Valparaiso

November 4th-5th, 2015

Valaparaíso; what a dream.  It is no wonder Neruda lived there. Just being there for two days filled me with the urge to write.  

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Street art in Valparaiso

Valaparaíso is a city sprawling with murals and bohemian charm, secret ally ways that bring you to art splashed cafes, and slides and gondolas zipping you down from one elevation to the next.  For those with child-like, playful spirits, you will never want to leave.

I arrived with my second hangover in a row. I was set on partying my way through Chile. Out of the 9 days I had in Chile, I was hungover for 7 of them. I got to the hostel by cab and took a nap, and talked to my friend Brian about upcoming visits. I got up after a couple of hours and took the the streets in search of an early supper.  I walked for about an hour, exploring aimlessly, until I settled on a place because it felt right.  I got fish, salad, and of course another glass of delectable Chilean wine.  

As I was finishing my supper, three girls that I met in Sucre about two weeks before walked in.  It is crazy to keep meeting people over and over again as we travel at our different paces along the gringo trail.  Three law students from London, who are stylish without even trying, and so much fun.  One girl stayed (hi Sherin!) and we each had two desserts (because you only live once, and you need as much chocolate mousse as possible), and two glasses of wine.  The waitress judged us a little bit. 

We eventually found our way to where the other two girls were eating, and enjoyed two pisco sours and listened to jazz while looking over the city lights and talking about traveling love affairs.  The other two girls went home, but Sherin and I were swept up in the magic of the city (and in the magic of pisco sours) and took the slide down the street, where we saw a lot of people outside of a bar.  The waiter, with a face decorated in an awesome beard hair, ushered us in through the crowd outside.  We ordered a bottle of wine, and were all of the sudden part of an intimate audience of a Chilean Spanish improv show. 

In true Chilean form, the Spanish was dashed with slang and heavily accented, and we couldn't understand anything.  It was still thoroughly entertaining, as most of what is said is body language anyways.  As we finished our bottle of wine, avoiding eye contact with the actors so they wouldn't call upon us, the improv show ended and out of the night appeared a 12 part band playing Arabian Gypsy music that got everyone dancing between cigarette breaks and more wine.  

By the end of the night we were talking to locals, temporarily adopting the world's sweetest street dogs, and wandering through the hills watching late night street artists and trying not to get lost. We eventually made it home by 3 am, and of course, the next day, I woke up with my 3rd god damn hangover. 

The next day I woke up slowly and had breakfast.  I hate talking in the morning, which is difficult when sitting at a big communal hostel table.  After being a grumpy cat, I got dressed, promised the hostel owner I'd be back to have a drink with him, and went out to find Pablo Neruda's home in the hills.  I picked up an empanada on the way, stopped at a cafe for a hit of caffeine to fight off my new hangover, and walked the winding streets to Neruda's breezy home shooting too many photos of street art. 

Pablo Neruda's home in Valparaiso 

Pablo Neruda's house was eclectic and wondrous  and elicited a craving to write. It was full of whimsical and alluring collections with a definite nautical feel. It cheered on my notion of owning an apartment full of art and artefacts from my travels, and of course art from my family and friends. Neruda was a nobel-prize winning poet, diplomat, napper, collector, and apparently the most splendid of hosts. He believed that eating alone was like eating in a tomb, and ate every meal with friends.

From Chilean friends, and from traveling around Chile, I've learned a lot about the Pinochet dictatorship which lasted 17 years (1973-1990).  It was released in the news a couple of days ago that the Chilean Government admits that Pinhochet may have been behind Neruda's death in 1973.  Neruda was good friends with the socialist leader of the government that Pinochet overthrew.  The pain that Chile went through during the Pinochet government is astronomical. Being at Neruda's house, and traveling through Chile, meeting beautiful people and drinking beautiful wine, had inspired me to learn more about the not-often talked about sad story of the Pinochet dictatorship. 

After Neruda's house, I got a little lost but nevertheless successfully ended up at a walking tour, which was lead by a charming Chilean-American boy. The city has such cool roots, as well as trunk and leaves for that matter.  The old port city and its sprawling colonial architecture is built in the resemblance of ships to fit the hills.  The facades are all protected and original, and the street art will blow your mind.  I met two friends on the tour, and we went out for supper that night for delicious beer and jazz music. The next morning I woke up without a hangover. Thank goodness. 

San Pedro- My first glimpse of Chile

November 1st- November 2nd, 2015

San Pedro, my first Chilean city, was a desert dream. Coming out of a three day desert tour, exhausted from a night of food sickness and a nit-picky border crossing, I made it to a cafe and arranged a ride with my hostel to come get me. Within ten minutes, the building started shaking.  It stopped within seconds, but apparently it was around a 6.6.

The hostel owner came to get me a couple moments later, and told me to change my ticket so I could stay for longer, saying "it's not my fault you changed your reservation". He took me to exchange money, get money etc. and then we drove to the hostel, situated on the outskirts of town with vivid desert views of volcanos that erupted the day before and sandy planes.

