Northwest rain spits on the windows of the ferry. After travelling for almost 24 hours, including sleeping on the floor in the LA airport, we arrived in Seattle. Immediately when we got to LA we felt we were in a land of giants. White giants. Americans are big, not necessarily fat, they just have very large frames. All of a sudden everyone can hear us, everyone looks like us. Everything is much cleaner, even in LA. As we taxi in the plane I make a comment about the clothing choices surrounding us.
"What are we in leather jacket town. In the midst of a leather jacket gang?"
Kelly and I chuckle with sleep deprived delerium. We both wish Leif was still travelling with us, so he could add to the trademark nonsense critisism that has been the form of communication for the past 2 months. A few minutes after the comment one of the leather jacket mafia looks at me and says "where are you from?"
Crap. He was standing right next to me...people can understand me now, time to start censoring my thoughts again.
We are greeted in Seattle by over joyed parents, my mom and Roger picked us up with Waterfront pizza in hand and huge grins on their faces. Can't really ask for a better welcome. Of course we take our requisite REI trip and Kelly and I wearily try on running shoes. When we finally make it home, instead of resting we have to go immediately to our storage unit and start packing, we only have one day in Port Townsend before heading up to Orcas Island. Our brief time in PT is dominated by sushi, decent beer, packing and visiting. We grab a cup of coffee with Alex and we talk about culture shock, motorcycles, instant coffee, future plans, cribbage legacies...it is good to be back, strange, but good.
When we get to Orcas Island we are greeted by a new face. Thomas asks if we are here for the WFR and we reply that we are, however we are also here for the next two months to work. We have to move our car, there is a group here, nothing seems to change. As we move our stuff in we are greeted by a few familiar faces but mostly new ones, all friendly, it feels like we all already know each other. There is a bond that people who have or do work here share. Whether you have met each other before or not, similar to the bond of people who grew up in PT, there exists something unseen, something cosmic. We sit around in the living room and catch up/learn each others stories. We get excited about the WFR and future kayak plans. Talk about slacklining and learning to roll a kayak.
Less than 18 hours after we arrived we start taking the intense 80 hour wilderness medicine course that is the WFR. After a day of learning how to approach and assess injured hikers, the whole staff almost takes trip to see a ska show down at the Lower. Less than 3 days ago we were surrounded by short ecuadorians speaking a foreign language, carrying bags of live chickens and small trees on trails between villages. Now we are in a dimly lit pub surrounded by friends and tall dreadlocked islanders. Surrounded by hippie chicks in flowing skirts and colorful scarves, old ladies who dance without abandon, throwing down the charlton and riverdance moves. Half myself feels like I have just entered a foreign country and half feels as though I have come back home.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Ciao!
And we´re off! After saying good-bye to Leif on Sunday, Mike and I wandered around the deserted streets of Cuenca, killing time until our 9 pm bus (our last bus ride!). We arrived in Quito early in the morning, then spend most of Monday napping, milling around the hostal, watching movies, etc. Mike had a case of what seems to be food poisoning, which conveniently surfaced during the overnight bus ride, so it was a pretty low-key day. Now we have 24-hours of plane travel ahead of us, including a night in the LA airport. After arriving in Seattle we´ll have a day and half to head to Port Townsend, re-sort through all of our belongs, pack up the car and head to Orcas Island! Wilderness First Responder starts on Saturday. It will be a whirlwhind of a transition, but I´m excited for what´s next. Back to teaching and island life!
It´s hard to believe our three months are over. This place no longer seems foreign, and has even started to feel like home. There is much to reflect on and process. For now, though, it´s time to go hail our last cab ride.
