Mexico

Ed Gillespie in Mexico.

The generally reliable Mexican bus system conveyed us efficiently south through the sun-bleached dusty highlands and plains of the 'Wild West' country. The only discomfort we experienced was on the bus to Durango, on which our seats were stuck in 'full recline' position. The sensation was not dissimilar to travelling along in a speeding dentist's chair as we entered the colonial heartlands.

We were certainly in the right place to pick up a few cheap fillings. The extraordinary architectural wealth of the Mexican 'silver towns' is based on rich seams of precious metal-bearing rock that have been mined for almost half a millennium. In Zacatecas we visited 'El Mina', plunging deep into the hillside down a rough-hewn tunnel on a rickety little train.

We explored the huge cavernous gash, from which the valuable ore had been excavated, the chasm dropping away from the grille beneath our feet into dizzyingly deep misty darkness.

There was also a nightclub, which brought new meaning to the expression 'all back to mine', and a small museum of rocks and minerals that managed to achieve the impressive feat of making geology seem sexy. Fabulously coloured crystals from across Latin America included violet fluorites and viridian green malachites that shimmered and twinkled in the artful lighting. There was even a rock sample from the less exotic 'Old Croft Quarry' in Leicestershire with the unfortunate name of 'analcima'.

From Leon, the next day, we took the bus to Guanajuato, capital city of the state of the same name, in Mexico's central highlands.

Upon our arrival in the city, we were instantly disoriented because most of the roads that run through the centre of town are underground. They are buried in tunnels that used to carry the city's river, long ago diverted into a natural cave system to reduce flooding.

We hopped off the bus in a dark passageway and climbed a small, stone staircase to emerge blinking into the sunny street culture of a city largely uninvaded by cars. The question, 'why can't it always be like this,' ran through my head as we wandered the convoluted narrow alleyways that twirled between buildings painted cheerfully in a typically understated Mexican palette of pink, lime and purple.

We continued the subterranean theme with a visit to the city's famous 'Museo de las Momias'. The mummies of Guanajuato, far from being the carefully prepared ancient Egyptian variety, are the relatively young, naturally desiccated cadavers of townspeople whose struggling families were unable to pay the local grave tax.

Failure to cough up meant the deceased's body was exhumed and plonked on public display. Tours of the grisly remains began surreptitiously in the late 19th century, when a glimpse could be had by anyone who slipped the custodians of the tombs a few pesos. Now the museum attracts almost a million visitors a year and the profits from the entrance charge go to municipal funds - the town's coffins contributing to the town's coffers.

There were more than a hundred, slack-jawed, seemingly screaming, leathery mummies inside, preserved from normal decay by the region's uniquely dry climatic conditions. The most recent corpse was that of a victim of drowning who had been added to the collection only in 1984 - not even a generation ago, let alone a few millennia like preserved Egyptian Pharaohs.

Despite this contemporary ghoulishness the museum managed to maintain a respectful, contemplative and poignant tone in what could easily have been a crudely voyeuristic, or exploitative exhibition. Sadly this reverence evaporated outside, where enterprising vendors were hawking 'candy mummies' to those for whom looking at dozens of dead bodies is an appetite-stimulating experience. How sweet.

Argentina/Chile - Sailing the Andes: Ferry and bus rides cross South America's lofty spine

Margo Pfeiff writes about Argentina and Chile.

With a flamboyant twist of the wrist, border guard Falcon Gomez of the Gendarmería Nacional Argentina slams his stamp onto page eight of my passport, and I am officially a woman without a country.

I plunk myself down on a log outside the wooden cabin that passes for the Argentinean customs post, here in the middle of the Andes, to contemplate this rare diplomatic limbo: Ushered out of Argentina, I won't officially enter Chile for another two hours.

"Welcome," says a fellow traveler who takes a seat beside me, "to the middle of nowhere."

But as nowheres go, this one is awfully hard to beat. In the distance is the volcanic peak of 11,477-foot Mount Tronodor, white with the glaciers whose cloudy turquoise melt waters fill Lago Frías, which laps at my feet. As I contemplate this, a fox emerges from the dense bush, pounces, then dines on a slow-reacting mouse.

