy prods my bag and tells me to move on. Outside my bus has vanished and an eight year old kid points across the block. There are no signs, eventually find an old lady sitting in the street at a little wooden desk selling stamps to stick in my passport. I buy one on the assumption I might need one, who knows. Nearby there is a small rough hole in an anonymous wall. I peer in and get brusquely asked for my passport. It is stamped and returned I get the impression I have just officially left Panama. The kid pops up again like the white rabbit and points north and says Costa Rica. I amble through no mans land not quite sure where I am going or what I am looking for. I go past various random shops and utility buildings and find my bus again, but its empty and locked. After a few dead ends the white rabbit returns, I pay him a well earned dollar and I hand over my passport to the big greasy guy with his shirt half undone revealing a sweaty hairy torso. We are ushered in to what looks like a wire fenced tennis court, which is a little perturbing. But after an hour the greasy guy shouts my name and lets me out to rejoin the bus. Why this is all necessary is beyond me.

The flight north again is without a hitch. Miami airport was cool as I could talk to the ground staff in Spanish which surprised them no end.

Bit of a shock landing in Canada I am being frozen to death. Yesterday it was 30C and now its -5C at lunch time dropping to -14 at night.
Im not impressed with Toronto, apart from the snow its all a little dull. Very orderly and polite. Even the bums apologies when they ask for change.

I take a day trip to Niagara falls. No that place is truly weird.
The day before everywhere was green, leaves on trees, butterflies fluttered by and now I'm in a monochrome world of ice and snow.

The falls are surrounded by fractured towers of ice and snow. The falls force a plume of mist rising like if it were a forest fire. The water droplets fall and freeze all around creating wild frostings on every surface.

The main street is like a brasher version of Blackpool. Rails of yellowing T shirts 3 for $10, Movieland, House of Terror, Dairy Queen, Jacuzzi, low rates, Casino, wax work murderers.

The jungle

2005-01-31T20:51:00.000Z

The countryside is beautiful, endless double rainbows, butterflies, lush jungle, tropical birds, fresh fruit straight from the trees. Then for some unexplained reason, while reading a map I walk straight into a traffic sign. I have a bump the size of an egg. Plenty of ice cools it but leaves me with a fuzzy head for the next day.

Which is my excuse for a day that went badly wrong. To cut a long story short we spend hours getting into the jungle. We are massively out of time, we have no map, the sun has dropped behind the mountain and it is a absolute minimum of 4 hours travel to get back out again. Oh, the rain has caused multiple land slides and washed the bridge away, so we have to back track. Except my two walking friends are totally oblivious to the impending doom. For every 100m we track back they are stopping with suggestions to go and look for the Quetzale bird or some such. I point out to them the path we were on is now a river, we have no food or shelter and the last bus is uncatchable, unless we stumble upon a lift. We make good progress for about 30 seconds, until they stop again to take photographs of a piece of moss or the like, arghhh! In the end we do get a lift, in a pick up truck, we do catch the last bus and get home at 10, Im somewhat frazzled and tired.

The following day the calvary arrive in the shape of the Dutch girls from Pan city and they have a cunning plan!

There is gathering to celebrate the full moon out in the middle of nowhere. On my journey I have met various interesting people and some have mentioned this before. Its not invite only but very word of mouth. I agree but for one night only.

The three of us borrow a two man tent (!) some supplies and joined the community. It's a bus journey, then a pick up truck and then a two hour hike past woodland scenery. The clearing is ideally located, no one can bother us here. Alcohol is banned, as is anything electric, no power. The only facility is a water pipe from the spring. It varies but between 100 and 150 of us a living in the woods. Food is prepared and cooked communally twice a day. There are educational workshops, but we choose to hang out on the banks of the river and by the hot springs. The first spring has all the charm of a burst water main, but you get used to wallowing around in the mud. Nudity is common, everyone is really chilled, we help out carrying supplies back from the village. Manage to spear my foot on a twig and limp pathetically into camp with bundles of veg. Well it got me out of doing anything else.

The evenings were fantastic spectacle. They start with a cry which is repeated through the forest, Circola, and people start slowly coming in from all directions. They form a circle hold hands and start humming, culminating in clapping your partners hands. The foods simple but delicious. The music weaves and bobs from drums to local Panamanian to violin to clarinet, endlessly changing. Jugglers throw flaming baton's, occasionally from each others shoulders. There are flaming hola hoops, girls spin long chains attached to balls of fire. These are thrown and twisted with amazing speed and dexterity. Everyone seems to have a skill and when it goes quite someone else joins the fray. There are Panamanian indian people in loin clothes who whoop, shout animal noises and pound the floor in mad tribal dances.

Walking back to the tent a hundred electric blue eyes stare back. Closer inspection reveals spiders. Thinking of them as fairy lights is lot more pleasant.

I could go on and on with more details, but it was the highlight of my trip. Well five days later I emerge from the jungle. i catch sight of my self in a mirror, well I think its me. I stare for a good five minutes. I thought everyone else looked wild, but I look no better. It leaves me with less than 24 hours to get to the right country and make the airport!

Panama City

2005-01-31T19:49:00.000Z

Started off in the Caribbean town of Bocas del Toro. Once was a top backpacker hideaway, now US property developers are pouring in turning it into a tourist destination. The heavy rain had made the waters turbid rather than turquoise. Did not hang around and caught the bus South, through jungle and cloud forest. Would make a great road for motorcycling, smooth curving bends, dramatic scenery with hardly another vehicle.

Got to the hostel in David and got immediately invited to join a group going to a festival in Boquete, an hours journey into the hills. It's a small village surrounded by volcanoes, jungle and coffee plantations. Thousands of local people from all over the mountains are partying, fairground rides, street food, stalls, open air discos and bars. Went into the first bar 12p a beer! party on, needless to say i got home at about 4am. Considering we were the only white faces in town everybody was really cool and we had no hassle.

Panama was the first really modern city I have come across since leaving the states some three months ago. High rises, supermarkets (which was a real novelty) and 24 hour facilities, though parts of it are pretty shady in general it felt safe to have some fun. I hooked up with some mad Swedish guys from Boquete and things got very very.

Its 4am, watching a bored naked girl shuffle across the stage, vacant brown eyes scan the crowd. The television at the bar is unintentionally reflecting in the stage mirrors, its English football, Chelsea are winning, wisps of smoke soften the edges, as does the warm imported beer. There is a Swedish girl from the hostel on my shoulder trying to make conversation. My mind is elsewhere. I have been in town 9 hours and I am already this deep in it. Sigh. End the night at an even sleazier joint, off duty taxi drivers and night people.
Just before day break we head home and enjoy the cool air and the quite morning sounds of the city as we chill together on the top floor balcony. Interrupted by a spitting competition to see who could reach the parked cars below.

The days are warm and balmy, clear skies and pretty easy going. The following evening another party starts and goes something like this.
>R lets go dancing
Its 2am!
>Non-plussed, big eyes
Okay, where?, nowhere is open, Im not going to last nights dives.
>Lonely Planet?
Five clubs and several taxis later 12 of us rejoin having split up during the evening, but all end up independently at the last club still open, to much surprise and big hugs. The only european faces in the place and it is pumping, 2 for 1 drinks, salsa, sweaty, jammed dance floor, swaying hips and good rhythm's. No idea where we are but its the best antidote for the traveler blues.

Back on the balcony. Coming down as the sun comes up. Rum with my coffee, jam on my toast. Best go to bed its 8:30.