A couple hours later, after discovering Chilean electrical outlets don't work with my phone (or computer), I went swimming with a whole bunch of guys from the hostel where we played like fifteen year old boys. When we got back, I wrote a lot, and after dinner and plenty of wine, my new friend Franco and I ran as fast as we could into the desert so we could watch the famous sunset, with some more wine. Our conversation was a lovely concoction of English and Spanish, and we told each other about the various skies we've seen. The desert skies are like the skies in Saskatchewan- living.

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Once the sun set, it was bloody cold, so we walked back accompanied by a dog that found us in the desert. At the hostel I found three Australian boys who were going out for drinks, and they asked me to come along. We went to an amazing bar with live Chilean music, aka the most bad ass flute playing I've ever seen. After pisco sours, beer, wine,and  crazy amounts of Chilean-poutine, we made our way back to the hostel and sat around a fire with some others and talked until 2 in the morning. Since I got up at 4 am, I had to go to bed relatively early. I wanted to stay up forever. 

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And I'm happy I didn't stay up forever, because the next day was unbelievable.  After a three day tour, I was toured out, and I wanted to do a solo mountain bike trip in the desert. I woke up early, caught a ride into town, rented a bike and got a hand drawn map to Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon). It was an easy ride there, and I had that same 'oh my god I miss my bike' feeling that I had when I did Death Road.  I think a more accurate name for the park would be Valle de Marte, or Valley of Mars.  It is red sand, white salt and blue sky.  I basically felt like a human ROVER cycling my way through the desert when my the roads would allow, and dragging my bike through sand dunes to get good views.  I explored for 4.5 hours, and tried to go caving but I was embarrassingly too scared to do it by myself without a bright light. Regrets!  

I made my way back to the bike shop, and since no one was there I grabbed a beer and wrote some more at a rock bar. I think I fit in because I had a bandana on?  Since I forgot my phone, I couldn't call the hostel for a ride, and the bike shop owner who said he'd call for me wasn't there. After about an hour they came to get me, and while I waited I talked to the other guy working at the shop, about cigarettes and Southern Chile. I only had two hours left, so I quickly ate supper, and gave all the guys hugs goodbye when the shuttle came to gather me for the airport. This was my favourite hostel I stayed in during my four month trip- the staff is the loveliest of the lovely. 

Over my desert tour through Bolivia and San Pedro were amongst the most exotic landscapes I've seen in my life. San Pedro is at the top of my list to go back to, because of the amazing little town and the insane landscapes.  It was a geological wonderland.  And considering I was only there for 35 hours, the amount of time it lazily occupies my memories makes it seem like I was there for a lot longer. 

Salir de Uyuni

October 29th-31st, 2015

The first day of the salt flats was incredible. I woke up in my bare-bones hotel room, and wandered to the markets for a breakfast of saltine filled with chicken stew (which I walked around the block another time to get a second one because they were so delicious). I was happy to spend my last morning in Bolivia wandering around the markets, because that was one of my favourite parts of the country.  I went back to the tour-shop to meet the five travellers that I was going to spend the next three days in the high desert with, taking the scenic route to Chile. 

I had a colourful group: a gorgeous couple from Catalonia who were in their 40s, who were a graphic designer and antique watch specialist; a couple from England in their thirties who spent the better part of 10 years living in Cook Islands and were off for a wander before heading back to life in the UK; and a 40 year old man from India whose goal it was to travel to 100 countries in his lifetime (Bolivia was maybe his 55th country). He loved to tell me that I should have more confidence when I told them the geological going-ons in the landscape (noted my well-traveled, photography equipment laden friend). Our guide, Fransisco, was from Bolivia, and was an easy going and kind dude with a questionable taste in music.  He only spoke Spanish, which worked out since we had a two people from Spain. It also forced me to practice my Spanish, which is how this whole South America thing started. It was perfect. 

The first stop was the "Train Graveyard", which sounds more romantic than it is. Carcasses of steam engines litter the desert along side the operable train tracks. It is a bit of fun to wander through the wrecks, and it's also a good introduction to the harsh desert sun and cold winds. 

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Train Graveyard

After stopping at a for-the-tourists market, we continued into the desert proper.  The landscape is surreal. Sparkling, white and vast with mirages and floating mountains. We stopped at the salt mining area, where salt is piled into mounds weighing about 1 tonne each, drying in the sun before sent off to a refinery. 

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Hanging out on a salt mound

From where the salt is mounded, you can see Tunupa Volcano. Our guide told us some folklore surrounding Tunupa and the desert, in which it was formally known that volcanoes could wander around the world, hold long conversations with each other, and also get down and make baby volcanoes. Tunupa was one of the most beautiful volcanoes in all the land, and all the male volcanoes had courted her, so that they could come together to make a baby volcano.  Eventually Tunupa did become pregnant, but the father of the baby was unknown which enraged all the volcanoes in the land.  The gods were furious, and took the baby away, and also took the ability to roam from all of the volcanoes. Because Tunupa lost her baby, she cried and cried until all the salt from her tears condensed into the vast salt flats around her today.  Volcanos are super dramatic. 

