Dos Gringos en Paraíso

The Sands of Time...

2009-03-22T00:16:00.000-07:00

...or something like that. Maybe the lame sand metaphor was inspired by the crunchy bits atop half a pan of hot peach crisp that Natalie and I just consumed. However, these particular sands of which I speak seem to have gone quite quickly the past couple weeks (hence the lack of recent postings or photos). Since the last installment we headed further south into Fiordlands National Park for four highly anticipated days on the Kepler Track. However, due to unusually cold temperatures (near freezing at night and snow down to 1000ft), we decided to bang it out in three days instead, using the extra time to head out to the coast and explore Milford Sound. While the Kepler was a little colder than would have been ideal, and almost in a complete whiteout for the entire day in the alpine, it was still a gorgeous walk. Inspired by an American born Aussie hitchhiker who was working in the area, we drove out to Milford Sound to see what all the fuss is about. The weather cooperated just long enough for us to have a fantastic evening on the beach, surrounded by dramatic peaks plunging into the ocean, accented by waterfalls pouring from their heights. Oh yeah, another highlight was the delicious (and free) pizza that our friend the hitchhiker served up at the only cafe at the end of the road. The next day, after being kept up half the night by screeching Kea´s (the worlds only alpine parrot), we took another of the pizza maestro´s advice and day hiked up Gertrude Saddle. While it was too cloudy to see all the way back into the sound, we still got spectacular view of the glacial carved Gertrude Valley and the snowy, glaciated peaks towering over it.

The next highlight of the trip was a stay at a hostel in Queenstown, where we were treated to not only our first showers in almost two weeks, but a soak in a spa and getting to do LAUNDRY! That´s right folks, the first laundry stop since Puerto Natales Chile, nearly two months ago. Oh how fine clean long underwear feels! Mind you, while we (semi) frequently rinsed socks and underwear in streams and lakes, its not quite the same as good old hot water and detergent. One more driving day took us up to Christchurch, the second largest city in New Zealand, located on the semiarid east coast. There, we spent a couple of days working on selling our trusty Subaru wagon, the Silver Bullet. Unfortunately, at this time of year there are about four times as many sellers as buyers. Not good. So, after spending one night with Diego, a new friend we met in the Los Angeles airport on our flight south, we left the car in the city and headed inland for what would be a fantastic final tramp to bid farewell to the backcountry of New Zealand.

The Waimakariri-Harman Pass route took us through two alpine passes and three river valleys in Arthur´s Pass National Park in the Southern Alps. While the daily mileage was not nearly as long as many of our tramps over the past months, this particular route proved both challenging and rewarding. Much of the track follwed rocky river beds and included several steep climbs up slippery, rooty, sometimes shale covered slopes, necessitating the use of hands to haul both tramper and pack up their dripping green walls. Additionally, we spent the three nights of the tramp in huts with very good company, one transplanted Swiss man, a girl from the Czech Republic, and two young and enthusiastic Germans. The second night, after climbing Harman pass and scrambling for three hours down and over boulders in the pouring rain, Natalie and I stole out of the hut with towels, chocolate, and the remaining St. Patrick´s Day whiskey to find the hidden hotsprings next to the Taipo River. After searching for only 15 minutes, we found the steaming, sulphurous pools, nearly drowned out by the swollen river. With only a little rock and shovel work, we had one pool dug out and barricaded from the fast flowing cold water--spending the next few hours soaking while the rain fell upon us.

I could continue about what made this particular tramp so enjoyable, but the final tidbit that´s worth sharing now is that we got to use a fantastic little device called a cable car to cross the Taipo River the third day. It is basically exactly what it sounds like. A little metal box attached to a cable across the river, which when released with rider inside, zooms down to the middle, high above the water. A fellow tramper then cranks away on a pulley wheel from the bank to finish the second half of the journey back up to the station on the other side. It is possible to use it solo, but appeared to be very hard to work and according to accounts in hut log books, almost left some trampers stranded in the middle.

Returning to Christchurch on the fourth night, we met back up with Diego and his friend Amandine. Much to our relief and joy, the ball and chain that the Silver Bullet had become was taken off of our hands early the next morning. This allowed us to join the two of them on a day trip to Hanmer Springs where we took a nice walk in the coniferous forest while they mountain biked (lucky bastards). After spending a couple of hours in the mist and rain, a soak in the very commerical, but still fantastic Hanmer Hotsprings finished off a great day.

We are now spending our last few days in New Zealand in and around Christchurch, exploring the coastline, saying goodbye to our new friends, and letting the experiences of the past 4.5 months soak in. I feel as though it would be appropriate to make some closing comments for what will surely be the last entry for los dos gringos en paraiso, but I realize that none of it can be summed up. In fact, we have seen so much and experienced so many places, people, foods, customs, mountains, rivers, lakes, and every space in between that I struggle to comprehend them myself or how they will shape both of our futures. On March 24th, Natalie and I will fly back to the states, back to our families and friends we have missed so much, our beds, familiar things, and summer jobs. While this journey is nearly over, its stories, memories, and pictures will surely remain longer after the jet lag has gone.

No time for laundry

2009-03-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

No time for showers either, but we realized last night that we have not done laundry since we got off the Torres del Paine circuit in Chile. Yikes. Since we got to the South Island, we have been on tramps with no more than a day or two of travel in between. At least we've been getting good rinse-outs in the rain, though now the car smells like wet clothes- all the time. We had a sunshiney day to dry out after the Inland Pack Track- making pancakes at the Pancake Rocks, spending a few hours on a beach, and camping next to a fantastic lake- fantastic because it was warm and crystal clear for swimming! The next day we took a long day hike to Franz Josef Glacier before continuing South to a lovely river valley, where we camped, ate curry and planned our final three treks. Our most recent trek in Mt. Aspring National Park was a three-day out-and-back with two lovely day hikes- all planned around camping (rather than staying in expensive huts) and the forecasted rain. The first day went as planned- 18 km through a mountainous river valley of golden fields, mossy forests and several swinging bridges, to a rock bivy at the head of the valley. Well, it went as planned until we saw the rock bivy. With a drip-marked ceiling no more than three feet above the rain-guttered dirt floor, and barely space for the two of us to lay down, it would be a rough sleep (or no sleep) with the sand-flies. More importantly, having learned from experience on our last trek, the forecasted rain would rise the mountain steams we had crossed on our way up, and most probably keep us in that night's shelter for at least a full day after. So, after dinner, we repacked our packs and used the last our of daylight, as well as an hour of headlamp light, to hike back though the dark forest to Pearl Flats, where we set up camp. As rain begin to spatter the tent late that night, we praised ourselves for making such a great decision to night-hike back down. Because we were not in a legal campsite, we ventured out into the downpour that morning to make camp outside one of the huts, which was actually the day's plan. After making lunch and tea under the cooking shelter, a fellow hiker ushered us into the hut to warm up. That night and well into the next day, as silver sheets of rain continued to blow down the valley, we chatted and played cards in the hut with a Kiwi man and a Dutch couple, all also camping to avoid hut fees, but enjoying the warmth of the hut's woodstove in the meantime. The hut warden was very kind to allow this, and even more so to encourage it, as she and her partner joined our games and even brought us fresh-made scones. Both of the day-hikes were aborted, but as we hiked out in a light drizzle the third day, observing how the valley walls were now striped with ribbons of waterfalls that had not been there before, Sam and I agreed that it was a lovely three-day tramp, even if we weren't tramping for most of it. Anyways, it was a lovely way to spend a couple of rainy days. (Especially not being stranded in a tiny rock bivy!) From there, we headed to Queenstown, where we found a secluded little lake very close to town to camp for free. Today we climbed the local peak, 5,100 feet, with a glorious 360 veiw over mountains and lakes. Tonight we will probably return to our lake, and tomorrow we head south to Fiordlands to hike our first New Zealand Great Walk (meaning popular and expensive). It will certainly be beautiful, with an entire day of Alpine, and the weather forecast is even looking alright! `