I am traveling a remote route from Argentina into Chile through the Andes mountains, which form the two countries' 3,200-mile-long frontier. But border crossings can be tedious and stomach-churning if you are squeezed inside public transport on winding, high altitude roads, even through the most beautiful of scenery. So I opted for a more adventurous route, a staccato journey of bus, then boat, then bus, then boat across three lakes, over mountains, through rainforests and down river valleys.

This traverse first became a popular tourist route in 1913 when an adventurous guide of Swiss descent named Ricardo Roth Schutz began leading groups across the passes on mules and small boats. These days about 60,000 people annually make the Cruce de Lagos crossing in both directions. One of them, years ago, was Che Guevara during his "Motorycle Diaries" days.

Cruce de Lagos, or Lakes Crossing, is a joint Chilean/Argentine company linking Bariloche at the northern end of Argentina's Patagonia region with Puerto Varas in Chile's Lakes District. It's possible in summer to do the 119-mile trip in a single day, but I decided to savor the journey and spend some time en route.

Bariloche is a pleasant, touristy ski resort town of 110,000 - Banff with a Spanish accent - on the shores of Lago Nahuel Huapi, a popular destination for some of the best skiing in South America (especially among Brazilians, which has earned it the nickname "Braziloche").

As you would expect on the doorstep of the Andes, there are outdoor gear stores everywhere and prices, with the current state of the peso, that make almost everything a bargain - even for Americans.

That German immigrants were responsible for the town's flavor is immediately clear in streets lined with chocolate makers, though they fall short of European quality. Menus at restaurants with names like Familia Weiss serve local specialties such as venison, smoked trout, spaetzle con goulash and wines from Mendoza (excellent) and Patagonia (use discretion).

Here, at the northern reaches of Patagonia, vegetarians may starve: One place serving barbecue - parilla - served "super-brochettes" that stacked wild boar, lamb, venison and beef on a spear.

There is a cozy aroma of wood smoke from fireplaces, and the town has a predilection for log architecture. Around the main square, where you can have a cheesy photo taken with one of a number of St. Bernards complete with fake brandy barrels under their drooling chins, every building, from the City Hall to the visitors center and park headquarters, is built of logs.

You half expect someone in lederhosen to break out yodeling, but instead you get locals strolling about sucking traditional maté tea through metal "straws" as if they were Starbucks' lattes.

Small wonder groups of Nazis allegedly made their way to the Bariloche area after World War II. Rumors abound, and so does a book titled "Bariloche Nazis - a Tourist Guide," written by a journalist who also claims Hitler escaped Germany and spent his last years in a farmhouse outside town.
Outdoor fun

Bariloche is a great base for outdoor fun. One day I rented a mountain bike and cycled in the crisp alpine air along a section of the Circuito Chico, a 37-mile route following the shore where almost everything I passed - lodges, supermarkets, even a phone booth - was built of logs.

And then there's the hiking. The skyline is a zigzag of mountains easily reached by gondolas and chairlifts that run all summer. Atop Cerro Otto, within minutes of a revolving restaurant where a guy was carving gnomes out of tree stumps, I had sweeping views of endless mountains to myself, walking on a trail through a surreal Valdavian forest of gnarled trees draped in moss amid Magellan fuchsia bushes dripping red flowers.

The next day I zipped on a series of chairlifts to the top of the Cerro Catedral ski area, the biggest in South America, and hiked along jagged ridges with 360-degree views, including the imposing peak of Tronodor, one of the tallest peaks in the region. This is my style of hiking: ride a lift up to 6,800 feet, and hike within minutes of cold beer in the hot sun of the mountaintop lodge.

My Andes crossing started with an early morning bus trip to Puerto Panuelo, 20 miles west of Bariloche alongside the sprawling luxury Llao Llao Hotel. We boarded a comfortable catamaran and motored across Nahuel Huapi Lake, slowing along the way to sound the ship's horn three times alongside Sentinel Island in honor of Perito Moreno, who is buried there.

Moreno was the John Muir of Argentina, the father of the country's national parks. Among other things he pushed to establish the park we were sailing through, Nahuel Huapi National Park, the nation's first, in 1934.