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Tanupa Volcano from Isla Incahuasi

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Isla Incahuasi

We drove, and dined in buildings made completely out of salt, and drove some more, and eventually came to Isla Incahuasi.  This island is the fossilized remains of coral reef, which is covered in giant cacti, some of which are 1000 years old. It is aw inspiring, with the rough rock and giant cacti against the white salt background and the distant volcanoes. 

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Amazed by the Giant Cacti

After doing an hour walk around the island, we gathered back my the truck and headed to the next destination, which were fossilized reef caves that looked like the inside of a malt bar, and haggard graveyards with bones protruding out of eroded tombs. 

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In the caves

After discussion amongst the group, we decided to head backwords from the caves back to the salt flats proper to catch the sun setting. It meant that we'd arrive to our hotel very late, but we decided it was worth it.  We caught the sunset, which reminded me a lot of prairie sunsets in the winter, and then drove to our salt hotel under twinkling desert stars. 

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Salt flat sunset featuring long shadows and our sweet ride

The second morning we woke from our cool salt bricked rooms and stumbled to our breakfast table so some much need instant coffee (I was really missing coffee by this point) before heading out to find flocks of flamingos and smouldering volcanoes.

This day was my favourite, with the smoking volcanoes, pink birds, and amazing rock formations.  We explored more fossilized algal blooms.  

Fields of fossilized algae

After seeing the famous tree-rock, which is beautiful but smaller than expected, we found a spot in the rocks to have a picnic lunch which we shared with bunny-like creatures.  We watched as volcanoes smoked and vicugnas travelling in packs to their next destination. As we were driving through the mars-like landscape, we listened to David Bowie, of which Space Oddity was vastly appropriate.  

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Tree-rock 

My stomach, still recovering from a) parasites and b) food poisoning was made upset over lunch. I tried to fight it off during the day, treking through the wind to see flamincos and to snap pictures of goofy llamas, but by the time I got back to the hotel I was sick out of my mind.

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The goofiest creatures

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Nauseated but really wanting to see more flamingos

While everyone celebrated day 2 with wine and food, I was stuck in the bathroom, of which there were only 2 stalls for about 25 people. Thank GOD I was the only one sick. My group took such good care of me, and the guide made me special tea for my stomach. I even cried a little bit because I was in the middle of nowhere in the high desert on Halloween night puking my face off, and I kind of wanted my ma. After i was done feeling sorry for myself, I fell asleep swaddled in all my winter clothing, since that night it dropped to -20*C.  Being from Saskatchewan, I have experienced plenty of temperatures lower than this. But, everyone else in my group was devastated by the fact parts of the world experienced these temperatures.

We left the hotel before the sun rose, again under twinkling desert skies. Our first stop were the geysers, which are not fun to smell after a night of being sick to your stomach. But WOW what an unbelievably cool place.  It's like a nature-made mountain bike park with pools of boiling mud on either side of the runs that would likely kill you if you fell in.  We checked out more volcanoes that released so many heavy metals into the nearby lakes that not even algae could live there, and therefore no flamingos.  We ended the day in natural hot springs, plunging ourselves in steaming water, and reminiscing about the past three days. 

The end of the third day came with lots of good bye hugs and e-mail exchanges.  Being sick with people that I met two days prior, and them taking such good care of me when I was all alone in the high desert, really reminds you that people are generally good.  That has been one thing that this trip revealed to me- that people are generally so kind.  This was one of the most awe-inspiring landscapes that I've ever seen, and I'm lucky to have explored it with such lovely people. 

The Mines of Potosi

October 28th-29th, 2015

I caught the bus at 9:30 this morning from Sucre to Potosi, one of the highest cities in the world at 4,090 m asl.  Potosi is a city famous for making its fortune off one of the biggest silver deposits ever discovered. The city is built around the skirts of Cerro Rico, the mountain that provided Spain its silver

The mines of Potosi have been open since the 1500s. The Quechua were mining the silver before the Spanish arrived, who renamed it Cerra Rico (rich mountain). Cerra Rico made Potosi one of the richest towns in South America, though when major production of silver stopped, the town (like many mining towns) struggled  greatly. 

 There are no geologists or engineers who work in the mines. The ore is being mined by artisanal miners, who have years of passed down knowledge about the geology (mostly N/S running veins, for example, with some crosscutting steeper veins which are harder to mine), mineralogy (ZnS, AgS, and some CuS) and engineering of the mines.

Big Deal  is the only company that has ex-miners run tours of the mines. In Potosi, mining is a good profession. If you find or hit a good vein, it can make a miner extremely wealthy. We met one miner who ‘struck silver’, and now makes 10,000 bolivianos/ month, and has a team of miners working for him. 

Before we started on the tour, we went to an old lady and bought the miners gifts of orange juice and coca leaves, which we were encouraged to chew before going into the mine to ward of thirst and to give us an energy boost. Coca leaves, to me, are similar to caffeine. 

