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The little makeshift bar in the clouds along the Inca Trail

Day 3 hiking the Inca trail was the longest and more tiring day of all.  From our campsite at Pacamayo we hiked an hour up to the fantastic ruins of Runkuracay, a lovely sample of what was to come.  After stopping briefly to take some photos and a rest, we climbed up another forty-five minutes to the top of Abra de Runkuracay (at 13,123 feet/4,000 m) the second pass of the Inca Trail.

Next we headed down the steep steps (some of them original) of the Incas, trying to ignore the sharp pain in our knees while marveling at the intense beauty of our surroundings.  This was perhaps some of the most beautiful scenery of the hike.

An hour or two later, we followed a superbly designed stone staircase that lead us to  the second set of ruins called Sayacmarca which means “Inaccessible Town” and perfectly describes the location of these fabulous ruins which are protected on three sides by sheer, steep cliffs.

The hike continued down into a magical cloud forest awash with orchids, hanging mosses, tree ferns and flowers which passed through an intricate Inca tunnel carved into rock bringing us to the third pass at 12,139 feet/3700m.  After admiring some of the 20,000-foot-peaks off in the distance we arrived at the most impressive ruin so far, Phuyupatamarca which means “Town in the Clouds”.

Finally, a few hours descending down thousands of step, hostile steps we arrived wearily at our lodging for the night, The Trekkers Hostal, a crowded, party-like atmosphere for our last night on the trail before arriving in Machu Picchu at the crack of dawn.  Here are the photos along the way.

Our campsite at Pacamayo at 11,811 feet/3600m.  Given the altitude, we didn’t sleep well.  It was freezing cold inside our tents, even for me a die-hard Minnesotan!  Thank goodness I had a wool cap along.  I slept in my hat as well as everything that was packed inside my backpack, dirty or clean.  I covered my face beneath my sleeping bag to protect my frozen lungs and drifted fitfully asleep.

Setting off from our campsite en route to the ruins of Runkuracay.

View of our hidden campsite from the trail.  In the background you can see the rushing waterfall that provided us with water, makeshift showers and noise to help lull us to sleep.  Always welcome when you are sleeping in a crowded campsite.

The climb up to the ruins on original paving of the Inca Trail.  A lot of the trail had to be restored over the years yet there are still original stone steps and trails like here.  Being on the original trail felt much more surreal.  It was also surprising at times how narrow and small the steps are.   The Incas were fierce warriors yet also very short compared to the modern height of most humans (especially taller ones like me!).   The short, steep steps made it even more painful on the knees.

Up to the right are all that remains of the ruins of Runkuracay.  These small circular ruins occupy a commanding position overlooking the Pacamayo valley below, which most likely explains their strategic location.

What I found most fascinating about the hike today was the amount of ruins leading towards Machu Picchu.   Apparently, all of these ruins were built to act as forts and rest stops along the way fo the Inca couriers walking the trail to reach Machu Picchu.  Some of the ruins even had Inca Baths were the couriers could perform ritual worship of water.  To this day, it amazes me that the Inca trail was so well hidden, for our 400 years, from the Spanish.  What an amazing feat!

The difficult, back-breaking job of a porter climbing up the step path, usually in terrible footwear and carrying 62 pounds each.  Yet this was nothing in comparison to the mighty Inca couriers who wore sandals and likely carried heavier loads.

We finally reached the beautiful, mystical cloud forest of the high Andes and were surrounded by incredible orchids, hanging mosses, wild flowers and ferns.  It was paradise and a nice break from the hard climbing.

It is important to remember that the trekking can also be dangerous as evident from this mudslide that happened last week making the trails treacherous and slippery.

Some of the pretty wild orchids found along the trail.  There are thousands of varieties in the Peruvian highlands.

Heading up to the splendid third pass and the ruins of Phuyupatamarca or “Town in the Clouds” afforded in my opinion the most spectacular nature view of the entire trek….Unbelievable!  The 20,000 foot snow-capped peaks were covered in the clouds.

The clouds blanketed the mountains in a mysterious, spectacular way.

Finally, we reached the ruins of Phuyupatamarca or “Town in the Clouds”.  The aqueduct system still provides water to the ceremonial baths after hundreds of years, and the circular walls were constructed with amazing intricacy, a trademark of the Incas.

Leaving the ruins, you descend thousands of steep, narrow, perilous stairs but the view was worth the pain.

