Mad Max was definitely born a good 30 years ago on the Panamericana south of Lima. Four roofless walls in the middle of nowhere proudly proclaim the possibility of renting them as a restaurant. A few abandoned houses stand on the sand. High walls around them protect the nothingness from the nowhere. 20 ice cream stalls once offered “Helado Artesanal”. In between, rubbish heaps burn again and again.
A large display proclaims a golden future for your family in an urbanisation somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The building site was abandoned years ago. Sand dunes, dust, some petrochemicals, a steelworks, hundreds of lorries full of scrap metal and incredible poverty. This is the most desolate area I have ever travelled through. (more…)
km 3.315: Lima? Puta Madre!
The bus to Lima, 20 hours and 1,300 kilometres to the south, is a spaceship on ten wheels. Board service and reclining seats are crowned by the entertainment programme. Vin diesels at full volume through three outbreaks of human error that are hard to beat.
On the left, the poorest street villages and dusty steppe like in northern Brazil pass by on the Panamericana. On the other side, the sun conjures up a sunset over the Pacific that even Bob Ross would go for. Then the whole bus shouts: “Gooool!” Peru has qualified for the World Cup. Peru is bitterly poor – and its joy is a mixture of Sambodrome, religious fanaticism and GDR. For days. (more…)
Full Moon Party & Kitesurf @ Máncora
Out of the nine-hour night bus from Ecuador at six in the morning. By tuk-tuk to the last beach hostel. Sleep in, set up the board, pump up, out onto the water. 22 knots sideon on an endless sandy beach behind wild waves. A flock of pelicans passes by. His soloist fishes undisturbed next to my passing kiteboard in the Pacific.
The waves break narrow and close to the beach, no comparison to Santa Marianita with its endless smooth waves at pleasant intervals. The wind here is more powerful, and sideon jumps are more exciting over ten centimetres post-shorebreak anyway. Máncora should be higher up on the worldwide kitesurfing map – plenty of space and lots on offer. There have never been more than seven kiters on two kilometres of beach within a week. (more…)
Panamericana III, km 1.600 : Cuenca
Latin America is the continent with the most murders, the deepest pain and the most intense suffering. Yet it is here that the most bloodthirsty butchers in film history are shown on every intercity bus. At first glance, this may seem a little disturbing. But once the driver becomes the executioner, the solution to the mystery is immediately clear.
The hermetically sealed partition installed in every bus between passengers and driver/executioner does not serve to protect the latter, as in aeroplanes, for example. It is a manifestation of humanity. Similar to the blindfold of the condemned, its sole purpose is to block the passengers’ view of the fate that lies ahead of them. (more…)
Amazonass @ Banos
The famous Banos thermal spa is just two hours away by bus on the eastern side of the main Andean ridge at 1,800 metres. We approach the Amazon: green rainforest, bamboo and sugar cane conjure up a completely different world. Crowds of tourists clog up the only road there, and the hustle and bustle in the centre is a welcome change from what Andreas Altmann often called travelling in a lonely continent.
Here on the Amazon side of the Andes, the wind chops down the valley at up to 30 knots over packed thermal pools. Even Nick Jacobsen would probably find them too full for his kite fun. We opt for an empty thermal pool a little further away and relax in the warm volcanic water while the wind carries my towel away. (more…)
Riobamba & Chimborazo
On the bank holidays, I travel a good 2,700 metres in altitude and ten hours by bus from the Pacific to the Andes via Ecuador’s second largest city. When changing planes at the Guayaquil terminal, I fly through tens of thousands of Ecuadorians queuing endlessly in front of the counters.
Whole armies of flying vendors storm the bus at 20 km/h past the “Prohibido Vendedores / Comida” sign. The clouds hang low over the steep slopes of the western Andes. Then we break through the top layer and the sun shines over endless high mountain valleys and volcanoes. I have an appointment here with an extremely versatile designer from Quito. (more…)
The fighting dogs of Santa Marianita
The bus takes us on the first big step over ten hours and 3,000 metres in altitude down to the Pacific. The reclining seats and legroom are pure paradise. I work, blog and edit videos. The sun cream implodes and the Gopro no longer opens. In Santa Marianita, barking dogs chase my taxi to the small Punta La Barca hostel right on the hillside above Kite Beach.