The miners loosen the rock with dynamite. Dynamite is legal to buy at a corner store in Potosi from children, tourists, grandmas etc.  The miners of course use the dynamite to loosen the rock. Once its set off, they give it a day for the dust to settle and then come back and load it in old-school mining buckets set on train tracks to bring to the surface. 

The conditions in the mine are pretty dismal. There is dust everywhere which hurt my throat and eyes after the 3 hour tour. I was crawling on my hands and knees through the tunnels connecting the different levels. There is no air ventilation to the lower levels, so it makes the lower levels of the mine hot (surprisingly) and stale. 

When you enter the mine, it is splattered with lama blood.  The miners sacrifice lamas every year to Pacha Mama for safety and fertility (more ore). The main deity in the mines is Diablo, which isn’t the Catholic devil, but simply the god of the mines and minerals. There are a few paper machete figures of the diablo, with open hands full of coca leaves, a heart of silver, and a ridiculously large penis (which the tour guide, Pedro, referred to as the big situation). A lama fetus was lain at his feet, his open mouth was stuffed with cigarettes, and he was swimming in a pile of coca leaves which flowed from his open hands.  

This was one of my favourite experiences in Bolivia. It's awe inspiring to see how well the miners know the hills. It is heartbreaking to hear the stories of the lives mining has claimed. The differences between the mines of Potosi and the mines I've visited in Canada are vast. It is one of those experiences that makes you appreciate what you have while developing respect for people living in the current experience. 

Mountain Biking down Death Road

Death Road (aka Yungas Road) was at one time the only road connecting Bolivia and Brazil.  It was dubbed the most dangerous road by the Inter-American Development Bank, as 200-300 people were estimated to die by falling off the mountain path, often in commuter buses. After 2006, a new road was built bypassing Yungas Road. The 'most dangerous road' is now mostly used for mountain biking and by a spattering of locals from farming communities. I, of course, had to experience this bike adventure first hand.  I did my ride with a company called Ride On Bolivia, which I highly recommend for their awesome guides and gear.

Starting at 4,650 m asl, you drop from a breathtakingly rugged alpine setting and  to the high  jungle.  Speeding along the initial part of the highway, you can see local transport buses tossing out 99% proof alcohol and coca leaves to Pachamama for safe pass on the highway. After about the paved highway,  you end up on the famous Death Road, which is a 5-10 m wide dirt path winding down a mountain, with some 600 m sheer drops off unguarded cliffs.

Mountain biking is pretty risky business. I have a lot of road biking experience (I love it so much), but mountain biking was new to me. Because there's lots of unexperienced mountain bikers, the ride often has some injuries, and most often not because of irresponsible companies. Our group had our share of injuries. We had one girl injure her ankle before the trip even started by tripping out of the bathroom. She was a trooper and did most of the ride anyways, despite her injury. Down the highway, we had one arm injury on a guy who was fixing his GoPro while riding (don't do that, obvs.).  Ahead of me, two guys wiped out because they took a corner too fast, and ended up with ripped up shirts and road rash on their shoulders and knees.  I went down paved portion of the ride really fast, but as soon as we got to the dirt road I turned into a chicken after almost flying over my handle bars.  I mean, I still had three weeks of my trip left with a giant backpack ; I couldn't very well carry it on crutches or with my arm in a sling.

OH MY GOD it was fun. The guides, being professional mountain bikers, were able to video tape me on the way down because I was going so heavy on my breaks, screaming with joy the entire time. Basically, I was ridiculous. I was the last one down by 20 minutes.  I can't wait to go mountain biking again. Even if you're not into mountain biking, the trip is worth it because the views are breathtaking. 

About 10 minutes after we packed up and were in the vans headed for supper, we were hit by heavy wind and rain. The timing was perfect.   Exhausted and hungry, we ate all the food and cheers-ed ourselves for  surviving death road.

La Paz

La Paz- you fascinate me. 

October 20th-24th, 2015

My two Canadian traveler friends (Nicole and Vivian) and I bussed from Copacabana to La Paz, taking ferries and winding mountain roads that rendered my friends carsick and, with the help of Gravol, asleep. The country between Copacabana and La Paz was desolate and worked by farmers. The buildings in the towns were only half built with rebar haphazardly reaching up, and empty window panes waiting for glass. The views were dusty and wanting, with ominous snow capped mountains encircling the upcoming La Paz. 

La Paz is the most angry and fascinating city that I've encountered. It is the highest capital city in the world at, at 3,600 m asl. The customs, culture, and mind boggling markets kept my attention for four days, where I was supposed to stay for only two.

