tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41122499073937299482024-03-14T13:25:00.696+10:00TRIUMPH AND DISASTERKyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-29205671504735762552011-09-05T16:29:00.001+10:002011-09-05T16:29:04.638+10:00New blogHello everybody and sorry about the total lack of updates and news. I have been traveling and working since the last post years ago. I am off to India tomorrow and I will be recording my travels in a new blog: <a href="http://www.kylearcher.blogspot.com/">www.kylearcher.blogspot.com</a><br />
<br />
The reason for this is I feel like a cheater writing on "bikevoyage" when I won''t be cycling in India! See you over there! :-)Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-39587702770313826612010-09-20T15:50:00.001+10:002010-12-10T15:45:15.416+10:00Beginning/middle of the End<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDuUNTRdYrg4ARPXI9qynlEX93f8VYoM7pBZYFRXgDL2n6_2oAswYUNOhpdYgZKS-izG5s3DsjnUPpX4PQIT_8aZTh9zql7INdHGz5mQAgUA6JkfqUOzfOhtd2RrS_-lsiSpRQWJT7DBO/s1600/DSCF2512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDuUNTRdYrg4ARPXI9qynlEX93f8VYoM7pBZYFRXgDL2n6_2oAswYUNOhpdYgZKS-izG5s3DsjnUPpX4PQIT_8aZTh9zql7INdHGz5mQAgUA6JkfqUOzfOhtd2RrS_-lsiSpRQWJT7DBO/s320/DSCF2512.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It must be said, this was the point where I was beginning to lose the desire to keep cycling and traveling. I still didn't feel 100 percent, and I was kind of deflated. Nevertheless, I left Feliciano's beautiful house in the morning for the ride through Los Alcerces National Park. The next few days were to be a test to see if I had lost the passion for cycling and if my body had recovered fully from the debilitating illness. I decided, with Feli's advice, to cycle north toward Bariloche, folliwing a diiferent route than normal, through a national park, instead of the main road (still Ruta 40) which was said to be quite boring. Prior experience lended me no reason to disagree.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4r2CBxYWNMQNTV9SLs-a1SujAz5jdozzlaKzUj4L0wtxCPmJa_GPV-OAOt6PMDnrtUad4w6WGjFTHcRZ0sTu9GuSrmOX3M7fkdH8c2daHYrq34cQN5GHM9R7KfI49tlG2lCF37C0vuuik/s1600/DSCF2540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4r2CBxYWNMQNTV9SLs-a1SujAz5jdozzlaKzUj4L0wtxCPmJa_GPV-OAOt6PMDnrtUad4w6WGjFTHcRZ0sTu9GuSrmOX3M7fkdH8c2daHYrq34cQN5GHM9R7KfI49tlG2lCF37C0vuuik/s320/DSCF2540.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The road for the first 35km was lucsious tar-sealed tarmac, and even with a good climb out of a valley, I felt good. I found my black pen. The road crested down into a valley. I thought the park started there, but the entrance was not forthcoming. Half and hour later, finally, the entrance appeared, and with the guards at the gate, my hopes for a free entry were dashed. I paid 30 pesos, but observed there were also cheaper entry fees (for locals only?) Nevertheless, the park was lindo, a few waterfalls etc; but I had the feeling I had seen it all before on the Carretera Austral. Can't shake this negative vibe and mood. The hills were undulating, and the steepest was around 23% on loose rock, with seven slack-jawed gawpers leering at me. I despised them. Most of the day I just pushed on, looking for a free spot to camp, and according to my map, there were a few designated free spots on the way. I missed all of them somehow. After a good hundred or so kilometers that day, I played it criminal. I pulled into a pay-only spot, snuck my tent up, and read my book. Into the night, the campers next to me in their RV said Hola and called me over.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjicI11hw2aVYRzocNzJG-rOBlVYcD23Y1564SbkZEvPEiZwQ0hjNByJZ9xcgrQa-LVpPnCr2t8fR9GVkpUi4cwW7LV9AVc_v9GygmJcZcOOaPtMRQSgle3VZDnOyL6fgOZuiQy_BMAU0De/s1600/DSCF2539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjicI11hw2aVYRzocNzJG-rOBlVYcD23Y1564SbkZEvPEiZwQ0hjNByJZ9xcgrQa-LVpPnCr2t8fR9GVkpUi4cwW7LV9AVc_v9GygmJcZcOOaPtMRQSgle3VZDnOyL6fgOZuiQy_BMAU0De/s320/DSCF2539.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>There were three of them, all Argentinean. All in their 40-50's. We talked for a few hours both in Spanish and English. They gave me some excellent dinner in the form of lamb schnitzels con chimi. I said my goodbyes, laid up for the night in my tent, then got up early the next morning, snaeking out and avoiding the camping fee. I was on my way out of the national park, back toward the rural Argentine countryside. On the road out, I met a local bike tourer. He had this endless enthusiasm about him that was shamefully grating to me. I happily warned him of an impending hill. As I left the park I passed a group of gauchos who either waved or offered me a cup of mate. I do hope it was just a wave, as I didn't stop. Strangely the faces of the locals here weren't as smiley as previously. Perhaps they mirrored my own. I was on my way on a rough road that was showing no pity and getting no gentler as the day's mileage increased. I was headed toward the dreaded Cholila-El Bolson road that had been under construction since 2004.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHx_Jo4l4YnNZ_pnGCDAUB0DL_kHAuNe46yFMRsD3js59A1OSMBN3u_CzASoAlNgwQV6WPlM5vp6D_d7mAhqHb7-xInPPcAvmSrOuwm7MvrAcuboz-apxAOU1FG5UXWqAYgtOJmM-2VMok/s1600/DSCF2545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHx_Jo4l4YnNZ_pnGCDAUB0DL_kHAuNe46yFMRsD3js59A1OSMBN3u_CzASoAlNgwQV6WPlM5vp6D_d7mAhqHb7-xInPPcAvmSrOuwm7MvrAcuboz-apxAOU1FG5UXWqAYgtOJmM-2VMok/s320/DSCF2545.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZowTbd-Ljp2bPqo8Nq9qj0lJd9hP0okCnpxQL0jR3Tupw0cphS1n52A9GKSEuhs8J4V1C-GbUOr5u218fW1Ppu7gbYCoLZBaCTO6751K_D2V0cBaGoQ-aKY3fPdymj-WrREETmt4FHIc/s1600/DSCF2501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZowTbd-Ljp2bPqo8Nq9qj0lJd9hP0okCnpxQL0jR3Tupw0cphS1n52A9GKSEuhs8J4V1C-GbUOr5u218fW1Ppu7gbYCoLZBaCTO6751K_D2V0cBaGoQ-aKY3fPdymj-WrREETmt4FHIc/s320/DSCF2501.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>It lived up to it's reputation, reducing me to an exhausted, blistered, blubbering wreck, and almost drew a few tears of utter deperation. In fact if it weren't for the timely arrival of Sofie, I may have let the circling vultures take me. Sofie was a hard as nails kiwi bike-tourer laden with junk food. Naturally, with her chocolate, chips, and smile, she put a bit more in my tank, and once again I pedaled off alone toward the distant horizontal line on that forsaken road.Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-42894871359127556782010-04-29T01:36:00.006+10:002010-12-09T22:21:39.484+10:00Hitchiking Journeyman<div>I stayed at Feli's amazing stately home for two nights, recovering. His parents spoke no english, but prepared three delicious meat-filled meals a day for me, and I had a wash. As I was ill but still had to get my bike, Feli and I weighed the options. 1. Hire a car, drive to Puyuhuapi, get bike, drive back. Not too expensive, but unadventurous. 2. Hitch all the way. Maybe too much for a man with what I suspected was Guardia. 3. Get bus company to pick up bike and deliver it to closer village. Deal. We boneheadedly arranged for that same bus company that had so scarred my previous week to drop the bike off in Villa Santa Lucia, about 100km closer. 12000 Chilean peso via Western Union. Ouch. Feli took me to the border where I managed to rope three lifts to Santa Lucia. Made good time. Bus with my bike on it due at 4:00pm. I waited, anxious. The bus arrived late, and to my incredible, really terrifying fury, the bike was not on it. It was still in Puyuhuapi, and to top it all off, it was the same bus driver, that wretch from earlier, and he told me he knew nothing of the deal, and even if he did, he wouldn't have taken the bike on his bus anyway.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I tried to control my fury, and I showed him the Western Union reciept and recieved a shrug in return. I had to accept the fact that I was hitching to Puyuhuapi and had lost another $30. Converse to my seeming current luck run, I found my ancient old favourite black Quantas pen...my diary was back to black. I camped near the town in a beautiful campsite with some yanks in it. Nice place but no tent, so I was a little cold. Americans offered to take me to Puyuhuapi in the morning. I would have kept hitching that day, as it was still early, if I'd have known they would reneg.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2455.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>The Americans and I, in the morning, drove to La Junta, a small town halfway there. For some reason the Americans decided not to keep going to Puyuhuapi. I was stuck there. Wished they had told me this yesterday. On the plus side, I met up with Belarus and Dan cycling north, I had no idea they were so far behind me. In La Junta, I tried hitching for three hours. Nothing, no-one. Finally a bus stops for me. No way. Its him. Are there no other bus drivers in Chile?</div><div><br />
</div><div>He somehow find a little compassion and takes me on the bus to Puyuhuapi. Anyway now I was finally in Puyuhuapi. It took another three hours for me to be reunited with my bike as it was in the post office which was unreasonably shut, perhaps for siesta. Getting dark, nowhere to stay. Must get out of here. I got to the outskirts of town and put out my thumb. Minutes later two other hitchhikers appeared and stood in front of me! Now thats just rude. I walked over to berate them. Didn't have to, as they turned out to be pleasant company. Israeli guy, can't remember name and a german girl, Liza. Had a good laugh con the Israeli, concerning the fact he was traveling alone rather than in a group of seven. We were picked up by a truck hours later and were able to ride in the back of it, bike and all. It was a great ride, talking world issues with the Israeli while the sun set over the mountains.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2486.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>In La Junta (again) we were dropped off in the dark. We found a hostel type of place to stay for the night. I had some carne empanadas for dinner while poor Liza had nothing as she was vego and couldn't find anything without meat in it. Thats too bad. Next morning we snagged a cheap bus before sunrise. Israeli stayed to sleep in and take a later bus. Liza and myself had to swap buses in a village called Santa Lucia. Apparently the b us would be in one hour, but six later we were still waiting. Boredom. Finished my only book. No mp3 player batteries. Population 96. Damn Chile and its unholy unreliable everything. It is reliable at being unreliable. Had a few instant-coffees, four helados and much pan. We cried with joy when we spotted the approaching dust cloud of a bus. Still hadn't made it the whole way back, they bus left us at the border town of Futaleufu.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Waiting in Futa, I met a group of English lads cruising around South America in an old Landcruiser. It never fails to make me happy chatting with the Brits. They have something and their sense of humour that I really connect with. The final ride of my crude, unwanted bicycle recovery mission left us at Esquel after many misunderstandings, mishaps, miscommunications, mistakes and factors building up to the possibility of misanthropy. But I was 'home'! I was in Argentina! Liza seemed to have had a singular consciousness shift as we passed the border and was becoming quite a negative force in my new happy-Technicolor-Argentine world, so I left her for dust in an Esquel internet cafe. Rather than grind my way down the road seven k's I decided to stay for one night in a 'hostel' of sorts in town. It was a great time, really good vibe there and cheap. at only 23 pesos a night. I stocked up on food, ready to pick up my velocipede at Feli's and hit the road straight away, as I expected him to be away traveling, meaning I couldn't stay there. When I rocked up to collect my stuff, however, there he was. Looked flustered. Anxious, nervous. Reason being, there was a serious bushfire nearby that was threatening his family home. We fixed his motorcycle and he went off to check on the fire. By nightfall it was under control, Feli relaxed, and I sorted out my kit for the rest of the day. Everything was back on track in sorts, I felt a huge weight lifted from my aching shoulders. However this mishap had made a sizeable dent in my budget and taken two weeks more out of my coffers. I still had not fully recovered from my sickness also, which meant generally lower levels of energy. Of course, in hindsight, looking back on this whole loathsome episode, I have strangely good memories.</div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-25735153783462279492010-03-30T13:41:00.008+10:002010-12-09T22:09:02.105+10:00Travelling kid with bike has bad luck in foreign country<div style="background-color: #cccccc; color: black;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></i></div><blockquote style="color: black;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“As long as we are lucky we attribute it to our smartness; our bad luck we give the gods credit for” </span></i></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Joshua Billings 1885</span></i></span></i></blockquote><div style="color: black;"><i style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></i></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2362.