Sailing to Panama, Friday

Were just back from a 5 day trek in the jungle. Spendign afew more days in Cartagena before sailing to Panama and the san blas islands on Friday.
Will write a proper blog entry then, watch this space!

Now for something sort of related

Sean Kelly, Irish cycling legend and favourite cyclist of Lucho, who put us up for free in his casa de cyclistas in Trujillo, Peru.

Climbing Vallanaraju (5688m)

From Vallanraju

When we arrived in Huaraz and met up with Tom and Dave we had a bit of a chat about what we´d get up to. As it was most definitely still rainy season with regular afternoon downpours hiking one of the 4 to 8 day circuits didn´t sound like a good idea as after day 2 all our clothes would be wet and the hiking might not be so enjoyable. We´d all wanted to summit a decent sized mountain so we asked round and settled on what looked like the most reputable agency to hike one of the peaks that could be summited year round.
At the hostel there was an english girl who´d done a bit of hiking and seemed at a bit of a loose end, so Dave invited her along on a day hike we were doing to a glacial lake for some acclimatisation. I guess we had our doubts about her being able to hack the summit hike but she seemed to be able to cope well enough with the hike to Lake 69. A bus dropped us out to the start of the hike and we made the lake in two and a half hours, two Chinese lads came along with us and despite their suffering a bit with the altitude were a good laugh, hiking in jeans and wellies with their golf umbrella. I´d have to say the scenery wasn´t too spectacular on that hike, we´d seen more impressive glacial lakes in Patagonia.
Next day we went to the tour agency´s office, collected our gear and then travelled in a minivan to the base of the mountain, 90 minutes away in a remote valley. For some reason the guides wanted to camp right where the bus left us off and add 5 hours to the next days hike, we were immediately suspicious, the plan back at the office was to make the base camp at 4000m that day and then start hiking at 1am so we´d get up and down the glacier on frozen snow before the sun made going difficult or at worst dangerous. The summit hike was supposed to take 7 hours up and 4 to 5 down so leaving this extra bit of hiking to be done in the same day would mean we wouldn´t have time to summit before the sun rose and started making the snow on the glacier melt. We insisted on making base camp that day rather than sit around doing nothing for the day.
We hiked up a steep path, everyone well loaded down as we were all sharing the load of food, cooking gear, tents and our own clothes. After 3 hours we reached the base camp as the end of the glacier moraine. Unfortunately the weather was closing in and it had started to rain, sleet and then snow, along with the snow melting this made the base camp extremely cold and we all rushed to put our tents up on the sodden campground among the rocks. Unfortunately I´d sent my good mountain tent home in exchange for a bigger, better vented tent that was more suitable for hot climates so Paul and I were relying on the agency´s tent. It turned out to be a leaky piece of crap more suitable for a summer in France than a cold, wet night at 4000m so we didn´t have the greatest nights sleep. All the floor of the tent was wet and we had to watch out so our down sleeping bags didn´t soak water and lose their insulation. The girl that was on the hike with us pitched her tent in a puddle and ended up bawling at the guides. We were all pretty cold with the usual white fingers and toes, it was a bit early to be losing the head but she eventually got sorted out. Our genius guides were using our stoves as they were better than the agency´s but had forgotten to bring matches and had to ask myself and Paul if we had some. The guides even ended up cooking in Tom and Dave´s tent as it was better than the guides. Hardly confidence inspiring seeing as we were relying on these guys to guide us across a glacier to the summit the next day. I´d have to admit I had a good think that night about whether it was wise to go ahead with these cowboys leading us. I figured in the end that we were only a 3 hour hike from a road and weren´t in any danger at the moment and would give it a try the next day, keeping an eye on the guides and being prepared to call a halt to things if they got too hairy next day.
After some hot food we warmed up a bit but because of the altitude we weren´t that hungry. It was an awful nights camping with the leaky tent, and even though our down sleeping bags were well warm the damp of the tent and water on the floor made it really uncomfortable. When the guides called us for breakfast at 1am we were glad to get going and not really sure if we´d slept much at all.
We packed light, leaving the sleeping and cooking gear behind and once we hit the glacier we put on our crampons and were roped up into two teams of 4 and 3. The first team was one of the guides followed by the English girl then Paul and Dave. The next team was a guide, myself and then Tom who was some distance back on a long rope. It seemed harsh on the English girl to be second in the line up as she kept falling over on the fresh snow tracks and might have had an easier time further back on the rope but when we complained to the guides they did nothing. Was this a tactic to slow us down or was it a safety measure to put the weakest climber second on the rope so if they slipped the team would have a better chance of halting the fall?