As we reached the far western tip of the lake, the walls became steep and narrow and the landscape reminded me of a Norwegian fjord.
Rustic outpost

At the head is a rustic, 1940s hotel at an outpost called Puerto Blest. A short walk away is a little museum set amid dense bamboo and giant Alcares trees entwined with vines. This region of the Andes gets 10 feet or more of rain a year, but on this fall day in mid-March it was clear and sunny. A road leads less than a mile through the forest to the next lake, tiny turquoise Lago Frías where another, smaller boat took us on the 20-minute crossing to the Argentinean border post.

It was all organized like clockwork, and soon a bus arrived for the narrow, winding, 90-minute trip through coniferous forest, over the shoulder of the Andes and through Chile's Parque Vicente Pérez Rosales.

The highest point in the trip is only a brief rise to 6,150 feet - almost a thousand feet lower than Donner Pass - so there are no problems with altitude, as can happen in other Andes crossings.

The view opened up as we descended into the broad Peulla River Valley - wide, dry cattle country. We passed a horse-drawn cart on the side of the road near a small cluster of buildings - including the Chilean customs post - all tucked between the mountains and Lago Todos Los Santos. Clutching my freshly stamped passport, I walked 150 feet to the Hotel Natura, my home for the next two nights.

"This is not a town or a village," the guide said of Peulla. "It is just two hotels."

In fact, Peulla is a community of 120 people who work at the rambling, slightly dowdy Hotel Peulla, built in 1896, and the newly minted Hotel Natura, an oasis of luxury that opened in November 2006.

The Hotel Peulla was started by Ricardo Roth Schütz, the man who started taking tourists on Andes crossings in 1913. He was the grandfather of current owner Alberto Schirmer, who grew up in this area and once had a pet puma he took hiking with him. Schutz is revered as the Chilean counterpart of Argentina's Moreno, instrumental in creating Parque Vicente Pérez Rosales, Chile's first national park. Peulla lies buried at the center of that park.

If travelers stop at all, they usually spend just one night at either hotel, but I wanted a few days of Andean silence. Once the rest of the group set off on the next leg of the journey I trotted off with a guide, Michelange, for a horseback ride through yellow broom in bloom, crossing rivers and watching condors spin in the thermals of the mountains. We rode past a small lagoon where the hotel keeps red wooden boats for fly fishermen in search of rainbow and brown trout.

There was plenty to keep me busy: I hiked one day through dark tunnels of bamboo and pangue, a giant-leafed relative of rhubarb, and on another slipped into a harness to fly on cables strung through 2,400 feet of treetop canopies.

Every day, just after noon, the boat would arrive from the west and there would be a flurry of activity until 2:30 p.m., when the bus arrived from the east. But by 3 p.m. the hotel had settled back into peace and there would be just a few of us sipping pisco sours in the bar made of a great single log, or in front of the stone fireplace. I felt as if I were on an island.
Floating school bus

The final boat leg of the trip is a leisurely two-hour cruise across Lago Todos Los Santos. We slowed several times to take on schoolchildren in uniforms returning to school in Puerto Varas. They were shuttled out to our catamaran in skiffs from houses on the remote shoreline by their parents.

The Puntiagudo volcano came into view, a spectacular, steep, pointy snout with a glacier tucked into its tip. And then there was Osorno, Chile's answer to the perfect symmetry of Japan's Mount Fuji and which last erupted in 1835, an event witnessed by Charles Darwin.

On the eastern shore of the lake at Petrohue, we boarded one more bus for the last bus journey of our trip, stopping briefly at the Petrohue River falls before arriving in the charming German-flavored town of Puerto Varas and a traditional local dinner specialty of conger eel with margarita sauce.

There are faster ways to cross the Andes, but unless you tackle the route on foot, none could put you in such intimate touch with the heart of the mountains. And in such comfort.
If you go

All prices are listed in U.S. dollars.

THE CROSSING

Cruce de Lagos cruise/bus trips operate daily in the antipodal summer (September to April) between Bariloche, Argentina and Puerto Varas, Chile. The trip can be taken in either direction and costs $175 (hotels and meals extra). There are several two-hour flights daily between Buenos Aires and Bariloche, and between Santiago and Puerto Montt near Puerto Varas. Cruce de Lagos, www.crucedelagos.cl (click on "English version") and www.crucedelagos.com (click on British flag icon for English) for rates and bookings.
WHERE TO STAY

Llao Llao Hotel, Bariloche, Argentina. (011) 54-2944-44-8530, www.llaollao.com. Located just west of Bariloche. Classic luxury, one of Latin America's best hotels. Doubles from $280 a night including breakfast.