The long wait

2009-03-03T19:25:00.000-08:00

I'm watching Natalie washing boots and gaitors in a flowing stream. I've seen this before, the only odd thing is that its dark--and 4:45AM. Yet, because of the past 3.5 days, I've never been more relieved. I'm relieved because two hours ago, triggered by the sound of raindrops on the the tent, I jumped out of my sleeping bag, pulled on raingear and ran down to the Fox River to try and cross it by headlamp. Being successful and feeling hopeful, if not a bit frantic, I race back to the tent where Natalie and I furiously pull it down and pack our packs. By 3:30AM we're arm in arm, headlamps pointed down into the rushing water. Thirty minutes later we have to ford the same river again, this time much easier, but have to search for the trail on the opposite bank by headlamp in the thick bush--wading downstream 100 meters before finding it. Once found, it was a relatively easy, if not slippery, 45 minutes to the Fox River bridge, where we planned on being Sunday afternoon after a short two day trek--its now Tuesday morning. The middle of the the night rush was set in motion by the possibility that it was our only chance to get out while the river was low enough, and before more rain came. Knowing that this track was prone to flooding rivers, we packed an extra night and day's food (sort of) and the tent, even though the only planned night would be in the shelter of a cave. The first night, sheltered inside the Ballroom, a 75 x 50 meter rock overhang, it began to pour. Being prepared for this, we spent most of the next day waiting for the swollen river to subside. By 2PM, it was barely crossable, so we broke camp and headed downstream. However, 25 minutes later, where the Fox and Dilemma Rivers met, we had another ford. And this one was completely unpassable. We set up the tent amongst the ferns high on the river bank to wait for the next day. To our utter dismay, it rained again at night, swelling the torrent higher than the day before. Not knowing how many days we would have to wait, we began to ration food, eating only 1/2 cup of trail mix each for the entire day. I had never felt so trapped, so anxious (or so hungry). We tried many routes, but the limestone cliffs were too high and the river too strong. That is why at 2:45 this morning, we took advantage of the low river, rather than wait and be trapped another day--or more.

While it was indeed a scary situation, not knowing when we'd be able to get the final couple of hours out of the bush, we were always warm, safe, and with our two heads firmly on our shoulders.

Many lessons well learned,
Sam

South Island Adventures

2009-02-26T18:58:00.000-08:00

After a much needed (well, maybe just for me) rest day in Picton on the South Island, we headed just south into the Mt. Richmond Range for a four day wilderness trip that took us over countless (only because we weren't counting) peaks and connecting ridges. We didn't really have much information on the route, because our original plan was foiled due to "impassable" trails. However, good map in hand, we set out hoping to do the route in 3-4 days, with enough food for 5 or 6. After the first day, we realized that "tramping route" definitely did not mean TRAIL, so we thoroughly enjoyed the solitude of not seeing another soul for 4 days. Although there wasn't always a definte trail, the route was indeed well marked and route finding was never a problem. The un-anticipated challange for us was that the going over wet, slippery, rooty, rocky, terrain with frequent down trees was a little slower than we're used to hiking. This didn't create any problems, but seriously altered our actual vs projected hiking times based on looking at the distances and elevation on the map.

The very next day after getting off the trek, we hired two single kayaks out of Marahau, on the border of Abel Tasman National Park, and headed up the coast for two days of paddling in the Tasman Sea. Before the trip began, we had a 60 minute kayaking "lesson" from Mitch, the Independent Guides owner, who wanted to make sure we were spot on before sending us off into the great wide open. While very informative and usefull, for for safety and our paddling form, it sometimes felt a bit like being barked at by a drill instructor. Natalie (Netty, as Mitch called her) seems to take the brunt of the barking. The weather held well for us, with only a little rain the first day, along with some decently sized swells. We paddled among drippingly green islands with sandsone bluffs and caves, past seal colonies, and over glowing blue jellyfish floating in emereld green water. The second day the tides were in our favor on the way back, and we were able to explore way up an estuary at high tide.

After a night camped next to gypsy wagons headed for the Marikou gypsy fair, we continued south and west to the coastal city of Westport from where we'll try to embark on another trek if the weather decides to change its mind....

Sam

2009-02-18T15:19:00.001-08:00

So, I got a new car for my birthday- we traded our troubling old one for a newer and safer subaru station wagon- and headed to South of Aukland to Waitomo caves. Opting only for free and independent experiences, Sam and I had a long, relaxed dinner well paired with New Zealand wines, as we waited for night to fall so the area's famous glow worms could illuminate our trail. That short night hike alone was incredible- a maze of a trail, along a serpantine creek, through forest and rock tunnels that sparkled with the tiny lights of glow worms, living among the rock walls. Prior to the hike, we got directions from some other travelers to find some uncommercialized caves right off of the same trail. The following morning was spent in these underground caverns, usually wading knee-deep in water, and scrambing over, under and through unique rock formations, which sparkled with glow worms, water droplets, or minerals. That everning we headed to Turangi, gave ourselves a day of relaxation, day hiking, pizza making, and our first night back in the tent since Chile. After sleeping in the back of a station wagon every night, we were like little kids on Christmas about getting to sleep in the tent again- and slept better than either of us had since Chile. Yesterday, we made the famous Tongaririo Crossing (Mordor), over twenty-five km, if you include the 2200m volcano (Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings) and the 1900m mountain we climbed as side trips. The trail itself traveles through very interesting volcanic scenery, including lava fields, colored craters and thermal pools, which is why it is said it be New Zealand's most popular trail, which is also why, on a regualar Wednesday when school is in session here, we hiked it with about five hundred other people. Seriously. Without any real plans following the trek and with an renewed eagerness to escape the masses, we changed our ferry ticket to last night, and crossed over to the South Island early this morning. We are very excited for increasinly impressive scenery and already hard at work trying to figure out how to cram it all in to the month we have left. Cheers!

...still in Auckland?

2009-02-13T15:27:00.000-08:00

We haven't posted in the last week or so because, well, not much has happened. At least not much compared to our constantly changing adventures in South America. Its not that we haven't been doing ANYTHING, but just that things are moving a bit slower. The big news is that we bought a car! A little scary for penny-few travelers, plus a large committment for only 7 weeks, but we'll hopefully get most of the money back, plus save a boatload by being able to camp every night. Or at least sleep in the back of the station wagon. And thus far we have. On Monday we drove north of Auckland and visited Sam, one of Joel's buddies from Tahoe. It was a great re-start to our NZ adventure, staying up talking about past and future adventures and getting a welcoming home to spend the night! Sam gave us some fantastic recommendations for places to go, which we used to explore further north, visiting a giant Kauri forest and Bay of Islands. We'll probably be around Auckland for another few days before quickly making our way south towards the south island. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NATALIE TOMORROW!

Sam

Back in the land of soap, toilet paper, and drinkable water!

2009-02-05T18:24:00.000-08:00

Just arrived in NZ early this morning and are quite frazzled still from a long travel bit. Its amazing how much I appreciate simple things like being able to wash my hands after using a public restroom, not having to pay for it in the first place, and being able to drink the tap water!