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div align="center" style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Coyahaique from the top of a big bastard hill.</span></div><div align="center" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Had a bit of trouble with ATMs. A bit of a worry. Coyhaique was the only place with an atm for the next 600km or so. Heard later it was because an earthquake had smashed the central servers. An Earthquake. I guess I had to cop it as a good excuse. Spent 16,000 on shopping - ouch, must buy cheaper. After a dose of internet, I booked into residencial Monika, my first bed and room for some time. Watched a TV. 'Casino' with DeNiro. Underrated film.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Luke appeared that evening, said he wasn't staying at Monika but we should have a beer or something later. "Agreed, meet me at 6:30pm". Due to coincidence, I once again met up with Bob, of all people. As we were going separate ways now, not following the same route, we were unlikely to meet again. He benevolently offered to shout me dinner at a nice restaurant. Hotel and resaurant. Could get used to this but can't as I have no money. I heartily agreed. Brought along Luke who was paying for himself. Had an amazing steak (rare for Chile) and some fancy fruit-sugar construction for dessert. Talked to Bob for hours. Will miss the tough old coot.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2384.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2373.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Couldn't decide the next day whether to leave town or not. Traded stories with some other Aussie cyclists, the first since Max. I bit the bullet and tackled the big bastard hill out of town (figures) in the Midday sun. Sweated like a pig. Other side was all down though. A lot of down. I got down. Caught up with Luke about 25km out of town. We called it a day and camped together next to Rio Simpson. Tried to cook with Petrol instead of gas. Didn't work. Extreme fury. Could have cooked my soup with the steam shooting from my ears. Made a fool of myself in front of Luke. Finally realised the source of the problem. I had lost a part. The 'non-return valve' had found a way to unscrew itself after never having been used, and work its way out of a mesh sack, three pots, a stuff sack, and a waterproof pannier, to freedom. Couldn't ue anything but euro-gas until I found a replacement. Good luck finding a part for a swedish stove in Chilean Patagonia Arch. Also temporarily lost my favourite black pen so had to write my journal in inferior blue.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2392.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2401.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bad luck comes in threes, does it not? Luke left early in the dawn of the following day. I passed him, then maybe ten kilometres later my fancy, rare Rohloff gear-hub's cables snapped after years of neglect. Fine. No problem. These years of neglect actually helped me cool my temper as it was my own fault. I have all the parts, I'll fix it here. Under the shade of this tree near the waterfall.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Torque screws. I had allen keys. Didn't have Torque keys. They were not Allen screws. I was screwed. Had to thumb back towards Coyhaique and a bike shop. Luke caught me up and helped me get a lift. He had command of the language. I lacked that. Back in Coyhaique, I sought out a bike shop. Long search for torque wrenches but found some. Inserted torque wrench into screw. Instantly ruined the thread on all six bolts, no way to unscrew ever. The bolts and I were now more firmly screwed than ever. No way to fix bike except unthinkably using an angle grinder, haha!</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Found an angle grinder. Ancient bike shop man spoke no english. In a shower of sparks he put the angle grinder to my shiny US$1000 gear-hub. The wincing has given me permanent wrinkles. But because I was clever my luck held out and the bolts came off. No harm to the mechanics except some angle grinder scars on the outside. Kind of like my face. Anyhow I went to work. Four hours later due to my poor mechanical skill, I managed to get eleven of the fourteen original gears working.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I had to get out of Coyhaique today. Hitched again because I have a severe aversion to cycling the same road twice in quick succession, especially when that road is a 'big bastard hill' and in the scorching afternoon sun. Muy Caliente Aqui. I was dropped off to near where the breakdown originally was by some tourists in a hurry to catch a ferry in Puerto Aisen. Rest of day was uneventful, cycled maybe 40km and camped next to Rio Simpson. Swam sin ropas as there was nobody for miles. Sandy camp unfortunately. Similar to eating biscuits in bed then trying to have a comfortable sleep. It was only 20km or so from Villa Manihuales so I pressed on through. Nice village. Planned on making it to Villa Amengual. Didn't count on the shite ripio. Been on asphalt the last few days, so the awful ripio hurt bad. Map inaccurate. Much more ripio than I thought. Cursed at the sky. NB- in retrospect, a rubbish idea. </span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2407.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">By the time I got to Villa Amegual I was utterly spent. Put through the meat-grinder. Worse than ever. Had two helados and called it quits at a nice campsite for the night. Met two yanks cycling south there. Shared a dinner and swapped literature. I had a quality hot shower. Best one yet. Little did I know this would be my last day's 'real' cycling for quite some time.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I woke up feeling like I had entered some gas chamber but had not quite died. Body wracked with shivery fever. Had to see a doctor or some pharmacist or an exorcist. Also had to choose between hitching to the next village in search of said expert, or trying to sleep it off. Chose to hitch. Took three hours to get a lift. Got one but it was a bad lift. It was a pickup with an enclosed tray. Tray was half-full. No seats left for me. Had to jam bike in the back, then jam myself in there with it. Lying on top of my bike in a crap truck on a dusty potholed road, wracked with severe fever on a hot dry day. I imagined this was what some poor Tommy soldier felt like, after copping dysentry, then some hot lead in the lungs from the Africa Corps at Alamein, being taken back to Cairo in a lorry for treatment. Except, I wasn't taken all the way back to Cairo.</span></div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2410.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2413-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2413-1.jpg" width="223" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-size: xx-small;">Portrait taken around two hours before passing out</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They left me, for reasons unknown, shivering, pale, with no food, a few drops of water and a disassembled bicycle, in the forest some thirty kilometres from Puyuhuapi, the next town. Struggling, I put the bike back together. Hooked on luggage. began pedaling. There were no cars to help me. Sucked down what little water I had left. After a monumental effort, plus some some heavy painkillers some cyclist had given me, I arrived in town, and safety. Felt better, but that was the Ibuprofen talking I soon found out.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2421.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2424.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">With an 'I defeated the Africa Corps' grin on my face, I strutted into the internet cafe/information centre. Suddenly my vision blurred. My limbs lost their power. My head smashed into the keyboard. When I woke the first time, I was still looking at the keyboard really close up. I eyed the manger of the cafe and uttered "Necesito ajudar por favor" then passed out again. The good chaps there bundled me into a vanbulance. Took me to the local doc's. Hours later I emerged, medicine in hand, and went to 'Hospedaje Don Luis' to get a couple of day's kip in. A good choice. For two days I mostly slept and ate little, as I had also picked up some ghastly stomach bug - Don Luis and some Israelis forced me back to the doc's after a period of no improvement. I think I recall the doc mentioning Guardia in a flurry of espanol. I was put on four bags of saline in the arm. Replenished lost fluid. Felt a little better. </span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There was a bus in the morning, to near Esquel, where my amigo Feliciano lived. I had to sleep for a solid week so I bought a ticked with the last of my Chilean Pesos (no problem with bikes, they said). Next day comes. Still Ill. Bus arrives and bus driver refuses my bike to be taken. "This has happened before, Kyle, just tell him your loathesome story and all will be swell" I said to myself. Didn't work. Tried a bribe. Didn't work. Pleading and groveling. Didn't work. Nada. "Es tu problema, no me problema" that wretch told me.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I had to take the bus as I had no money left. No ATM. I took the bus, and had to leave my bike in that tiny forsaken village in the middle of nowhere. Got to Futaleufu, totally disheartened and sick, and the following day, hitchhiked over the border, back into Argentina, and to Cabanas El Principio, the home of my friend Feli.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2439.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">My sanctuary</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #eeeeee;">PS: Things get better!!</span></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-81972562677973789522010-03-22T23:59:00.001+10:002010-03-30T12:06:47.031+10:00Carretera Australian Pt2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2209.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">First impression of the town was "O.K I've found the tip, where is the town?" Turns out, the street coming into town was under reconstruction, hence the unfair first impression. So after a good shop-restock, I found the main square. Polish guy at the library. Strong character. Worked for a hydroelectric dam, so resented the 25 or so </span><a href="http://www.patagoniasinrepresas.cl/final/indexeng.php"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"¡Patagonia Sin Represas!"</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> cycle tourers/protestors, assembled in town. Gave a Japanese cyclist that Marathon XR the swiss chap gave me earlier in exchange for his tarp, as I couldn't find one anywhere. He accepted, then ran off to a nearby shop. He came back soon after clutching a new tarp. A kind of anger welled up inside me, but I shook it off, the guy was so happy. Sat and read my book in the town square - 'Clear and present Danger', thoroughly enjoyable - even though it was a Tom Clancy. Don't judge me, books in English here are rarer than hen's teeth. Swissdeux finally arrived, halfway through chapter. Bummer. No thats not true, their company was appreciated and we went to the in-town campsite for the usual. Had some excellent fast food for dinner. Swiss had burgers too. Hot water at camp insufficient for three.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2149.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2154.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We made a late start, about midday. As usual, there was a big hill out of town, when we finally found out how to actually leave Cochrane. "This way!" "No, this way!" "You fool thats the way to Argentina!". A motorcycle tourist pointed as right - "That hill's outta town boys!". Three faces grimaced.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2157.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2285.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What a hill it was too, turned out to be about three big ones. The valley was arid and Hay los gradientes fuertes! Standard rubbish ripio, but I had managed to pull ahead of the swiss. Got to lovely Puerto Bertrand for a lunch stop and to wait. Jetty. Quaint houses. Little boats on the shore. Little fishing boats, and small dingies lining a shore in a place are one of my favourite sights in the world and this one was bringing warmth into my heart. Added loads of pan and Dulce de Leche (Manjar in Chile) to my stomach for lunch. the swiss arrived and we ended up hanging around Bertrand for a few hours. Left Bertrand to be greeted by another monstrous hill. What's with these 'leaving town hills'? Enough to drive Archy bonkers. Dog peacefully followed me for 5km. Scared it away, didn't want its owner worried, you see. Rode another 15km to a fateful turnoff.