New Andino, Palacios 109, Bariloche. (011) 54-2944-40-0443, www.newandino.com.ar. Comfortable small inn in the heart of town near the lake. Rooms for two with breakfast, $40.

Hotel Natura, Peulla, Chile: 011-56-65-560485, www.hotelnatura.cl. Rooms (including breakfast) start at $169.00 double. Can also be booked through Cruce de Lagos.

Hotel Puelche, Puerto Varas, Chile. www.hotelpuelche.com. Elegant and casual, with great views of Osorno volcano and the lake. Double with breakfast from $130.
WHERE TO EAT

Familia Weiss, corner of Palacios and V.A. O'Connor, Bariloche. Very good regional cuisine with a specialty of smoked game meat and trout. Main courses from $5 to $12.

Kandahar, 20 de Febrero 698, Bariloche, www.kandahar.com.ar. Interesting, creative cuisine. Main courses from $5 to $12.

Donde el Gordito, San Bernardo 560, Puerto Varas. Very simple, funky local specialties at the market, Mercado Municipal. Lunch for two, $25.

Sirocco Restaurant, 537 San Pedro, Puerto Varas, www.sirocco.cl. Excellent French bistro and chic inn. Best crème brûlée in Chile. Dinner for two, $60.

Peru

Jane Dunford writes about the peruvian natural and cultural heritage.

It's a noise that would shake you from the deepest sleep. A cross between roaring wind, guttural grunt and small plane taking off, it echoes eerily in the dawn air. From the comfort of my mosquito-net tented bed I try to work out what it is - and marvel at the early-morning din of the Peruvian Amazon.

Around 60 per cent of Peru is tropical rainforest - only Brazil and the Democratic Republic of Congo have more - and my lodge, Inkaterra Reserva Amazonica in Tambopata National Park, is in one of the wildest areas in the country (and, as I found out that morning, home to the noisy howler monkey).

Back in the early 1970s, when eco-tourism was hardly a twinkle in the travel industry's eye, Peruvian entrepreneur Jose Koechlin had the idea for a small tourist lodge and environmental research centre in the heart of the jungle. He had been working as a producer on Werner Herzog's madcap film Aguirre, the Wrath of God, starring the volatile Klaus Kinski as a Spanish conquistador searching for El Dorado, filmed largely in Huallaga in the north-eastern Amazon. Despite the treacherous working conditions - and Kinski's legendary tantrums - Koechlin developed a passion for the rainforest and started looking for somewhere to set up an ecological reserve.

The Puerto Maldonado region - a short flight from Cuzco, with relatively easy access to virgin rainforest - proved just the place. Inkaterra Reserva Amazonica and its sister NGO, the Inka Terra Association, were born, with the aim of helping preserve what was there, and benefiting local people, too.

"When you like something you want to keep the picture as is, freeze it - that's conservation,' says Koechlin.

These days the lodge has electricity should you prefer bulbs to lanterns, the original six thatched huts have grown to 40 luxurious cabanas, and more camps have popped up along the river - but in essence the experience remains the same: total immersion in a pristine environment which boasts a diversity of wildlife almost without equal.

You arrive at Reserva Amazonica by boat, a 45-minute river trip from Puerto Maldonado in staggering heat and humidity along the Madre de Dios river. Nature's show starts as soon as we board: a cayman is basking on the muddy bank; turkey vultures fly overhead. We pass makeshift gold mines at the water's edge - this is one of the area's main industries beside brazil nut production. In the lodge's garden, before we even reach our rooms, we gawp at a pigmy marmoset (the world's smallest monkey), incredible coloured parrots and a bumbling brown agouti (a long-legged rodent the size of a small cat).

There are 15km of trails for guided rainforest walks in the reserve (a 7,800- hectare concession leased from the government), and a choice of 13 excursions included in the price, from a day trip to the native Ese Eja community to a visit to Gamitana model farm, where locals are taught sustainable farming techniques.