There is no respite, the Swedes segway into the Dutch without missing a beat. My Aussie room mate just smiles and shakes his head every time he sees me.

Much I cant remember, but this goes on for four nights. I did get to see some of the city in daylight. The old town was worth the trip, narrow streets, wrought iron balconies, big old wooden doors, intricate plaster moldings, its dirty, crumbling, trees and vines grow down the walls. Music drifts out of the windows, people are hanging out of the balconies and sleeping it off in the street.

This is the Latin quarter. It is slightly dangerous but really cool. The other side of the bay are the skyscrapers, but this place has style. My enthusiasm gets the better of me and the police usher me away from the darker side of town. With good reason, the dock side is seriously sketchy. Guys are not make any effort to hide that they checking if Im worth robbing. I end up walking fast my nostrils filled with the stench of the fish market, past stalls of herbal medicines, piles of rope, people playing dominos on the street, rotten vegetables and the deafening noise of endless car horns.

Saw the Panama canal. Having traveled the length of a continent and this is the logical end point I stare at something which is no different to the ship canal back at home in Manchester, whoopie.

I split with the Dutch girls and go back north for some rest. I head back up into the hills to Boquete, so I can do some hiking and put behind me the madness of the city.

Entering Panama

2005-01-14T18:30:00.000Z

Its amazing what 24 hours does. Im running around town making arrangements, getting things done. The pace of the city spurs me on. Gone are the slow paced shuffling towns, here people stride. Its great to be running through busy traffic again. Scruffy and ugly it maybe, but the city has vibrancy. It has gun shops (hmmm not so good). Check the map, get cash, food, plane ticket home, more junk food, pick up my clothes from the laundry, where to go, what to do. Wing it to the bus station, get conflicting information, but end up walking almost straight into the side of the anonymous bus, parked no where in particular. By chance I overhear the place name I want and jump on the big pink bus and it leaves.

Its a joy, jungle green scenery unfolds, banana and pineapple plantation, waterfalls and bright blue streams. Its sunny I leave the grey clouds behind, the wind comes pouring through the bus window. Im on the road again.

Bang! I run into a apocalyptic scene. It is not obvious at first, I am not familiar with this landscape, but something does not seem right. The blue bags placed over the banana crops are missing, they´re strewn all over the bushes and trees. As we make progress it´s quite apparent I am traveling into a full scale disaster zone. I pull back the window to its full extent to view the scene unfolding. There are cars at odd angles, wooden houses out of kilter, trees uprooted. The usual disaster movie stuff. It was the next thing that took me back. Some things you expect as permanent, immovable, what ever happens they are a constant. Except miles of modern highway had just been blasted over the countryside. This was no third world road. Broad, white lined, kerb stones, no different than at home.

A massive flood had hit this Caribbean coast. The locals were shovelling red mud from their houses, hanging their now orange tinted clothes out to dry. On higher ground their furniture was lined up in sun to dry out. Sections of asphalt, as if like giant discarded bathroom towels were scattered along the way side. One significant section of highway had rotated a full 45 degrees.

The bus driver was amazing. This was almost certainly the first bus here. The roads were chocked with emergency vehicles, Red Cross and aid trucks. Where the crumbling highway existed, even though it was heavily under cut from flood water, it was barely wide enough for the bus. Many times it had gone completely. Forcing the driver to drive down embankments and weave round piles of wreckage. A bull dozed tortuous path enabled us to just make passage. At one stage the road was a shale beach and I expected the journey to end, stuck out there.

But all the time, as we passed through, i saw smiling and waving kids and people confidently getting on with clearing up. Some bright sparks were even selling Wellington boots by the way side.

With other priorities the border crossing was mercifully brief.

To enable the bus to cross to Panama it drove onto the railway line. Over the swollen river via a narrow rickety wooden rail bridge by lining itself up a few planks lain end to end to aid its crossing.

The fun did not end there. We were well behind time. A simple journey had taken all day and the sun was low and I was aiming for the ferry before dark. There was little chance of finding somewhere to stay here. The bus stopped in the first town across the border and no ferry was going anywhere. I hook up with another guy in the same predicament and split a taxi to the next town to catch the last boat.

Never do this in central america, unless you are mad. Our driver takes this as a personal challenge, we hurtle along, wheels screeching in the corners, wrong side on the racing line, blind bends, the jungle blurring. We have obstacles as well. The rain on the steep hillsides have resulted in many landslips pouring tons of debris onto road. In a detached "what the hell" way Im enjoying this, random wind in your hair adventure.

In to town, to the jetty, we bounce over the railway line, two minutes to spare. We pay him over the odds and run to the boat.

Our ´ferry´is a souped up speed boat. The big black guy falls onto me, as literally we jump on to the boat. Straight on full power, blatting out 40 knots, our wake washing over palm covered islands and swamping local dug out canoes. Environmental impact maybe, but big grins definitely and as we dock the lilac sun just fizzes out into the Caribbean sea.

Journey from hell

2005-01-12T19:46:00.000Z

I was not asked, but I knew I would feel bad if I went my separate way, so I joined the three girls, M, O and A on the journey south.

M´s ankle was pretty bad. They had managed to buy some crutches, but they were designed for a person 6´4" to 7´6". Guatemalan´s are a short people and M is not much bigger, so some serious bodging was necessary.

Up early and caught an unusually empty chicken bus to Guate City. Normally they are hanging out the door. All went smoothly, jumping straight into a taxi to the bus station, though a fight between the taxi drivers was broken up by a shot gun wielding security guard.

M hopped up the steps on to the Tica bus to El Salvador and off we went. The air con was not and we were stuck by the most fowl smelling toilets ever. It was hot and unpleasant.

Got dropped off and found some nearby accommodation in San Salvador. No water, dirty, rough, cockroaches, odd noises in the night. Sorta funny for one night. The getting on and off buses is starting to tell on M. Just walking the few yards from the bus is obviously painful and slow. This is not the place to be vulnerable. Had to stand on the street corner at 4am in downtown San Salvador to catch the next bus, dodgy as hell. This is not a nice city.

Another long hot bus journey. The Tica people messed up our tickets and we ended up back next to the toilet again! The scenery was dry and dusty, gone was the lush jungle of Guatemala. To pass the time pleasantly we describe in minutiae our favourite meals.

Crossed through more borders, did not stop for meals, ate what ever was offered by the local women. O found some delicious oranges, thanks, the days highlight. O is great, sparkly eyes and dont give a damn attitude, though one of the untidiest people I have ever met. Previously three of us shared a room.I constantly tripped over clothing and founding discarded knickers stuck to my foot on the way to the bathroom.

The bus finally dropped us in Managua, Nicaragua. Strange, flat dispersed city, covered in trees and American style intersections. Jumped in another taxi to go across town. They were all over us at the bus station, dived into a comida for escape. Ate weird deep fried stuff, not exactly pleasant, but least it was something.

Got ripped off on the bus, but we were passed caring. M is now really suffering.

Arrived in Granada, Nicaragua after sun down, not ideal. Taxi´s dont want to pick us up. Strange town, get one eventually but the hostel is full. Temporarily leave M and run across town to find somewhere, twisting my ankle in the process. Leaves it tender for a few days. Check in to a nice funky hostel and proceed to do the bar some damage. After a few random drinks we discover Mojitos, rum and fresh mint and set to in earnest.

There is another English guy here in crutches, slipped on a curb. After all the stupid adventures it is the innocent of things that have all caught us out.