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Which way? To Chile Chico? Road really hard and like a rollercoaster. To Cerro Castillo? Few villages but better road and a chance to see Cerro Castillo mountain. Waited for Swissdeux to roll in so we could make our usual democratic 3-way decision. Waited for two hours. Still not here? Its only 17kms, guys! Fed up. Left alone, after consuming five manjar sandwiches and twenty swatted horseflies. At the next bend, (heading towards Cerro Castillo) I saw an old face. German guy from hostel in El Calafate. Greetings exchanged at this coincidence. He was hitching with some German broad to Rio Tranquilo. It was getting late so I went with them in the truck. As I loaded on my bike, the Swiss arrived. With that og that was following me. Told them "I´m hitching for 30km, bye!" I would leave a note for them at Tranquilo. Dog had to walk home 20km.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2190.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2215.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2250.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We got to Tranquilo and I restocked. Also had an "El Compleato" just as I was supposed to board a boat to tour the Marble caves on Lago General Carrera (Lago Buenos Aires in Arg, it lies on the border). The cheap boat trip was nice. Best weather and stillest lake in the history of forever, claimed the boatman. I believed him. Back in Tranquilo, I wrote a note to the swiss and stuck in on the "Bienvenidos a Rio Tranquilo" sign. Probably won't see them again (Haven't yet). Well, the two krauts and I left the boring village to wild camp. The scared Germans voted "no" at an excellent spot over fence for fear of tresspassing fines. We went on a bit and jumped a fence anyway due to the dimming light. Spot not as nice as my choice. Didn't say anything. Had some tasty burger/hot dog thingys for dinner, Germans had rice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2292.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2299.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2323.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Up bright and early the next day, the krauts still shooting Z's. Left by myself and decided on about 80ms today, a fair cop on ripio. Actually took it pretty slow in the morning and spoke to numerous passing bike tourers about the road ahead. Really hilly and road conditions are crap was the general consensus. Had a small lunch with some euro-hikers and two female Chileno bikers heading south. The road really did go arriba. reading Tyson Schmidshals online diary prepared me for the worst. Really smooth mud ripio on the way down the other side of the hill. Got to the bottom, back to the rubbish ripio, and thought I'd come a long way. But kept going. There was a bad part of the road, 20km being ´reconstructed´. Big rocks. Nearly cried. I asked a road worker "How far to Cerro Castillo, amigo?" "Viente kilometres" "20km? Wow I had come a long way!" I thought. Might as well make it to Castillo, then. Another two hours of cycling pass. this is one looong 20km, I kept saying inside my head. After two more mountain passes at around 400-500m, I asked a local man: "How far to Cerro Catillo, amigo?" "38kms" he replies. Mind starts spinning. Anger at construction worker reaches 'fury' level. Nothing I could do to him as he was at least 38 km away. Decided to keep going - why stop now, use this rage for fuel! After cresting another whopper hill, I entered what looked like Utah. Rolled downhill a long way, and entered Villa Cerro Castillo. Saw a sigh facing the way I'd come: 'Rio Tranquilo 121km'. Not a bad day's work! Bought two sodas and a great burger at a singular bus-restaurant on the main road. After some Castellano confusion, the beautiful lady (first one in Chile so far!) at the restaurant let me camp just outside on their property, with free access to toilets and water. Sunset over Monte Cerro Castillo. Good end to a mammoth day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2311.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2319.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Felt remarkably O.K in the morning, muscles were not in their usual cramped, burning state. Packed up camp, bought Pan, and begun the long slow climb out of town toward the famous 1300m pass. About 300m up and 4km into the ride, I realised I had left Ol' trusty, my much adored knife, back at camp in town. Frustration! Rolled back down, got the shank, sweated back up. Met up with the Krauts again, they were camping in some field. Hi and bye! I tackled the pass, about 9 switchbacks then a mirador. I strutted around, feeling like hot stuff around a group of measly bus-tourists. Must remember - keep that ego in check, Arch. The hill kept coming but Michael Franti had me singing up the pass, was actually quite fun - a paved road make a hell of a difference. Coasted down the other side for ages on a slight gradient. Tried to spot a Huemel but didn´t. "Uh-oh, the roads going up again, how can this be? Gimme a break surveyors, haven't I climbed enough today?". Super-exhausted. Got to a lake and saw that it was going to be mostly downhill now, into the big arid valley that holds Coyhaique.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2324.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2326.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2330.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But into the fray comes another player. My good old, almost forgotten nemesis, the wind. And, as it couldn't be any other way, it was bang-on in my face. Almost done for the day. Met Luke, a walker/hitchhiker. he told me of a small town up ahead - 'El Blanco'. The museum in town told me I could camp near the river. I did. Set up camp, and Luke showed up later also, at the same spot. Short green grass, in the shade of the burning sun, no wind, and a potable river right next to me. Unfortunately slipped on a wet rock in said river and lost yet another water bottle. Down to two, started with five. Lentil and rice soup for dinner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2340.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2344.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2342.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Luke was up bright and early in the morning, to walk to Coyhaique. About 33km. Told me of a place to stay, Residencial Veronica, or Monica, or something. Said "I'll meet ya there!" I rode off about one hour after he left, soon overtook him, after after a frankly dull 33km ride, arrived in Coyhaique. Biggest town on the Carretera Austral and about halfway along.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2347.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-68205952145723924442010-03-22T03:15:00.005+10:002010-03-30T11:58:46.233+10:00Carretera Australian<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2093.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2092.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2063.jpg" vt="true" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With Belarus and the swiss we hopped on down to Villa O´Higgins, 7km away. I scouted out the town and found very little of interest, so I booked into El Mosco, where the Swiss were setting up camp. Used the free, slow internet, dried some things, then Danny showed up. Don´t get me wrong, I like the guy, but that creep Danny, daft old boy, proceeded to dry out all of his kit on the lawn of El Mosco, used the facilities, jumped on the net, then told me he wasn't going to stay there at all anyway, he was jetting off that night. Owner of El Mosco overheard him, blasted him, and rightly so. Danny left and hung around Belarus at some other campground. I think he went fishing with Ben. That was the last time I saw Belarus and Dan. Meanwhile, I was fast making plans in El Mosco. Put on my chunky bike tyre for the rough road ahead. Had hotdogs for dinner and met a Canadian ocean surveyor.</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2045.jpg" vt="true" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55PnF_vnKL-lrv85OLIt3LExRgd28pO3afoNcAVFvwAGsIJ7x4rDBgb8Q8RSQPlZ9GfGkYVpWedOBSUbvdMApzcRWUKH8sQS8UoO2VsrK2jNdzYSORxYhrQXaGuL8pE4yqQh6WZOql391/s1600-h/DSCF2089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55PnF_vnKL-lrv85OLIt3LExRgd28pO3afoNcAVFvwAGsIJ7x4rDBgb8Q8RSQPlZ9GfGkYVpWedOBSUbvdMApzcRWUKH8sQS8UoO2VsrK2jNdzYSORxYhrQXaGuL8pE4yqQh6WZOql391/s320/DSCF2089.JPG" vt="true" /></a>Said goodbye to O'Higgins early in the morn, and left my companions of the previous week. The ride started well. Read a journal previously of a gentleman that had cycled to Rio Bravo in one day. Thought I'd do the same. Had a rough time of it, two big hills, visible in the distance, wrecked my thighs and nerves. Rain. Misery. Utter exhaustion, but I made it to Rio Bravo by 5:00pm, the ferry was at eight. Cooked a delicious tomato pasta dinner and dried off in a nice, clean ferry terminal building that was deserted. The ferry arrived, and I asked the driver if there was any place to camp on the other side of the Fjord, at Puerto Yungay. he said, "Yes, in my front yard!" I said "Great!" He said "You pay in Chilean pesos, yes?" I said, "No, I'm staying here, in this cozy terminal, for free, and catching the morning ferry!" He shrugged, couldn't care less either way. Another swiss man exited the ferry going the direction I came, and he also decided to use the handy terminal for a night's kip. Had a good gab all night and the nice chap gave me a brand new Marathon XR, as he didn't need it. Neither did I, but I never look a gift horse in the mouth.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2074.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2101.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The following morning, he was off early. Just as the ferry showed up at 10:00am, Swissdeux rolled in. Nick of time. We slept on the 3/4 of an hour free ferry, then hit a 24% grade hill out of Puerto Yungay. Pushing and swearing. Well, I was cursing, the swiss were too polite, just a little furrow of the brow for them. Met a bunch of other bikers coming the opposite way, having a grand old time, including a cool American coming up the pass. Gave me some lentil soup and oats, he'd heard of me before. Reputation precedes me. Must be the kitsch hat and knife. The swiss caught me up at the turnoff to Caleta Tortel. As a democratic group we voted 3-0 in favor of not going there, the boardwalk village, as it was an extra 44km of dirt road not in the direction we were headed. Maybe will regret not going, everyone since has shouted it's blessings. Apparently Danny even went there, some Israelis said.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2106.jpg" vt="true" width="213" /></a>The Swiss, being slowpokes accustomed to short days in the saddle, convinced me to stop after a mere 40km. We did choose a cracking spot, however, opened an interesting horizontal log-gate, were assaulted by mosquitos, and cooked a hearty dinner of pasta con sausage. We left in the morning as a group and startled a gaucho, whose cattle scarpered into the bush. With a whip-crack and an "¡aiii!" he chased them, probably thinking "fucking gringos!" Sorry pal. Some really rotten ripio for the next 38km was our companion, following a river toward the town of Cochrane. At km 38 there was a left turn to an Estancia 9km on a side road. Swiss wanted to buy pan, fruit and camp there. I couldn't swallow another short 40km day, and I had enough pan to swallow anyway, so I said "Goodbye, I'm off to Cochrane!". I was rewarded for my solidarity with a big bastard hill, but I stuck it out and made another 40 or so kilometres. Asked a guy: "¿Donde kilometres por de Cochrane?" Got confused glare back, and a reply in english, "28km that way". Realised I had asked the chap "Where kilometres for of Cochrane?" Slapped myself across the face, as my spanish teacher would have done, had she heard me. Had a hard time finding a sneaky place to camp, but eventually came across a broken farm fence and crept in. Was windy, so I put up the tent, had 3 coffees and whipped up some "curried" rice as dinner. Cheap and cheerful, tearful too. Much Aji.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2127.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2132.jpg" vt="true" width="266" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Day 5 of the Carretera Austral was a lovely short one. Got to Cochrane about 10:30 am.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-13874566824948902852010-03-10T03:30:00.001+10:002010-03-10T03:30:44.651+10:00¿¡No repelente por mosquitos!?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1940.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As we left El Chalten, we met Dan. He just got to EL Chalten and was leaving with us. Nice lakes, bad ripio, a puncture for Ben, mosquitos, choripan, and $US30 later we were on a ferry toward free camping on the north shore of Lago Del Desierto. A nice place with the most impressive landscape and view I have yet witnessed. Mount Fitz-Roy at dawn and dusk. In the morning after the night of fires, camping, swimming, and meeting other bike tourers (one a cool canadian), I left to begin the epic 23km border crossing. Alone, as Dan was so slow getting ready. As per usual. Good thing I left quick-smart anyway, the track was muy dificil, and if it weren´t for Bob, I would have begun following the completely wrong track, and out here that means helicopter rescue or death.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1887.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1953.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Typical path</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1955.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bob and I struggled on through a tough patch of boggy swamp. It was a slog. Bob and I were a hastily-assemblem team but not always together. He left me behind on the uphills due to the weight of my bike, in spite of my muscley youth, and I passed him on the downs due to my wheels and gravity. Bob photographed me stupidly hauling my bike over some logs over a river. There surely was a bridge there once. Don´t know why I didn´t take my bags off the bike and make two trips over the ford. Bravado, I guess.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1971.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1975.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1979.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