It´s hard to believe our three months are over. This place no longer seems foreign, and has even started to feel like home. There is much to reflect on and process. For now, though, it´s time to go hail our last cab ride.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Parque Cajas
It is 7 AM and the smell on the bus is strawberry flouride. Febreeze chemical stench masking vomit. On the way out of Cuenca I watch the city turn to suburbs, then from small pueblos to houses scattered among rock and rolling hills. We enter Cajas national park and follow the twisting road to the ranger station. Leif, Kelly and I set out for this hike as early as possible because the park is known to loose visitors in afternoon fog. The trails are rumored to be poorly marked. Compass skills are recommended.
The lake at the base of the ranger station is surrounded by intricate rock formations jutting out of light green hills. As we make our way on the sendero the morning sun pokes through the clouds and the green algae that dominates the lake is lit up. We walk through small forests with twisty, peeling red trees. Something out of fairytales. The ground is alternating between spongy wetland vegetation, rock and firm soil. Small streams feed the lake.
We get to a fork in the trail and the route that we want to take (to the top of a near by peak) is signed in the direction we just came from. There is a small trail heading up the peak, straight up. However this is the paramo and the tufts of tan grass are all separated by veins of brown dirt making trails appear everywhere. We continue up anyways and the trail becomes more obvious. Raising our feet high with each step our quads work hard to get us up the steep ascent. We are all breathing hard, we are at 4,000 meters (more than 13,000 feet). We are almost scrambling up the loose dirt and rock. I take a detour to boulder over a small rock. Leif goes bigger and climbs up short face. All along the hike up Leif and I spot great rock climbing potential. Decent boulders, huge walls.
We make it up to a ridge and the view of Cajas opens up. Spotting the landscape are tons of small lakes connected like a web by rocky stream beds. Green hills accented by sharp rock raise above the lakes like fingers to the sky. Past the small valleys of Cajas formed by glaciers we can glimse larger peaks, mountains in the distance. Blue sky lines the horizon in most directions.
The ridge is covered with boulders and the trail winds between and over them. Once at the cumbre we take a victory photo and find a boulder for lunch. As the meal of tuna and veggies sinks in, I have a lay down on the hot rock and cover my eyes from the sun.
On the descent the trail loses form, we find ourselves in the veins of the paramo with out a clear path. Instead of turning back we decide to go forward, to blaze through the unrelenting grasses and pricker bushes. Pretty much every piece of vegetation is spiky and the grass is slippery beneath our boots. A deer bounds away from us. We can see the road so we head over the hills in its direction. We squish through a small wetland, the ground giving way with each foot like a natural crash pad. I spot a family of very large tadpoles and we investigate for a moment.
Leif and I come to the edge of a small cliff but there seems to be a way down following a crumbily rock wall. With a hand on the wall and the other out for balance I half walk and half slide down the hill. The grass makes you slip, the rocks give way, and the dirt falls apart making it a difficult task to descend. But we make it down and into another wetland. The wetland floor is dotted with strange plants. Red fingers, tiny multicolored flowers.
Strangely we actually reconnect with the trail and follow it down a stream bed and through one of the small fairy tale forests to the lake. So we complete the hike with our requisite half an hour detour and get to the road to wait for a bus. After waiting for about twenty minutes, throwing rocks at the paint line on the road, a bus appears. And for no apparent reason it does not stop. So we wait for another hour. Leif and I boulder on a near by rock, we play add-on and try to create problems to work out.
The lake at the base of the ranger station is surrounded by intricate rock formations jutting out of light green hills. As we make our way on the sendero the morning sun pokes through the clouds and the green algae that dominates the lake is lit up. We walk through small forests with twisty, peeling red trees. Something out of fairytales. The ground is alternating between spongy wetland vegetation, rock and firm soil. Small streams feed the lake.
We get to a fork in the trail and the route that we want to take (to the top of a near by peak) is signed in the direction we just came from. There is a small trail heading up the peak, straight up. However this is the paramo and the tufts of tan grass are all separated by veins of brown dirt making trails appear everywhere. We continue up anyways and the trail becomes more obvious. Raising our feet high with each step our quads work hard to get us up the steep ascent. We are all breathing hard, we are at 4,000 meters (more than 13,000 feet). We are almost scrambling up the loose dirt and rock. I take a detour to boulder over a small rock. Leif goes bigger and climbs up short face. All along the hike up Leif and I spot great rock climbing potential. Decent boulders, huge walls.