Not much for now, we're going to relax in Auckland for a few days before meeting up with a friend who lives north of town for maybe a few days before moving on. Our traveling went well, although was almost problematic when our flight from Miami to LA was cancelled. Luckily, we were able to get the last two seats on a sooner flight, which was also overbooked and running late, so were able to make our connection in LA.

Dazed and jet lagged,
Sam

Adios Sud America

2009-02-03T05:17:00.000-08:00

This is the last blog to be posted from my new favorite continent. Yesterday, we completed the ultimate bussing marathon- fifty hours! We both still have very chubby ankles from that one. That bussing marathon followed our visit to Viña del Mar, a popular beach city in Chile, which was a bit overcrowded for our tastes, but had two unique highlights: a nude beach and the Super Completo, a customary Chilean treat that Sam had looked forward to, which is a hot dog with mayo, tomatoes, and guacamole. Our real grande finale place in Chile was Ancud, a small town at the edge of the large island of Chiloe. Ancud is a colorful, quaint, fishing town, where we had a beautiful camp site on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and made clams in wine sauce for lunch and dinner because it was so affordable and delicious. We spent a day going to visit a penguin colony, where we shared mate on the beach with a nice Argentinian traveler. Friendly people, beautiful scenery and sunshine! We are currently about to leave Nazca, Peru, which feels surprizingly comfortable after having been here three months ago. Funny to think back to how busy, confusing, foreign and desertous it seemed then, and now we see it as a lovely, fashionable little town perfect for travelers´ rest. I took a small plane tour to see the famous Nazca Lines, which was extremely interesting. There are a dozen or so figures that are very prominent (and enormous), including a monkey and hummingbird, which are not found near this area, but also numerable figures that are difficult to make out, and straight lines criss crossing and stretching out for miles. It is unknown why or how exactly these line came to be, and that mystery certainly adds to their astonishing appeal. Oh, dear! Time to get on the final South American bus. I don´t doubt that we will both return to this amazing place. That is all I can say to not get sentimental about closing this chapter of the adventure. On to New Zealand!

Life in a Big Rig

2009-01-25T14:07:00.000-08:00

Natalie and I are back in the Lakes District of Patagonia, after making our way back north via semi-truck and bus. After leaving Puerto Natales and receiving what turned out to be terrible advice, we spent the better part of a day, semi-stranded and hiking down a dusty, windy, gravel road, 21k from the nearest town in either direction, just outside the Argentinian border. Finally, a vehicle passed, taking us the final few kilometers to a small town. There, our fortunes turned (as they always seem to), and we were picked up by a long-haul trucker headed north. After about an hour with Carlos el Camionero (trucker), we decided to deviate from our original intended course and continue with him for 1.5 days. It turned out to be a fantastic descison, riding in style in his big rig, drinking maté by day and wine by night, accompanying a simple, shared dinner in the back of the empty semi-trailer, which would also become our home for the night. It was hard at first, but my comprehension of Castillano (Argentinian Spanish) improved immensely during the 21 hours of driving that lay ahead. He loved telling jokes (many at Natalie´s expense), but understanding Castillano, let alone GETTING a joke was very difficult. After much time with the dictionary, I even tried breaking out a few of mine, but telling a joke in another language turned out to be quite a challange--although Carlos was entertained none the less at my attempts.

Upon arriving at the city where we would stay and Carlos would continue north, back to his family, he insisted on driving us directly to the bus terminal. While this has been generally the standard here, as people are absolutely, astounding accomodating, driving his semi-trailer INTO the downtown of a big city and parallel parking it was way above and beyond. Carlos, we´ll try to remember and send you a jar of Mantequilla de Maní Americana (American peanut butter)!

We spent the last two days in El Bolsón, the Hippie mecca of Patagonia. They had an extremely unique and interesting crafts fair yesterday, which we spent the day purusing while resting--finally! Today, as I said, back in Bariloche, spending waaaaaaay too much time on the computer, applying for "real world" jobs upon our return. Tomorrow, we leave Argentina for the last time to explore the temperate rainforested island of Chiloé in Chile, beginning the last leg of the 10 or so days left in this wonderful continent of South America.

Adios,
Sam

PS. Natalie and posted and labeled the iceberg picture.

Blown, Wet and Happy

2009-01-21T11:30:00.000-08:00

Back in Puerto Natales, Chile after a week of hard core trekking in Torres del Paine. Seriously, other trekkers were impressed- we averaged fifteen miles per day through the overall nastiest weather we´ve faced in South America. As the first day turned from cool and cloudy to pouring rain with a strong head wind ripping across the ten miles of grassy pampa, Sam and I both appreciated our Southeast Alaska conditioning. The next day, we took a local´s recommendation for a rest-day to hike up Valle Francais, and though we didn´t get the token valley vista due to cloud coverage, we did get to hear and see a chunk of glacier break and crash down a mountain, leaving a snowy cascade. Our origional plan was to take nine days for the trek, but after two cold days of solid rain, we decided we´d be happier eating more and sitting around camp less, so we replanned for longer, but fewer days. Of course, it was also that very night that the onset of the evil came, first to my body, a day later to Sam´s (possibly giardia?), so neither of us wanted to eat much for a couple days (very alarming behavior for the two of us!), and weren´t quite our usual, energetic selves, but we kept a quick pace through lenga (southern beech) forests and daisy fields, past turquois lakes and numerable glaciers, over rocky hills and the famous John Garner Pass. After the pass, we spent the day hiking alongside Glacier Grey, a shockingly massive electric blue plain, zebra-striped with crevasses, which is part of the third largest ice field in the world. That same day, I took a scary dip in a raging, swolen river, and Sam was almost blown off the side of a mountain, and instead into some prickly bushes, which came close to taking out his eye. Still, we laugh in the face of danger (and are very thankful for our well-being). The sun shone bright as we finished The Circuit last night, and all of this morning as we hiked out of the park, we had the clearest veiws of the magestic, jagged peaks and towers for which the park is named. Rain, a touch of snow, and southern Patagonia´s signature gale-force winds discouraged many of our photographic opertunities, and now Purto Natale´s computers, in general (we´ve tried several), are discouraging our photographic postings. Nothing, however, could discourage us from enjoying this amazingly unique, rugged, beautiful land! Now that I´ve exhausted most of my landscape adjectives, I leave you to help Sam with a post-trip barbeque. Tomorrow we´ll try to get a ride northward, headed now for weather that feels more like the summertime that they say it is down here. Being constantly surrounded by natural beauty on all these treks is getting overwhelming... We might need to consider taking a vacation....

They didn´t see us coming

2009-01-13T17:59:00.000-08:00

And I didn´t see them either...at first. Five full plates of Asada (slow roasted beef), veggies, potatos, and salad, six dishes of dessert (had to try them all), three bowls of ice cream, and a bottle of wine. That is approximately what two skinny gringos can eat at a buffet after five days on trail food (and not quite enough at that)! Upon arriving in El Calafate, we´d been on three consecutive treks, with only buses or hitchhiking in between.