Strange place Granada, feels like a mid west ghost town, old colonial houses. The fronts are brightly painted in pastel shades, but look round the side and they slope down into a dilapidated, scruffy mess. The locals seem sullen, not rude, but lack that certain spark. There are few smiles. The parks at the lake front in empty, no kids in the playground, swarms of flies over brown dirty water, swimming is not advised.

Saw two funerals processions. Tall big black wooden carriages drawn by two white horses. The negro coachman is dressed in brilliant white tails with a white top hat followed by a somber funeral procession. The brightly colored garlands hanging from the coach in marked contrast to the monochrome procession.

In a strange twist i walk straight into a Latino wedding ceremony. Sharp suited men, girls in spray on dresses, the band plays up beat music, choir is gospel and its pretty jolly and cheerful all round.

Back to the hostel, we are pretty tired and have some way to travel still. We stick together as a team, but other travelers spoil the vibe. There are too many weirdo´s here, never feel relaxed, always looking over your shoulder. We drink through the night well into tomorrow. You can order bottles of rum over the bar. Three hours sleep, stumble around bleary eyed, giggle and sing random songs and we decide to move to the beach. Brain dead on endless chicken buses, too many to count, get on and off in strange places. Its a bit of mystery but we end where we intended with luggage intact.

M has lost it at this point, her leg is worse than it started, but in the twilight the seaside is pretty.

Rose just after sun up and jogged the length of the beach and back. San Juan del Sur is a massive disappointment. So much traveling and effort and its a wind swept empty sea side town. Hard grey sand, wind never gives in, driving dust into your clothes and eyes. Too many empty bars, far from quaint and very little to do. To get to the next beach is $10 taxi journey, a kings ransom in these parts. No one sleeps well as the wind whistles round.

Spend hours debating with myself what to do, tired, dont want to be here. I dont like feeling like this it dominates everything. We travel the hour to the nearest town to buy our tickets out of here. It is our last night together, we play Monoploy and dont even have a drink.

I leave before dawn, more running away than leaving, a brief wave goodbye. Another bus, the air con long gone, the curtains drawn to stiffle the suns rays beating down on our little tin can of a bus. I am being slow baked. With no view time travels slowly.

The Costa Rican border was a test of human endurance. Three hours spent joining queues, lined up in the sun. Why? who knows, a stamp in the passport, a quick glance at my bag and thats it. Back on the tin can bus.

Arrive in Costa Rica, San Jose. The sun is fading behind grey rain clouds. Dont how know iffy this city is after dark, so I need to find somewhere to stay fast, but I am short of Cordoba´s as the money changers at the border were ruthless. I have learnt not to trust taxi´s, so its a hike with pack a few miles across town. Hostels are full. My legs are arching, its hot and humid, motivate myself with the need to shower and need to eat. Find a good place, the only hostel left? cheap, safe and full of travelers. I could now relax and start making new plans.

Leaving San Pedro

2005-01-05T20:48:00.000Z

There was a long standing in joke that no can leave San Pedro. People turned around, left jobs in Antigua to return. Four of us eventually decided to make a break for it. All was fine until we stepped off the bus and M painfully twisted her ankle.

She rested and I took the opportunity to walk up the active volcano of Payaca. The scenery was stunning, barren twisted rock, clouds racing straight into the mountain. Spiraling up into contorted patterns, mixing in with the steam rising from the ground. Digging my feet into the cinder cone to make progress up to the mouth of the volcano was hard work, bit like walking up the down escalator. The wind was howling at the top, makeing it icy cold. Great plums of hot sulpherous gases would make us gag as we waited for the cloud to pass.

As it dissipated it revealed a cauldron of red, black and green rocks, from its centre rose a black tower spurted out great orange gobs of molten lava. I clawed out a chunk from the rim to take back. It was so cold I picked up handfuls of hot dirt to keep my hands warm.

Coming back down was hilarious. Just bounded down the side of the mountain, feet blasting huge plumes of ash into the wind. Skidding down in big arcs as if snowboarding, doing turns and setting off mini avalanches. Was nt so funny when I emptied my walking shoes. I had slashed straight through the sole of the shoe on one of the larger pieces of lava, bit of a close call. Carefully walked the rest of the way down in the twilight with the sun sinking behind the mountain.

Getting back to back to Antigua I learnt the news that my friend had gone to hospital and was told she had seriously hurt her ankle. No walking for two weeks, except she was due to be in Costa Rica next week.

Feliz navidad y un prospero ano nuevo

2005-01-05T19:33:00.000Z

Had the most fantastic Christmas and New Year. Was not planning to stay as long in one spot, but everyone fell for this place. Numerous people changed travel plans, flights and had difficulty in leaving.

Lake Aitilan is this beautiful deep blue lake resulting from the explosion of a huge volcano, around it range jagged peaks and ring of smaller volcanoes. All around the lake are little villages, which are connected by little boat taxi's. The weather is shorts and sun bathing with occasional dips in the lake to cool off. The hippest of the little villages is San Pedro. It has few streets, most people go on foot. The dusty paths wind through cobbled streets, fruit trees and coffee groves.

The coffee is superb. They pick it, dry it in their courtyards, roast it and sell it all in the same village. I never realised how much back breaking work goes into making coffee beans. Kinda feel guilty as they get paid almost nothing.

The locals are happy and friendly, always smiling saying hello. The kids wave in the street and sell some of the best cakes ever. Loads of excellent cheap and varied restaurants, loads with lakeside views. Fabulous fresh produce market, fresh herbs, strawberries, advocados, all taste delicious. Three full shopping bags cost me less than two quid. Everything a person could want is available cheaply here; 1.75 litre bottle of rum for 4 quid, bed 1 quid, etc, etc.

I spent Christmas at a hostel called Trippy's, adjacent to Bohemia and next to that is Munchies (go figure).

Christmas started on Christmas eve, which was the start of the endless party. We created a massive Christmas meal, which in the end served 27 people. Everyone did something, some created decorations, others sought cooking instruments, built a BBQ, downloaded Christmas songs, a boat trip for cheeses and other specialties. Considering there is only four rings and none of the pots had handles it was an incredible success. At midnight the whole village shakes to a barrage of Chinese fireworks. What they like here is volume not pretty colours. The Chinese explosives (you cannot call them fireworks) are more than up to the job, so we let plenty off to join in. Some are so loud that I felt nauseous as the shock waves pound my insides.

This kind of behavior, fuelled by a night watchman who could provide endless supply of rum continued for several days. This culminated in an all nighter down by the shore. Masses of speakers, fires, hard house and trance music. Masses of partiers from all over. Huge cheer as the sun rose.

Apart from behaving badly we did some cliff diving. Ouch water is hard. Well i had to do it, male pride and all that. The big cliff is about 15m above the water. Enough time to realise you are falling a very long way and an excellent way to clear a hang over.

To burn off some of this indulgence three friends and I climb a local peak, Indians Nose and camp out. Not a long hike, but steep in the thin air at 2100m. According to the local shamen, staying here has restorative properties (we can but hope). We watch the sun set and the moon rise, lighting up the distant clouds that fold over mountains tops. Some inventive cookery round the campfire. Advocado shells make good cooking pots! We can look down on the whole caldera and fired rockets to signal to our friends in the village a mile or two away.

Did a 36 hour fast to cleanse myself before New Year (some serious partying). It was better than I expected, though I consumed my own body weight in pancakes the following day.

New Year was pretty much a re-run of Christmas, bumping into old friends and dodging fireworks. The street looks as if it is covered in confetti resulting from so many exploded fire crackers.