After lunch the sky started to fog up which meant only one thing:  Rain!  We knew it was very likely to happen so thankfully we were well-prepared with waterproof jackets.  The steps were becoming slippery and our knees were starting to throb.  Our guide Limas offered us a choice:  We could either continue down the treacherous, knee-throbbing stairs or take another route, one that is perhaps “the road less traveled”.  We opted to take the second option which brought us through forest and jungle.

Little did we know, the “road less traveled” ended up being quite an adventure in itself.  Not long into the hike, it began to pour cats and dogs.  We were completely soaked within minutes, even with our waterproof gear on.  Yet my hiking boots were filled with wet, cold water making each step rather squishy.

Our adventure thus began, with the feeling I was right smack in an Indiana Jones set.  The once-there-trail magically disappeared and we were left walking up a steep, muddy path through thick jungle, slipping and sliding the entire way. There were a few wipe-outs into the mud but we managed to laugh and joke.  We ended up lost for at least a half and hour and began to wonder whether or not we’d ever get out and find the Inca Trail again.  Luckily we had Limas with us and he was able to navigate the way out of the thick, wet foliage back onto the trail.

We breathed in a big sigh of relief as we saw our campsite off in the distance.  I would not have wanted to spend the night in the jungle!

We could see the muddy, earthen river flowing below through the valley.  Fortunately there are plenty of rivers along the trail to wash up.  We didn’t of course drink from the rivers yet our pots and pans were rinsed in them (which was a little frightening given the fact that I witnessed one of the porters peeing in the same river!).

Finally, after a long, tiring day we made it!  We joyfully arrived at the infamous Trekkers Hostal where I was delighted to find a little makeshift bar in the clouds.  There were showers (for a buck), a restaurant and best of all, beer!!!!  After three long days of rugged, body-aching trekking, nothing sounded better than an ice-cold beer along the Inca Trail.

My Dad and I celebrating our day with a delicious Cusquena known as the Gold of the Incas….indeed! 

Our entire group indulged in probably too many Cusquenas yet we had a fabulous time for our last night together.  I can’t think of any other bar in the world with a view as amazing and special as this one! Perhaps we had a little too much fun for our 5 am departure….yet “When in Rome!”

We went to sleep easily, exhausted and slightly drunk. Drinking beer at high altitudes is definitely NOT recommended. But we didn’t care for when on earth will we ever be able to drink Cusquenas in the clouds among the spell of the mighty, mysterious Incas? Never!

Stay tuned….next post is my last in this series and will feature the dawn arrival at the incredible Machu Picchu!!!!

Adventure Travel Peru TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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Day 2 Hiking the Inca Trail

Day 2 of the Inca Trail was to be the hardest day of the trek as we would be climbing up from Wayllabamba village for about three hours through gorgeous wooded forests and spectacular terrain to the treeline and lovely meadow known as Llulluchapampa at 12,073 feet/3680m. 

Then it takes another hour and a half of slow walking and short, heavy breathing to reach the highest point of the pass, known as Abra de Huarmihuanusca or “Dead Woman’s Pass” at 13,779 feet/4200m.  At this point in my life, it was the highest elevation I have ever been and I felt it.  My lungs struggled and each step upwards was grueling.  Looking back now after having gained more experience at altitude, I realized this trip didn’t really give my body enough time to fully acclimatize.  But I made it and didn’t get altitude sickness (some people do and if so, you need to descend back from where you came from and fast).

The day didn’t start off too well given our lack of sleep from the night before.  A few hours after we were happily tucked into our tents after beers, popcorn and laughs, we were reminded about our crazy accommodations right next to the old farmhouse.

At about two am, for a reason unbeknown to us, the group of stray dogs living outside starting barking in sync.  At first I was irritated and thought they’d stop after a few minutes, but then just when I thought we’d be going back to sleep in peace and quiet the good old donkey joined in the fun with his “hehaheha” right outside of our tent!  Well, that of course got the dog gang barking again along with the “hehaheha” and it was complete chaos.  Needless to say, we had to laugh but we certainly did get much if any sleep especially once the roosters started going off at 4:30 am when the sun began to rise.  What a night!

By 7am after a light breakfast of toast with jelly, hot chocolate and tea we were packed up and off for our grueling day.  Our campsite was at 8851 feet/2700m and would be climbing up to our highest point of the trek at 13,779 feet/4200m.

Leaving the campground, the scenery was spectacular.