Our last trek was four days in Parque National de los Glaciars, outside El Chalten, which is the entry town for Mt. Fitz Roy and its surrounding astounding peaks. After this trek, we continued our lives as Mochileros (hitchhikers) to continue on to Calafate for the night, then continued on to Puerto Natales in Chile. So far, hitchhiking has been very good to us. While we often spend a couple of hours tyring to catch a ride, it has been the best way to meet Argentinians. When hitching out of Calafate, we were picked up with an Argentinian dancer from Buenos Aires by a trucker. Because there was a police checkpoint just out of town, we had to lie down in the trailer until passed. Once safely on our way, Natalie and I got to ride up front, sharing Maté prepared over a propane burner balanced delicately next to the gear shift. We rode with Jorgé for about two and a half hours, talking about anything besides politics (this rule was layed out at the beginning). He dropped us at nothing more than a truckstop in the middle of nowhere (well, southern patagonia actually), where we thought another ride that day was hopeless and had already scouted a gravel pit in which to pitch our tent where we weren´t likely to be bothered. Fortunately for us, the third car to pass in 2 hours was a man working in the Argentinian border town in which we needed to cross into Chile. As usual, he insisted on driving us to our exact destination. After easily crossing into Chile, we were picked up by a Chilean family returning from holiday. Crammed in the back seat of a truck with the grandfather, they drove us the final 25 km to Puerto Natales, where we have spent the last two nights, preparing for a 9 day trek in Torres del Paine National Park. I couldn´t understand a damn word the old man said, but he seemed to be entertained by every thought, none of which seemed to be questions, so it was safe to laugh along with him at every outburst--possibly at our expense :).

Now full of steak, mashed potatoes, grilled squash, red wine, and a bombero (chocolate ball with the consistency of a huge meatball), all prepared (except the bombero) loving in the rain by yours truly, we lay down for a southern hemisphere´s night sleep before again trusting our luck to the road and trail for our next leg of the journey...until next time...

Sam and Natalie (Viajeros sin dinero)

Patagonia!

2009-01-06T11:01:00.000-08:00

I am extrememly happy to report that our lack of recent entries is due to the fact that the majority of our time in Argentina has so far been spent in the backcountry, and second on a bus (forty-two hours of straight bussing from La Quica (Argentia border) to Junin (central Agentina, known as the Lakes District), but the busses are much larger and more comfortable than those in Bolivia, and they serve wine with dinner, and "wiqui" afterwards, which Sam and I were delighted find out when served was whiskey. A much better blind order than the nipples in Peru. So the pictures that Sam is currently uploading were from Tupiza, our last stop in Bolivia, where we spent Chirstmas. We last left the blog just after crossing the border to Argentina, when we got on the never-ending busride, which ended in the delightful little town of Junin, which is very reminiscent of Driggs, Idaho, or some other tiny tourist town in the western U.S. Junin gave us a cozy, free spot to camp along a river, while we prepared for a trek in nearby Parque Nacional Lanin. From the park entrance to our trailhead was over 18 miles, but we were fortunate to walk only a third of that scenic, but dusty road before getting picked up by the two most fabulous Argentinians ever, Charly and Ale. After rearranging their road trip-packed car to make room for us, Charly passed us mate´ to share, and he and Ale engaged us in (mostly) Spanish conversation, which is different and a bit trickier in Argentina than Peru or Bolivia. They insisted on driving us all the way to our trailhead, which was past their campsite, but they wanted to check in and have lunch first. So we spent a lovely afternoon under a monkey-puzzle tree, beside a lake, eating trout and cherries among other delicious things that our new friends shared with us. (We had only cheese to share, but at least it was good cheese.) When they dropped us off at our trailhead, Ale and Charly offered us a ride back to San Martin after our trek, which we intended to take them up on after we hiked back from the hot springs in three days. However.... After a long trek through overgrown forests, which combined a two day trek into one, we got to the hot springs only to learn that they were now an expensive day spa. And there was no camping, as the Park Office had told us. So we hitched a ride to the nearest (7 miles) campground from an Adventure Race doctor, who told us about a two day trek through some amazing valleys, which started at the lake where we were camping and ended at the road to San Martin. Flying by the seat of our pants as usual, we took his directions (by memory) and followed the trail through a number of various environments, including lush forests of southern beech, bamboo, and monkey puzzle trees, dry savannahs, and expansive volcanic landscapes. When we got to San Martin that evening to find that free camping was impossible, we were forced to face the reality of returning to first-world living during the tourist season: it´s expensive! San Martin is a first class tourist town with fancy sidewalks and lots of shopping. Our hostel was the cheapest we could find, and still probably the nicest we´ve stayed in- at least you get what you pay for. The following night in Bariloche, a larger town that feels much more down to earth, we took our second hostel stay in Argentina in a tenth-story penthouse hostel, with a huge kitchen, a free food shelf that gave us two liters of beer, clean and quiet dorms, and a porch looking down on the lake and out to the mountains. Bariloche gets the prize for best city of the trip! Real supermarkets supplied us with meat, cheese, good bread, discounted navidad snacks and other trekking food we´d missed for the past two months. Well-stocked for four days in Parque Nacional Huapì, we hiked up and over rocky ridgelines, down talus slopes, through lush river valleys, and bathed every night in beautiful, serene streams and lakes. Exiting the backcountry this morning, with tickets for a thirty-six hour bus leaving tonight, we are loving Patagonia, and so excited to be seeing so much of it! We weren´t sure if it would be time- or economically feasible to visit Torres del Paine or Fitz Roy in Southern Patagonia, but we are making it happen! Blog posts may become increasingly less frequent, but that means mas tiempo en paraiso para los dos gringos!

Argentina and the Art of Giving Directions

2008-12-26T07:48:00.000-08:00

How do I know we are in Argentina now? After walking across the Argentinian/Bolivian border, it wasn´t immediately apparent (after all, we walked only about a mile in all). However, needing to find a bank so we could withdraw some Pesos, I quickly asked a man on the street if there was one in town and where we might find it. Now, in Bolivia, a question like that would almost certainly generate an affirmative response (regardless of the truth), followed by mumbling and gesturing vaguely about 270 degrees--just to cover their bases. No definite distances, directions, streets, or even a general bearing I could following with a compass. TODAY, however, was different. The man smiled, greeted both of us and seemed enthusiastic to tell us how many blocks and which way to turn at each necessary junction...you know...like directions! Its good to know the art of giving directions exists somewhere in Latin America. Just being in this border town for a few hours while waiting for the bus to transport us 24 hours south to Mendoza, both Natalie and myself were struck with how much more friendly people seem. Not just towards us, but each other as well. All in all, the time spent in Bolivia was well worth it, however, its nice to be in a place where attempting to purchase food from a vender doesn´t seem to inconvenience them.

Speaking of directions, we did indeed get out into the campo around Tupiza (not Tarija as previously mentioned by another blogger) for Christmas. With not one, but TWO moderately insufficient, tourist maps in hand, we headed into canyon country, planning to spend two nights celebrating with our present to ourselves (a $6 bottle of wine) and trying to avoid flashfloods. The first day took us past La Puerta del Diablo, giant sandstone spires, and up a spectacular slot canyon--scrambling, climbing, and passing packs up waterfalls and over boulders. We found the area we sought for camping with only about 45 minutes spent trying to find the correct route into the canyon! Normally, that amount of time would have been greatly frustrating, but after our experience around Sorata, it seemed like we got off easy. This would be affirmed the second day...

Our desination for the second day was only a couple hours hike, so we had a leisurely and delicious oatmeal with trail mix breakfast and instant coffee (the coffee wasn´t in the oatmeal). About 30 minutes up the canyon from camp, we were faced with our canyon becoming more of a "drainage" and steepening enough to call it climbing, not hiking. It would have been challenging, technical climbing had the rock been solid and stable. Instead, it was bits of scree like shards embedded in soft clay--coming off in our hands or sliding under our boots. After a few dozen meters of this, I decided to leave my pack and scout ahead, as the route steepened. After climbing up the last 50 feet of the drainage, more scared than I can recall being, I realized there was no way we would make it up the same pitch with our packs. Being pretty sure this wasn´t the route we were supposed to take (you may ask yourself why this didn´t occur to me earlier as I clawed my way up the decaying "rock"), I continued climbing a nearby mountain to gain a better look of the surrounding area, hoping desperately to find our route, and hopefully a different way down for myself.

