When evening fell on our first day in the jungle, it was time for the night hike.
Continue readingtravelling
Colombia | Into The Jungle
Our little boat moored one hour upriver from Leticia. The opposite bank of the river is Peru, and that’s where we climbed ashore. From the boat, we had to climb a muddy series of ladders to get up the bank. Alain (the Goblin) told us this was because the river, in its eternal ebbs and flows, was currently eroding this bank and depositing the silt on the other side; one collapses, the other widens into a new sandbar. With heavy rains recently, each day new great chunks of the bank were crumbling into the river, taking with them entire trees, and eventually, people’s homes.
Continue readingColombia | Tales From The River
I was nervous when I woke up. I lay on my bunk and thought about the ten thousand things that might go awry in the jungle. Bites, parasites, broken bones, falling branches, plus a thousand other horrors I couldn’t even fully form drifted through my mind. When I’m scared I always tell myself the same thing: this is what an adventure feels like. This is part of it. You can never be sure of what will happen. Do it anyway.
Continue readingColombia | Nipping Across The Border
On my last day in Cartagena I was out having breakfast with my friend Elo in a square splashed with warm Caribbean colour. We were sitting in the sweltering shade outside a cafe, and had just finished our food when a young American man came and sat at the table beside us with a sigh.
Continue readingColombia | Swashbucklers
I arrived in Cartagena in the early afternoon. The outskirts of the city are tall white apartment buildings, a bit too Miami for me, but further in is the old town, surrounded by an ancient stone wall. My bus dropped me outside the walls, so in the afternoon heat I meandered between tall vacation apartment towers and beneath the great stone gate leading to the old town.
Continue readingColombia | A Mystery In The Sand
A hungover-looking Juan picked me up in the jeep after a shower and breakfast (rice, arepas, plantain) and we drove deeper into the desert. The first day of the tour was, to be sincere, a load of old dicks. The second day was much better. Well, better might not be the word. Mystifying is more like it.
Continue readingColombia | I Always Wanted To Go To The Desert But It Turns Out The Desert Is Weird
The morning after my mammoth jungle hike, I had a big breakfast and left Journey Hostel. I was headed to the desert.
Continue readingGuatemala | Visions of Cody
After staying the night in Cody’s asylum, I spent the morning having breakfast and talking with him in the kitchen. I asked Cody of his plans for the future – if he ever wanted to stop travelling.
Continue readingGuatemala | Crazy Cody
Way behind on my diaries again. Call myself Kerouacian. Kerouac actually wrote shit. What a problem I am.
Continue readingGuatemala | Summit Different
The trek back to Acatenango was exhausting – our ninth consecutive hour of slogged vertical hiking – but I felt lighter. The worst was done. Whatever came next, in the night or the next day, would be milder. A mist swept over the mountains and buried us as we hiked back to camp, deadening the red glow of the volcano and muting our tramping footsteps. We passed other backpackers who had set off too late and would reach the ridge of Fuego to find the summit obscured by cloud; they would see nothing but an orange haze. We had been very lucky.
Continue reading