Three of the neighbour’s fighting dogs attack me on my first walk. One of them bites my foot good and hard. Antibiotics iron out the subsequent infection. I’ve had four dogs in my life, I’ve made Nepalese temple dogs sing and hellhounds keep quiet. I’m good with dogs. There’s only one thing that helps with these fucking fighting dogs. (more…)
Rucu Pichincha / Cotopaxi Downhill
Unfortunately, my volcano fetish was somewhat neglected on the Panamericana II due to the wind enthusiasm of my fellow travellers. In Ecuador, this can now be easily corrected: out of 84 volcanoes, 25 are active, and the Rucu Pichincha, at 4,650 metres, is located right on the outskirts of Quito. Take the bus to the gondola and climb up to 3,900 metres for little money.
A high-alpine friend reported bad altitude sickness. There is no water for sale at either the valley or mountain station – and the forecast of heavy thunderstorms seems to be correct for once today. Some time ago, two climbers lost their way in the clouds around the summit. They were only found dead. (more…)
Quito
At night, Quito looks like a Christmas tree tipped over stormy mountain waves. Thousands of lights glitter over valleys and mountains. The houses cling to slopes that the TÜV would refuse to approve as water slides. The journey from the airport, at an altitude of almost 3,000 metres, to the city centre by bus and taxi takes more than an hour and a half through a huge 20 km traffic jam.
My hostel is small and beautiful and is located right between the old town and the new centre. El Cafecito serves the best home-grown highland coffee. I am the only guest for four days. The fire crackles in the fireplace. Old jazz sounds catapult me quickly into bed after 23 hours of travelling. (more…)
Dykes break properly
When I travelled from Seattle to Los Angeles on Highway No. 1 in 2007, I had no plans to turn it into a series. in 2015, I travelled for 10 weeks through 10 countries and incredible stories from Panama to Mexico with valuable travel friends. This year it will be a series. From 24 October, I will be travelling 15,000 km overland from Ecuador to Patagonia for three months.
Home is foreign. I’ve just been told I’m allowed to see it that way. If your world is different, then you have to travel it. Sometimes a little missing “this” in front of a “campfire” at seven in the morning hurls you into space. And sometimes a dear madman who claims you’re the most normal person he knows grounds you. (more…)
Jerusalem
Two Frenchmen accompany me on the journey through the mountains of the West Bank to Jerusalem. The first checkpoint waves us through at a massive concrete wall. Almost all roads leading into the centre are closed. Several Israeli policemen have been murdered in recent weeks. The reaction was a ban on entry to the Temple Mount for all Muslims under 50 and metal detectors for all those over 50.
This led to massive riots with several deaths and 400 injured. Even on the long search for a car park far outside, I notice masses of military and police, always in groups of five. On the way to my hostel in the centre of the old town on the Sabbath, I also pass a few hundred troops.
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Nazareth / Gabun / Galilee
My two weeks on the Sea of Galilee are coming to an end. The wind came back a little at the end, but remained far below expectations in terms of strength and frequency with 5 out of 14 days. There is hardly a place in the world where this would be less bad. There was always something to do, even those with a cultural aversion and those who don’t like hiking will be flattened by Galilee’s varied possibilities.
Nazareth is once again one of the big disappointing highlights. I don’t have to do anything! I visit the Church of the Nativity anyway and drown in tsunamis of selfie-taking pilgrims. Apart from a beautiful Arab bazaar in the narrow old town and new craft alleyways strictly separated by trade, there is nothing interesting to discover. (more…)
Dead Sea / Masada / Wadi David
In the early morning, the journey from the Sea of Galilee continues southwards along the initially green Jordan Valley. After 50 kilometres we cross the border into the West Bank. For a long time, the road runs directly along the border with Jordan. After two and a half hours we reach our first destination. The mountain fortress of Masada lies on a 400 metre high rocky plateau at the southern end of the Dead Sea.