Two friends organised a treasurer hunt around the town, which was fantastic fun. Made all the more random by the intervention by some of the local kids. Such as retrieving torn up clues from between the cobbles amongst the usual bedlam of the main market street.

Its been great, no plans, no deadlines, nothing you have to do, time slips by dreamily, hang in a hammock, chat endlessly, take all day to do nothing, go to bed or maybe not, it does not matter. Total and utter relaxation.

Guatemala - North

2004-12-30T22:14:00.000Z

From Belize caught a minibus to the border, where I bribed the customs official so I could skip the queue and get my passport stamped without getting my baggage checked.

The next hour was the most painful bus journey every. Another minibus, but the road consisted entirely of potholes, even the potholes had potholes. This did not stop the driver careering on and off the road looking for flattest pothole to travel through. Stressfully, the on coming traffic was also doing the same.

Had a wander round the Mayan ruins of Tikal, but to be honest I was more interested in the wild life. I saw Spider and Howler monkeys in the tree tops and an ant eater chewing his way through an ant nest in a tree stump, plus there were loads of tropical birds. Its well worth visiting with some of the tallest pyramids to date and a great jungle setting, but I've seen enough Mayan ruins.

Caught a local bus to island town of Flores, connected by a causeway across the lake and a good hippy happy hostel. After the pounding my spine took I decided to fly south. The travel agent even gave me a lift on the back of his motorcycle to the nearest town to get some cash. How is that for service?

In the morning caught a three wheel tuk-tuk to the airport to see the antiquated turbo prop plane for my flight to Guatemala City. It came apparent that everyone had been given seat number five, so I felt a little smug as I grabbed the single seat behind the pilot. This offered some incredible views over the jungle and mountains, as we did not gain much height and vehicles below were still clearly visible. I felt a little concern when what looked like smoke started billowing out from under the seats and from the air events. Fortunately it was just water vapour.

Coming into the city meant passing a huge active volcano puffing great guffs of yellow smoke. The capital city was not as scary as I expected , but I did not hang around.

Antigua was also not what I expected. I watched Man U in an English pub, listened to dinner jazz while eating Thai noodles. It's just like a mini European city, with pretty churches and cobbled streets. Pretty safe and surrounded by some impressive volcanoes.

I can not adequately describe the bus journey from Antigua. The buses are old US school buses packed to the rafters with people. I saw a bus over take a truck uphill on a sharp mountain bend, straight into the path of an oncoming truck. To make this impossible maneuver possible the bus runs off the road and under takes the truck. In the space of one hour I saw a bus go into a ditch and a car transporter go up the side of a mountain. Insane.

But the journey is more than worth it for the next destination.

Belize

2004-12-17T11:00:00.000Z

Wow, what a contrast, this place is a breath of fresh air. Its not just that they speak English (they do in Cancun), it is so varied. There are Cantonese speaking Chinese, ethnic Mayans, Creole speaking black African, old English, German Mennonites, its a wonderful mixture. Its also very Caribbean, tin roofed brightly coloured houses, lots of different cuisines, tropical jungle, beaches, a true antidote to the Yucatan.

I hung out in my hammock on the very laid back island of Caye Caulker. A little spit of sand surrounded by a reef. I took the opportunity to some diving and snorkeling, but I would not make a special trip just to go diving here. Its a nice reef, but there are many better places. Also its not particularly cheap, though everywhere is better value than the UK. Saw turtles, nurse shark, barracuda, rays, even saw a big one leap clear out of the water.

I broke my all time record for the longest breakfast. Met some people on the veranda of a little tea room and spent four hours chatting the day away. The tea room closed when the proprietor went shopping, but she was more than happy for us to stay and chat. Its that kind of place, you quickly get to know everyone on the island. Doing nothing is a way of life.

After recharging the batteries I traveled inland to San Ignatio a little town in the Belizian jungle. Again great fun, especially friendly people, paddled a canoe for four hours up steam through an olive green jungle river. Why do I get the mad guides? He did a good job navigating us through the rapids and pointing out the orange iguanas, then proceeded to smoke a huge joint. He was babbling on about all kinds of Mayan gods and goodness knows what else after that.

At a traditional medicine place in the forest I bought, much against my dubious thoughts, some very effective herbal salve for mosi bites. Very tranquil on the river, just the sound of paddles and birds. Kingfishers, swallows, little bats, blue herons too many to remember.

The best little adventure was by a 4x4, bouncing, squirming through the red jungle mud into the depths of the rain forest. A brisk hike through the jungle, fording a couple of rivers to reach a deep river. Helmets and head torches donned, guided by an ex British soldier we swam into the cold river entering a mouth of a cave. Our small group clambered over rocks, through chest high water, continually following the flow of the underground river through sparkling chambers of calcite crystals. It was hard work and took several hours, swimming, wading, climbing over, under and around jagged limestone boulders. The finale was climbing up into the roof of the chamber to see the Mayan artifacts left insitu. We tip toed bare foot around delicate bowls and sacrificial skeletons. The chamber itself was incredible, but the way the head torches cast shadows over the relics stirred the hairs at the back of the neck.

I found a new use for the jungle salve. I stripped off by the jeep to change into dry clothes and felt a sharp tingling sensation in my legs, looked down and there I was stood naked on top of an ants nest. Jungle ants bite hard! At least I spotted them before they reached too far!

Yucatan

2004-12-10T22:44:00.000Z

This is attempt to bring the blog up to date as it has somewhat fallen behind events.

Not surprisingly the fever did not go away by ignoring it, so I had an enforced stay in Merida. Desperate measures were needed, one paper back "Fever Pitch", pack of tablets, huge pile of food, so I did not have to leave my bed and booked into somewhere comfortable to lie down and sweat it out. I felt like Renton doing cold turkey in Trainspotting. It sort of worked or I shifted the worst of it.

To add insult to injury the non-stop bus to Merida stopped all the way through the night so I had no sleep and I got off to find somebody had gone through my bag. Nothing taken, so I guess it was one of the security check points. In their enthusiasm the ******* knocked open a bottle which emptied into my bag, fortunately most of it was soaked up by a blanket. Unfortunately they also managed to mangle my sketch book in the process.

This did not help my mood, but I thoroughly hated the Yucatan. The scenery was flat, overdeveloped, people unhelpful and full of vacuous American tourists. Its not like Mexico, its full of the trashier bits of the US. No smiles or friendly conversations, just give me your money (and a lot of it).

Went to Isla Mujeres, which on the face of it should have been idylic, a sandy palm treed island in the Caribbean,but I hated that also and I left early. Full of stupid young Americans getting wasted on a few beers. The level of ignorance is just astounding (Do you have democracy in England?). These are college students and they know little about their own country, let alone of the outside world.

I did the tourist thing visited the pyramids of Chichen Itza, where my camera decided it would rather be a paper weight. In annoyance I almost threw it down the hundred steps Id just climbed up. Out of the three main groups in the north Uxmal was probably the best and also the quietest. Tulum was a disappointment just a handful of small buildings by the sea, pretty location though.

Unexpectedly the best thing about Tulum was cave diving in flooded limestone cenotes. Superb. Often divers brag about the visibility, but this water was genuinely gin clear. In the opening cavern I could see clearly the fifty meters to the other side. It was so clear it looked like the divers were flying, you just could not see the water. We weaved through amazing rock formations, silver bubbles rippling across the roof of the tunnels. Rising in vast chambers to echoy voices. The flooded tunnels formed row upon row of stalactites and mites, looking spookily like the jaws of a subterranean demon. Where the roof had broken, blue lasers of light cut through the water creating some unbelievable effects. Id happily go back and spend a week just cave diving.