So for the next four of five hours I man-hauled that steel bitch over some over the worst "track" ever built by man, whether it was or not, I don´t know, maybe built by sheep. So many rocks, so much, so deep, a swamp!! Oh no, another hill! Sweating profusely. Shirt now covered in white sweat-salt ridges. I had my Icebreaker shirt on, the camoflauge one, so even if I´d have keeled over from exhaustion my body would have never been found. I passed six other cyclists coming the other way, having a merry old time. Had thir luggage hauled by horses for the price of two beers. Why hadn´t I done that? Two beers at the end of the trip and the bragging rights would have been worth it, thats why folks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1985.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1992.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1996.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The last of the biscuits were gobbled by Bob and I at the remains of an Argentine barracks abandoned and left over from some pointless war. Danny caught us up. Didn´t wait for him to finish his lunch, pushed on to Chile. Obligatory border sign picture and at last, a road! Shite, but navigable and semi-rideable. I followed the track forever, seemingly, then hit a summit and a worthy view. The camino verred earthward sharply, and I crashed my bike due to my still-poor cycling skills, and got a rock in my left hand, sharply. Same place as in other hand, the Copenhagen rock, back to having symmetrical hands again at least. Put one glove on my left hand as I had no plasters, so looked a bit Jackson.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Made it to the Cabiñeros de Chile to have my pasaporte stamped for entry. Stone face. Guard had as much personality as my chain-grease rag and less usefullness. Swatting away countless biting horseflies and vampiric mosquitos, then giving up a la the Germans on D-day, can´t stop a relentless horde, hydra-like, crush one and two replace it. I pulled my hat over my head and slept, waiting for Dan to catch up. Had a dream warning me that Dan was approaching. Woke up to Dan approaching. Uncanny. After his similarly stony experience with Captain Stonewall, we rolled to Candillario Mansilla, the house on the south shore of Lago O'Higgins, bought some homemade pan, and camped and cooked, waiting for the ferry north in the afternoon of the following day, and for our horse-bound friends Belarus and Swissduex to arrive. At 8 they arrived. Slack. Here Dan and I had all our kit, and we arrived at 5pm. Their gear, tent, etc; was another hour later. Apparently the horses had broken down. The guy loaded his truck with the stuff and brought it here instead. His truck was on it's last legs too, so many sounds coming from a machine that should only be making one sound - "brrrm". No, that truck wasn't going to simply break down. Whenit's time had come, it was going to explode into a fiery Hiroshima-esque wreck. Danny and had a good chuckle about all this, then passed out. Exhaustion, but worth it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2018.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Turns out Bob sprained his foot falling down at almost the same spot I caught that rock in my hand. But he toughed it out. Finished the walk. What a champ. The next day was a rare rainy one.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2024.jpg" width="200" /></a>Met hikers who had just arrived. Ten of us all crammed together into a tiny hut at a tiny dock. Had a stove inside. Smelly but homely. Belarus couldn't handle it for more than an hour, left the hut and found a dry spot beneath a tree. Probably wanted some alone time. I tasted teabag coffee. Didn't regret it, as it was at least kind of coffee, but didn't ask for seconds. Ferry was due at 4:00pm. Heard reports it was due now at 8:00pm due to some unsurprising delay. Cooked cheesy pasta for dinner at 6:55pm. Ferry got in earlier so had to angrily scoff the half-cooked pasta quickly. Too cheesy. Paid the whopping $80US for the 3.5 hour ferry and ate all their biscuits. Watched a documentary in Español about Villa O'Higgins, our destination. Very dull. The ferry dock as it turns out, was 7km from town. It was 10:30pm. I wasn't going anywhere. Pitched in the carpark. The others did the same.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF2028.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-11898752423880035652010-03-09T05:05:00.001+10:002010-03-09T06:06:11.708+10:00El Calafate a El Chalten con El Wind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1758.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Stayed with Dan and two Kiwi cyclist who also hitched on that bus to El Calafate at ´Los dos Piños´ hostel. Got good maps and good advice. I left El Calafate alone as I was tired of waiting for Dan´s grandma-like pace. Rode 30km to famous Ruta 40 again. I had an apparently miracle day of no wind, and made 110 kilometres. On the way I met two English, Ben and Laura (Belarus) riding Thorns ("Hey I built those!") and camped together at some expensive estancia where legend has it, Butch Cassidy and Sundance hung out. Didn´t see them. The pasta dinner was good though.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1766.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1775.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1780.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The next day was different. Wind back with a vengeance. The three of us made it to the turnoff to the road to El Chalten sans difficulty. El Chalten was to the west of us, 95km. The wind was roaring east. Laura lasted 1km before having a breakdown. They hitched because they were clever. At first it was spring chicken, in gears 3-5 but not so bad. Music. After <b>four</b> hard hours of cycling through boring scenery against the wind, I lost hold of my grip on reality when I saw a sign "EL CHALTEN 60KM".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1798.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1801.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Can´t decide whether to end it all or not? Forget visiting Palmerston North, just grab a</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> bike and cycle to El Chalten. Answer will be clearer than a nearby glacial river.</span></div><br />
The world spun. I lost the ability to see in any colour bar red. After perhaps another 30km, my thumb was also out. No-one had pity, no-one pulled over. I ran out of food, pulled my bike over somewhere in the middle of some desert, laid down by my bike and awaited death. I awoke to a man saying "¿Señor?" "¿Señor?" Someone obviously had thought me dead, and had pulled over to loot my corpse. When I awoke I asked for a lift, he accepted. Lucky. Two other cyclists and their bikes were already in the back of the gaucho´s pickup. No-one was riding to El Chalten today. To my suprise and light fury, we were only about 10-15km away from El Chalten when I got the ride. Damn innacurate road signs! How hard is it, really? Wished I´d cycled the whole lot, then realised nobody actually cared either way, not even me. Two english cyclists on Thorns were basking in the sun at the town campsite, there all day. They were the smart ones.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1830.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1853.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br />
Myself and some antipodean cyclists banded together the next day for a walk in the Fitz-Roy national park. As usual I had luck with the weather when walking, and snapped some great pics of Cerro Torre and the rest of the park. Beat Torres Del Paine hands down. Two nights of Pizza libre, and Belarus and I hit the Ripio towards Laguna Del Desierto and the infamous border crossing to Chile.Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-10062095083223810282010-03-08T23:25:00.013+10:002010-03-09T04:38:14.113+10:00Torres Del Paine in the Arse<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I booked into a cool hostel. Had one last dinner with the Germans, and said goodbye to them. At the hostel, I got down to business meeting all of the chaps there. Daniel, an American cyclist was heading north, as I was, so we decided to cycle together. We planned to leave at 6:30am the next morning but by 5pm, this loafer was still not ready. finally we left in the evening and cycled 40km past Cueva Del Milodones, got chased off by a moto-cop after trying to camp there, but soon found a nice spot with a river nearby and an improvised bench for cooking (curried rice).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1507.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1750.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1518.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1628.jpg" width="200" /></a>40-60km into the next day ripio roads, great views, and hard climbs we were at the entrance to park Torres Del Paine and after some deliberation we decided to hide begind a bush, have lunch, then sleep until 11:30pm. All this was for a sneaky attempt to sneak into the exhorbitantly expensive national park for free. We crept through the entrance without our headlights on to avoid unwanted attention, avoided the CH15,000 fee and pushed our bikes along a road for an hour or so before finding a spot off the road (couldn´t actually see anything in the dark) and unpacking our sleeping bags, no tents. We were undiscovered the next morning. A black horse appeared out of the morning mist, alone, in the plains. Ominous. Found I had lost CH30,000 after the wind blew it from my pocket. Karma.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1639.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1576.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
A beautiful ride through hilly ripio ended at Hosteleria Los Torres. We stashed our bikes and kit behind a nearby bush, and with packs on our back, began the 7km walk up the mountain to meet with Max, an Aussie cyclist, and Rebecca, Dan´s friend, at a free campsite. The campsite came into view just as the sun set, after a hike through stunning surrounds. We cooked dinner, met our friends and exchanged news.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1642.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1705.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On the cards for the next day was a return walk to ´Tres Torres´, which was certainly worth the difficult boulder scramble to get there. We Tres Torres in the morning sun, beautiful spires of granite rising from a glacial lake. Climbed back down, heading to the hotel, I mighty walk. Danny and I packed our bikes and left the park (no problem getting out) and camped in some wind-wracked spiky field. The rain had come to say hello too, so we both sat in the vestibule of my tent and failed at cooking a rice dinner.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1712.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1736.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1750.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">At about midnight I heard the crack. A bad feeling. Minutes later half my tent had collapsed due to the rubbish weather. I decided to ride out the storm inside the busted tent until morning. I awoke when Danny screamed "Oh no!" after looking at my tent. Awoke in a bath of water. If it werent for my waterproof MacPac sleeping bag, surely I´d have had hypothermia. The sharp broken pole had torn a two foot wide gash in the rainfly. Had to choke back the anger at how this had happened to my ´wind-proof´ swiss tent, and laugh. The day continued badly, roaring wind and poor ripio. Hasty lunch in a bus shelter. Got to Cerro Castillo (south) and discovered it was rubbish. "Like Nevada" exclaimed Danny. After two coffees and three hours around a stove in a cafe (were fed by a stranger who took pity, his sons a mountaineer) we made the decision to take the bus to El Calafate.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" kt="true" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1751.