I stayed in a party hostel, which was obviously a lot of fun and full of party-hostel style debauchery. The first night was full of drinking games and soaking up shiny travel vibes. The next day we did a walking tour (http://www.redcapwalkingtours.com). The tour began by San Pedro Prison, which has (in my ignorant opinion on such matters) amongst the most unique societal constructs . The inmates of the prison have to pay rent or buy accommodation, and are either business owners or employees in the jail, responsible for making their own way. They are even allowed to bring their families into the prison, as in there are husbands, wives, and children within the jailed community.  The non-prisoners (children, for example) are of course not required to stay in the prison.  One of the main sources of income of the jail is cocaine. The jail is apparently stocked with laboratories and trafficked outside, often through the use of dirty diapers, which are simply thrown over the walls of the prison.  They also make money off of brewing Coca-Cola. There are also lots of regular jobs that are needed in many societies, such as  hairdressing, shop keeping, messengers etc. Tours through the jail are now illegal because of past violent crimes, but apparently it is possible if you bribe the guards.  And don't worry guys, I didn't try to go on a jail tour.  Instead, I'm planning on reading the book titled Marching Powder, about a backpacking Australian journalist who lived within the prison documenting one of the inmates. When you can't do it, read about it. 

After the fascinating and frightening tales of San Pedro Prison, we were lead to the sprawling fruit and vegetable markets. We were warned against taking pictures of the Cholitas selling their goods without their permission, as they often opted to throw rotten vegetables and the perpetrators. And really, who could blame them? I wouldn't want a group of gringos coming through my market every day at 2:00 PM taking pictures of me. One of the Cholitas even said, in Spanish of course, "They come the same time every day", whilst rolling her eyes. 

Cholitas are indigenous women who are a driving force behind Bolivia's culture and economy. Once heavily discriminated against, they are now the pillars of La Paz. According to my tour guide, everyone has a Cholita in the markets that they go to for fruit, vegetables, and psychotherapy (basically).  You tell your Cholita everything, and remain faithful to the Cholita, who often tops you up with extra produce, as well as motherly advice about whatever issue you may be facing. Cholitas traditionally have skirts with petticoats, a shawl, two long braids down her back, and a magically balanced bowler's hat.   BBC wrote an interesting article about Cholitas, (http://www.bbc.com /news/magazine-26172313) describing their rise, and also their fashion influences.  

Among the sprawling markets in La Paz is the mercado de bruja, or the witches' market. The strangest thing about the witches' market is the lama fetuses lining the stalls. Lama fetuses are buried at the foundation of new buildings or businesses as an offering to pacha mama (mother earth). There are also a large amount of widely used love potions and aphrodisiacs, and folk medicines sold at these markets.  We were warned that if you take pictures of the witches without asking them first, that they might curse you. Nicole got yelled at  for lingering around in awe of the lama fetuses, but not cursed (thank goodness). Here is a good blog post with more info on the witches' market (http://www.sacred-destinations.com/bolivia/la-paz-witches-market).

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Lama fetuses- used as sacrifices to Pachamama

The next day, I saw my first real soccer game. There was a big group of people that went from the hostel. I was mostly impressed because the players could run across an entire soccer field l at almost 4000 m asl. I couldn't walk up the hill without losing my breath.  The home team won 6:3. The game was actually beautiful, and full of stereotypical football drama, with exaggerated falling and passionate finger pointing. Alcohol is banned from the stadium, and half of the people who were with us snuck in bottles of wine and mickeys of whiskey.  Though they were drinking discretely, another spectator told on us, and the police quietly came and confiscated all of their wine. Everyone was looking at us saying "stupid gringos". I also had a delicious hamburger that made me so sick later that night that I thought I was dying. 

I drank my first good coffee that I had in a month and a half in Bolivia, since there isn't a coffee culture in many South American countries.  The owner was a Toronto/La Paz boy who is aiming to ignite a coffee culture in Bolivia, since the country really does have some of the best coffee in the world. The cafe is called Antigua Miami, equipped with a espresso machine that comes all the way from Canada.

Birthday celebrations with Vivian and Nicole at fancy restaurants, drinking coffee, wondering markets, riding gondolas, learning Bolivian politics; I loved this crazy city. 

Salkanty to Machu Picchu

October 11th-16th, 2015

The Salkantay Trek is in National Geographic’s top 20 hikes in the world, and is rated the 2nd best hike in Peru, after the classic Inca Trail.  Salkantay is preferred by many because there are fewer crowds trekkingto the ancient city. 

The tantalizingly unpredictable nature of solo travel is largely to do with the people fate  deals you to take part in probably once-in-a-lifetime experiences with.  Fate dealt me the best of hands, with a charismatic guide named Hipalito born and raised in Cuzco, an adorable and funny banker from England who had the fluffiest of hair (nice perm yo), and a beautiful couple from Holland; brave Evelyn the and loving Teun. We did the hike with a company called Salkantay Trekking, which was pretty glamorous with down sleeping bags and morning wake up calls with coca tea.

The van came to pick me up at 5 AM from my Peruvian home-stay. My host-dad, Efrain, woke up with me and gave me a big hug goodbye.  I was so sick from taking my parasite-killing antibiotics that I thought I was going to vomit the entire morning.  It's hard to be excited about a five day hike when you feel like puking, but I sucked it up, took a swig of PeptoBismal, and tried to sleep more while the poor driver tried to make small talk.  We gathered the other three passengers that were dotted around Cuzco, and started the trip to the first base camp.