Spotting a trail the next drainage over, I downclimbed back to my pack, then and Natalie and retraced our steps to begin climbing up the other canyon. To make a long story short, we never found the other canyon which we sought and ended up about 7 miles further down the road than we wanted to be and 9 miles from town at 5PM. Rather than spend another minute using energy to search for water and camping we may never have found, we decided to eat our last can of tuna, two cookies, and set a fast pace back to town, hoping to reach it before dark. We struck our first bit of luck when we passed a house/tienda where we bought 5 pieces of bread with the last 2 Bolivianos we had (in usuable change). Spirits raised, and wishing we had time to join the drunken proprietor for a friendly drink, we continued down the dirt track, munching on dry bread. Our final bit of Christmas cheer came when a 4x4 truck approached from behind and gave us a lift the last 5 miles into town (after stopping to change only one flat tire).

At 4am this morning, we boarded a bus heading for the border and were welcomed into Argentina by 9am.

Happily,
Sam and Nat

PS While we have made note that Bolivia, on the whole, did not feel as welcoming or friendly compared to Peru (or our experience thus far in Argentina), we did meet many fantastic, generous, and kind people along the way.

Long Time Gone

2008-12-23T14:20:00.000-08:00

....And we´re back. Since we last wrote from La Paz we´ve gone though numerable cities and towns, and several different environments. It´s been a semi-dizying and unprofitable search for trekking, but good traveling times nonetheless. From La Paz we went to Cochabamba, as an unimpressive city with an obviously large economic gap, it was very much our least favorite place in Bolivia. The highlights were the giant whipped cream-topped fruit salad sundeas at the market and a new street snack: ¨beer float,¨ which was a tasty as-dark-as-they-come beer poured over sweetend egg whites. Aiming to visit one of the many national parks that are ¨near¨(within several hours) of Cochabamba, we went to the small, warm and wonderfully humid town of Villa Tunari. Settled in the Amazon basin, it dropped us from 2700 meters to 270 meters, the lowest we´ve been (and maybe will be until we go to Chile) in well over a month. Villa Tunari was filled with big bugs, reptiles, stifling humidity and all the other wonders of the jungle environment (which felt like Southern Illinois summer home to me). We were not able to get to the national park, as nothing comes easy in Bolivia, but we were able to hike around a ¨bosque tropico humido¨ reserve not far from our hostel, where we really got to enjoy the variety of flora and fauna, especially the monkeys. After two days of sweating through the mornings and dancing through the afternoon thunderstorms, we took the longest, bumpiest bus ride yet to Sucre, a beautiful, white, colonial city. Again at a loss for trekking rather than touring options, we went for the standard city nature walk. It seems every Bolivian city has a hill (which is trashed because it´s also a party spot) with a decent overlook, stations of the cross, and a giant statue of open-armed Jesus. This hill also happened to have lots of very nice, tall eucalyptus trees and a cow. Sucre also offered our first taste of Bolivian wine, which is very important to me as part of our culinary experience portfolio. Micheal Orlando, nice, young man at our hostel befriended us late one morning, and coming from Tarija, Bolivian wine country, insisted that we try some of the wine. Because what he brought out came in a two gallon jug that looked like a gas can with a wine label on it, and the fact that none of us had set plans for the afternoon, the three of us spent a long and lovely afternoon drinking wine and enjoying conversation. The following day, Sam and I were very fortunate to have nothing to do besides ride the bus to Potosi. Potosi´s claim to fame is that it is the highest city in the world, and has been devistated by its silver mines. For us, it has the best salteñas (street snack that probably inspired the hot pocket¨) in Bolivia. Killing time before the night bus to Uyuni, we walked up the town hill with a couple of other travelers from Canada and Scotland. Potosi, unfortunately, lacks a giant Jesus, but it does have a large cross and a space needle-like tower, which cost three salteñas worth, so we did not go up inside. Afraid that we were going to miss the chance for the necessary culinary experience, I insisted we have llama for dinner that night. It was a bit tough and pancake flat, but had a tasty, meaty flavor. Ironically, llama was served for lunch on our sallar tour the following day. That brings me to Uyuni, where Sam and I set out on our first organized tour- of the salt flats, which were, not surprizingly (Mary), very flat, white and salty (yes, we tasted). On our tour, which was very much a photo tour in between jeep cruises, we checked out various parts of the amazing and beautiful salt flats, a train graveyard, wild flamingos, a volcano, and Isla Pescado. Sam and I were able to walk around the island in less than an hour, giving us a more secluded experience on the incredible ancient sea, and this island of uniquely layered volcanic rock and massive cacti. We found holes in the salt, revealing water underneath, and incredible and varying, angular patterns above and below the surface, due to the molecular structure of the salt. The one day tour was enough for us, and we hopped another long and bumpy bus ride through desert flats, pink sandstone formations, rolling hills growing to mountains, and finally the impressive canyonland of Tarija. Tarija is famous for being the area of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid´s last stand, and we are excited and prepared to get out into the canyons tomorrow. The trails are short for a trek, but we plan to camp out for the next night or two, spending Christmas Eve and Night under the stars. For Sam and I both, it will be our first Christmas in the desert, family and friends in our minds and hearts. Feliz Navidad! Love, Nat and Sam

Back on the Map

2008-12-13T17:03:00.000-08:00

I lie awake. Now for at least seven hours without sleep in the tent. Natalie is sleeping restlessly next to me. All I hear are the snowflakes on the walls of our tent, almost inaudable against the pounding of blood in my head with each all too rapid heartbeat. As each flake lands, my thoughts drift to our steep, rocky, unmarked route home--now being covered in a blanket of white. We are camped just below what we think is Laguna Glacier at 16,500ft. It is the highest either of us has been, let alone slept. The two day trek up to the lake from Sorata was one of the most challenging either of us had experienced. Not only were we hiking at altitude with full packs, but the routefinding continually tested our patience. Both with ourselves, and more importantly, each other! Hiking and sleeping that high brought new backcountry experiences for both of us--namely headaches, nausea, insomnia, increased heartrate and breathing at rest, needing to prime to stove with pure alcohol, food taking a LONG time to cook, etc. I am now more convinced that high altitude mountaineering is an unneccessary sufferfest of mental and physical endurance.

Including the three day trek, we remained in the Sorata area for six nights, held by the beautiful mountains, friendly people, and a wonderful hostal run by a German woman. Sorata lies on the flanks for the Cordillera Real mountains, between the high peaks and Lake Titikaka. ...and I'm burned out on the computer, so here's Natalie...

Lucky for Sam, there's a microbrewery upstairs in this hostel. We are now back in La Paz, for a stopover night between awkwardly long bus rides. Oh, there's another story> the bus ride to Sorata. It was our first ride in a cambion, which is basically a twelve passenger van, which uses every last bit of space to fit as many people as possible, but certainly not less than fifteen. Needless to say, Sam not only lost all leg room, but also head space. We were certain that a group of rowdy young men in the back were going to make it a less than pleasant trip, as they started cracking beers almost immediately, but as the older couple next to me (who appeared to be dying when they got on, but they must have just been really hungover because they perked right up once they started drinking), and the another couple in front started passing beers back and forth, it was actually the jovens in back who kept the driver, the only one on the bus besides Sam and I, from drinking (which also almost started a bus brawl). Long story short, it was a long, interesting and less than comfortable bus ride. Sorata, however, immediately embraced us as a home away from home, with green mountain vistas all around. After we settled in to our hostel, we watched a community futbol match, and checked out the very small market. We hung out for an extra day to be entirely prepared for our three day trek, meaning that we had written instructions, topo map, extra rest and appropriate provisions. Still, it was very challenging, especially because of the route finding and altitude, but the scenery was incredible! After arriving back in Sorata, we took a day to walk seven miles each way to the San Pedro cave. The walk was more impressive than the cave itself, but I did get to drive a paddleboat around a lake inside the cave, and it made for a nice recuperation day for the sore but perpetually moving adventurers that we are. Tomorrow we're headed to Cochibamba, which is a smaller (than La Paz) city, surrounded by National Parks and mountains to climb. Additionally, it is known for being a city of good eating, which could be trouble of the very best kind....