Luckily there was a full moon out and cloud cover had dropped so we could see the rest of the peaks beside us. It was magical to see all the peaks around us, such epic scenery. Add to that the fun of trudging up the snow on the 40 degree slope, picking your footsteps and testing that the snow would take your weight. Some times the snow would hold your weight, some times the powder would collapse to knee or waist height and you´d have to haul yourself up and get going again. The fact that I was the heaviest of the group meant I had to tread carefully, taking shorter steps. What might support the lads would give way under me.

Heavy Going on the way up From Vallanraju

Over the next few hours we trudged along at a slow pace, taking breaks, and each snow hill we crossed on the glacier led to another before after about 4 hours we could see the twin peaks of the summit rising ahead of us. Excited to see the summit, but I guess realistic as even at home the last bit to reach a peak could take hours and with the slow pace of the snow making heavy going and the altitude it would take a while. Plus it was really cold. My gore tex jacket and rucksack, both wet from the night before were frozen stiff on me, everyone´s water bottles were icing up and it was hard to drink the icy water even though we were thirsty. Too much cold water would lower your core temperature and could even push you towards hypothermia.

Thankfully though my trusty old boots were still dry, keeping my toes warm and safe from frostbite and the alpine mitts I´d hauled on my bike since the start of the trip were keeping my hands nice and toasty. Everyone bar the English girl were in good spirits, Tom joking about being so far behind our team of 3 as his rope was so long and Dave keeping a bit of banter going. Despite Tom and I having dose of the peru belly we were keeping on trucking.

From Vallanraju

After another 5 hours climbing it was 7am, beginning to get light and we started to cross some crevasses and wound our way up towards the peak. It was hard to see where we were actually going to end up summiting from but we had to trust the guides to lead us along a safe route. Some parts were really steep, one snow hill was about 60 degrees so it was a lot of work to crunch steps into the hill and even harder work if the step went as you stood on it and you had to flounder your way back to your feet using the powder round you.
One really annoying thing the guides did was to lie to us about how far we´left. As we neared the summit there was about 4 times when they told us we only had a hour or half hour left only to hear the same or more the next time someone asked them. We could have coped with being told the truth as we only needed to know how much we had to pace ourselves, it certainly didn´t improve our confidence in the guides and I guess was to play a major part in the decision we made later on in the day.
After about 5 hours climbing in the snow we were tired but all the lads seemed good to go. Tom and I had sick stomachs and were nauseous, not sure from altitude or from the guides crap cooking. Paul and I had altitude headaches as we´d spent a few days down at sea level surfing and weren´t as well acclimatised as Tom and Dave who´d cycled along the spine of the Andes to get here. But our biggest problem was the English girl who was getting emotional, occasionally crying, saying she couldn´t go on and looking wobbly on her legs.

We climbed some very steep snow hills to reach a set of crevasses over two hours, unfortunately at the crevasse the bridge of snow that normally spanned the crevasse was gone, leaving us with two options to make the summit, a tempting 300m above us. The guide, myself and Tom went right to investigate a route to the right of the crevasse but the ridge we were travelling on narrowed too much for it to be safe, two crevassess either side seemed bottomless, plus the snow on top was very powdery and liable to break off so we retreated back to where the other rope team was trying to climb an impossibly steep slope of powder snow and not making too much progress. The english girl was crying again and in a bit of a state and with the lads struggling to make uphill progress it looked like we were stuck.