Tulum was also the first place I came to that was popular with travelers and met many old acquaintances, though its days are numbered as the march of commercialism in the Yucatan continues.

Southern Mexico

2004-11-27T15:18:00.000Z

After Oaxaca I caught the second class bus over the winding mountain roads to Puerto Escondido to chill out by the beach. The journey was great, window open, breeze streaming across my head as I dozed, smelling the flowers and the wood smoke from the little villages. Traveled through the clouds, the hills swathed in forest and the high sun refracting through the cracked and broken windows of the bus. The only unharmonious thing was every time the bus braked the seats became detached, which was a tad surprising when you are half asleep.

The hostel was pretty good in Puerto Escondido, its own pool, four different beaches to walk to. Topped up the tan and played in the waves. The ocean waves are pretty tough here and picked up a whole new range of bumps and scratches for my endeavors.

The mosquitoes finally drove me away from the coast back into the mountains to some of the best scenery so far to San Cristobal de las Casas. It feels a little dodgy here as there are a lot of troops about, but its worth it. Took a number of microbuses to an amber mine, one of the mountain bus stops resembled something out of a Vietnam movie. A little hill with rising mist, sand bagged position, machine guns and barbed wired trenches. Needless to say I did not hang around too long, but the journey was superb. A random mixture of jungle, tropical forest, clearings of maize, banana trees, orange groves all interspersed with abundant bright flowers. Even the dullest bus stop has huge butterflies lazily flapping around.

As hopefully you can tell Im pretty impressed with this area. Went on another minivan ride to a native church. Outside typical vaulted church, inside no pews or chairs,but the floor was heaped with pine needles. In amongst the pine needles and on every surface were thousands of candles lighting the gloomy interior. There were only two small windows high up in the church which cast light through the plumes of black candle smoke. Family groups were rhythmically chanting. At what would be the alter the priest(?) was curing a sick child with the aid of a chicken. Pretty intense stuff.

Went down a canyon to rival some the best of the US, Cañon del Sumidero. A river fills the canyon bottom from which rises sheer cliff faces not unlike the river sequence in Lord of the Rings. There were iguanas in the trees and crocodiles in the water. Huge numbers of birds skimming the water. It had the most beautiful waterfall. It was almost in slow motion, just more than a broad mist cascading from one moss covered outcrop to the next. The boat maneuvered just below it. The gentle drops of water mixed with polychromatic sun burst was hmmm, just run out of words.

While in San Cristobal stayed in a hostel that was more like a commune, which was really fun. The usual hippy things jugglers, people making and selling jewelry. Communal meal times, everyone would share what ever they had. Which made eating much more fun. The washing up never got done though. One day there was a six foot snake in the chill out room, fortunately somebody warned me first. He was dead friendly very warm and soft to the touch. Apparently it was a passing travelers pet.

Took a hideous bus journey into the jungle to Pelenque. Endless bends, bad driving, no air con and I´m starting to develop a fever. The accommodation was not much better. Got another bus to ruins. I was dead lucky the humidity made everyone look as sickly as me, so no one noticed and I bumped into a really sweet Norwegian girl Id met before. Just for the record in case I am giving the wrong impression. There are a lot of girls traveling and my guess when it gets a bit sketchy or to do some of the things the guide book advises against then the Richard chaperon service comes recommended.

Hows this for service. Most people on the bus saw the waterfall took a nice picture. Now how many people wondered what was behind the waterfall. After getting drenched climbing over slippery rocks there was a tunnel behind the waterfall. Why stop now. By wading and by striding on submerged rocks and judging by the blackness of clear water there were some very deep parts. We eventually came to a large chamberwith a subterranean water fall cascading into it. The only slip up is we disturbed some bats, which I dont mind, but my friend screamed and as we standing on a very small rock we stood a chance of both of us falling into the inky blackness.

We rounded off the day swimming anyway, as it was so hot, in the blue water (literally) of Agua Azul. A series of pools and cascading waterfalls in the jungle.

Mexico City

2004-11-15T23:03:00.000Z

Well the city is nothing like I expected. I was half inclined to give it a miss. Its brilliant. Its pretty safe, noisy, cheap and totally nuts.

Its a cross between a free festival and say Amsterdam. The city is built on swamp in an earth quake zone so everything is skew, including the skyscrapers, which are far from vertical. This and the fancy architecture gives it an Alice in Wonderland feel. The main square contains marching soldiers, faith healers, various mystics, a couple of troops of Indians vigorously and loudly swirling around, hundreds of market traders which line the adjoining streets for miles. Then add in dozens of swarming bright green VW beetle taxis, it makes it into a fun place.

Just to add more fun a pack of dogs decided to have sex in the middle of the four lane gyratory, so total (if it were possible) chaos ensued.

Hostel is fun, roof garden looks over the city, which is strung with brightly coloured hammocks. Great free breakfast, pancakes, eggs, fresh fruit, toast and proper tea.

I was being dull last night, working on the internet, got to my room at 11 opened the door and was immediately handed a beer and told to join the party. The thing was this was my room. I did a double take, checked the door number, fortunately I knew most of the people, they said they thought I would nt mind, which I suppose I did nt, bit odd though.

Its sometimes difficult to remember this life is not normal. I was relaxing in a hammock thinking all was well. But thinking about it the church bells where going ten to a dozen, pulled by hand so fairly random, God save the Queen was being played loudly by an organ grinder down in the street, MTV was in the bar, while a thousand street vendors where shouting 2 for 10 pesos at the top of their voices. It all seemed normal at the time.

The street markets are insane. Thousands of people jammed into narrow streets all shouting. Add in the smells of numerous tacos being cooked and eaten as you shuffle along. Kids with wheel barrows wheeling through the crowd selling sweets. Vats of chips being fried while being pushed along through the crowd. The odd scooter with a chicito on the back (no helmets of course) and through this madness comes a bus, as they have not shut the road. The best bit is when the cops come along and the traders grab their gear so all the carefully piled merchandise scatters everywhere as they belt up the side streets dragging their gear behind them. Give it two minutes and they all come back again.

Did the cultural stuff, museums, churches and pyramids. All very nice, bit peeved Diago Rivera´s museum was closed for two weeks. I like all the day of the dead stuff lots of skeletons, and strange looking little imps and devils. Bit like Tim Burtons "Nightmare before Christmas", which unsurprisingly is very popular over here.

My stomach sorted itself out. That is until I bought a green taco off an Indian women. I like hot food but the chili sauce near made me go blind. Speaking to a local girl (and they have chili sauce on popcorn) she said the native stuff is too hot for her and generally had a good laugh at my expense.

The thing to look out for is sneaky jalapenos. They usually attack when not expecting it. It was 6am at the bus station and I asked the sandwich lady to make us a cheese sandwich, which was great (tomato, lettuce, advacado and local made cheese, bit like Holumie) and half way through I get a whole mouthful of chills. Not what is needed before a long bus journey. Same happened with the Cornish pasty (Im sure the Cornish gold miners never had chili).

Loads of food here, buy it off the street and its virtually free. Cake shops to die for. You can buy virtually anything here. Each block (and there is a lot in a city of 25million) specializes in a certain product, such as typewriters, wedding cakes, surgical supports. In the pharmacies you can buy full surgical equipment, all kinds of nasty looking stainless steel instruments, a complete range of cutting equipment, plus all the stuff you would find in a Chemistry lab. The mind boggles what they do with it.