Bolivia oh Bolivia

2008-12-06T14:28:00.000-08:00

Seems like a lot has happened since Natalie´s last post, but mostly my time has been consumed with stove trouble-shooting. I´d have to say that I am f***ing burned out. I had to resist the urge multiple times today to launch my stove off the rooftop terrace of our hostal. I have spent pretty much our entire 1.5 days in La Paz jerking around with the stove...getting close enough, often enough, to keep me working. We had hoped to buy a new stove here in La Paz that is meant to burn the dirty auto fuel here (which is what caused the demise of my stove), but the MSR dealer doesn´t actually HAVE any stoves. The only camp stoves available for purchase are cheapies that require disposable fuel canisters, which are also hard to find and expensive. Finally, this afternoon, I talked an eccentric Suiss tour operator into selling me one of his used POS multi-fuel stoves (one that we´d hoped to find new) for $30, but it was so dirty from lack of cleaning that it took me another couple of hours to get that one running decent. Hopefully the used one will limp us along till New Zealand, or at least Santiago, where supposedly it will be easy to get a new MSR stove. Anyway, thats the update with that. I bet you were all on the edges of you seats, yeah?

Soooo, moving along, our day and a half trek on Isla del Sol was well worth sticking around Lake Titikaka for another couple of days. We didn´t arrive on the island until near dark, but were able to trek to about the middle of the island, away from any farms or villages. After making camp among the Eucalyptus trees, we hiked to a nearby knoll to watch the sun set over Peru. On the other side of us, to the east, towards Bolivia, towered the Cordillera Real mountain range, pink in the fading light. Before our water taxi back the next day, we had several hours to explore more ruins in solitude before the wave of tourists arrived.

Bolivia definitely feels like a different country than Peru, even just crossing into Copacabana. I´m feeling a little more comfortable here now, but the most stark and immediate difference I noticed was the women in the markets. One of my favorite parts of Peru was going to the market to buy food because the women were so nice and fun (for the most part). It could have just been Copacabana, but our experience there was that they weren´t even nice or friendly to each other. Oh! We did get ice cream cones for 1 Boliviano (about $0.14) on the bus the other day though! To enjoy this culinary and cultural experience yourself, follow these steps carefully:

1. Go to the store and buy a delicious looking box of waffle cones (the best you can find)
2. At home, scrape all the 5 year old frost out of the inside of your freezer (or your neighbors if yours is frost free.
3. Open the box of waffle cones.
4. Throw the waffle cones in the trash
5. Eat the box with your freshly acquired frost with a flavor you can´t quite place
6. Enjoy!

Tomorrow (hopefully) we start the 3 day Choro trek out of La Paz. Will try to upload pictures soon, but the computers here aren´t too reliable.

Adios,
Sam the stove man

2008-12-03T08:59:00.000-08:00

¡Hola de Copacabana! It^s a sunny little tourist-ridden town with a beautiful view of the expansive Lake Titicaca. Yesterday, we hiked up one of the town{s larger mountains, with large cement crosses featuring the stations of the cross along the ascent. At the top were several vendors with soda, snacks, holy water, candles, and miniature cars and houses for an upcoming celebration in which there are parades and the prayerful make offerendas with mini objects with the hope (or faith) that they will obtain them in the following year. Interesting. Even more interesting was the incredible covering of grafiti over this religious site, especially Promo 2007 or 2008. We learned by unfortunate experience on a couple of very noisy hostel nights, that Promo is graduation, which is happening right about now, encouraging drunken celebration and travel among teenage Peruvians everywhere. I{m assuming by the grafiti and bottle caps that it{s similar in Bolivia, as well. Sam has spent probably the majority of our time here in Copacabana attempting to fix some serious stove problems. His patience is amaxing, but as of yet, no solution has been found. Being the amazing and determined go-getting trekkers that we are, nothing can get us down, no non-functioning stove can stop us, and we are headed to Isla del Sol for an overnight and some lovely island hiking. We{re leaving now- I mean now- so, you{ll probably next here from us in a few days from the great Bolivian city of La Paz or the beautiful mountain village of Sorata. Either way, until then.... Love, Nat and Sam

Goodbye to Peru

2008-12-01T17:23:00.000-08:00

Natalie and I are holed up in a chilly, dark, yet somehow homey hostal in Puno, Peru, which lies on the western shores of Lake Titikaka, the worlds highest navigable lake. We arrived late last night after spending the morning in Arequipa, getting Natalie prescription meds also for the plague I passed along. Lets hope the antibiotics we got are actually full strength and clear this up with one course...

It is with fond memories and anticipating excitment of new horizons that we leave Peru tomorrow and cross into Bolivia. We´ll stay near the shores of this high lake for a little while and do some trekking on a large island on the south side of the lake. Before closing the page on this chapter, however, we wanted to leave you with a few key Peruvian observations:

First, for anyone who as traveled much in countries with taxis dominating the streets of cities, you know how ridiculously often the car horn is used. And I use the term "horn" loosely, because it could range anywhere from a standard beep beep, to more colorful tunes, to any range of extrememly loud car alarms rigged through the horn. Anyway, the lesson we learned here are the precise and exact uses for the horn, so as drivers all around are keyed in instantly to what any other driver may have in mind, as they weave through traffic, between trucks, through lights, past traffic cops, but always stopping before flattening the mother pushing a pram. The uses are as follows:
1. Coming through!
2. Go ahead!
3. Entering an intersection!
4. Exiting the intersection!
5. (and my personal favorite) Gringo! Beep! Do you need a cab! Beep BEEEEP! hmmm....maybe he/she didn´t hear and is in desperate need of a cab. Beeeeeep BEEEEEEP. (then as they pass within 1 ft) BEEEEEP "TAXI!!!??"
6. Hey buddy!
7. Asshole!
8. Hey hotstuff!
9. Get out of the road cow/llama/horse/burro/campesino!
.
.
.
.
1001. Any time the driver is executing a move that would make a stunt driver earn double-wages (ie passing a semi, which is already passing a tour bus, which has swung wide to avoid a combined herd of cows, llamas, pigs, sheep, and any stray dogs). At this moment it would be most appropriate for all vehicles to be have their horns engaged for a good 30 seconds. Just to be sure.

The final thought we´ll leave you with as we exit Peru is the scene of Sam and Natalie losing each other in a CROWDED city market in Arequipa. What Natalie quickly learned as soon as she began the search is that finding Sam in a Peruvian market is like a game of Where´s Waldo? Except you´re trying to find a tall, red headed, red bearded, caucaisan Waldo. Hmmm...that didn´t come out as clearly as I wanted. Point being, as soon as Natalie began looking, all of the women manning the stalls immediately started pointing her in the right direction as she made her way between mounds of cheese, nuts, butter, and giant avocados--maybe more like a game of hot/cold? I think you get the idea anyway...Sam blends into a Pervian market like a 10ft tall Waldo in Kenya.