Even if we managed it up that snow hill they way back down would be treacherous because at the bottom of the hill, to the left and right of the 3 metre wide bridge they´d used to cross a crevasse were two steep drops into nothing. If anyone took a tumble on the steep powder slope doing down, it would be hard for the rest of the people on the rope to dig their ice axes in enough to stop the fall into the crevasse. Id climbed a volcano in Chile over ice and we´d done a half hour´s practice of falling on our ice axes to arrest a fall but it just occurred to me that the rest of the group had done no training the day before as promised by the tour agency, base camp had been too cold. 80% of accidents happen on the way down a mountain.
I asked the guides how long it would take to summit as at 9am the sun was rising and starting to melt the snow on the glacier, we were going to be tight for time to make it back down before we´d be taking a big risk on the snow not caving in on some of the trickier bridges we´d crossed.
The guides gave their standard answer of one of them saying a half hour and the other an hour. ´

I´d heard this all before, these guys either didn´t know the time it would take or couldn´t give a straight answer, the sun was getting hotter, a bank of cloud was edging its way up the mountain and would soon be at our level so I decided it was time someone called a halt to the climb, it was getting too dangerous and the english girl looked like she was going to struggle to make it down. The rest of the lads seemed up for climbing the rest of the snow but I could see they all knew that the girl was in no state to continue and then make it back. I think we all knew that by bringing her along we had a responsibility to get her off the hill, even if it was her decision to come.
The guides were gung ho to try the steep slope but at this stage we were beyond having any respect for their advice.

So we took some pictures, ate a few sugary sweets and then started trudging down hill along the increasingly soft snow in silence, we were all fairly dissapointed and tired.

From Vallanraju

Meanwhile with tired legs after 7 hours of climbing we trudged downhill. The snow had meted considerably and it was warm enough to hike in a base layer. The going was tough, we were glad we taken the decision to come down as the snow would have been absolute mush 2 hours later. One the way up my jacket was frozen stiff, now it was warm enought to hike in just a base layer.

On the way up one of the guides had led us to the right of an ice cliff along some snow and I´d noticed, being 2nd last on the line of climbers that one footstep had revealed a hollow underneath, we´d crossed a thin layer of snow and if someone went through we were in trouble so I´d told the guide leading our rope team and marked the snow after this section to indicate danger ahead.
Unfortunately I was so tired on the way down that I must have walked past the marker and over the hollow. But when Tom behind me sunk his boot into snow and shouted that he couldn´t get it out even digging with his ice axe I realised where we were and that Tom might slip through. I went back and freed Tom with a lot of careful digging and then told the second rope team to go take a wide berth of the dodgy area, in hindsight the guide on our rope should have had someone from the other rope team rescue Tom as if Tom and I were roped together and fell through to the drop below there was no way the guide on the other end of our rope was stopping the weight of the two of us falling. Even though it wasn´t that big a drop, only 2 to 3 metres it made me realise how stupid and badly trained the guides were.

By mid day we reached the bottom of the glacier, took off our crampons and walked slowly into base camp where the tents were still up. We´d been on the go for 10 hours with no more than 5 minutes break at a time and we all fell into our tents for a nap while the guides cooked something up.
I was woken by the guide and the english girl outside our tent, she was in tears and shouting at him in english and he was trying to talk to Paul and I. In an unbelievable mess up the guides thought we were going to stay at the base camp for another night, they thought when we booked a days rock climbing as well as the summit attempt that we were going to stay on the mountain for rock climbing and had no transport arranged for later on in the day at the bottom of the hill.

Plus their mobile phone had no credit so even if they could get some coverage they couldn´t call a lift. The nearest village was 12km from the base of the mountains and everybody was too wrecked to walk that far. This tour company, MontTrek was really living on their past glories if they had gotten good reviews in the lonely planet as this expedition was an absolute shambles.
Luckily I´d brought my mobile with me so I said we´d call a lift and get off the mountain as none of us had enough dry clothes and I didn´t fancy spending another night lying in a puddle at 4000m. We calmed the english girl down, told her to stay in her tent and the guide and I went searching for signal, eventually after the agency weren´t answering their phone he managed to call two other people to send a car.
We ate some hot food and then packed up to get off the mountain, as we started our descent with wet and heavy packs a cloud hit the mountain and it started to snow, making the path treacherously slippy and with the big drops at the edge of the path we all edged down cautiously. We each took a tumble on the way down, thankfully the only casualty was the knee of Paul´s wet pants which he ripped, a testament to how slippy it was and how tired we were as he usually never slips.
We reached the bottom at around 4pm and to my surprise the guide insisted the two of us walked out the valley to get phone signal and call again for a lift home as he wasn´t sure if a minivan was en route or if the villager who manned the gate on the way in would let the van in if it arrived. There was no way we´d be able to stay where we were for the night so I hiked the 5km out to the village with him leaving the others at the base of the mountain, trying to get phone signal on the way and eventually getting through and meeting the van at the village gate.