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Bike looking lovely after the abuse of Torres del Paine</div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-13601127498113466772010-02-19T03:54:00.002+10:002010-02-23T01:51:49.280+10:00Day one of cycling was full of anticipation and excitement. I hadn´t thought of the pass. The first half of the day´s ride was nice, a decent road and all that stuff, but then came the incline. Bad fitness level + mountain pass + first day = unhappy cyclist. After an exhaution-nap, I struggled over the puny 500m pass. Scenery was nice, and I camped in some bushes next to the road just outside the hamlet of Tolhuin.<br /><br />The following day was again nice for the first half, then it got old rather quickly. My tires were mostly flat, my pump broke, and I was not happy. I sprained my ankle in anger at the pump problem. Got over all that and after the distant memory of Tierra Del Fuego (not worth it!), relaxed in Punta Arenas. <br /><br />More updates later! This is already really old news!! :)Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-44726948565930022122010-01-30T23:56:00.005+10:002010-03-08T05:41:43.406+10:00Dulce de Leche***PHOTOS CROPPED WRONG, CLICK FOR FULL RESOLUTION***<br /><br />I landed in Buenos Aires without problem, the flight itself actually wasn´t disagreeable for once. After a bus into the centre, I met with my host, Guillermo at his home, in which I was treated as if I were family. After exploring BA for four days, and swimming in Gil´s parents great swimming pool (it is hot here, like Brisbane) I booked (twice) and took a bus from BA to Rio Gallegos. <br /><br /><strong>BUENOS AIRES </strong><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1115.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1115.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1106-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1106-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1119.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1119.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1126.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1126.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1123.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1123.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br />The bus trip began with a false start, due to washing my pants with the precious ticket in the pocket, then showing up to Retiro terminal and hour and a half after the bus had already left. Luckily the lady at the ticket office gave me a vastly reduced fare for the next morning, likely due to my pitiful show. The 38 hour trip was comfortable but boring, endless pampas (plains) as far as the eye could see for days. <br /><br /><strong>BUS TRIP</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1145.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1145.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1149.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1149.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1167.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1167.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1157.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1157.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1167.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1167.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1184.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1184.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1133.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1133.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br />I then took another 12 hour bus from Rio Gallegos to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, and trekked with some new-found friends to a nearby glacier. The glacier itself was not breathtaking, but the surrounding scenery certainly was. I plan to leave Ushuaia on my intact and assembled bicycle tomorrow (update: the day after tomorrow). Wish me luck!<br /><br />USHUAIA<br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1197.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1197.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1218.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1218.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1262.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1262.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1267.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1267.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1278.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1278.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1393.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1393.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1403.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1403.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1409.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1409.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><strong>GLACIER </strong><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1316.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1316.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1326.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1326.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1329.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1329.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1343.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1343.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1341.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1341.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1346.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1346.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1354.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1354.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1367.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1367.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><strong>TREKKING</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1375.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1375.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1379.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1379.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1380.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1380.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1384.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1384.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1381.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1381.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://s175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/?action=view¤t=DSCF1389.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/Argentina%201/DSCF1389.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-81842121757847295442009-12-11T10:08:00.009+10:002009-12-24T21:08:30.447+10:00Queen Charlotte Sound<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkuuG5__m4NArOF75aYOpkCwT8Eii7uozo2-RLZhX38Fxlz0ezsjWZXjRdb6u651PqCaDvA2TxSaSEZ9cBKfKw7gN-SPczkMpKf2rTajTvtxBHanQfLw3GhVs-DhjvQjmhmim2rEMjnve/s1600-h/F1000016.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkuuG5__m4NArOF75aYOpkCwT8Eii7uozo2-RLZhX38Fxlz0ezsjWZXjRdb6u651PqCaDvA2TxSaSEZ9cBKfKw7gN-SPczkMpKf2rTajTvtxBHanQfLw3GhVs-DhjvQjmhmim2rEMjnve/s320/F1000016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413765965964671794" border="0" /></a><br />As a final goodbye to New Zealand, I decided to travel to the Marlborough Sounds at the top of the North Island for a kind of holiday with Sofia. Throughout the majority of the trek, the weather was fine, and the diversity and natural beauty of the area overwhelming. The pictures below were taken by Sofia, by far the superior photographer.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKBWLSIF3MAOHi8t8JQO6PthYZeDGKH27Qm3l7K-zdoYi_SBl5KkjueEm1VVOh4Tk_RfdfiD_pf0Wddw3GsHDLmTDra6J6aGP9WBl2i1FoeBJsz6voNqeQc0hR-Oqh_RMj61ZGHRuLWm9/s1600-h/F1000010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKBWLSIF3MAOHi8t8JQO6PthYZeDGKH27Qm3l7K-zdoYi_SBl5KkjueEm1VVOh4Tk_RfdfiD_pf0Wddw3GsHDLmTDra6J6aGP9WBl2i1FoeBJsz6voNqeQc0hR-Oqh_RMj61ZGHRuLWm9/s320/F1000010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413766946008259474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqXGBr-qbHOs-MYtadydoNKWt-f3GUqihg7e07NrBYNTKqC8DYZz9AJ2QhHl_cZtUEh81ZiRCXd_8-PE92_2YE4bxsLnD7f_6k4Iaki9W-6Nmzx2pyU0bJeDTp-QL0Djl2t3spno5zxT-/s1600-h/F1000009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqXGBr-qbHOs-MYtadydoNKWt-f3GUqihg7e07NrBYNTKqC8DYZz9AJ2QhHl_cZtUEh81ZiRCXd_8-PE92_2YE4bxsLnD7f_6k4Iaki9W-6Nmzx2pyU0bJeDTp-QL0Djl2t3spno5zxT-/s320/F1000009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413765968886402146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCmoT1cD21MaSo1uW05l4m-rIXY33lRC0xbI2DiVnr2_R1JuGH9QaWyejM5JcVAaDuDjqwu9_kQadMP4pWhFr0FhQCdQ1LfZbScugzifOKzZFM3X3oUdxN4KliB0MNNhc0SIDZdV2a8iGC/s1600-h/F1000006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCmoT1cD21MaSo1uW05l4m-rIXY33lRC0xbI2DiVnr2_R1JuGH9QaWyejM5JcVAaDuDjqwu9_kQadMP4pWhFr0FhQCdQ1LfZbScugzifOKzZFM3X3oUdxN4KliB0MNNhc0SIDZdV2a8iGC/s320/F1000006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413765956674423314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xjj0YBD8FlYz8OrcvJhy-tEMrTHx4wB3AsQRgGRTCyZRkCGnIGF0fHg_bT0Hgtdp_w3ktpUC06HPuGn5Kzc_NIzq7Ke8ZAFYAhRjXSyf_Vu1BOaYgWF-wekr27M7Qd1AAc-bHRPWXD-x/s1600-h/F1000012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xjj0YBD8FlYz8OrcvJhy-tEMrTHx4wB3AsQRgGRTCyZRkCGnIGF0fHg_bT0Hgtdp_w3ktpUC06HPuGn5Kzc_NIzq7Ke8ZAFYAhRjXSyf_Vu1BOaYgWF-wekr27M7Qd1AAc-bHRPWXD-x/s320/F1000012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413765948965830834" border="0" /></a>We trekked for three days, and camped along the way in some beautiful coves. The camping was great, even with a punctured mattress and all-round bad planning for the trip on both our parts.<br /><br />I am now back in Australia, for Christmas, and waiting for the flight to Buenos Aires, which has been pushed back a few weeks due to ticket availablity and price. I now leave on the 20th of January. Check up after that date for some updates.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3oS8Ce7UdtWHV_O30YHdJ9CyFWrUSuR84ZJF-uHGf4I0ZyjJCe8xa9iAkJZo335AAqHsxzY7-PW6xSe_tYLcZJC-leJcRJoXQd3D-zx5OOUihSfwI9NTUOr7R_HdgZBvqxMY5CC9u4Wi/s1600-h/DSCF1001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3oS8Ce7UdtWHV_O30YHdJ9CyFWrUSuR84ZJF-uHGf4I0ZyjJCe8xa9iAkJZo335AAqHsxzY7-PW6xSe_tYLcZJC-leJcRJoXQd3D-zx5OOUihSfwI9NTUOr7R_HdgZBvqxMY5CC9u4Wi/s320/DSCF1001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413766953447636258" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwiRqFKtfETWwLYauEINm6i_EWO79aczKerEij-A9BguNws1mVmxtrW00LdPBGOfbs44G3sD3ExBVzBkH2IM3ZdmnJZBwh0RXnPZUWQP19KxFa9_1_hRqSQxlvMCBmmFPfq6_q1h-YFPn/s1600-h/DSCF1016.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGwiRqFKtfETWwLYauEINm6i_EWO79aczKerEij-A9BguNws1mVmxtrW00LdPBGOfbs44G3sD3ExBVzBkH2IM3ZdmnJZBwh0RXnPZUWQP19KxFa9_1_hRqSQxlvMCBmmFPfq6_q1h-YFPn/s320/DSCF1016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413766960622542674" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJWGFvD_pOQBH8N4C2rNkyxcVebF9_3DyXrxVHthVEZrB5226uUA5n6gbWZf_KRwZ9zlNdeOGl7UgTVHqaLuIunQJg57eMMTyVOyzn6g7NbtE6upvG1xpL8nQTU-9BXi9miTT8cClE0ylj/s1600-h/F1000004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJWGFvD_pOQBH8N4C2rNkyxcVebF9_3DyXrxVHthVEZrB5226uUA5n6gbWZf_KRwZ9zlNdeOGl7UgTVHqaLuIunQJg57eMMTyVOyzn6g7NbtE6upvG1xpL8nQTU-9BXi9miTT8cClE0ylj/s320/F1000004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413765934376538578" border="0" /></a>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-11420282348975155952009-11-06T17:54:00.005+10:002009-11-07T10:15:22.677+10:00Windy Wellington winding down<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/__DjrcD0RPZY/SvS7Wr1T58I/AAAAAAAAGUU/aZYZ8HLz-D4/s800/DSCF0002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 318px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/__DjrcD0RPZY/SvS7Wr1T58I/AAAAAAAAGUU/aZYZ8HLz-D4/s800/DSCF0002.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1sz-jLTD4Lc9OG08Ga0bWrpPUUZoH22bjZsOyKtMt3BDh-9gKKvxZ-G7LoFG1iBBChNvg6PQFJR_L4sL0DDfxb29gfEdj_aFrs7hyi6bmYPaohR2cefYdQ1yaLp-SVfJFrFYG4DlLAlI/s1600-h/DSCF0011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1sz-jLTD4Lc9OG08Ga0bWrpPUUZoH22bjZsOyKtMt3BDh-9gKKvxZ-G7LoFG1iBBChNvg6PQFJR_L4sL0DDfxb29gfEdj_aFrs7hyi6bmYPaohR2cefYdQ1yaLp-SVfJFrFYG4DlLAlI/s320/DSCF0011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400900664974576130" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes you don't realize how good something is until you have left it behind. This isn't one of those times. Due to a canceled overnight camping trip, my weekend was free and I decided to simply cycle around the hills surrounding the city of Wellington. Beautiful vistas and incredible winding roads have been right at my fingertips and I had not realized this until today! The weather created a picture-perfect day, and the temperature was not too hot in the sun and not too cold in the shade. T-Shirt weather has finally arrived. I almost feel like I miss the place already. I have six weeks until I hit the wide open roads of Patagonia shortly after navigating the cultural explosion and hustle of Buenos Aires, and then, such a serene, easy living, easy place like Wellington will be a distant and hopefully not too lusted-after memory.