Built around 100 BC, Masada initially served as a winter residence for the unpopular King Herod. However, Masada became a UNESCO World Heritage Site due to the great uprising against the Romans from 66 B.C. The last 1000 rebels of Judea fled to Masada after the destruction of Jerusalem. The Romans besieged the mountain fortress for several months in the year 73. (more…)
Yehudiya / Mount Arbel / Akko
The Sea of Galilee lies in the centre of Israel’s most historic region, the Galilee. Believers of all world religions walk in the footsteps of their superstars here. The ancient Jewish settlement of Magdalena is located just ten kilometres from Tiberias, directly on the shores of the lake. An archaeologist talks about the history next to the remains of the synagogue, where Jesus most likely preached before Mary Magdalene. The new luxury resort right next door is funding the excavations.
The shrines of the world’s religions are lined up at small intervals around the Sea of Galilee. Jesus fed the apostles on the site of St Peter’s Church. A UFO church was built over his home a few kilometres away in Capernaum. Buses unload crowds of pilgrims every minute. (more…)
Kitesurfing Israel: Lake Galilee
According to the locals, Windy.com offers the best forecasts for the Sea of Galilee. They check whether the wind shifts to the west off Haifa at 11am. If this is the case, the thermal system (Mediterranean humid and cooler, Golan Heights / Syria dry and hot) will be in motion and you can expect good winds of 20 to 30 knots at the only legal kite beach on the Sea of Galilee.
At temperatures above 40 degrees, the thermal wind often dies of heat death. I’ve been in Tiberias for a good week now, directly on the other side of the kite spot. The temperatures were actually between 38 and 44°C every day this July. The locals are also complaining about a rather modest season so far in terms of wind. In my first week here, the wind was only at least 15 to 18 knots on 4 out of 8 days, unfortunately never stronger. (more…)
20.000 cm under the sea
The coastal mountains between Haifa and the interior are behind me. On the last descent down to the Sea of Galilee, 209 metres below sea level, a violent gust of wind grabs my car and almost throws it off the road. YES! Right spot! The strongest winds in Israel prevail here. The trees are bending at almost 40 °C.
Tiberias is not too big, not too small and is located in the centre of an area whose cartographers would simply like to advise: please only mark where there is nothing super historic to discover! Much less work. But you do the work. Three world religions, places where Jesus worked, crusades, wars, 5000 years of history and nature. Variety would be a gross understatement. (more…)
Tel Aviv
Not even seven stamps from Arab states in my passport earn me the tourist attraction “private interview by the Israeli immigration authorities”. The brief questioning at passport control has to suffice. “Where did you come from? Berlin. What did you do there? Fighting tinnitus at daytime, enjoying it not getting worse at night in the clubs. Had a good time? Hell, yeah, beautiful people, magnificent places. Enjoy your stay!”
That’s it? Yep. Last train to Tel Aviv and off to the hostel. Reviews on the internet are incredibly important. Nobody knows or says who rates how, but everyone goes for gold. In my case, pigs have obviously rated a broken pigsty positively. The Overstay Hostel would be a great club in Berlin. Sleeping or even eating here is seriously less great. (more…)
Marsa Alam
Marsa Alam welcomes us with the strongest three days of wind of all my 15 years in Egypt. From early morning to late afternoon, the wind blows at 18 to 32 knots over turquoise-blue water. I’m on the water longer in three days than I was in half a month in South Africa. We kite until the doctor comes. In Florian’s case, literally.
At low tide – which is quite independent of the moon phases here – there are just 200 by 400 metres of safe kiting between 50 metres of water only 10 cm deep on the beach and another 150 metres of sandbank in front of the fringing reef. With 20 riders, the spot is tight. At very low tide, Flo swerves too far out of the way of a beginner over the “sand” bank, which is covered in stones, and crashes. (more…)
Viennese melancholy
I can’t remember how many times I’ve been to Vienna. Not even how long, and sometimes not even where exactly. Wherever I was, I wanted to understand people. But Vienna seems incomprehensible, just like the colourfulness of its inhabitants. And that is wonderful right now.