We were all wrecked by the time the guide and I returned with the van, I´d been on the go from 2am till 6pm without much of a break and was glad we were heading to civilisation, everybody in one piece and bar some tears from the english lady the rest of us were in good form. It had been some adventure, we´d enjoyed the climb despite being disgusted with the agency. We dropped the gear back to the agency and headed to the comfort of hostel churrup, all we wanted was a hot shower, dry clothes and a feed, Monttrek would get an earful tomorrow.

If you´re reading this article and thinking of climbing I´d recommend the climb, it was a great experience but I´d definitely be wary of the agency you go with. Don´t go with Monttrek who weren´t very professional and talk to the lads at the churrup hostel who regularly hear reports of people in their hostel using agencies and know the good companies. Make sure they give you registered mountain guides not just porters trying to work as guides, ask to see their certs as they should have them and insist on some training on the glacier before the day of the summit attempt.

Roll on the next peak, we´ll be passing loads before we hit the Caribbean for some sailing!

Motorbiking to Machiu Pichu

When I arrived in Cusco all the lads had already been and I wasn´t too pushed on repeating their hike anyhow, it wouldn´t be anything new as I´d heard their antics over a few beers. Paul had just been told he´d need 5 more days in Cusco before the doctor would let him travel on by bus so I had a bit of time to kill.

Down the street from our hostel were a couple of motorbike rental companies. Since we´d met the two NZ motorbikers crossing the straights of magellan I´d been impressed with using motorbikes for travel. They covered 550km the day after we met them, on those roads we were only doing 80km a day so the motorbikes were looking like a good option for the next trip when time not be so plentiful.

I hired a bike for 4 days, ignoring the voice in my head that said it might not be a good idea after the fall from the mountain bike, feck it, I was here for an adventure, not to take the bloody bus with the tourists.
The guy at the shop gave me a map, told me two places I could stay on the route and keep the bike secured, then showed me where to buy clean petrol on the route.
I´d done a bit of time on my cousin Kev´s motobike in the forest, but not a whole pile really so I figured if I could get out of the street with the rental company on it I´d be grand, how hard could it be. So I got on the bike with my rucksack strapped to the back, eased the clutch out, took off and was on my way to see the sacred valley of the incas by motorbike.
First stop was for petrol, I filled the tank for about 4 euro, then hit the road again, getting used to the bike, missing the odd gear and trying to remember to brake with my right hand, not wind the trottle open if somehing went wrong as I´d done a few times in the forest at home!

First site I visited was Sacsayhuaywaman, I couldn´t help but think how handy it was to park the motorbike up, then just walk into the site as opposed to needing to take a rest from cycling. The site was amazing, such huge stones fitted together with such precision, unfortunately, my camera was on the blink so have a look at this link for some photos of the site.
I hit the road again, winding down hill into the sacred valley proper, rich green farmland and a decent warm breeze, really enjoying myself on the bike and asking the odd local for the directions to the pisac ruins. Had to say no thank you when some local builders offered me a big mug of spirits on their lunch break.

In pisac after winding up a section of tight hairpins, I saw some inca farming terrances and some old cut stone buildings built high into the hillside. Very impressive the effort they went to as the hills were steep and the work was so good all the buildings are still standing. Next I headed along the valley to the last ruins of the day and my stop for the night Ollayantambo. I had a quick walk round the site and then drove the scrambler up the narrow inca streets to find my hostel where the lovely hostel owner Katy showed me where to park the bike out back and pointed me towards the best pizza in town. I was starving and after all the adrenaline of the day a family size pizza put me away and I slept like a log.

Next day was to be toughest day on the bike, I had two mountain ranges to cross to get to the town where I´d hike to machiu pichu from. The first mountain was paved roads reaching 4000m plus but with a lot of avalanches on the far side and the second mountain range was all dirt roads with no barriers so I´d need to concentrate or suffer the consequences.

I hit the road at 7am, eating my breakfast of bread and bananas from the market on a grass verge by the side of the road before riding the bike up the mountain side. I wasn´t long climbing before the rain started and I had to slow right down, by the time I reached the top of the pass I was an expert at taking hairpins

Hairpins on the way up From Machiu Pichu and the Sacred Valley

I wanted to get down from 4300m to the warm valley and out of the fog so I could see where I was going better. Amazing how cold you get when you´re just sitting on a motorbike as opposed to cycling.

