Articles > Trucking the Gringo-Trail

The ‘gringo-trail’ from Ecuador to Bolivia runs through sun-baked deserts and frozen Altiplano, following the ridge of The Andes through some of the most spectacular mountain scenery that the world can offer.

We tacked a 3,000-mile zigzag course along the backbone of South America to take in parts of the world’s greatest rainforest, some of its highest volcanoes and wildest beaches. In the course of 5 weeks we slept in hammocks in an Amazon jungle-lodge and in an adobe pueblo on Lake Titicaca; we walked the Inca Trail to watch the sun rise over Machu Picchu and flew over the mysterious Nazca Lines; we swung through the Amazonian jungle on a fifty-foot liana and surfed Peruvian breakers; we watched whales migrating along the Humboldt current and rode horses in the mountains; I ate guinea-pig in Ecuador and was kicked by a randy llama on an Andean meadow…

Thousands of people set out every year to follow the gringo-trail down the Andes and while the fundamentals of their ‘must-see lists’ vary only slightly, the transport they choose and their style of living often differ radically. Having backpacked through the region a decade ago I decided to return on an overland tour, to take a look at South America from a new, and increasingly popular, angle.

Although our route paralleled that of the vast majority of South America’s modern-day explorers, I soon realised that the truck (and the accommodation and provisions that it carried) allowed us to get quickly off the beaten track, into areas that would have taken considerable determination, and even more time, for the intrepid ‘soloist.’

Whereas it had once taken me four days to hitchhike from the picturesque Ecuadorian market town of Otavalo into the fringe of the Amazon, the truck ensured that I made it far deeper into the ‘heart of darkness’ in only two; several dimly-remembered nights on hammocks strung just above the level of snuffling village pigs were replaced by a single night camping in a lush valley next to a tumbling mountain stream; greasy dishes of caldos de patas (pig’s foot soup – with the feet still in them) were substituted for delicious chilli con carne with garlic bread. And the rum still tasted the same. An action-packed itinerary meant that we had already been jungle-trekking (including a sampling of the jungle pharmacy), canyoning and rafting before my old footloose self would even have arrived in the forest.

But there was a lot of ground to cover between Quito and La Paz and it was clear from the start that there would also have to be some long driving stints. As the road whipped ahead, like a flicked rope, across the dramatic and seemingly endless deserts of northern Peru, we rolled southwards to a soundtrack of Elvis, finding solace in the Buddhist mantra that ‘the goal is the path’…or among the frost-beaded cans in the on-board cool-boxes. In late afternoon, as the shadow of the ‘Great Yellow Whale’ began to stretch further out across the dunes, Wild Will - with long hair and biblical beard, looking like some modern-day Moses - would ease the truck off the road to scout the wilderness for a campsite for his wayward flock.

There is an entire network of overland crews out there - exploring exotic corners of the world, often forced by incumbent weather or political strife into previously uncharted overlanding territory - passing word on a grapevine that invariably carries a list of near-paradisiacal camping spots that would elude even the most determined of lone travellers. Easy access to these ‘secret spots’ and a sense of safety-in-numbers are two clear benefits that overlanding holds over independent camping. Some of the greatest memories of an overlanding tour are of simple things like pleasant, boozy evenings huddled around a blazing highland campfire, wailing out rum-soaked harmonies to ‘California Dreaming.’ Or being woken under a star-studded Pacific sky by the unmistakable shudder of an earthquake.

Some complain that you travel too fast on an overland tour but then whenever I’ve travelled anywhere that I liked I invariably felt that it demanded more time. Inevitably, arrival in La Paz came far too quickly and it was time to say goodbye to a miscellaneous crowd of travellers which, though thrown together on a whim, had been turned into good friends by time and shared experiences. Solo travellers who elect an overland tour as a cheaper, hassle-free option but are still intent on essentially taking an ‘independent trip’ are likely to be disappointed on both counts. To get the most out of an overland trip you have to be prepared to travel as part of the group and to enjoy overlanding as an experience in itself.

Though I still wouldn’t trade my faithful old backpack and a lucky thumb indefinitely for a seat on the next overland truck I had come to realise that overlanding could have something to offer even the most dedicated (and open-minded) ‘lonesome traveller.’ The benefits of security and comradeship had certainly taken some of the trepidation out of a stint on the South American road but there were still no shortage of exciting stories to fall back on in the pub. So now, whenever anyone suggests to me that there’s no adventure on an overland tour, I just ask him what he usually manages to get up to in five weeks on the road.

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