We stopped at a town for a giant breakfast (which I picked at).  We bypassed the actual start of the hike because Hipalito said it wasn't enjoyable walking along the vehicle ridden dirt road, and he dropped us off at the first base-camp do do the practice 4600 m climb before the Salkantay Pass. Since it was a glamping trip, the crew set up our tents while we garbed up and set up for the training day up to a glacial lake. 

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I did a 4,200 m hike a couple days before so I didn't suffer from altitude sickness much. Richard was also doing well because he had done high altitude touring a few days before.  Poor Teun though, who just came from low-lying Holland, suffered the hike up.  Evelyn was golden and in front of the entire group. The scenery was breathtaking. We were hiking up a u-shaped valley with crazy lateral moraines and eskers peaking below monstrous mountains. Once we got to the lake (2 hours later), it was totally worth the climb. I was geeky excited to see glaciers, cirque glaciers, lateral moraines, eskers, glacial lakes, and u-shaped valleys. We bounded through boulder fields, climbed the moraines and played in the water. 

Eventually we got hungry and hiked down to supper, which was a beautiful Peruvian meal that I couldn't eat since I was perpetually nauseated.  I begrudgingly took another antibiotic, which further stole my appetite, and we stared in awe out of the kitchen tent at the alpine view.  When the sun set and the stars scattered across the sky, Hipalito showed us southern hemisphere astronomy, such a the lama constellation , and we eventually fell asleep. 

We were roused out of our down sleeping bags with the cook tapping at the tent door, coca tea in tow (glamping is awesome). Since I’m the worst morning person ever, I would just sleep for five more minutes until the tea cooled off.  We packed up fast, admiring the shadows playing against the mountains. 

We started the longest day of the hike, with a total of 18 km, and the highest elevation being 4650 m asl.  Part of that 18 km day included the gringo killer, where a few people hiking with different groups dropped out and hired donkeys.  I powered up the switch backs like a donkey and got to a grassy plain and waited for the rest of the group.  Richard came soon after and we hung around until our guide came and told us to keep going.  We kept on going on to the Salkantay Pass, which we've been walking towards all day.

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I'm not a morning person. Salkantay looming in the background

Speaking of Salkantay, here is a smattering of information from the mouth of Hipalito.   Salkantay was considered a God by the Incan people, responsible for providing water for the farms around the kingdom. The Incas would hike this trail and lay offerings for the mountain god, which included the best goods from around the kingdom, such as coca leaves from the jungle, lamas from the mountains, fish from the coast, and often a human offering. One of the most important gifts was a sea shell, which, when burned, would sound like the god was eating his offerings.  Though this isn’t the classic Incan trail, it was still often hiked by the Incas looking to appease the god with sacrifices and also as a route to Macchu Picchu.

As Richard and I hiked on, we came across more beautiful peaks, giant boulders, and landslides.  We were side passed by bands of horses carrying hikers' packs, and every once in a while a hiker that couldn't quite make it and succumbed to hiring a donkey. Eventually the mountains opened into a giant grassy opening, and into the most incredible view of a rolling green valley. 

We enjoyed lunch and played with kittens before heading climbing down the mountain which opened up into a lush high jungle full of humming birds. The high jungle is a beautiful eco-zone.  One of the reasons why National Geographic chose to put the Salkantay Trek in their list is because of the variety of eco-zones you experience throughout the hike. At the end of day 2, you can see all four zones a once as if someone took a giant knife and cut the mountain from high glacier peaks to low jungle waters.  All at once, you can see the giant cake with glaciers topping rocky “waste-land”, eventually fading into high jungle, and low jungle at the very bottom with a lush river being fed by the towering glaciers above. We walked on through the plants, humming birds, and small villages to our final camping spot for the night. 

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Valley cut showing the different ecozones, with glaciers at the top and high jungle at the bottom.

Eveyln, after feeling sick for the first 2 days, opted to take a van with our gear to the lunch spot.  We left her in this overwhelmingly full van and continued on, winding down the jungle bordered trail, hopscotching across bridges and through recent landslides. It was a beautiful hike through the high jungle, and poor Teun was still suffering from 2 days of altitude sickness. Once we got to the van, we jetted to the lunch spot and had one last meal prepared by our wonderful chef. 

When we arrived to the camp site, Richard, Hipalito and I went to the hot-springs, where we thoroughly enjoyed the hot water, and got eaten alive by mosquitoes. Here we met up with other groups hiking Salkantay, as well as people doing the classic jungle trail.

That day we also had a camp meeting about the possibility of zip lining the next day.  Evelyn and I were completely down for zip-lining, but the boys not so much.  After not too much convincing, Richard decided that he had to go as well, and Teun, being very afraid of heights, bravely decided to take the van there and decide once he got there. 