4316m and freezing cold From Machiu Pichu and the Sacred Valley

The avalanches on the far side blocked half the road in spots, in some parts the road was undermined so I had to keep a watch out for yellow tape marking the road. The swollen river crossings were a good laugh, I eventually found the only way to keep my boots dry while crossing was to lift my feet up and gun the bike across the river in first, all the balance from the cycling came in handy.

The next valley was like a jungle and I warmed up as the gravel roads wound downhill, all sorts of trees growing by the side of the road. I reached the town of Santa Maria by noon and bought lunch of soup and stew from a nice old dear while her husband watched the bike outside. After a fill of petrol for the next mountain I left town and took a wrong turn, realising when I looked at my GPS that macchiu pichu getting further away was probably the wrong road, theyd don´t do sign posts in rural Peru and I guess tourists aren´t meant to try getting into macchiu pichu by the backroads.

After I crossed the river beside town and was on the right road I was wrecked tired. I´d been 5 hours on the bike already and between the cold, wet and fog of the mountain pass I was well tired from riding so I pulled over by the side of the road laid out my bike jacket on some gravel and with my drybag of clothes as a pillow, went to sleep for 40 minutes. A local dog woke me before my phone alarm did and his owner, amused with the gringo sleeping by the side of the road had a laugh and came over to chat. Like I´d been told, the new road to Santa Theresa was blocked by an avalanche and I´d have to take the old mountain road to get there. Nice fella, even if his directions to find the mountain road were a bit hazy. It used to be that Paul and I doubted our spanish at the start of the trip but at this stage I´d have to say that the locals are useless at giving directions, a general rough idea is all you´ll ever get and don´t even bother asking distances or time as it will mostly be wrong, nice people just useless at giving directions and of course, they run on south american time.

After 40 winks I was good to go and hit off on the bike, which thankfully started on the button every time. After about 10 minutes I came to a major junction in the dirt roads, I´d no idea which road to take so I decided I´d wait till someone came along and ask directions rather than take the wrong road. After 10 minutes a local fella came put putting along on an old bike and said I could follow him to the village as he was going there himself. Besides he said, he´d no brakes on his bike so I´d be able to keep up with him. So we took off in convoy on the narrow dirt road, winding up tight hairpins and climbing the mountain with just a few bushes or a bit of a grass verge between the dirt road and the steep drop into the valley. I reckon if the local fella had brakes he´d win the dakar as there was no way I was going to be able to keep with him, the road was muddy in spots and I wasn´t going to take any chances with the drop off so near. Plus hiaces full of people tended to appear from nowhere making it a tight squeeze between the van and the drop off.
So for about two and a half hours I rode up the mountains on the dirt roads, enjoying every minute of the great views, getting used to the motorbike on gravel and passing through the mountain villages. A local kid even ran out on the road to give me a high 5.

About 30 minutes from Santa Theresa I had to cross a flooded river fording, a combi van full of people had barely just made it across so I had a good look at the lay of the land before making my attempt. Worst thing that could happen would be for the flow to take the bike and for me to drop it in the river running, I´d have some fun trying to dry out the engine without tools. I stuck the bike in first and gunned it across, having to fight the stream with the front wheel mid way but making dry land on the other side eventually with clouds of steam rising from the engine.

Flooded Rver crossing From Machiu Pichu and the Sacred Valley

By 5pm I rode into the village and met the hostel owner who let me roll the bike into the back of his restauraunt.

Next day I got a taxi to the next town as it´s forbidden to drive along the private road to machiu pichu, don´t ask me why but I suspect it´s because the rail company have a monopoly on getting to machiu pichu. Anyhow I enjoyed the 12k hike along the railway, this was real jungle country with the rail line winding through dense vegetation along the bottom of the steep sided valleys.

Rather than get the bus at the end of the rail line I hiked uphill for 2 hours to reach machiu pichu, after three hours walking in such humid conditions I didn´t mind being fleeced for a coca cola with ice, it tasted great.

Inside the site I haggled with a local guide and paid him 10 dollars for an hour tour of the impressive site. From the endge of the ruins I could see the rail line I´d hiked along as it wound through the valleys, man I´d walked a lot to get to Machiu Pichu considering how close I´d been as the crow flew! To see the quality of the craftsman ship that allowed them to perch walls along 45 degree rock faces and the amount of work it must have taken to live and cultivate food at such a height was very impressive, equally so it was worth paying the guide to find out how the city of the incas was organised, how the buildings were laid out to catch the sun at points of the day and year, well worth the hike and bike ride.