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtepon0dkrt9OkdYPFvRiTg7tN9DRrLSSmlGyCz-wSIoAs8fkKbxd3Ob9B6G-yjoFYpF1URcTuMWi5oXBPa_PIUaGatmDc82QiJMPJ-m9Yvtze68WduucmE-r9tTZ-xHtl0vjxSal2zBO/s1600-h/DSCF0012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjtepon0dkrt9OkdYPFvRiTg7tN9DRrLSSmlGyCz-wSIoAs8fkKbxd3Ob9B6G-yjoFYpF1URcTuMWi5oXBPa_PIUaGatmDc82QiJMPJ-m9Yvtze68WduucmE-r9tTZ-xHtl0vjxSal2zBO/s320/DSCF0012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400900671372939218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2o0g7TJwJFoiF_aYEsiWib90VnXmsCkz3d1Vri_Ry6d_BunpxdVV9I3kTmKG2KMLm80vlvlIoAKrM_EnA7FYofnvYQWF92hsy8BZlViL4yF0NBJjyMDWpTpxVu-HMM8_0xlvwgjG2ICuB/s1600-h/DSCF0003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2o0g7TJwJFoiF_aYEsiWib90VnXmsCkz3d1Vri_Ry6d_BunpxdVV9I3kTmKG2KMLm80vlvlIoAKrM_EnA7FYofnvYQWF92hsy8BZlViL4yF0NBJjyMDWpTpxVu-HMM8_0xlvwgjG2ICuB/s320/DSCF0003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400900653191129218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmHPxYjTDG3CREaKej2AG1pfloxO7bclLSfRxnyTxyoTHSdlrTw63NbOj4bOtp0fukDUw8KcDVQZytMc6qYUBttoNgiFnzrA0XZoIugFKJp_-wsdlF1ZIACWhAVOb0XbR6bhpZwLg_E7z/s1600-h/DSCF0009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmHPxYjTDG3CREaKej2AG1pfloxO7bclLSfRxnyTxyoTHSdlrTw63NbOj4bOtp0fukDUw8KcDVQZytMc6qYUBttoNgiFnzrA0XZoIugFKJp_-wsdlF1ZIACWhAVOb0XbR6bhpZwLg_E7z/s320/DSCF0009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400900663690889762" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4EPqL5iMp4qpWZN5V8bfcyEVQ2REIjtmGqe5lGdmx-1dVkXp21ra24Sz7QknX8RcoSGlurNy3GzQC2CfxKJBdPNypH_DPUjbLjRCCO3twhkD2mdYAR8uBzOk1zODVeNNz0pgugkRASuO/s1600-h/DSCF0001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4EPqL5iMp4qpWZN5V8bfcyEVQ2REIjtmGqe5lGdmx-1dVkXp21ra24Sz7QknX8RcoSGlurNy3GzQC2CfxKJBdPNypH_DPUjbLjRCCO3twhkD2mdYAR8uBzOk1zODVeNNz0pgugkRASuO/s320/DSCF0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400900647126948834" border="0" /></a><br />I had a taste and reminder of Australia recently with a short visit for my mother's wedding, and while I loved seeing old faces, and I recognize Australia as a place of many foreigners daydreams, sadly it is not for me. I will spend Christmas there with loved ones, but it will be another short visit, South America's call is like the siren at sea, impossible to resist, but hopefully not as deadly!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs061.snc3/12867_163471150677_686020677_2851098_1592707_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 330px;" src="http://photos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs061.snc3/12867_163471150677_686020677_2851098_1592707_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-42760556487853193352009-08-29T16:13:00.003+10:002009-08-29T17:05:46.949+10:00New gear and setupI have been updating much of my gear that I haul around for lighter, more high-tech stuff. I have also been working hard to cut down on the amount of stuff I needlessly haul around and I have been able to get rid of the need for my front panniers. I will likely strap extra water to the front rack, for those long stretches of desolate road in South America.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wlrWYtGrQIneEMGOHpAvCIZvX6j8bttChWcKnKyyWSPoK44dJ5ha0GstgLKYKEMI7-BQWWFJyHqHKYkBv5LmuhyphenhyphenDdGjwVQeDbKm4cQUDf_cXrh-sTw9hKddBtTE745RZnu_2KVsilXsT/s1600-h/DSCF0051.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wlrWYtGrQIneEMGOHpAvCIZvX6j8bttChWcKnKyyWSPoK44dJ5ha0GstgLKYKEMI7-BQWWFJyHqHKYkBv5LmuhyphenhyphenDdGjwVQeDbKm4cQUDf_cXrh-sTw9hKddBtTE745RZnu_2KVsilXsT/s320/DSCF0051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375277889246584930" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnT5R1YFraxLIr_Hfxp6p46W1a_se5YQHuODjCKbiBFjr9imdtMF3zqhsjcoOH0-d2tu5CsYumrdIoRDSogbDaVlxxwUVOEqimKPh9GA44OZHchpHTy4mA1DlPgA-gApp6lR4Sqj-FLgk-/s1600-h/DSCF0048.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnT5R1YFraxLIr_Hfxp6p46W1a_se5YQHuODjCKbiBFjr9imdtMF3zqhsjcoOH0-d2tu5CsYumrdIoRDSogbDaVlxxwUVOEqimKPh9GA44OZHchpHTy4mA1DlPgA-gApp6lR4Sqj-FLgk-/s320/DSCF0048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375277879477676898" border="0" /></a><br />Everything I will take to the Americas for over a year<br /></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-51519661553736641942009-05-12T19:35:00.005+10:002009-05-17T16:31:30.814+10:00Has he not gone-a beyond the hillsRecently, I have fallen into the ultimately unavoidable state of mind I hit when I have had my fill of a certain place, when the lustre of an unexplored and unknown city and culture have grown a little dull. I am aware of the beauty of the city, but still constantly, happily dream of the next suburb, city, country or continent I hope to visit. I have remained fairly anonymous within Wellington due to incessant saving for the next trip, but am still enjoying myself thoroughly. The classes I am taking are not helping my wanderlust abate, learning Spanish has been enjoyable, motivational and has been firing all sorts of images into my mind regarding the cultures of South America. Lord knows what I am going to do with my life in the long term, when three months at rest leave me climbing the walls in eagerness and anticipation to be off into the wilderness again, when every resting second of each day makes me think I could be putting it to better use, and every morning waking up to the silouette of my bicycle at my window before the morning sun makes me want to call my work and tell them I won't make it in today, or ever again for that matter, as I am too busy putting the limited time I have to better use! But of course, I am just a regular, ordinary person who must earn my keep, my rewards, and even a day back to the grind at work thinking about the next great adventure is a privelage I should be thankful to luck of birth for.<br /><br />Is there anyone else out there in the same situation, thinking and feeling the same thing? Let me know. Does leaving for South America from New Zealand circa September by any means possible, be it yacht, container ship, paddle boat, hot air balloon or even the dreaded airliner and arriving possibly tired, malnourished and weatherbeaten, jumping on a bicycle and pedaling north appeal? I hope so, because it certainly gets my heart racing, the looming test of whether I can mentally and physically stand up to a task that isn't actually unique, that many, many miscreants have actually completed before me will hopefully prove or disprove my bravado and naivity and leave me a better person afterwards, regardless of the result. I could certainly use some improvement!Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-30276159890029492092009-04-25T15:38:00.007+10:002009-06-14T16:24:16.738+10:00Gorse: A Makara day rideI went on a ride out of Wellington today, a trip through Makara to the west of Wellington and south along the coast back into the city. I had planned to make it a two day ride, but I finished it in about 6 hours! As usual I carried my bike full of gear.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQ7202dbcu9glNN43MQ0CWDgGV_RcvZLB7SkglIkpJY7o_VF3AWSb_T_mxAdT06_EA_Ls0DffEGr2dtcw9aZCJzq-fPfiMvgW879fib0hoGyI0Zj98MFq-Jla1u88hVYXAm9h9xpZ6V9A/s1600-h/DSCF0017.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQ7202dbcu9glNN43MQ0CWDgGV_RcvZLB7SkglIkpJY7o_VF3AWSb_T_mxAdT06_EA_Ls0DffEGr2dtcw9aZCJzq-fPfiMvgW879fib0hoGyI0Zj98MFq-Jla1u88hVYXAm9h9xpZ6V9A/s320/DSCF0017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328503701318645170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Gorse</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdYeLkg5qe63jjLFhjT3ks8WFUjTJG_2axfGe8bawnmYH_MI0H4uMvupK4ktU3Po-nhB98rPUv-tVKzxC7fc-TuP_donDe2CINQNL4WrYpMMdLBt51lJNtuhlJMf-yUT6VBzs9cJD5TYb/s1600-h/DSCF0052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdYeLkg5qe63jjLFhjT3ks8WFUjTJG_2axfGe8bawnmYH_MI0H4uMvupK4ktU3Po-nhB98rPUv-tVKzxC7fc-TuP_donDe2CINQNL4WrYpMMdLBt51lJNtuhlJMf-yUT6VBzs9cJD5TYb/s320/DSCF0052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328505062770757138" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFTq2hcIbFiTF1sl2s5FFQ9zhtee-S0bBTk-LA273X3abhnKbwoQbi-vFznjcK5bjOKQyRRhEyeFmihO9zxPeR5sfqVcP1XerqIJFBdJue-655NDtOs7R1wHdLCBeiSMg8LcvDoEjQ2DL/s1600-h/DSCF0033.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFTq2hcIbFiTF1sl2s5FFQ9zhtee-S0bBTk-LA273X3abhnKbwoQbi-vFznjcK5bjOKQyRRhEyeFmihO9zxPeR5sfqVcP1XerqIJFBdJue-655NDtOs7R1wHdLCBeiSMg8LcvDoEjQ2DL/s320/DSCF0033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328503707254212962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0df5Jq7Rd8EeKwi_QMxucj5WC9GZsrDbOD_lEF5oBw1y9HKyf21I7nPc6av2zzW7gLsheGdK8gITcMqy1kQsWKNVfnQU7s8RCWsiLG34FzoKg3GdTWsU8fdBCN9M7eHvNKN9esWYCRPS/s1600-h/DSCF0034.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0df5Jq7Rd8EeKwi_QMxucj5WC9GZsrDbOD_lEF5oBw1y9HKyf21I7nPc6av2zzW7gLsheGdK8gITcMqy1kQsWKNVfnQU7s8RCWsiLG34FzoKg3GdTWsU8fdBCN9M7eHvNKN9esWYCRPS/s320/DSCF0034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328503710358413522" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizt7iXcWvu2LUzf6xgRu-I3FT2fTO3HbGsKfKVvqJBFTihByYt64gqX1t2UxuWJEkTxB3YTu62ihrCsq6T_Ns1Z2-TkxCSCSAOzfrM_Q39C4kpzlODtQFaKw2n7IHxtm2i5zdUtrr-pYXb/s1600-h/DSCF0036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizt7iXcWvu2LUzf6xgRu-I3FT2fTO3HbGsKfKVvqJBFTihByYt64gqX1t2UxuWJEkTxB3YTu62ihrCsq6T_Ns1Z2-TkxCSCSAOzfrM_Q39C4kpzlODtQFaKw2n7IHxtm2i5zdUtrr-pYXb/s320/DSCF0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328503719558288498" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRa2JUIoSmIOrXsjQJTignB3Qa-vSNRqnogeukhrj1RKa8dw81uVjyc-SMSQgTk3JTvSZLZcklwE_7exuANgWnBom_E8L57hHP67zAth3hyphenhyphenlxQpzXJpHIr2o7nGO4xPQg51oHriXl4FziR/s1600-h/DSCF0037.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRa2JUIoSmIOrXsjQJTignB3Qa-vSNRqnogeukhrj1RKa8dw81uVjyc-SMSQgTk3JTvSZLZcklwE_7exuANgWnBom_E8L57hHP67zAth3hyphenhyphenlxQpzXJpHIr2o7nGO4xPQg51oHriXl4FziR/s320/DSCF0037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328503721652685042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTB32k8-7gknD8s468VnU05J5K510FjBgfN36WaOAWftfx6PJZne4kiis1EKW_LHEMH41zuS5Q1owJBHjyisN1s7IWWC-tj2Wy5pm8u6CfpiULX7O8IMAGeNuheL-vA7mIVqy06U7iQZG/s1600-h/DSCF0064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTB32k8-7gknD8s468VnU05J5K510FjBgfN36WaOAWftfx6PJZne4kiis1EKW_LHEMH41zuS5Q1owJBHjyisN1s7IWWC-tj2Wy5pm8u6CfpiULX7O8IMAGeNuheL-vA7mIVqy06U7iQZG/s320/DSCF0064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328505068675894290" border="0" /></a>Beach pushing, worse than gorse<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6O3y_RAjykRa4UgbktdVL_gQqXKRuvE9z4SelGhwgcaIoNPa1csM8Dcspt5mdKQUDUdawiMkgGFfDbXTlvfKp1vpARSLz0XAYvWkCVmaqU5VlRo6hKxW7GuR7K_WCcNJX-v_3eCt3b-1/s1600-h/DSCF0079.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6O3y_RAjykRa4UgbktdVL_gQqXKRuvE9z4SelGhwgcaIoNPa1csM8Dcspt5mdKQUDUdawiMkgGFfDbXTlvfKp1vpARSLz0XAYvWkCVmaqU5VlRo6hKxW7GuR7K_WCcNJX-v_3eCt3b-1/s320/DSCF0079.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328505076264023074" border="0" /></a>Fewer gorse here<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-75035984717761695342009-03-13T13:22:00.004+10:002009-03-13T13:32:06.870+10:00Sorted<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z2LQ8t-QzvZq_-UZl7h4VGhNoUczHOwHnycUp09r8pQdTOVIqCWvRbmy4HtgbWQwNw_KI_5-1CFws3UtbsgvRX_SwlGk7d75Mat6xqKBe5UCtbNSIAW3lRLenlRtgfIUm2vaDhyphenhyphenc72sI/s1600-h/DSCF0028.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312509521834612562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z2LQ8t-QzvZq_-UZl7h4VGhNoUczHOwHnycUp09r8pQdTOVIqCWvRbmy4HtgbWQwNw_KI_5-1CFws3UtbsgvRX_SwlGk7d75Mat6xqKBe5UCtbNSIAW3lRLenlRtgfIUm2vaDhyphenhyphenc72sI/s320/DSCF0028.JPG" border="0" /></a> <br /><br /><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312508526138641538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2phEDHmFUiMBi8a0LsaCtf6JL4kxXYznIUyIgumIf1DowSx_oSFFw5MQ2kYPUbYlfsrpNkar0eBsxWpkVhGTNP0Wwmfhyphenhyphen-dGuSufxhY0thZUO0QUM0_YwtCTyvx0N1q87HSLsCx1JO85e/s320/DSCF0064.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;">The latest stopping point</span></em></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><br /><div>I am now well and truly sorted out in Wellington now, I have a full time job and a good room in a house. The perfect position to start saving up for my future adventures. I have had quite a few guests since I moved in also, several couchsurfers (good to be giving back to the community by hosting others), my friend Gijs from the north, and my father. </div><div><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTc4zv0246UaEaDPFwZxLNgcf8qfS2xwKELMQPMZ4KX7JidO9_N1HNO0rYNVY3g1SsuFT1gzf_r8HexrcBg-SRHdDe_Kur3kgaATDC2O7V8buvjykN8UETDMDG8TIIMimGSOi_Xby_ETp/s1600-h/DSCF0045.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312508516852365330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTc4zv0246UaEaDPFwZxLNgcf8qfS2xwKELMQPMZ4KX7JidO9_N1HNO0rYNVY3g1SsuFT1gzf_r8HexrcBg-SRHdDe_Kur3kgaATDC2O7V8buvjykN8UETDMDG8TIIMimGSOi_Xby_ETp/s320/DSCF0045.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;">Wellington waterfront</span></em><br /></div><div align="center"><div> </div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDGOHaVOSuvR0CWPCgxDnMtUV7kEzBnOJMIWdDnjHRH0vjJ_AtjeuzfmdmqMpO6gfLftQJ1Deh2N-N0HxvTrIUQwMcIprgDOjNwKSdJFEPWJyASaHqZguW_yxbwBn2R_trIJPY9Vj11wi/s1600-h/DSCF0012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312508507698259426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDGOHaVOSuvR0CWPCgxDnMtUV7kEzBnOJMIWdDnjHRH0vjJ_AtjeuzfmdmqMpO6gfLftQJ1Deh2N-N0HxvTrIUQwMcIprgDOjNwKSdJFEPWJyASaHqZguW_yxbwBn2R_trIJPY9Vj11wi/s320/DSCF0012.