And so, the next morning, after a ridiculous night of being too hot in the tent, we got into the van and were off to our first ever zip lining experience. You are literally flying in between mountains with a birds eye view of the tiny forest below.  It was super fun times, but every time we looked at Teun, we saw a look of horrid, death-expecting terror.  When you’re afraid of heights, zip-lining and crossing suspension bridges that you can easily fall through, it’s not an easy time.  Poor Teun was upset for about 3 hours for making him face his fear, but the next next day he was happy and proud that he did it (we were proud too Teun, we were proud too). 

After zip lining, we were carted off to the railroad hike- a 3 hour walk following the rail road to Aguas Calientes.  Our first view of Machu Pichu was from a cafe where you can see the distinctive peak of the city through the fog.  We lazed around in hammocks for an hour before hiking proper.  When we got into town, we were shown to our hostels, where I was put in a hole in the wall and the other three were put in very fancy hotels.  Luckily Richard had a spare bed anyways, and the company reimbursed me. 

The next morning we woke up at 3:30 to wait in line to take the bus up. Richard and I were going to climb it, but because we were doing the 3 hour Machu Picchu Mountain climb, we decided to take the bus up with the other three. 

Machu Picchu is amazing as it is rumored to be.   Though it has been known from local Peruvians since its existence, it was opened up  to the the rest of the world when Hiram Bingham III, an archeologist, was lead to the city by a local boy.  There are different thoughts on what the city was designed to be. Some say it was a place of learning, and some say it was a palace for royalty.  What is known is that it was never fully utilized because with the invasion of the Spaniards, the Incans abandoned the city to save it. And thus, without being plundered by the Spanish, it is beautifully preserved.  The engineering is elegant, with aqueducts and agricultural terraces.  There is even a very accurate compass, carved into a rock, that points perfectly north.

After a wonderful tour, the sad part came where we had to say goodbye. Hipalito left us to explore by ourselves. After walking around for a while, Richard and I prepared to hike up Machu Pichu Mountain, and therefore had an almost tearful goodbye to the rest of our hiking family, Teun and Evelyn, who were jetting to Bolivia the next day. And so Richard and I hiked up the mountain alone, which had the most stairs I’ve ever seen.  After 4 days of hiking, our legs didn’t take to the stairs easily, but everyone cheered everyone on as they did one last climb.  Because of forest fires, the day was smokey, and the view wasn’t as clear as we hoped, but it was still beautiful. After we came down, to Richard’s dismay, I dragged him on another mini-hike to see the Sun Gate.  After our hearts were content with wandering around the queued for the bus, in a line of about 1000 people, and eventually made it on the long bus, train, and van ride back to our hostel.

I wouldn’t have wanted to do this experience with anyone else than the five people I was lucky enough to be placed with. The Salkantay Trek with Richard, Teun, Eveyln and Hipalito was one of the highlights of my four month galavant.

Sailing from Panama to Colombia

September 8th-13th, 2015

Time on the Wildcard with the responsible hippy Captain Yuyu

My travels, since my month in Quepos came to an end, happen to have a weekly theme. My first week was spent getting into trouble and hiking around Costa Rica with my dear friend Jaclyn. We climbed Churro Chato (an extinct volcano- one of my favourite memories), scrambled up waterfalls, fought with means of transportation, and were almost eaten by the wild Pacific Ocean of the Nicoya Peninsula during high tide. The next week was spent in the perpetually wet Carribean Costa Rican jungle helping a biological institute protect turtles (another highlight). The week after that was spent with my good friend Marcela's family in Guanacaste where we would train for my upcoming mountain climb by climbing steep hills to get more cervesas (another highlight). The next week was spent climbing Chirripo (another highlight) and making my way back to Quepos, and finally Panama to catch a yacht to Colombia, which would be about a week of sailing. 

The week sailing in the Caribbean will be in my mind forever; approximately 5 nights and 5 days of islands complete with sugar sand beaches, waving palm trees, and jewel blue waters. Sailing the open ocean under star splattered skies and vast expanses of blue was amazing. Visiting villages of Kuna people selling their unique art and enlightening you on their culture was a one of a kind experience. Snorkelling reefs in the mornings and watching dolphins swim with the boat were experiences that tweaked the heart of this prairie girl. 

Soon after the sun went down (at about 6), we were gently ushered into the cabin of the boat so we wouldn't lose anyone over the wire separating the deck from the sea. We were allowed to peer into the starry sky for a couple of hours as long as we didn't make too much noise for the slumbering crew. One night, I counted three shooting stars (Saskia always saw at least 10) before I got sea sick from sailing in the dark. Obviously I made three wishes.

The first night of sailing, despite our best efforts, we dropped like flies with sea sickness. The seas were rough enough to feel like you were going to fall out of bed, and cans and bottles of precious booze were running wild against the walls. One of us (ahem, Chris) "almost died" from being locked in the bathroom for approximately one  minute, before Rosie valiantly came to the rescue. Every night I had to take a gravol to stop the motion sickness, which would immediately put me to sleep until 7 the next morning. We were fed well thought out meals throughout the day, supplemented with rum and cervesas. 