We make it up to a ridge and the view of Cajas opens up. Spotting the landscape are tons of small lakes connected like a web by rocky stream beds. Green hills accented by sharp rock raise above the lakes like fingers to the sky. Past the small valleys of Cajas formed by glaciers we can glimse larger peaks, mountains in the distance. Blue sky lines the horizon in most directions.
The ridge is covered with boulders and the trail winds between and over them. Once at the cumbre we take a victory photo and find a boulder for lunch. As the meal of tuna and veggies sinks in, I have a lay down on the hot rock and cover my eyes from the sun.
On the descent the trail loses form, we find ourselves in the veins of the paramo with out a clear path. Instead of turning back we decide to go forward, to blaze through the unrelenting grasses and pricker bushes. Pretty much every piece of vegetation is spiky and the grass is slippery beneath our boots. A deer bounds away from us. We can see the road so we head over the hills in its direction. We squish through a small wetland, the ground giving way with each foot like a natural crash pad. I spot a family of very large tadpoles and we investigate for a moment.
Leif and I come to the edge of a small cliff but there seems to be a way down following a crumbily rock wall. With a hand on the wall and the other out for balance I half walk and half slide down the hill. The grass makes you slip, the rocks give way, and the dirt falls apart making it a difficult task to descend. But we make it down and into another wetland. The wetland floor is dotted with strange plants. Red fingers, tiny multicolored flowers.
Strangely we actually reconnect with the trail and follow it down a stream bed and through one of the small fairy tale forests to the lake. So we complete the hike with our requisite half an hour detour and get to the road to wait for a bus. After waiting for about twenty minutes, throwing rocks at the paint line on the road, a bus appears. And for no apparent reason it does not stop. So we wait for another hour. Leif and I boulder on a near by rock, we play add-on and try to create problems to work out.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Siga No Mas
Thanks to Mike and Leif for taking on the daunting task of blogging about our trek. Good men. And thorough.
And if you haven't quite had enough, here are a few of my highlighs from the trip:
- I was quite proud of my asthmatic lungs for chugging along and getting me up the mountains. I certainly wasn't running up the switchbacks, but I managed to make pretty good time. Altitude? Pshaw!
- In fact, the only time that I did feel the lethargic pull of altitude sickness was on day 4, when we weren't even up that high. I felt tired and nausious and had a 2000 meter climb ahead of me. I spent 4 hours hiking very slowly and stopping every few minutes to dry heave. Not the most fun, but at least the weather wasn´t too hot. The situation was remedied by lots of coca tea and sleep, and the next day I felt great.
- It was really awesome to pass through lots of different microclimates, and every day was diverse. All of the changes in vegetation gave us a great sampling of Peru, even though we only trekked through a relatively small area.
- You gotta love hiking and camping with the local farm animals! Pigs, chickens, dogs, cows, mules, etc. are always roaming around, and cows and bulls meander across the trails. On the 6th day I had a showdown with a very large bull with very pointy horns that was in no hurry to move off the narrow trail. The muleteers always throw stones at them, so I tossed a couple in his direction, but that only prompted him to turn to face me directly. The bull gave me a long stare, and I kind of just milled around trying not to provoke it, hoping it would just move on. When it started shaking its head around at me I got a little nervous. Fortunately the muleteers weren´t far behind, so when they came along the bull got hearded off into a field, where he mooed loudly at us as we passed.
- Aside from the evident awesomeness of Machu Piccu, one of my favorite parts about our visit there was the people watching. Seeing hoards of tourists of all ages and nationalities get hearded around by tour guides was highly entertaining.