I hiked back along the rail lines after rain covered Machiu Picchu and sent the tourists running for the rain shelters. I met a local fella walking home along the rail lines, we chatted had a coke at the end of the rail line and then shared a taxi back to Santa Theresa. He was studying tourism in Cusco and the 2 hour walk along the rail lines was his normal way home at the weekend.

I sent word to Paul that I might be a day late getting back to Cusco, some other motorbikers had arrived in the dark that evening as the rain had tuned the mountain roads to mud and it had taken them 12 hours to reach ollayantambo.

Luckily though the rain held off I hit the road at 7 next ay, enjoying the scenery even more and well in control of the bike. I took a few photos and videos, only the rivers were much lower this time round. I reached the half way point of Ollayantambo by lunch time, stopped in the square and chatted to the local police chief as the pizzeria was beside the station. I reckon he spent most of the day listening to music as he had classical music filling up the square and when he found out I was Irish he put on the wild rover, bit of a character.

I hit the road again, it was Saturday and without going fast I´d the idea in the back of my head to reach town and head out for Saturday night beers with Paul and the south african lads we´d met on our travels.

Moray terraces, From Machiu Pichu and the Sacred Valley

I reached the cultivated terraces of moray and had a walk around the site at 4pm, some of the valleys were spectacular, and the sun was well low in the sky when I reached the old market town of chinchero.

It was getting dark bt the time I left chinchero but the road was paved again, my gps didn´t have this road on it but it said I was about 13 km as the crow flies from Cusco and at 800m lower so I hadn´t that far to go, the bike had lights and I was itching to make town and head out so I headed off into the dusk, eventually reaching cusco and finding my way along the windy streets in busy traffic to the town square for two laps of honour before I dropped off the bike nearby and headed to the hostel to shower and clean up.

Myself Paul the two South africans Mike and Grant headed to a live music bar 7 Angelitos to see a live reggae band and sink a few cubra libres, we had a great night, the band played really lively stuff and we made the most of the happy hour. We even bumped into a two Irish girls I´d met in the hostel in La Paz while I was injured, Joan and Merissa and headed to a club later when the band finished.

I´d have to say the 4 days on the bike and the hike to machiu pichu was a great adventure. Don´t get me wrong, touring by bicycle is great, you always end up in the middle of nowhere as you can only cycle so far in a day so there´s definitely more adventure in cycling. But if I was going on a shorter trip with less time I´d definitely use a motorbike to see more places.

Breaking into Machiu Pichu

While I was trying to keep my leg straight and not bust the stitches on the knee, Paul and the 3 lads we met on the road cycling; Tom Dave and Ollie headed to cusco and then hit for machiu pichu.
Seeing as none of them had reserved the inca trail hike and they didn´t feel like paying top dollar for the train out they got a bus through the mountains of the sacred valley, then next day hiked 12k along the railway tracks at 1am, then climbed up through the jungle to try and sneak into machiu pichu at dawn for free, more in the name of adventure than trying to avoid paying. Paul is going to write up something on their hike so watch this space.

1 bike due north last week, no bikes due north this week

While I was waiting for my knee to heal in La Paz, Paul and the 3 English lads cycled on towards Cusco in Peru. Tom got sick at the Peruvian border and had to bus the last bit into Cusco but they all regrouped to hike up to Machiu Pichu in the middle of the night and get in for free.

While the 3 English lads headed on into the Peruvian mountains Paul stayed put so we could sort out our flights home. Last I heard Paul had to go to hospital in Cusco for a minor operation, not sure for what but he´ll be out of action for a week at least. Hopefully he´s ok.

My doc gave my knee the all clear to bus to Cusco today, I might be able to cycle in a weeks time. Good thing is at least I can bend my knee enough to load the bike on a bus so I´m headed up to Cusco to check out my cycling buddy.

So no bikes going anywhere this week or next week bar in the luggage compartment of a bus. Hopefully Paul´s ok and we´ll both be good to travel after we recover.

New Photos Added

Paul has just uploaded some new photos from our recent travels.


Click on the Photo to view Pauls photo albums, to see the latest photos order by date