Living in between the space limited  sail boat, the sea and the beaches with the same twenty people for a week made us feel like a traveling family. With no cell service (and no shoes, for that matter) or other such distractions, we were left to conversation, reading, writing and photography which made everyone close. The only slightly negative thing was that because we were not allowed to shower, some some of us ended up with a spattering of super attractive adult acne, and in one case even a 'diaper' rash (it was the source of a lot of giggles and discussions about finding a Colombian dermatologist once on shore). We had the best group of people, weaving a mix of both tipsy fun times and thought provoking conversation. The people are always what make an experience, and I am so happy that my paths crossed with each one of my boat mates. My time in Cartagena, Colombia was also amazing because of the boat family. Colombia  was such a gem- I could probably live there one day. 

I'm so happy that I chose to sail from Panama to Colombia; my trip wouldn't have been near as awesome without those memories. 

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Beautiful Blue Sea with the Wild Card in the background

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"Sports Day "- last day on the islands

Summiting Chirripó

Now that I have internet and a bit more stability, I can catch up on my adventuring notes, and a highlight was summiting Chirripó (September 1st-2nd, 2015).

Cerro Chirripó has an elevation of 3,820 m which makes it the 37th highest mountain in the world, and the highest in Costa Rica. It takes people anywhere between 5- 13 hours to climb to the base camp, and another 2-3 hours to summit.  

Unfortunately, Lonely Planet is outdated for how to get permits to climb (be warned). I splurged and spent $15.00 for a travel agency to arrange the park permits to climb the mountain, as I was in the jungle at the time and didn't have access to the correct bank.  Info on how to get in touch with the travel agency can be found at this website  http://www.hotelcasamariposa.net .

Casa Mariposa has been my favourite hostel thus far. The accommodations are beautiful and the place makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside because of the design of the place, the vibes, and especially the people who work there.  They gave me a toque and mittens to keep warm on the summit, and even fed me hearty soup for breakfast the night and day before the climb. Everyone should stay there! It's gorgeous. 

I went to the base of the mountain to climb with the idea to do it alone, but was very blessed to meet a beautiful couple from France/Brazil who were climbing the same day as me.  We woke up the next morning before the sun, and started the climb at 5:00 am. We took our bamboo walking sticks and walked under the stars, straight past the entrance to the park. We accidentally did a quick tour, which cost us about 3 hours, through the Cloudbridge Reserve (so beautiful!). Because of our mistake, we had to do a one km vertical hike up the mountain on a small trail only used by locals on donkeys. We eventually came out on KM 4.  I hiked solo up the mountain, meeting Angela and Alban at the half way point before taking our separate paces.

The changing scenery was gorgeous, from the cloud forest at the bottom to the alpine ecosystem at the top. I got to the base camp in 7 hours (thanks to the 3 hour wandering). 

I got to the base camp at around noon, and was freezing cold in the rainy +2 after living in the jungle in +30 for a month.  The rest of the day went by pretty fast, and I just had a lot of naps. 

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The next morning we woke up at 2:50 AM for the 2.5 hour hike to the summit. We were fairly paranoid of making the wrong turn in the dark, like the first morning.  The sky was clear and starry and we made our way to the top. 

I summited at 4:50, shining my lamp ahead for my climbing buddies to see what lie ahead of them. There was quite the scramble to the top, and I definitely shed a few tears when I got up there. There were hugs all around when all three of us were up. One of the best experiences of my trip so far :) 

The way down was much harder on my legs, but just as beautiful as the first time. We had a two hour nap at the basecamp, and arrived at Casa Mariposa to be welcomed with open arms and warm cups of coffee. <3

Caño Palma- Volunteering with Sea Turtles

Making mesh to protect endangered sea turtle eggs and hatchlings from poachers and dogs. Eggs are poached because they are (falsely) believed to be an aphrodisiac. The turtles themselves are poached for their meat.  

Hiking up Volcano Cerro Chato

This weekend my friend from Canada flew all the way from Toronto to Costa Rica! Yey Jaclyn! And today we hiked Cherro Chato Volcano, which is Arenal Volcano's older sibling. It took us about 5.5 hours (with a little swim in the lagoon) to get from the Observatory to the top then to the crater lake, and then back to the observatory. It felt great getting my boots dirty :)  We loved it.

So I tried Surfing

My favourite thing that I've tried in Quepos/ Manuel Antonio, so far, is surfing.  I tried to do it every day this past week, but the waves were only good for learning on two days.  There is something about being tumbled in the ocean full of salt water and sunshine that really gets to me. Until I took sailing and surf lessons this year, I didn't know that I was in love with water sports. If you're every in this part of Costa Rica and want to surf, definitely surf with Alex: https://www.facebook.com/alexander.gutierresz

Him and his girlfriend, Ashley, are the sweetest people in the world. Ashley is a yoga teacher, and if you're into yoga/surf experience, they are definitely the people to get in contact with. 

Pura Vida <3 I love surfing

Me trying to be a surfer