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"><em>Midnight Espresso, part of W'tons great cafe culture </em></span></div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"><em><div><br /></em></span><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312509519608180802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUP0qK51vxg13YQ0Rn9kazo2YqepcfDi-ogkPHy9rgbgLsvFOlMU0eIAdhyphenhyphenHHEh7QQQXSiSpg9-gNPq3k0uNGyL6gZJFpJV0YXfj33I5zbZYqODYu-Dz9wx3323WkeWLdSlcXCEOKGmsE8/s320/DSCF0075.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Maori Totem</em></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><br /></em><br /></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HNCXU5t36eDIJw2jPKi7YfuebIIsUjskLzQoXZoK7plhqO-u4BxzOO6lELKcgZr4R7wxf4dmIb_AFmZ7hXl3Al0e0P1nZsJLwbFa4aeDJuZ6Nf965Uo6p28z2_EQgWxW3SyGFIuR7BML/s1600-h/DSCF0006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312508502803340978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HNCXU5t36eDIJw2jPKi7YfuebIIsUjskLzQoXZoK7plhqO-u4BxzOO6lELKcgZr4R7wxf4dmIb_AFmZ7hXl3Al0e0P1nZsJLwbFa4aeDJuZ6Nf965Uo6p28z2_EQgWxW3SyGFIuR7BML/s320/DSCF0006.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"><em>Matthias and Gijs</em></span></div></div></div></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-49426513701164466122009-03-13T13:12:00.003+10:002009-03-13T13:33:27.826+10:00Hutt ValleyI stayed with family friends in Upper Hutt for two weeks. During this time I sorted out a place to stay in Wellington, and a job for the next 6 or so months. Nicole and Tony were the most gracious hosts.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312505700102432258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YTo44vGbsWuEpPWoa_4crzN0P8Z9MnIdhcFruHVsDKQRc9NGWbk-kzAR3SHMatEkUxbr8jksJVqoN6iC64l_Ezs4HxCD0H-kNKCPwqfrcXhgd7T9RcOEU2XyZ71OEySwt7s8pYyVlmmB/s320/DSCF1098.JPG" border="0" /> I did some hiking with Tony while I was in the valley, quite a good climb up to Cannon Point, and a descent on the other side to a lake.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZTu_nftM4nLpCszJzZUi0_kPQNbDoDP6AY17tv1ANzTeP1ZIi-vat5axboIWQuBBv9nugWoXKGcnMt5ASqWjwgYACYH9XUeM8HzMiK-cORJV94W6baREnX40oeFbemvGAhei2qAlzdys/s1600-h/DSCF1058.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312505698876684034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZTu_nftM4nLpCszJzZUi0_kPQNbDoDP6AY17tv1ANzTeP1ZIi-vat5axboIWQuBBv9nugWoXKGcnMt5ASqWjwgYACYH9XUeM8HzMiK-cORJV94W6baREnX40oeFbemvGAhei2qAlzdys/s320/DSCF1058.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> <em><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Descent to the lake</span></em><br /></span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4ypR49Fo3WUOlcCgCw2LY8quA0PJtnlob9NTbsBCMrAV5VIKi5qczohhP-0go1oGfizq4fcSoW0s-0vqyidjjTuFvdwPkihaKv0ZgZpsEVGjv3n1G68glCengLW6F6xvv0d_HKLKZFq_/s1600-h/DSCF1057.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312505688408396882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4ypR49Fo3WUOlcCgCw2LY8quA0PJtnlob9NTbsBCMrAV5VIKi5qczohhP-0go1oGfizq4fcSoW0s-0vqyidjjTuFvdwPkihaKv0ZgZpsEVGjv3n1G68glCengLW6F6xvv0d_HKLKZFq_/s320/DSCF1057.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312505683966251634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4lw5EJz9mhEZn94CdoQ3ACLsFFD2T1get6B0W2Gx29jztOR6P3aDX0-LN4f9nfmGuv1g0WjnMNhIKGK9BuWwhXNNMMHdAYaxqUo0IfW9i6sDD4oagnLuux8Z0YYKu3QtFHauM8PA3wVP/s320/DSCF1045.JPG" border="0" /> <span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"><em>My father had told me of the beacon at the summit, so it was good to able to retrace his footsteps, andsee his original hometown from a magnificent view above. </em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"><em><br /></em></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312507116321738978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDdJu2sNTuYy1n4D4DClxlNcQC6Aer2ErPLWTpbBsDP7JWmGzWcRPr_ndyiYaljze12YFcyJij9fohU-Q56vKDcmYzmjLn35YyIBkpKXsaqEAZFwIPw9tjj05tZDq2tidTtN-t9tr2LxG/s320/DSCF1018.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Summit navigation beacon</span></em></div></div></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-16773794891885671642009-02-08T09:02:00.006+10:002009-03-13T13:12:16.245+10:00Half Done<em></em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300197921378637666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj58s1nVICJpj2XtNRigng_ZMirB4-pLw2bNpMd-2JrHBE4GPI8SxTxfAzVrpxBQQryvrqSs8bbh1Z2JYkZ3qqAftkSYEFp0yBefJnBNC3fNzEZO3F8JyDpFee-JI6lfhdNEsnQxopsvJHk/s320/DSCF2060.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />The photo directly below was the last taken on my cycle trip through the North Island. Just before Upper Hutt, in the Akatarawa ranges. The previous two weeks were full of family and friend meetings and reunions, hard but enjoyable cycling and constant suprises regarding the scenery, people and general vibe of New Zealand.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300202019397998754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZmzxr2NUg0QXXvQrAagRW6pumB0wGeKO7FbBezqWCmH0EYeK4upfYKMGCUAWWuA1Lj0J4Otv6ESjAbIw0TkED0JPkElMus_5jRrcE7-f1BnwDS85_NIxrT0ugVl4ERp9zXZkDFogicAB/s320/DSCF2136.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300202015873985682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQThJ2kh3_w_EU5gNj7WU2N-nnY0PCvmlRIv8lyBcuzwLYlmNFt5kOQuwB-jJS_ny1GDfJ2E5Ek3yyvn99vQWLk6hl785WBrt6Jnh9_EZ2coc3-DFhIPEYRm5mMRSirRukAwr7gnXGvqR/s320/DSCF2117.JPG" border="0" /><br />I left Toon and Gijs in Hamilton, ending the "Three Musketeers" partnership we had formed. The two of them were looking for some farm work and I decided to press on south. A gradual uphill, remote road for towards Lake Taupo was my companion for two days, and was glad to be rid of it when I first saw the great lake. Relatives looked after me in Taupo and Napier, to the east.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300197916791549634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQHWrpZJWc0e9V93iqr1M31d8QyRIf6lgw3XFULnOk5GZvuetgvgU3VTb1PTAQB4MH1kxm7J9Y9hShH-oYfXvl8IqaXGGd_PGDPykVY9XKikcDcTUFJ-tw_lgY93Vy-iptIkPhXZDp9Twa/s320/DSCF2055.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;">Art-deco Napier waterfront</span></em></div><div align="center"> </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300197926947819106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLF1zU45MrT3RdR2mnY40w0F4R_z8dvprVaB_xAZvHxN9KAW5SDV67qDHbmJo22TC7BAHE0W_o5CskLjGcf9oRHKXKnovgg_WjNRX_GXjELs02uuWDPIhMgkwYjMsR7jrrw9XSL0VBStuA/s320/DSCF2095.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;">Gorge road</span></em></div><br />On the way south, along the east coast of the North Island, I once again used couchsurfing to meet new people and find a place to stay for the night. After a few hair-raising experiences on the gorge road over the central ranges toward Palmerston North, I continued south, now on the west coast, toward Wellington.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-FW6n5G5cU4r7IUkG_01WpZFzE3WJD8u9_AQM8xU3x4ETRRT9Uh2Nw-B9Ro2qisRkOxFA2ucZgNF6eBZJ_ZBaIH6GgGX2qxsVTFmD0Y9DKlbpMifXe_vnTwjE-Bsi7vkHACPs6wohZ4g/s1600-h/DSCF2104.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300197928825991458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-FW6n5G5cU4r7IUkG_01WpZFzE3WJD8u9_AQM8xU3x4ETRRT9Uh2Nw-B9Ro2qisRkOxFA2ucZgNF6eBZJ_ZBaIH6GgGX2qxsVTFmD0Y9DKlbpMifXe_vnTwjE-Bsi7vkHACPs6wohZ4g/s320/DSCF2104.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><div> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9QzvOmGGFbaE8K_AMt1wMCMwrGejUIb-eFe1VJrD0dgrRsK65SUY5R2Jf3SmVp0tLsUIi1WxCUpQK_gdDY8eq7Y5qZ8gt_MjVW9QmbTXOmg2qyY16XrkM_fO43J654Ajf_tuEoupHTNG/s1600-h/DSCF2050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300197912060899426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9QzvOmGGFbaE8K_AMt1wMCMwrGejUIb-eFe1VJrD0dgrRsK65SUY5R2Jf3SmVp0tLsUIi1WxCUpQK_gdDY8eq7Y5qZ8gt_MjVW9QmbTXOmg2qyY16XrkM_fO43J654Ajf_tuEoupHTNG/s320/DSCF2050.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;">Lake Taupo</span></em></div></div></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-37584140332974837552009-01-27T20:05:00.008+10:002009-02-25T07:30:49.758+10:00New Zealand<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296075967143330626" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD8obbDRN_W7gAMlhCaTS5uXkihV7B3PSsN2_nIuWTGgRtl1Mfd0FDHy4Psa7kHcPxC1MZmPDK1m77k6O8FP5exaBS18cmy0UmkmDiVWhhyphenhyphenTmmMn4eAKNpRGUpecRz5kToTvw0oA8uH7r-/s320/DSCF0224.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>On the way to Auckland, at Brisbane Airport, a man approached me after spotting my pannier and introduced himself as Toon, a Belgian cyclist planning on cycling and working through New Zealand. We decided to stick together for the a while, landing at the Auckland Airport and cycling our way into the centre where we met a friend, Gijs. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296075941253730098" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9A7kia_OlVXeBD6wtPUDhc2WFUDiPsTe6tQGqw6e7vtqLguVYjLCQ5YWupi2riWMZyj9jYcw0wC3-WIh_W_bIRnEDrjsC-YDrNSlvvyRlWCyJEfCZjDQeFkMQMB79ToVQA9hGDTNS_8oK/s320/DSCF0178.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296099288003540402" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 214px; height: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH2_mMgob26HW-qfOIwFeoPWiOuhnOOhGmMxCXV8vw5-rsn6Za3pUz42zFqsmJMapSWQ8GxH2x1Xb9Od1vM4E9mtxqpzy9FvRgxNHgZ1LIph2mnkbY4-9DEpEv-nUs1nWQX-gNg1yIz_t/s320/DSCF0196.JPG" border="0" /><br />We boarded the ferry the next morning, after an early night, to the Coromandel Peninsular, making our way through beautiful scenery and arriving in the port to the south of Coromandel town. We decided to forgo the sealed main road and took the less-traveled gravel road 309 to Whitiangia. Very steep but very enjoyable, we descended over the range and set up camp on a beach after a good dinner and some wine. Toon entertained some locals with his impressive juggling skills.<br /><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296075952811909922" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 214px; height: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyZf7awQJS4lyCgy7MhDEtO9-D-lW-P1-ZFdcs8WldIsO46S1HebOx5QQa58OesRzOmJtMtD0J3tKA0J0CCnctT5cGmDkufjy_vs4wwoTe03KneojnBsaazGJh2HhoTZbMc2Ss1vKJoUE/s320/DSCF0189.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296075957037532418" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeV4IjN2rqk_GIvUTXlqekeruEI2Eb1C3iUGo9TaoO-CVFvCAX3po8XtURpZIDRQxiu-Pn9wITrXL_ox3_3zvoooiVtfDZnYNPv2StR8JB9CB1vgUYVDwboDw6_P5JAkFX8caYBwXjifbk/s320/DSCF0206.JPG" border="0" /> <div><br />A nice breakfast of scrambled eggs saw us off south, through some mixed forests of palm and deciduous trees, following the bluffs of the east coast of Coromandel. We enjoyed a break at an observation point overlooking 'Sailor's Grave' under a blistering sun. Smooth tarmac downhill to the next town where our party of three cyclists grew to five, as we met a couple of European travellers, Ben and Roberta, in Waihi.<br /><br />I had my first genuine puncture in over 4000km of touring, and was helped eagerly by my new friends as it was repaired. The next camp was in some sand dunes to the south, Whangamata, on a beautiful coastline with a shady campsite and good food and company to keep the morale up high.</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296099297436890722" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIDGRAQCXaSu1D3mRsLKK2YVU0yvRnIty7Rfi-1abv9rD7U0Kz1QVX-NCcLWg6j-x7QwnINkadpVtQVOibXKu48XH1Al14C8wDqExTmca_KBPdSzHVHC1x8Dmsdoo9LJGh-XJ8QB18ogC/s320/DSCF0249.JPG" border="0" /></div><div></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296099293448001602" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5L0EiaA0r5Cj46rS2a7M16Z61i597OFV-fpGDl1YWqNWvqTmliKglT_YOCowmoGgonNaAegxvUl-MWBt5XLUSjnq9pmQB633l70gUyPhHQR-w5OmSBYjOCWpofrrVxf3PYoaj4ySHFbI/s320/DSCF0238.JPG" border="0" />Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-74067168871748790402009-01-16T17:23:00.006+10:002009-01-16T17:36:15.669+10:00More pics of Europe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMtUOj1kcYpdMjShGseBFiiyM6z41S0OUWZCfRgVW_32jCjlodaJAL9lAkdXII2ejuxYxpFBggZ5zqt7mAL4lK2v6PO0RSLuv5Fh_VEq_OFxlmET9LqWKkxFy8FcGVPCnX_BIrf1kbT8Q/s1600-h/DSCF0114.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMtUOj1kcYpdMjShGseBFiiyM6z41S0OUWZCfRgVW_32jCjlodaJAL9lAkdXII2ejuxYxpFBggZ5zqt7mAL4lK2v6PO0RSLuv5Fh_VEq_OFxlmET9LqWKkxFy8FcGVPCnX_BIrf1kbT8Q/s320/DSCF0114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291792131116039314" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9qa2v2pyADYtObDE2IKLQdiAD2QMBA0NV5tP7NmlySWfXoshZ_nlK7LHVJ6GaGAtf8DyfZTZFzg2dJN8ThUf7ItVdRlT7iYkoXKmhZBqjrhBffIFZaXmHDw2rLEamVQa0PKqdo3wakyZ/s1600-h/178.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9qa2v2pyADYtObDE2IKLQdiAD2QMBA0NV5tP7NmlySWfXoshZ_nlK7LHVJ6GaGAtf8DyfZTZFzg2dJN8ThUf7ItVdRlT7iYkoXKmhZBqjrhBffIFZaXmHDw2rLEamVQa0PKqdo3wakyZ/s320/178.