|  Lima, 
First stop on the homeward journey
 In 
Lima we gave the first of what might easily become many lectures on our trip. 
Fortunately it was to an English speaking audience. It was interesting to see 
their reactions to many things we now take for granted. The 
next part of our journey was somewhat telescoped. Lima to Barranquilla is around 
3,500 miles, some of it on good roads, much of it on bad. We did it in 12 days, 
driving through the night on three occasions. Ecuador Ecuador 
was the next country on the coast, a land of plantations, of bananas, coffee and 
cocoa. We were interested to see cocoa growing for the first time. It is surprising 
to find such small beans coming out of such large pods. Desert Later 
in the hills, a further surprise greeted us. The land was laid out in fields - 
English style - and was intensively worked. The rolling fields, hills and woods 
were very peaceful, and, perhaps for the first time, we were slightly homesick. Higher 
still the surroundings were less happy. Close cropping by sheep and lack of forest 
conservation had caused impoverishing of the land. Whole 
areas were of desert; nothing could grow in the shifting soil, and great clouds 
of black dust - finer than sand - swirled across the land, building up "soil 
dunes" and destroying them again.  In 
Quito, the capital of Ecuador, once an important Inca city, we overtook the Cambridge 
Trans-American expedition who had left us in La Paz. They 
had met with the kind of misfortune which made us realise how lucky we had been. 
One of their members had caught jaundice and had to be flown home to England. Just 
north of Quito we crossed the equator for the first time on land, and this naturally 
gave great opportunity for photography. Colombia 
was ahead of us and Colombia was dangerous. Bandits swarmed behind every bush, 
we were told. Only ten days before a busload of twenty-eight people had been hacked 
to death with machetes! Pistol We 
had not been carrying firearms, but, on this occasion, borrowed a .22 pistol from 
the Cambridge boy who was returning to England. Armed with this mighty piece of 
artillery we set off to fight our way through. The 
first night we slept in a Customs House, it being too late to complete formalities 
anyway. The second was more tricky. As 
darkness fell we were battling along a dirt road, through steep valleys heavily 
and deeply wooded. The undergrowth was thick and mysterious and there were piles 
of rocks at the roadside, altogether a most suitable place for an ambush. We 
drove far into the darkness without lights, but eventually safety considerations 
compelled us to use them and thus to disclose our position.  Many 
of the local inhabitants carried guns, and all carried machetes. They were an 
unfriendly crowd! Bogota At 
last we were stopped, but of all things for a Customs check. We were glad to see 
a rest house. Four of us slept there and two in the cars to protect our belongings, 
our usual system on these occasions. The 
uneasiness we felt disinclined us to wait so we drove straight through the next 
36 hours to Bogota, the capital, peering suspiciously in the night as we travelled. Bogota 
is a modern city and expensive. There was a three day religious holiday while 
we were there, so we stayed just one night there before pushing off towards Barranquilla. We 
were told that the estimated figures for deaths due to banditry and violence were 
300,000 over the past 10 years. This seems an impossibly high figure, but we were 
assured it was true. On 
our way north we spent a little time at Cartagena, the greatest city of the Spanish 
Main and the first Spanish city in South America. Defeat We 
inspected the fort which the British Admiral Vernon had failed to take in 1741 
even though his men outnumbered the defendants by ten to one. The low five foot 
six passages of this fort are fascinating. Sixty feet below the ground and built 
of stone, they provided sleeping accommodation in small alcoves for the garrison 
of 400 men. Other 
underground passages connect with different parts of the city, and there is a 
virtually perfect system of ventilation by hot and cold air-shafts. The construction 
incorporates slight angles which amplify sounds, the slightest whisper can be 
heard 60 yards away. At 
Barranquilla we had a piece of good fortune; an air-freight company offered to 
fly us across to Miami at reduced rates. But it had to be immediately; so it was 
a case of "hello, goodbye", pack up and let's go. But we got to America. 
18 August 1961
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REPORT 19    
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