Now, back to the room to try and finish the second worse bottle of wine either of us has ever tried. Second only to the bottle we tried earlier today. Final Peruvian lesson: don´t buy either $1 bottles or $5 bottles of Peruvian wine. Better yet, dont buy any Peruvian wine. Is wine supposed to be more brown than red?

Adios!
Sam and Nat

Out of the Canyon

2008-11-29T18:24:00.000-08:00

Since the last post, Natalie and I made our way 9 hours north by bus to the small village of Cabanaconde, our jumping off point for a trek into Canyon del Colca--claiming to be the deepest in the world. Not much time to write now, as it is late and the internet cafe is closing, so I´ll be brief.

In short, it was a fantastic four day trek. The day we left Cabanaconde, both were feeling under the weather, so we didn´t press the guy giving us trek information for a challenging route. By the end of the first day, we realized that he sent us on the basic, touristy, three day, 3 hours a day (if we hiked slow) loop. The second day, feeling a bit better and with topo map in hand, we broke free of the guides and tourists and headed for the town of Fure, high up in the canyon, and near the Huarro waterfall. It was two, long, hard, hot days hiking in the sun two and from Fure, but well worth the effort to get off the beaten path. Our last night in the canyon was at the plus resort-y area OASIS, directly below our starting point at the bottom of the canyon. There were 5 different hospidajes in the expansive, lush, greenery, each with there own pool, and place to camp. We hauled ass the 3500ft out of the canyon the fourth morning and made it back to arequipa last night.

Oh yeah, today I got to make a doctors appointment over the phone soley in spanish. Turns out I´ve had infected tonsils for over a week. Yay for antibiotics. Should be ship shape in no time.

Times up!

With love,
Sam and Natalie

PS. Happy Thanksgiving! We thoroughly enjoyed our tuna-rice. Even had leftovers for lunch the next day!

2008-11-23T17:04:00.000-08:00

So, I´m sure that most of you who know Sam know that he can get a bit, well, fussy, sometimes when he gets hungry. So, I didn´t want to push it when he said it was time for lunch and opted for a hole in the wall spot in a dodgy Peruvian only part of town. Being the adventurous sort who definitly embrace cultural immersion here, the ¨menu tipica¨was exciting, even if neither of us had any idea what we ordered. I was a little concerned, I´ll admit, by the look the twelve year-old waitress gave me when I ordered Zarza Mixta, but I can´t think of a plate that I have yet absolutely refused to try. When it came, I could not stop smiling, and light tears rolled down my cheeks, but I chose a good, fleshy (as fleshy as possible) veinless bite, chewed, swallowed, and thought with great concern, ¨How on earth am I going to eat this plate?¨ If you could not tell with certainty by looking at the photo, that is indeed a nipple on my fork in the foreground, and that photo was taken after I managed to eat all of the potatoes, carrots, lima beans (and my mama knows how I feel about lima beans), and the great majority of mammary morsels. It was the rubbery, veiny, fat-covered pieces and the nipples that I just couldn´t handle. And Sam tried (barely), but he couldn´t either. It was probably the greatest culinary adventure of my life, but at least I got the ice cream cone that I deserved afterwards.

Quick note about my school experience: while my comfort and range in speaking spanish has widened, I still have a good ways to go. I did have fun with my Dutch friends the first four hours, and an even more rewarding last two hours a day one on one with my teacher. My homestay also fell short of my expectations, but I would not have wanted to pass up the oppertunity to stay with a Peruvian family. Would I have learned, otherwise, that soup is eaten for both lunch and dinner, with an entree present only at lunch?

Sam I are spent an hour this morning sitting in Arequipa´s Plaza de Armas (our bus got into town at seven a.m., so we were a little pressed for things to do so early) making a list of cultural things that we have learned or find entertaining. More will be disclosed in blogs to come but for today I will leave youwith these two: one, a very popular flavor for soda, candy, ice cream and all things sweet is ¨morada.¨ It tastes like purple. Two, is the sign that Sam found on the bus´ bathroom door: ¨Solo urinario. No hace el dos.¨

Tomorrow when the map store opens, we´ll plan our next trek, hopefully into the heights of Arequipa´s neighborring volcanos, or towards the world´s deepest canyon. More to come...

Schoooools out for summer...

2008-11-23T16:40:00.000-08:00

I had planned on filling at least some of you in on how language school was going throughout the week, but as it turned out, school took pretty much all our time and definitely all our energy. We finished on Friday and although it was a VERY worthwhile experience, we were BURNT OUT. Luckily, we sorted it out so we DID get to eat lunch (I know you were all worried), but it meant we left for school at 7:30 and didn´t get home until 6:00, including walking 40 minutes each way. While the walk was great to get exercise, it was only one closed garage door and a midlife crises away from...well...there was a LOT of exhaust fumes in the city of Cusco.

Not much interesting details on the school part of things. I learned more grammar in 5 days there than I did in 3 semesters back home. Four out of the six hours per day were spent practicticing talking with my teacher one on one, and although my vocab is still extremely limited, I was able to fumble through such topics as Global Warming, the economic crisis, consumerism, etc. I enjoyed trying to get important, complicated points across while using a very limited vocabulary. It was a humbling experience, but also rewarding. The downside of the week was definitely my homestay. While I was fed well and felt safe where I was housed, there was really no family environment. The mother of the house was gone most of the time and when I did see her, the most she could manage was ¨que tal?¨and ¨como esta?¨repeated ad nauseum, regardless of how many times I answered or made attempts at other conversation. There weren´t any decernable kids that lived there all the time except LEO! who was only around long enough for his mom/grandmother? to scold him. The person I spoke with the most was another student from our school who was from Germany--also a bit anti-social. However, if we had not done the homestays, I´m sure we would have regretted missing out on a potentially great experience.

SOOOO...our next adventure began at lunch on Saturday before heading to Arequipa. For this, I will turn it over to Natalie, who really had the adventure, but all I will say is this:

I am a proud man. At least when it comes to eating anything and everything that is placed in front of me for sustinence. However, on saturday afternoon, I had to bow my head and pass the kudos to my slender travel companion. I just couldn´t handle the ZARZA MIXTA....

Back to school back to school. Isn´t that cool?

2008-11-17T12:38:00.000-08:00

My brain is fried. And so is that of my compadre. Today was the first day of spanish classes at the Wiracocha Spanish School is Cusco. Both of us are taking six hours a day and we didn´t realize that we´d signed up for class between 8:30 and 3PM, with no break for lunch. Now I think most of you know both of us well enough to know that we have the metabolisms of 14 year-old boys and may not function well/get crabby when we "get low". Besides bleeding profusly from sampling my own fingers in an attempt to attain sustinence, the day went well. I didn´t sign up for a one-on-one course, but apparently I fall into some special category (that is, I´ve had some spanish but can´t remember shit). Making my point long as my brain is failing, 6 hours was a long time to be one on one with a teacher, speaking and writing only spanish. Natalie is in a class with A COUPLE (it makes a difference, she says) from Holland. And it is good (esta bien).