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291790917105066946" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKVc2-D68zatXVYfVHF39qt8gx175bJrTO-Y8vZXJuseY2EH9SexTebu_-51sJ-SeGv1Wig5d58WJ0fMO4ibnSO5Wv6RUEBL_JtMI-DeJ3eWjcWAIP5Lh3dGoc9VplbtzmHMo0IAj07TO/s1600-h/299.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNKVc2-D68zatXVYfVHF39qt8gx175bJrTO-Y8vZXJuseY2EH9SexTebu_-51sJ-SeGv1Wig5d58WJ0fMO4ibnSO5Wv6RUEBL_JtMI-DeJ3eWjcWAIP5Lh3dGoc9VplbtzmHMo0IAj07TO/s320/299.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291790912764971410" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXvdqDG2Lus2KCuaffIPTBq-QW0lbVN5oC4qjbDJ5EgdDd7eAVy0jDN1qISh4vEzKnKMsJ3szXBOe4hsWP7-GLXvRCXkliDDfLWpdOdwsaWEfarUfc4ml6y0s1TNexGHUoSFEbJLlJwFj/s1600-h/208.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXvdqDG2Lus2KCuaffIPTBq-QW0lbVN5oC4qjbDJ5EgdDd7eAVy0jDN1qISh4vEzKnKMsJ3szXBOe4hsWP7-GLXvRCXkliDDfLWpdOdwsaWEfarUfc4ml6y0s1TNexGHUoSFEbJLlJwFj/s320/208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291790914589890354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1aDmAD1aFmrdYO4TGmogzrTkm24u0YHKulOdDB2ycvx4niE-exvRUcHpA3Y9AIs-uYbHi8VyUcJVQLfxCvaFD3F2FAO-0bfzRy-HXGN4teWBEHZ5DOCvhO2eD0yxSlPPCMLBD_JL3XnD/s1600-h/204.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1aDmAD1aFmrdYO4TGmogzrTkm24u0YHKulOdDB2ycvx4niE-exvRUcHpA3Y9AIs-uYbHi8VyUcJVQLfxCvaFD3F2FAO-0bfzRy-HXGN4teWBEHZ5DOCvhO2eD0yxSlPPCMLBD_JL3XnD/s320/204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291789926418870770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqa9w2hY4_HPzxJK6czO2W9YC7anJuKNNVxxO8aOvK-Dtv6-3TyLFlnZ2gAah7qkqfEzhddWmaD-rwWkMtbs-GhY2wA_XBwxNC9-IojE7umv-dQBkl57HpWjlIA9lNfdj01dRkgdUXeLh4/s1600-h/060.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqa9w2hY4_HPzxJK6czO2W9YC7anJuKNNVxxO8aOvK-Dtv6-3TyLFlnZ2gAah7qkqfEzhddWmaD-rwWkMtbs-GhY2wA_XBwxNC9-IojE7umv-dQBkl57HpWjlIA9lNfdj01dRkgdUXeLh4/s320/060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291789920678692722" border="0" /></a><br />Just thought i would post some photos of my last trip before i head off on the next one on the 21st. Good memories.Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-5426909543192462762009-01-04T12:51:00.004+10:002009-01-04T12:59:55.963+10:00Josh's Trip<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4tbFK7GbBZ-fSwsb7aYeGsyOXS8rnsrUOkz5BlmtAjb6QbPir9xl07G6pDOI0fWtGOYG_P8HQSWDlvClNvJoFTGhDxcqrmDmfqkUKd2zP5oUChW76MgW6oxPkYYhBQLZNNZ7R2LmhK2q/s1600-h/n752537246_1731476_746.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4tbFK7GbBZ-fSwsb7aYeGsyOXS8rnsrUOkz5BlmtAjb6QbPir9xl07G6pDOI0fWtGOYG_P8HQSWDlvClNvJoFTGhDxcqrmDmfqkUKd2zP5oUChW76MgW6oxPkYYhBQLZNNZ7R2LmhK2q/s320/n752537246_1731476_746.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287267868886143330" border="0" /></a><br />I recently gave my old bike to a mate of mine from New Zealand, Josh Clarke. He decided to ride it from England to Spain, and being a surfer, enjoyed the beaches along the West Coast by taking his board with him! Here are some pics from the trip. I will hopefully be catching up with him when I head off to New Zealand on the 21st of January '09. Not long now.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFya469wGnxvF3JTwglIiI-aIrsXd-JjsSnjwiThLsroUbYl2ivjjhH-9AktO_YiJ5yw5FDGjhjn1v-t78IcF-4_fjiRO18QaBie8389EoBQTeaxQYJnsjgF2onV7X6nnDrZClrnH-OXJ/s1600-h/n752537246_1731333_3879.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFya469wGnxvF3JTwglIiI-aIrsXd-JjsSnjwiThLsroUbYl2ivjjhH-9AktO_YiJ5yw5FDGjhjn1v-t78IcF-4_fjiRO18QaBie8389EoBQTeaxQYJnsjgF2onV7X6nnDrZClrnH-OXJ/s320/n752537246_1731333_3879.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287267421233826914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5nvcaoNc1nXfiRRCrUWXHTu2eHevp_IcV8gOwPhwWD1ZLAixMyT9QFZIrYI-GjW3N9QgvlhyphenhyphenwqQ6E7kMa1DcdB5P1eHOuMr3ZmTsNADVyqq08GTuI3JKeaN3ieCNwu1FQ-r1Sx6o6sJA0/s1600-h/P7122132.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5nvcaoNc1nXfiRRCrUWXHTu2eHevp_IcV8gOwPhwWD1ZLAixMyT9QFZIrYI-GjW3N9QgvlhyphenhyphenwqQ6E7kMa1DcdB5P1eHOuMr3ZmTsNADVyqq08GTuI3JKeaN3ieCNwu1FQ-r1Sx6o6sJA0/s320/P7122132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287267419358068706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxawXWN2eGUN45C6j927jcjVN-aZT-cJTG6j6DR-yQCva5oJ-AbRM4WtPDn6LCv_kSV6sz32EM_qBgbLHE1EIq4niGqieBWkxq2Eoj31GMqE9c9Z3Ogu_z-ToQX9RTuYzCtd_b7rwpV_R/s1600-h/n752537246_1731418_1715.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxawXWN2eGUN45C6j927jcjVN-aZT-cJTG6j6DR-yQCva5oJ-AbRM4WtPDn6LCv_kSV6sz32EM_qBgbLHE1EIq4niGqieBWkxq2Eoj31GMqE9c9Z3Ogu_z-ToQX9RTuYzCtd_b7rwpV_R/s320/n752537246_1731418_1715.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287267417025706946" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLeRw-9vttMJnQVkX9RF50GLM-Ja0Y-xBVc32gLHgb3_kSglyQGi5SookHI4JFRabyE39SNHwOYN0k0ZVIDmK64vgD5I4fCGU6MgJNrrqb5N-x5PdkS9PqO3LGb6l-taVY3Hp1NHOCvGO/s1600-h/n752537246_1731475_9822.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLeRw-9vttMJnQVkX9RF50GLM-Ja0Y-xBVc32gLHgb3_kSglyQGi5SookHI4JFRabyE39SNHwOYN0k0ZVIDmK64vgD5I4fCGU6MgJNrrqb5N-x5PdkS9PqO3LGb6l-taVY3Hp1NHOCvGO/s320/n752537246_1731475_9822.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287267406407438130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZrSTAdgtBIvoBcv1C_q-uC0pyCZf-nA8NoLkvXOWm7q-XOHgoTN7or_598a1ItIvQp1ArXpZoKxidJn3bwxI7rNyxBDFxKUu_j5KWUqn6mdVYyOdkwEOUsLLvFQPZUVd1NOErz5zlRE7/s1600-h/n752537246_1731473_7692.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZrSTAdgtBIvoBcv1C_q-uC0pyCZf-nA8NoLkvXOWm7q-XOHgoTN7or_598a1ItIvQp1ArXpZoKxidJn3bwxI7rNyxBDFxKUu_j5KWUqn6mdVYyOdkwEOUsLLvFQPZUVd1NOErz5zlRE7/s320/n752537246_1731473_7692.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287267391977728562" border="0" /></a>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-16868536320432829122008-12-06T18:21:00.006+10:002008-12-06T19:01:56.939+10:00Plans re-evaluted<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4Nqsz8W8xmvmAxSWy7pvh6YoeMJkVPwXsPMLo8Zgsn2IlouarGeQ5CZB1fPWlSwu8Gkub6kpqv1ANm3VcJ-tPuc1Ayk7wASSjHOp5fStkqJGcSD2ftNYFK7slzFZgG6Q1xr7rJZtzHjl/s1600-h/8.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4Nqsz8W8xmvmAxSWy7pvh6YoeMJkVPwXsPMLo8Zgsn2IlouarGeQ5CZB1fPWlSwu8Gkub6kpqv1ANm3VcJ-tPuc1Ayk7wASSjHOp5fStkqJGcSD2ftNYFK7slzFZgG6Q1xr7rJZtzHjl/s320/8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276597363243173938" border="0" /></a>I have well and truly recovered from the accident of a few months back, and leaving on another adventure is the main objective for me at this moment. I love Australia, but after the whirlwind pace and extraordinary presence and vibrancy of the great cities and countries I have lived in recently, Brisbane seems slightly pedestrian. Over the past few months, my family have supported me greatly, and have helped me get back on my feet, without complaint - I thank them for that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUB-puKKPS-8BrhPNiF2Z2GkIXiMuQpoMq8H3sEjhRck-g9lLso3RF2Y4usmMXNa01PuyDKcGe-2mghBpNW_GjyQiz43kNHnplmzEqe3c2f7uA2K6gFLVYtf1XUgZuNv_pybfiTlzAETj/s1600-h/2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUB-puKKPS-8BrhPNiF2Z2GkIXiMuQpoMq8H3sEjhRck-g9lLso3RF2Y4usmMXNa01PuyDKcGe-2mghBpNW_GjyQiz43kNHnplmzEqe3c2f7uA2K6gFLVYtf1XUgZuNv_pybfiTlzAETj/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276597699537450322" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1C-12_SGhPMMRU5MYRQVzy5iVjOWO21GX0XYIn2sLbzuq0QTQeWJGF3ttBjVX_QfIJ_U5iR0L_2FEf7nQB3IgbS6f9K2o4P0tg1gB78UMcauwA4QRkpIs53j1iy6V4c5tueyeDe2EzS3q/s1600-h/9.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1C-12_SGhPMMRU5MYRQVzy5iVjOWO21GX0XYIn2sLbzuq0QTQeWJGF3ttBjVX_QfIJ_U5iR0L_2FEf7nQB3IgbS6f9K2o4P0tg1gB78UMcauwA4QRkpIs53j1iy6V4c5tueyeDe2EzS3q/s320/9.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276598531749369074" border="0" /></a><br />Through nightly jogging and running, some short bike trips and bushwalking, I have been slowly regaining fitness and the desire to escape again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ROAbl7L0LPL39Ghw5O04qG7tKreFR0y99-laJTLRGMDFTff0-SNn5yNJcIzKAoo8rPkDlaHHQqWuTINpVlMEgSfuD8amnkZfe-fqzVvhg_57-4QU16cXRvwkevpEn0KD6QaueifVxVOp/s1600-h/4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ROAbl7L0LPL39Ghw5O04qG7tKreFR0y99-laJTLRGMDFTff0-SNn5yNJcIzKAoo8rPkDlaHHQqWuTINpVlMEgSfuD8amnkZfe-fqzVvhg_57-4QU16cXRvwkevpEn0KD6QaueifVxVOp/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276597706784257426" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15PqW3DGCEPjq-DaT9Mxip7k_Ipb7LbSB885SPiJd6_tOku2CWUtHbGCznJishQoBpRS7CBAAwR25oaxDxUJ4INVBExjzVVxfRqTNozNdFPGghK6uG_iHmsxxqrQ48qVPEVAt295RNK2I/s1600-h/6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15PqW3DGCEPjq-DaT9Mxip7k_Ipb7LbSB885SPiJd6_tOku2CWUtHbGCznJishQoBpRS7CBAAwR25oaxDxUJ4INVBExjzVVxfRqTNozNdFPGghK6uG_iHmsxxqrQ48qVPEVAt295RNK2I/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276597711172624770" border="0" /></a><br />I have also compiled a list of various goals I wish to accomplish over the next few years, a few of which are learning Spanish, trying some some basic parkour/freerunning, and becoming competent with the Harmonica. I should be quite busy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvdk7sYRA9VlB-YBGHXKRVNQWMUQkQMRR39phj4spfuawaC2wtutNlQbewrgkGk4spdEo4EFjkJPNNshFyJy6m-TH0gs5M3TrSURGh6acxXBc6sNwQYEwPTCvpwuZVF7-8VqZTFNoiIv9/s1600-h/3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvdk7sYRA9VlB-YBGHXKRVNQWMUQkQMRR39phj4spfuawaC2wtutNlQbewrgkGk4spdEo4EFjkJPNNshFyJy6m-TH0gs5M3TrSURGh6acxXBc6sNwQYEwPTCvpwuZVF7-8VqZTFNoiIv9/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276598523517612546" border="0" /></a>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-10918167771208126202008-11-01T13:49:00.007+10:002008-11-09T20:40:22.667+10:00If life is what you make it, its time to build...I was hit from behind by a truck on a 'b' road in Croatia roughly three months ago, hence my sporadic blog posts. Unfortunately it has brought my trip to an abrupt halt. I was unconscious for a week and in a Zagreb hospital for three weeks before being flown home. Physically I will be fine - given enough time - hopefully by January 16th 2009, as this is the date I plan to get myself back on the road.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpA9JYyVfOqVVGy7yawh5R_rfpEUHJOb30Lv0ASHP0Qi3vdfPjvF330ixfjg7GWiQKfqHOFXa3gzflBfG5kHLe41Zjb6qpv7uM-ynmTbcFsg8arK609vPZ0uGp2icziDV6GfezSB5Fa2b/s1600-h/DSCF1558.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpA9JYyVfOqVVGy7yawh5R_rfpEUHJOb30Lv0ASHP0Qi3vdfPjvF330ixfjg7GWiQKfqHOFXa3gzflBfG5kHLe41Zjb6qpv7uM-ynmTbcFsg8arK609vPZ0uGp2icziDV6GfezSB5Fa2b/s320/DSCF1558.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263533554923322402" border="0" /></a><br />Not all the way back to Croatia, but a nice jaunt around New Zealand to see the sights and save some money to send to far-flung outposts in Alaska, Central Asia or Ireland (haven't decided yet!).Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4112249907393729948.post-61850066765583601692008-09-23T08:51:00.007+10:002009-01-11T21:28:15.087+10:00Central Europe: Borders and big miles<a href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/IMG_0239.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/IMG_0239.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div> </div><div align="left">Germany traversed, I was on my own, staring at the countless kilometers ahead of me wth no clear break until I reached Istanbul many thousands of pedal rotations away. I enjoyed, as I knew I would, the Czech Republic, following the same route through the country I followed last year - for nostalgic reasons. When I finally reached the Danube river, my well marked path all the way down to Bulgaria, I was excited, but the monotony of a dead straight, scenery defunct gravel road that stretches as far as the eye could see for weeks ahead soon expelled the happiness and replaced it with boredom and disappointment.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1495.jpg" border="0" /> <strong>Imagine hundred of km's of this</strong> <div><br /></div></div><div align="left">I had to get myself off this waterway of drudgery, so in Slovakia I turned right at Bratislava, (a real gem of a city so close to the sheer wall of tourists found in Vienna) and headed south, destination: Adriatic Coast.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1525.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1536.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1531.jpg" border="0" /> <div></div><div> </div><div>The hospitality of Hungary was a little lower compared to the previous countries I had covered, the occasional rude person, slightly bland food (still good for a parched cyclist), flat scrubby scenery, and an unbelievable mosquito population, I decided to cover the country as fast as I could and rode three 160km days to get out of there. I can't generalise a whole country from my limited perspective, so one day I will visit again. As soon as I crossed the border/borders into Slovenia/Croatia, the scenery visibly changed for the better, people suddenly seemed nicer and the mosquitos were fewer.</div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1528.jpg" border="0" /> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w157/KyleAndrewArcher/DSCF1552.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div>Kyle Archerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03177046627903277105noreply@blogger.com1