Its a shame to leave, but the only downside is the pollution. It is worse than LA and has been catching in the back of the throat.

Northern Mexico (updated 15 Nov)

2004-11-05T22:09:00.000Z

Bit of an epic journey from Baja and used about every means of transport.

Local bus at 14:00 to ferry terminal and caught the ferry for an easy crossing to the mainland landing at 22:30.
Caught another local bus (1960s, had to stand, bag on roof) from ferry terminal to bus station. Then got ripped off by a taxi driver to a hotel at midnight.

Got up four hours later to get another taxi, as this town was a bit rough, as I usualy use buses. Caught a train at 06:00. This wended its way through rolling green and leafy scenery which could have been England (honest).

The journey was really pretty, waterfalls, mountain passes, numerous tunnels and bridges. Later I met an English railway engineer who told me the bridges were dead dodgy.

It is supposed to be one the worlds top railway journeys. It was supposed to take six hours but instead took thirteen, because it rained!. It was so slow you could watch individual trees pass by. Top train though, restaurant car had booths not seats, the cocktail carriage had a wooden bar that swept in a 4m curve, very Orient Express. We had our own machine gunner as well!

Stayed at Creel for a while did some walking, but it froze at night due to the altitude, so I did not stay long. I picked some berries for a girl to turn into jewelry, which was nice.

Lots of native indians. The women wear some amazing traditional clothing, while the guys are all in Western gear and ride huge beat up pickups. Helped a local guy to move house. Well I asume he was moving house, could be robbing it for all I know.

Up to Chihauhua (bit of a dog, he he) and then to Zacatecas. This is one of my favourite towns ever. Full of winding streets, very little sign of the 20th century, all the buildings are as when Pancho Villa was ripping up the town. Terracota colours, shutters at the windows, a little rounded arch for the door. The only problem is that without shop fronts or signs it is really difficult to find a particular store. You have to peer into each door way, an underwear shop could be next to engineers workshop, next to saddlemakers, or iron mongers (who sell horse shoes!). The bars have swing doors, just like the films, great!

The bedrooms in Mexico use glow in the dark light switches, which I though was a brillient idea.

Currently in Guanajuato, which apart from being very pretty is a big student town and has the usual student facilities. Loads of internet cafes, 10peso an hour and loads of booze. By chance I have bumped into a fellow Scot, so we have had a few drinks! One offer is for 45peso you can get 5 beers or 1lt of Barcadi or 1lt of Taquilla! The exchange rate is 21peso to the quid, so it works out very cheap. I found loads of Mexican beers that dont make it out of Mexico. I dont know whether its the altitude (everywheres over 2000m) or the food but my stomach is far from happy. I think I have been over doing the chilis. They have salsa on their breakfast beans, or it could be the cacti, which I found out today is a laxative (just what I need).

Well off to do some more beer research. Planning to hit the biggest city in world in the next few days.

Just as an aside if you are wondering about my punctuation (though I doubt it) it is because of the Spanish keyboards. No two are the same and to make life more difficult the keys dont match the symbols.

Oh I left town fairly promptly as my Scottish budy after a five am finish, which by the way the club was still full on when we left and there were people in church singing on the way home. Anyway he was keen to be more than a buddy. Im all for new experiences but I think I ll take a rain check on that one.

Went to Morelia, which was a fine town. The only white face in town, but the people were so friendly and keen to catch where I was from. Also went to Patzcuaro, which is a really pretty mountain village next to a huge lake. Took out a boat and went to one of the islands. Lots of water lilies and herons. Sunset was beutiful over the lake, but the mosi´s bit me to death, such is life.

La Paz, Baja, Mexico

2004-10-29T17:49:00.000+01:00

Hola amigo,

Been slowly traveling down the Baja peninsula by bus, stopping off in places that look interesting. Inland it is desert surrounded by dusty brown mountain ranges, which fall down into sweeping sandy bays that look out on to the Sea of Cortez or the rolling surf of the Pacific.

I amused the bus passengers when I gleefully ran across the highway and took a photo of my first cactus. You know the type, the ones you get in westerns where it looks like its holding its hands up, as for the round next corner was an endless desert filled with thousands of them.

It is quite here, you can get the beach to your self, even though its sunny and in the high 80`s. The Mexican people are very friendly, I dont get hassled and they are pleased to help with my Spanish. It`s also very cheap!

This nextbit might be a bit boring, but Ive included it so I dont forget.

To avoid paying for a hotel and traveling past yet more desert I planned for an overnight bus trip, so I waited in a local bus depot for the 23:30 bus. This was no more than a patch of gravel and two basic rooms with a tin roof. With time to kill , I translated the notices in the room with the dictionary I had bought that day, mainly as I could not find a bar locally. The girl behind the desk was pretty, so I smiled each time when she looked across. Unfortunately at that time the only phrase I knew was "please extinguish your cigarette before entering the building", which was odd as the sign was hung in side the building.

There was a heavy solid wooden desk in the office, which contained three draws. The front of the central draw had no handle and instead of being rectangular the top edge had worn down in a curve by a good inch. So how old and how many times must of it been opened and closed? This is typical of stuff here, things get used until they finally wear away.

Later an official chap arrived and made great play he was locking the front door , except adjacent to the entrance was the exit, which had a frame, but was completely missing the door itself.

That particular leg did not work out so well, as there was a crying baby and the driver was happily listening the stereo, while the bus felt like it was a boat in a storm. Peering through the (broken) front window all that was illuminated was a few feet of mountain road and then utter blackness. I kept my eyes shut after that. Thanks to the skills of the driver I got into the next destination way too early at 04:30 in the morning and spent another three hours till day break to work out where the hell I was.

I did some scuba diving off La Paz in the sea of Cortez, looking for hammerhead sharks, saw one possible at 100feet, but the viz at this time of year is a poor 10m. Swimming with sea lions was fun, bloody noisy things. No corel though, so it was not pretty as I expected.

On to the mainland next.

Photograph's

2004-10-23T07:47:00.000+01:00

With thanks to Mark, for the hosting I have managed to upload some photograph's of the desert trip.

This will take you an another site, from which you can view some pictures

San Diego

2004-10-20T22:42:00.000+01:00

I'm living in a Pacific beach house facing on to rolling surf, sounds good but there is one small problem, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain...

So you say why not go surfing? It has not rained here for the last 182 days and the accumulated detritus is now poring into the sea, so I can look at the perfect waves , but unless i want a visit to ER I can only watch (in the rain). Even inside the rain comes to say hello via little springs through the wall, ceiling, floor, etc, which fuses the wiring just to make it more fun. All the internet terminals blew up.

Went to a unintentionally spooky fun fair, entirely devoid of people, lights on, no staff, no customers and was playing Gary Jules's "Mad World" across the fair.
My friend decided she wanted to go on the classic 1922 built wooden roller coaster, to my mind that is a long time ago. Thankfully the caretaker did not let us on as it had been raining, why that should shut a roller coaster I dont know, but I made a quick exit from the death trap and saved face in front of my friend who seemed totally unaware of its short comings.

I wrote this in the local library, from which I noted, I can hold the whole travel section under my right arm. Compare this with the 22 shelves on food (not including diets), does that say something?

PS dont get you hair cut within ten miles of a marine base. I guess it will grow out.