We spent the weekend in Pisaq, a nearby town that is mostly 0verrun by a tourist market on the weekends (or maybe everyday?) Oh, and yes, there are also expansive ruins of an Incan citadel commanding the mountains above. Will post pictures later. Must find food and leave this building. ¡Adios amigos and familia! Sam and Nat

Market Fun

2008-11-14T07:31:00.000-08:00

Despite the overwhelming bustle of returning to city life, our first day in Cusco turned out to be mucho fun and successful! Contrary to previous groceriy shopping experiences in Lima or Nazca, shpping at San Pedro Market in Cusco was a blast! Our final bounty is pictured last in our photos, and includes a tasty grain powder of some sort that is to be mixed with our choice brand of canned milk. Maybe- not entirely sure if it is supposed to be a beverage or a cereal, but we´ll like it either way. Even more delicious, and probably the highlight of the market trip, was the mango con leche drink that an older woman made for us while we sat on stools in front of her counter (which was just like innumerable other counters all around her). She even gave us each refills. The market itself consisted of rows and rows of cheeses, vegetables, fruits, nuts, grains, animals- dead and alive, textiles, trinkets, toys, conveinence items, and on and on and on. We tried to do a walk around before buying, but it was hard with so much goodness everywhere! Unbelieveably, we forgot to return to the chocolate stand.

We met with our language school administrators, and got everything worked out to begin our homestays with a Peruvian family on Sunday. School starts on Monday. Both very excited!

Our First Andean Adventure

2008-11-13T10:46:00.000-08:00

Hmmm....where to begin....it hasn´t even been a week since our last post from Nazca, but so much has happened that it seems much longer. Right now my typing fingers find themselves at a keyboard in bustling Cuzco (Cusco). Our through-the-night bus ride to Abancay last Friday went smoothly. Almost immediately after disembarking the bus in the morning and attempting to find transportation another 1.5 hours down the road to the small mountain town of Cachora, we realized that simply staying on the bus would have gotten us nearly there. Instead, we had to hire a taxi (the driver agreed to Natalie´s 30 soles ($10) barter, but after passing us off on another driver, claimed we had agreed to 80 soles! After a somewhat tense conversation between the two drivers, Natalie, and myself, we finally agreed to 65, as it was a long drive. It ended up being well worth the money, as the driver was very friendly and engaged both Natalie and I in Spanish coversation the entire 1.5 hour drive. Until then, I had merely had brief conversations with people in spanish, so this was surprisingly exhausting. He also took time to ask directions in Cachora and drop us off a little ways out of town, right at the trailhead.

The first day of the trek took us through patchwork farmland, skirting the rim of Apurimac canyon, passing peruvian men ranging from drunk guides with confetti in their hair to toothless smiling caballeros, wanting to shake hands and pass along the simple word Obama! (sometimes complete with thumbs up). Finally dropping 5000 ft down to the roaring muddy river, we made camp just before dark.

Day 2: Natalie and Sam find out just how unprepared they were for hiking at high elevation, combined with heavy packs, 5000 vertical feet, 85 degree heat in the shade, and trails made for mules to carry the load--not people. After 8 or 9 hours, 10 liters of water, appx 50-75 switchbacks, one vomit break, and innumerous rest/panting stops, they arrived just below the ruins of Choquequirao for what would be base camp for the next two nights.

Day 3: The Day of Rest. Thank goodness. An hour hike above base camp brought us into a different world, where all of the present inhabitants clearly did not belong. We were the only tourists on site while we were there. Juanni, a friendly interpretive guide (whose services we did not employ because nothing is free, you know) and several peruvian workers doing reconstruction on the site were the only other people there. We wandered through the ancient (actually only about 600 years old) stone structures, with various sized rooms, aquaducts and amazing staircases. Climbing innumerable steps above it all was a large playing field with an amazing veiw. After returning to camp for lunch, we hiked down about 500 meters to a massive terrace system, with, of course, more amazing staircases. The only building there, we later interpreted to be ¨house of the water fall,¨ aptly named for its own lovely veiw of a large waterfall we passed over on yesterday´s trail. Being the people that we are, the challenge for the day was not having enough to do, but we did our best to relax, enjoy sunshine, nature and the grand accomplishments of people who lived in a simpler time.

Day 4: A day of rest did us well, as we were able to make the hike down the canyon in less than half the time it took to get up, and continue onward, up another 2500 feet to our favorite camp of the trip thus far. Just below a farmer´s simple house, we had a small space of grass/ dirt to set up our tent with an incredilbe veiw of the river canyon. We got a beautiful light show as a storm lit up the clouds in the distant mountains above choquequiro, and a small cane hut supplied us with a shower and roof to cook under. Fresh sugar cane from the farmers was a special treat.

Day 5: Hiked out of the canyon, up lots more switchbacks, down a very long road with little shade, and into the town of Cachora. Sam made friends with a thirteen year-old local boy who showed him some of the best fruit pìcking of the town. After a short grocery trip for fresh veggies and eggs, we cooked dinner and slept in a bed, which just happened to be the least comfortable bed ever.

An early rise got us up to the main road by taxi, so we could flag a bus to Cusco. Both a bit overwhelmed by citylife, we´re not entirely sure what will come next. Maybe coffee. Probably.

On to the mountains!

2008-11-07T12:07:00.000-08:00

Last night we arrived in Nazca, home to the Nazca lines, which are the mysterious formations in the desert of animals and other designs. Upon arrival, a nice, although insistant woman escorted us to a hostel for a look around. Hesitant at first, we were convinced by the kitchen on the rooftop, complete with thatched covering and view of the city, desert, and surrounding mountains. Off in the distance, we could see the highest sand dune in the world. Sorry Indiana Dunes, you´re off the list.

The terrain between here and the coast (and along the coast) was very surprising. I knew it was a desert, but the only deserts I´ve ever seen are the deserts in the states or Mexico. This made me feel like we were in the middle east--ranging from rolling sand dunes as far as the eye can see, to rocky scab-like terrain which brought places like Afganistan to mind, although I´ve never been. Anyway, very alien environment for both of us. Alien enough, in fact, that we bailed altogether on going to reserve on the coast (more desert and the reason for heading south in the first place) and caught a bus to begin our journey into the mountains.

This morning was spent wandering around Nazca, trying to find food suitable for our upcoming 5 day trek into the ruins of Choquequirau (known as the "other machu picchu"). There was a staggering amount of tiendas selling anything one could ever want...As long as anything you could ever want consisted of white bread, crackers, cookies, shampoo, and soda pop! After a seeming eterity, and numerous frustrated glaces between the two travelers, we finally found una SUPERMERCADO!

Then came trying to find a bus to Abancay, the nearest large town close to where our trek will begin. We thought the ride would be 6 hours, and upon learning its actually 10 hours with the only departure at 4pm, we were faced with arriving in Abancay at 2AM--not considered the safest option. After a lot of shitty spanish exchanged with ticket agents, we caught a cab to the "other" part of town to invesigate the locals´ buses. Anyway, long and rambling story short, our adventure has truly begun and we´ll be leaving Nazca tonight at 10:30PM tonight, putting us in Abancay in the morning.

We´ve learned so much through trial and error the past couple days that it feels like we´ve already been here a week. Hopefully all this wonderful learning will lead to smoother(er) operations in the future. One lesson we spent multiple hours and many failed descriptions learning was that while there is no "white gas" to be found anywhere for our stove--initially a very troubling situation, we can burn unleaded gasoline in it...simply requiring more cleaning. Until learning that liberating fact, it was a pretty depressing feeling to think we may not be able to cook our own food, therefore make it very hard/impossible to access the backcountry.

Adios,
Samuel

Here at last

2008-11-05T17:50:00.000-08:00

A long delay in Miami brought two travelers into Lima around two in the morning, tired, but happy (especially with the wonderful election news). We took a nice walk around Miraflores, Lima, which is a colorful neighborhood along the high cliffs overlooking the ocean. The afternoon was spent on a bus to Pisco, with goals of visiting and camping in la reserva nacional de paracas, inhabitted by flamingos and penguins, among other creatures that we should fit in well with.

Photos posted thus far are from the great domestic adventure. We hope to get some fresh ones up soon.

love and hugs, natalie