After our whirlwind two weeks in Peru, it was time to head back to Ecuador. The wee village of Vilcabamba provided the perfect respite from the stresses of travel and the drone of big cities. The sleepy little village is quiet, relaxing, and surrounded by gorgeous mountains. Our 5 day stay in the Valley of Longevity (so called because of the high number of centenarians there) was not particularly eventful, which made it wonderful. German-owned Hosteria Izcayluma, 2k out of town, had comfy beds, plenty of hammocks, a variety of leisure activities, and a restaurant that had a panoramic view of the valley and served huge plates of excellent, cheap food. Ohhh, the food! We went straight for the German specialties (just a tad bit tired of rice, veggies, and white bread) and never looked back. Goulash. Stroganoff. Homemade spatzle. Mushroom sauce.
Oh, and we went hiking, too. Between our daily rounds of feasting we did manage to take in the natural splendor of the surrounding mountains. First up was a 4-hour hike along the ridge of Mandango, and oddly-shaped little mountain that rises above the village. After a hearty breakfast we set out into the hot, sunny morning and made our way up some steep switchbacks to the top of the ridge. 360 views of the surrounding valleys and villages, blue sky, blazing sun, soft green hills. We hike right along the ridge on a narrow trail (less than two feet wide in some spots, with fairly steep drops on either side). The little tufts of grass that cover the hills form interesting patterns in the surrounding landscape, which is dotted with cacti and agave. After a couple hours the trail leaves the ridge, passes through a farm with lots of cows, then intermittently dissapears as we follow a little stream. It had been raining alot in the days before we arrived, and parts of the trail are washed-out. An hour of scrambling through rocks and mud, and zig-zagging back and forth across the river. We make it back to the main road sweaty and hungry, and head back to the hosteria to make sandwiches for lunch, lounge in hammocks, play cards, relax, watch an afternoon thunderstorm.
Izcaylums seems to have monopolized on the trail system around Vilcabamba, having marked paths that loop around different parts of the surrounding area. There was a 6-hour hike to a waterfall that sounded appealing, but one of the girls who worked at the hostal told us it wasn´t all that great, but that there was a really cool spot where two rivers convege that we could hike to in about an hour. We could follow one of the marked trails to the spot where it meets up with the waterfall trail, check out the river, then continue on if we wanted. So we set out with map in hand, of through quaint little parts of the village, past houses and farms, over a few landslides (and one spot where the road had completely collapsed), down to one river, across a little footbridge, and into...someone´s yard. We slogged around through the tall, pointy grass that concealed the mud underneath, searching for the trail. No one was inside the house, so we poked around the back only to find a labrynth of banana trees and a fence. A mule brayed at us. We turned back. After some bushwhacking and a little scrambling we find what seems to be the trail, which we follow along until it too dissapears. We check the map again. We see where the trail should lead to, but there´s no way to get there. A steep drop-off and tall grass. After two hours of going nowhere we decide to turn back, feeling a little defeated. No river frolicking for us. Oh well...We head back to town for a burritos and ice cream, then back up the road to the hostal for more relaxation.
For Mike and me, Vilcabamba was our next-to last stop on our three month journey. We knew we wanted to head up to Cuenca for a few days before leaving from Quito, but it was hard to leave such a chill place. We debate about staying for another day, but ultimately decide we should move on. Because there had been so much rain, the roads to Loja and Cuenca had been riddled with landslides. There had been a break in the weather, though, so we waned to take advantage of passable roads while we could. During the 8-hour journey we definitely witnessed some sketchy areas (landslides, huge cracks in the road, chunks of road that were undercut and missing). The trip took and hour longer than it should´ve, but I´m glad we made it.
Now we´re kickin´it Cuenca, which is considered to be Ecuador´s finest city. Lovely colonial buildings, tiled roofs, cool markets and cafes. Sunday night we´ll take an overnight bus to Quito, spend a day in the city, and on Tuesday we´re off! Crazy...
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