Los Angeles

2004-10-20T22:02:00.000+01:00

Seeing as I was having such fun, LA was a severe let down. This is supposed to be where the rich and famous hang out, Sunset strip, Hollywood Boulevard, the Viper room, etc, etc. I expected a pretty snazzy city. No its a sh*t hole, sorry for the profanity (The Greyhound drivers warn against profanity while traveling), but of all the cities I have seen this is the truly least rewarding.

It's big, very big, and flattish in the middle. Air here is not the normal transparent stuff that I am used to, but un-attractively yellow. If you are foolish enough to travel to the look out point, high above the city you can truly see the panoramic vista of yellow fug that covers the city. Apart from the curiously coloured air, the city scenery has all the charm of a Lego brick, but porridge coloured. Its just an endless sprawl of low rise.

On the up side Universal Studios was my first US theme park and I can recommend the experience. You have to shout continuously, screaming preferably, shouting is necessary as there are hidden (v)loud speakers everywhere, bellowing high velocity music, and instructions on where to go and how quickly to do it. They are incredibly thorough in the placement of the speakers. That tree looks quite, no, one in the leaves, ok lets try the soda fountain shaped like a pumpkin, no again, there is a speaker in one of the ears (dont ask).

But it was good fun and no queuing. Water features heavily and repeatedly getting wet from various angles is fun, honest. Just as an example, the 3D cinema looks just like a regular cinema, except you put on funny specs. So as the 3D spiders appear to be falling into your lap, dry ice blows across the back of your legs, scaring you half to death (not me, of course). The seats which looked securely fixed to the floor suddenly pitch forward, towards the water fall that is now appearing to float in front of your face and the back of the chair in front sprays you with water, inventive, nice.

Venice beach is what you would expect, pumping iron on muscle beach, gangs playing basketball, rollerblading saxophonist, cop show being filmed, girls in thongs, life guards in orange shorts, incense burning, the constant buzz of tattoos being etched, juggling, Hell's Angels on choppers, no deck chairs though.

A group of us went out clubbing on Sunset strip; Manchester or Liverpool beats it hands down. Ended up having a great time playing an endless drunken game of "Killer" (darts), much to the confusion of the locals. Not quite the LA experience I was expecting.

The big desert trip

2004-10-07T02:46:00.000+01:00

Met some of the most wonderful people and experienced the most outstandingly beautiful scenery that I can ever recollect.

Big old funky 60's bus called Max, going on its last trip. No conventional seats, but 38 of us sleep and live in it for the duration. We drive through the night, or park up in wild, share chores, chill out, talk long into the night,... some of the highlights.

The hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, bring your own water and sleep rough. Watched the full moon rise into the clearest sky. It gets over 100F in the day so i doze mid river lying on a rock cooling my feet, ahh bliss. Deer come to the waters edge to drink, while lizards skid across the pebbles. The route back out is torture, setting off at 5am to avoid the worst of the heat. Eighteen miles of sand and rock. The cheese sandwiches which are our main stay turn to fetid goo.

Sitting up front of the bus, with feet on the dash, stereo blasting, getting a full back and head massage while watching the big open desert un fold at 70 mph.

Monument valley on the back of a pick up truck driven by a crazy Indian. Up sand dunes, getting stuck axle deep in mud, crashing into another vehicle full of staid tourists. We go off the beaten track and he gives us all the indian stories, names of rocks and songs. We even learn some indian drum beats. This is a must visit place.

Watched the sun rise slowly at Bryce canyon, setting the terricota peaks alight with every huw. The ground was covered in ice and breath swirled in front of us, but we sat on the canyon rim snuggled together in a duvet, watching another day unfurl.

Sitting round a raging camp fire sharing the hard learnt drinking games of my biker days. This is something the British can excel at.

Scrambling and walking up and up an ever sharpening knife edge ridge. The ridge top a meter of so wide which drops either side for a vertical 600m straight down. Reassuringly grippy sand stone, with ropes for tricky bits, but climbing down is hard work when you are forced to look straight down and can see the bus parked in valley appearing only a few millimeters long. The nice thing is I climb this with my friend and we chill out on what seems the roof of the world.

Vegas bright lights are best seen drunk, as it makes very little sense. This is Blade runner meets Disney land. A vast empty desert and with a city that assaults every sense, random features appear around every corner, venician gondolas scooting across the road, every image is bigger, bolder and madder than the last. You come away wondering was it real or just some hallucigenic dream. Finding a shop that specialised in message chairs, an hour of utter relief from the numerous aches and pains that hiking and the alcohol tomfoolery seem to induce.

The post trip parties. Leaving here is the hardest thing I've done.

Some pictures of the desert
test

Leaving Frisco

2004-09-24T05:51:00.000+01:00

Going on a hippy bus well away from civilisation for couple of weeks, so I've posted some random stuff to fill in.

Saw a car today pull away from the gas station, while leaving the hose and nozzle still inserted in the car. It drove off and ripped half the petrol pump away and dragged it up the street completely unaware.

Frisco is a fine place have to leave it now or I never will, already been offered a job.

As I walked down the street a tennis ball bounced into me yesterday, so I bounced it off the walls of the exercise yard of Alcatraz prison, just like the movies. Pretty emotive place.

Lists

2004-09-23T19:27:00.000+01:00

Some observations on the USA.

Yang things

Why is the 10 cent coin smaller than the 5c
Why are the dollar notes all the same shape and colour and look they have been made of toilet
paper. Never mind making web sites accessible, lets start with something fundamental like money.
Why does the milk taste so weird
Cheese; strange, tasteless gooey stuff. A variety of colours but not taste.
Choice, example 500 (I counted) preparations just to deal with head colds.And many variations of peanut butter are really needed
Why is nothing the price advertised, you have to do maths to work out the real price, which means nothing comes out at a nice round number.
Bloody one cent coins, bin them.
Taps, what is wrong with having simple hot and cold taps, not this game of is this a pull and twist (left or right?) or is it push, or which bit do you fiddle with to make the shower head work. Some are even motion activitated,I've even seen a motion activated hand towel dispenser.

Ying things (of many)

Green Tortise hostels
$3.99 for 1.5 litre red wine
book stores
The anti-bush jokes
China town
Fire engines
Sunshine every day
Music

Darker stuff

2004-09-23T19:04:00.000+01:00

These are some the images that I found slightly disturbing..

The China man
He was on the corner of a busy street kneeling, pitched forward so that the rest of his body was only supported by his right hand jammed into an oversized peanut butter jar. His eyes screwed up tight and his body completely motionless. It looked like he was caught in a freeze frame, that he ought to topple over, or something should happen next. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. I would have sworn he was dead.

While walking down a fashionable boulevard I spot a pretty girl with long chestnut hair and big eyes staring into the distance. Her eyes matched the colour of the frapacino coffee that she nonchantly drank from a straw, having taken it from the garbage bin.

There are sexless figures, that have their cellophane skin stretched tight over withered bone and sinew. Their white skin stands out harsh against the dark concrete and asphalt streets, like a living negative.They are really creepy, drugs I guess?

On the overnight bus two guys, shaven heads, wrap around shades, vest T, tattoos. They are up beat, chattering freely, having been released from prison that day. One guy has the same winged tattoo as David Beckham on the back of his neck, except in the middle is a circle containing a red swastika. Slept well on the overnight bus.

Stuff

2004-09-23T04:57:00.000+01:00

I'm writting this while under the under the influence, ojkay this like one those late night phone calls. I just spent too lonmg talking a girl through being pretty sick. You know the score. It happens to all of us, its your responsibility to help someone else to gret through the shit. It's way early in the morning. I'm tired.