With the knowledgeable Cesar as our guide, we head to Lake Sandoval, a boat ride and short trek away. The trails wind through dense forest, where the slab-like roots of kapok trees are three metres wide, while those of the rainforest palm resemble stilts, and giant strangler fig trees suck the life out of their victims. Extraordinary creatures pop up: vivid blue Morpho butterflies the size of birds (one of 1,265 butterfly species found here) and vicious neumon wasps, whose habit it is to lay its eggs on unwary tarantulas, the larvae later feeding on and killing the spider. 'Mean, eh,' shrugs Cesar.

As we canoe out onto the lake, the stillness is broken only by occasional birdsong and the sound of paddles in the water. The strangest bird is the hoatzin, pear-shaped with a blue face, extra claws on its wings and an extra stomach. In the distance three giant otters bob about in the water - there are only 200 of them in Peru and 18 of them live in this lake.

But this is not the only way of experiencing the jungle: you get another view of it from the reserve's canopy walk, which takes you over 30m up into the tree tops - and a different view again from the river by night, on a magical boat trip with flashing fireflies, fishing bats, cayman eyes shining red in the torchlight, and the Milky Way overhead.

The morning I flew to Peru, I heard on the news about an uncontacted rainforest tribe being spotted from a plane by a film crew looking for evidence of illegal logging. It had taken place about two hours (by helicopter) north of Reserva Amazonica, but brought home just how vast and mysterious the rainforest is - you really don't know what's out there.

Helping scientists explore and record the rainforest's diversity has always been part of Koechlin's plan, and new plant and animal species have been discovered thanks to Inkaterra's work. Sponsored research has found more ant species (362) at Reserva Amazonica than anywhere else in the world, a book on reptiles and amphibians based on study here took 18 years to compile, and a new tome, researched with the Missouri Botanical Garden and completed over 25 years, describes 1,266 plant species. But Koechlin sees this as just a beginning: 'You need data to conserve. We've spent the past 30 years just trying to learn what is out there.'

With the rainforest being eaten into by logging, mining and farming, the conservation message is ever more crucial. Another challenge looms in the shape of the Inter-Ocean Highway, which will run from the Atlantic coast of Brazil to the Pacific coast of Peru when it opens in three years' time, slicing through the Madre de Dios region. The impact it will have can only be guessed.

Besides research, various projects to preserve the environment and its wildlife include a monkey rescue programme and a reforestation scheme, while locals benefit from initiatives to set up family orchards or honey-making businesses. Guests can donate money to specific projects and see the benefits first-hand.

Koechlin's desire to conserve continued in his second venture - the Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel, in the mountains at Aguas Calientes, 70 miles north-west of Cuzco, which opened in 1991. Some 11 acres of the land purchased were used to build a school, a railway station and a market, while 12 acres are dedicated to preserving the Andean cloud forest in the hotel's grounds.

The only way to reach Aguas Calientes is by train - a breathtaking four-hour journey from Cuzco or hour and a half from Ollantaytambo - or on foot. The reason for coming here is, of course, the lost Inca city of Machu Picchu, a short drive from the town. It took the Incas nearly 20 years to clear the jungle before they could begin building, back in the early 16th century. And when Hiram Bingham rediscovered it nearly 400 years later, dense vegetation hid the enormity of the find. We might not have earned our first sight of the city by walking the Inca Trail, but are still treated to bright sunshine lighting the awe-inspiring ruins and surrounding mountains. Despite endless studies, knowledge of Machu Picchu's function is sketchy. With its temples to the sun, priests' houses and residential areas, it may have been, recent theories suggest, a sacred retreat for Inca royalty, abandoned when the Spanish arrived in Cuzco in the 1550s.

Even without Machu Picchu nearby, the Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel is worth the journey. Its grounds hold a world record for native orchid species (375) in their natural habitat and six new species have been discovered here. It's also home to one of the world's biggest concentrations of hummingbirds - 18 species flit by in tiny blurs of gem colours.

I find myself glued to my binoculars on an early-morning birdwatching walk - except when I'm peering through a magnifying glass at the tiny mosquito orchid, less than a centimetre across. On a lantern-lit twilight stroll we learn about the ancient Andean religion, with sun and mountain worship at its heart, and round off the day in the Andean sauna, a small thatched hut made of eucalyptus branches, where you sit and sweat by candlelight before leaping into the rock pool fed by a cold spring.