To say that lovers travel to Paris and melancholics to Vienna would be far too simplistic. Yes, Amelie is great in her Parisian café. But “Before sunrise” was also rightly set in Vienna. They do the washing in the dry cleaners. Taxi drivers are only there to drive. The suburban railway runs under the underground. Contradictions are part of everyday life in Vienna, and not just for Piefkes. The most dilapidated boas stand next door to posh hotels. (more…)
Hermanus & Good Bye
Our last stop is Hermanus, an hour and a half east of Cape Town. Famous for whale-watching, Hermanus is bursting with good restaurants. We savour one last time the South African cuisine, which is limited for vegans but almost always excellent and varied. Our hostel, Hermanus Backpackers, is the purest luxury boutique hotel with a pool, garden, olive trees and a huge kitchen/lounge – at hostel prices.
On the second day in Hermanus, the wind is good for the last time. Unfortunately, the spot on the lagoon behind Grotto Beach, which is quite well frequented by sharks, only works when the wind is blowing from the east (bumpy, coming over land) or west to south-west (clean). If the main wind direction is southeast, nothing works. (more…)
Return to Witsand
On the way back to Cape Town, we make another stop in Witsand. The wind is offline for a day. A German band dressed as Bavarians plays swing hits from the last 100 years in the Breede River Lodge. It would be horrible at home, but here and with lots of locals who constantly want to buy us something else alcoholic to try, it’s more than fun.
On the second day there is another wonderfully constant wind of a good 20 knots over the freestyle spot in the estuary. My back is cooperating again. The hangtime is good and the panorama in front of the sand dunes is gigantic. With up to ten kiters, the spot is quite crowded, but everyone is considerate – and rides very well. What’s more, the number reduces your chances of winning the top prize at the Hairoulette. (more…)
Knysna
We cruise another 500 kilometres to Knysna in the east. Our first tour along the Garden Route ended in Mosselbay. We didn’t think much would change there. We were completely wrong! The steppe east of Cape Town, which was scorched brown just three weeks ago, is now green again after a few rains. From George onwards at the latest, you feel like you’ve arrived in a completely different country.
Every few kilometres, rivers flow into the Indian Ocean via large reed-covered bays. Flamingos, storks, herons and cranes strut between them. The clouds clinging to the steep coastal cordillera, up to 1600 metres high and 15 kilometres inland, regularly bring heavy rain. The forests from there to the coast are as green as New Zealand rainforest. There are ferns and even the New Zealand Christmas tree with its red flowers. (more…)
Cape of Good Hope & Muizenberg
We check out the small Sandvlei Lake behind Muizenberg from Blouberg. According to local residents, you are allowed to kite there, although part of the lake is a bird sanctuary. There is a grassy park to set up in, and the best way to get in is on the windward side of the lake via a small sandy beach. The exit is steep and rocky to leeward. The wind is still offline. We drive on.
Dozens of surfers let off steam in the waves on Muizenberg’s colourful beach. The Boyes Drive from Muizenberg to Fishhoek offers endless panoramic views. As South Africa is a little too expensive in some places, we opt for the “stowaway under a load of kite luggage” method at the entrance to the Cape of Good Hope National Park. This saves eleven euros for a beautiful but rather lifeless park. (more…)
Langebaan for the second time
During the Cape Town rush hour, I pick up our new hire car at the airport, which is a good hour and a half away by bus. We move over to the nearby Saltycrax Hostel. In recent years, the owner has set up a programme for volunteers in the townships. There are currently a whopping 70 volunteers accommodated in the hostel and nearby houses.
Fortunately, our room is overbooked. This gives us the opportunity to shorten our time in Blouberg considerably. The waves are too rough for me, the water is really cold at around 13 degrees and I don’t need more than 25 knots of wind. Blouberg is a white luxury ghetto with no charm. The volunteers dream of world peace, the kiters of the waves and the rest of us of safety. (more…)
Blouberg & King Of The Air
Every kiter knows that the biggest big air competition in the kiting world takes place in Cape Town. What we didn’t know was that it takes place just two kilometres away from our new accommodation at Blouberg Kite Beach – on the very day we are moving.
The waves at Blouberg beach are still quite comfortable on our arrival day at just over one metre. The wind is rattling side-on at a good 20 to 25 knots on the wide white beach with a dream panorama of Table Mountain and Cape Town. We count over 200 kiters on the water. The beach is ten kilometres long – but in these conditions, even the 15 kiters on “my” 200 metres are too much for me. After just under an hour of scaredy-cat kiting on the nine, I’ve had enough. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.