Frisco is cool apart from right now. tommoorroew/daylight will be all beter, down to where it all started in 60 something. love r.

San Francisco

2004-09-20T05:52:00.000+01:00

There was too much rain in Seattle so I traveled south, through Portland Oregon down to sunny California.

Today I spent reading after a long bus trip by lying in the park sunning myself under a powder blue sky, wiggling my toes in the gentle breeze. If I look between my feet the big orange bridge spans between my toes. I keep having to looking up to pinch myself.

Interesting lodgings, very mellow, free breakfast, bagels and bob dylan while sitting in an old run down theatre. The neighbourhood is a little zesty, there there are many little theatres along the street, though I'm not familiar with the film titles. Some the of girls seem a bit different to ones at home.

Looking forward to exploring this intriguing city.

Sleepless in Seattle

2004-09-15T04:07:00.000+01:00

Very sleepless as currently poorly. This is probably why:

I hiked for miles over mountains, through valleys, along knife edge morraines, looking down on to glaciers, to the headwall of the valley at the very edge of the Columbia ice field. A round trip of some 15 miles from 1500-2500m altitude, as I go to get my camera to photo the headwall the clouds descend, followed by torrential ice cold rain, so no photo and I have to retrace my steps all the way back again, in the rain.

The second soaking. I trekked 3 miles to the trail head, checked over my shoulder and an angry black ball of cloud is skudding its way down the valley. Okay I'm out of here and I skip down the valley towards the nearest shelter. As the rain begins I hide under some tall trees which provide good protection. Bang! a thunder clap that near bounces me out of my shoes, bugger this, so I rapidly sprint across the open ground to make for the village. There is a railroad crossing just before the first building. Rain is starting to down harder. Noooo, from my right comes a freight train. To say it was a mile long is an understatement. When I started counting there were 84 wagons to the end of the train. So I stood their in the middle of the highway, the sky black, the rain is coming down so hard its bouncing up the inside of my coat. Sometimes you have to accept you were meant to get cold and wet.

But the Rockies are beautiful. There are nice flowery meadows and lots of little cute critters. Loads of weird fungi too, the sort of strange colors and shapes I'd associate with undersea reefs.

Its amazing the number of bear shaped shadows there are in the forest!. Just to fill you in. Bears run faster than horses, they have 6cm long claws and can bite clean through pine trees, oh and they're a little touchy about anyone being in their space. I found pretending they dont exist is the best approach and a big stick. It wont do anything but it makes you feel big and tough. Besides I'm too skinny to eat.

Oh so I end up with a really bad bought of flu, so I went to Seattle to chill and eats lots of meds (and chocolate).
The guy at the home made fudge counter must have felt sorry for me as snidely slipped me a whole kilo, nice guy.

Finally, I made it to my first ball game Seattle versus the Red Sox. It's neat as people bring beer and food to you, so you dont have to move, and you dont have to pay attention as the important bits are replayed anyway. Even better I did nt pay for ticket as another good guy I met gave me a spare, cool. I could not figure out the ticket, so I did the obvious thing go ask someone one where the best seats were and sat there. No one complained. There was a 1 in 40,000 chance it was the right one! By chance :-) it happened to be next to a pretty girl who was working for the Seattle Times. True as I checked her column the next day; and she bought the beer!

Maybe its a ying and yang thing .

Jasper, Alberta

2004-09-06T03:31:00.000+01:00

I'm in a rock cafe, sipping coffee, listening to the Eagles, looking out of the window to a vista of snow capped mountains that loom over the small village.

Yet to do much exploring but the scenery is big, great turquoise rivers cascading through shear mountain passes. I'll let you know what I discover as I move south towards Banff.

As you have probably guessed I've given up on the route north. When I got the info on the ground, traveling without a car became a lot of hassle and weather is starting to turn, so it was nt worth the effort.

I can recommend Vancouver island (Tofino), fantastic surfing, sea kayacking, trekking through virgin rain forests, or just chilling watching the wildlife.

The jungle also contains the home of the banana slug, the world's biggest slug. It has sex sessions that last for 36 hours, often resulting in the female gnawing through the penis to free herself! Hmmm makes you wonder about those slug trails?

Things are pretty cool, looking to go up a few mountains. If you are planning to buy some outdoor kit check out mountain equipment a co-operative based in Canada, good gear, they also ship.

Greyhound

2004-09-05T03:26:00.000+01:00

I did my first overnight Greyhound bus. I feel like a real traveler now. My, you really see the under belly of life on a bus. General itinerants, kids with babies, drifters, stopping in some depressingly lonely places. I real eye opener. It's reminisent of a hundred road movies, makes me appreciate stuff I took for granted.

Vancouver island

2004-08-31T03:14:00.000+01:00

The internet connections have been a bit hit and miss. I left Van for the sake of my sanity. Common sense says living life at 125% is going to catch you in the end. I must admit I feel embarrassed about the some of the things we got up to, but we got way with it.I still dont know how.

I hooked up with a lovely hippy chick and went to Vancouver island, where she ran off with a mandolin player, I split and went to Tofino, a remote village on the Pacific west coast.

I think West Cornwall or Scotland is similar but imho nicer, except for the rainforest. Took a little boat to an even more remote island and trekked through the jungle by myself. I walked via a barely perceivable trail, round a tree six meters wide, through bogs, under tree roots, over fallen trees that were the size of houses. I now understand what an impenetrable forest is. Moving a meter off line you'd come to a complete halt. Touch anything and cascades of water would come down.

Have almost given up on going further north independent travel looks too complicated and the weather is too unpredictable.

Thinking of going to the Canadian Rockies instead.

Vancouver, Canada

2004-08-27T23:19:00.000+01:00

Dear friend, sorry its been awhile, but when you have no fixed structure to you time things can get a bit out of hand.

I have hooked up with some great guys, we abuse all the house rules, which are pretty liberal to start with, dodgy bars, and iffy clubs, pool tournaments, playing music till dawn and the best, jamming with a couple of guitars sitting on the roof, 6 am finishes are not unusual. The place is a dump and we are not helping, think Withnal and I and you wont be far wrong.

Love Vancouver, mountains, the ocean, the general vibe. I walked along the sea shore for a couple of miles, the Pacific waters crystal clear and saw a seal catching fish, but there is no litter on the shore line what so ever, not even a coke can. The water is a chilly 9 degrees.

The food is fabulous and so cheap, I can buy half an 18 inch pizza for 1.25 UKP, but you dont even want to know the kind of stuff that is piled up and sold in China town.

There is a vast farmers market and deli stalls that makes Selfridge's look second rate. The tomatoes taste of tomatoes the peaches are the size of melons and make you want to take a bight out of everything.

Went for a walk by myself through a 1000 acre ancient rain forest, massive trees twisted into malevolent shapes, straight out of Farngorm wood, very primordial.

I'm now moving on to Vancouver island, I've heard of a hippy place to hang out with some good surf.

This is the start

2004-08-10T10:36:00.000+01:00

Every journey starts somewhere, this one starts in in Manchester, England. It was probably a journey that I never intended to take, but circumstances meant that it seemed the best avenue to follow.

The motivation had been germinating for some time, but burst through on a train journey traveling from Manchester to Cardiff. Looking out on to a glorious day over the Welsh hills, while being trapped in filthy carriage and an eight hour meeting followed by a four hour return journey. It was time to get out.