It's an idyllic place to relax. Andean trout and alpaca steaks are top choices in the two restaurants, bedrooms and lounges have roaring open fires, there are yoga classes in a glass-walled room overlooking Vilcanota River, and the spa's treatment list includes 'Inka purification' which involves a body wrap made from the sacred coca leaf.

Peru's diverse landscape is one of the country's key attractions, and after a couple of days at Machu Picchu we head back up to the ochre mountains and gushing rivers of the Sacred Valley, the site of Inkaterra's Urubamba Villas, which opened in 2006.

It's at an altitude of 2,800m, so our guide Maria-Cristina hands round coca tea and has us chewing coca leaves, rolled into little balls, which she says will alleviate altitude sickness. We sit staring at her like disbelieving hamsters.

The valley is home to some spectacular Inca sites, such as Ollantaytambo, the best surviving example of Inca city planning, with its narrow cobblestone streets and vast hill-top temple and fortress, from where they battled the conquistadors. Feeling slightly breathless and lightheaded with the altitude we climb slowly to the top, marvelling at the size of the finely cut granite boulders - which fit together like a glove, no mortar required - and the huge, steep terraces, once used for farming.

We follow the Urubamba River south to the village of Pisac, where the Sunday market is in full swing. There are a few stalls selling alpaca hats and socks to tourists, but most of the old market square still serves its original purpose. Highland women in colourful dress, with bright knee-length socks and trilby hats, come to exchange produce in an ancient trade called trueque. If you're a potato lover you're in the right place - spuds are the backbone of Peruvian cuisine, in dozens of varieties including the black, dehydrated chuno. There's maize of all kinds, another staple, used to make the local corn beer, chicha. It's been the drink of the Andes for millennia - the Incas used chicha for ritual purposes - and today you can stop at roadside chicharia (marked with red ribbon tied to a stick), and join the locals for a frothy, homemade brew.

Here in the highlands, 80 per cent of people still speak Quechua, the language of the Incas, and life marries ancient tradition and beliefs with 21st-century ways. Mass at the church in Pisac is in Quechua, and religion blends Catholic and Inca traits - the Virgin Mary, for example, is associated with the earth mother, Pachamama. At the village bakery, along with cheese and tomato empanadas (like pasties), you can tuck in to roast guinea pig. It's a highly regarded national dish, often cooked with huacatay, an aromatic herb. In the Cathedral in Cusco a painting depicting the Last Supper has Christ and his companions feasting on the rodent. But I can't bring myself to try it; memories of beloved pets suddenly seem too vivid.

After a day out exploring, returning to the Urubamba Villas feels like coming home. Each of the five two- and three-bedroom villas has its own housekeeper from the local area, who prepares dinner and breakfast (the quinoa pancakes are a treat), lights the fires, and even puts a hot-water bottle in your bed at night.

But this is not the limit of Koechlin's plans. Inkaterra Titilaka, an 18-suite 'exploration lodge and refuge' on Lake Titicaca - the highest navigable lake in the world and birthplace of Incan civilisation, according to legend - opens in February. Floor-to-ceiling windows and wrap-around terraces make the most of the breathtaking views, while there's no scrimping on luxuries like heated floors. Days will be spent visiting local communities, colonial churches and the nearby man-made floating islands of the Uros people, exploring by boat or four-wheel-drive, or on horseback.

In Cuzco a 16th-century colonial house has been converted into the city's first boutique hotel, Inkaterra La Casona, also opening in February. The mansion, in the old quarter of Cuzco, was built on the site of the Palace of Manco Capac, founder of the Inca Empire, and then used by the first Spanish conquistadors. The 11 open-plan suites have all mod cons, including iPods and plasma TVs, while maintaining historic features such as original frescoes, and guests will have use of a private car, driver and guide.

And later in the year, his 15-suite Peru Explorers Club will open in Lima, in the coastal Barranco neighbourhood, playground of the capital's creative elite. Guests will be able to get under the city's skin with the help of expert guides, and luxuries will range from a modern spa to a butler service. Not forgetting its roots, though, Inkaterra is working with local communities in Lima, funding a project for hearing-impaired children and adults (guests are invited to make donations). Koechlin's mission to make tourism work for his country continues.