The trees provided a nice shelter against the hot sun and began to change as we ascended higher up the trail.  The foliage was extremely green and lush, loaded with beautiful flowers and we could see several waterfalls off in the distance rumbling down the hills.

I was sweaty, tired but had a huge smile across my face for I was in my element and doing what I love best.

We took at short break before making our one and a half hour ascent to the highest point of the trail “Dead Woman’s Pass”.  I didn’t like the sound of the pass but by the sampling of the stunning scenery we were entering, I knew it would be heaven.

Our wonderful, hardworking porters took a rest for a moment.  They each carried 62 pounds on their back and made only $4/day.  I felt terrible about the low wages and heavy loads, yet this is a way of life for them and being a porter is actually a better job than farming.  It pays more and guarantees three meals a day.

Climbing up, up, up on the real Inca stone-carved steps that were placed here hundreds of years ago.  It was grueling work and slow going but exciting all the same. The scenery changed dramatically as we climbed higher as well as the temperature.  I continually put back on layers moving from shorts, to a long-sleeve shirt and finally hiking pants near the top.  The temperature also varied a bit depending on clouds, sun and wind.  Thank goodness for convertible hiking pants!

Finally, we made it!  My Dad and I are at the top!   The views were incredible!

We took a short break and our fellow Swiss man, a young guy named Johnny of course had to celebrate the Swiss way….with a bottle of wine!  He informed us that the Swiss always carry a bottle along for celebration at the top.  Whether or not this is true, I have no way of knowing but I thought it was a great idea!

Our group at the top feeling cold, tired and exhilarated to be here.

Swiss pride:  Not only do they carry a celebratory bottle of wine, they also bring their flag.  I was so impressed!

Feeling part of the gang.  It is amazing how quickly you develop friendships while hiking.  I truly enjoyed the people we met and we had so much fun talking about our unique lives and the differences.  Lots of laughs as well.

After a zillion pictures, a glass of wine and a rest, we were off again for the rest of our hike.  The descent from the pass was very steep but not difficult except for the pain in my knees.  We hiked down for about ten minutes until it was time for a much-deserved lunch.

Famished, we all thoroughly enjoyed another delicious lunch that was waiting our arrival.  The porters and cooks had passed us on the trail in order to get to our lunch spot ahead and have everything ready.  We ate hearty homemade corn soup and a veggie stir fry.

We only had an hour left of the hike until we reached our second night campsite is at Pacamayo at 3600m.  It was only 2:30 pm yet we were all completely worn out and ready for a break.  The campsite was beautiful with lush, tree-covered mountains surrounding us.  It was much higher than our first campsite so we felt a little bit of the altitude still.  I was extremely pleased because there was an actual toilet and shower at the campsite, a nice luxury after two days (much better than using the “toilet tent” with a hole in the ground….yuck!).  The shower was ice cold since it was fed by a neigboring river yet the shower made me feel clean.  The porters had even carried up a big surprise for us…..a few bottles of Argentine Red wine!  What a treat!

Our Swiss friends never seemed to make us smile and laugh.  They even put up their flag outside of their tent.  What a riot!

Our wonderful guide Limas and I stood for a photo just after sunset.  It was starting to get cold up here in the mountains but it was so incredibly lovely.  There were waterfalls, birds singing and the air was as fresh as could be.  This was heaven on earth in my book.

I sat down in my tent to write in my journal for awhile (these are the notes which I am now using, ten years later, to write this post!) and enjoyed the fantastic view.  What a place and so incredibly peaceful.  No wonder the Incas choose this trail to lead to their hidden, sacred temple.

As the sun set, I pondered on what an amazing country Peru is.  I felt sad that the people are so poor, and live on less than $125 a month.  It was hard for me to fathom how difficult these people’s lives are.  They work so hard for so little.  Yet they are so happy and so wonderful without all the material stuff we have.

Traveling like us for this kind of adventure or even leaving the country in itself is out of the question.  I felt so privileged to be here and pinched myself several times while marveling at the rugged, raw beauty of the Andes.  I told myself to remember what I’m seeing and what I’ve learned.  For we are so fortunate and so spoiled.  Never take anything for granted, that is for sure!

Adventure Travel Peru TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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The Bumpy Ride: Day 1 Hiking the Inca Trail

Four am came bright and early.  It was the third consecutive day of rising at ungodly hours and my body was starting to notice the lack of sleep.  I was exhausted beyond belief yet exhilarated for today was finally day one of trekking the ancient Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

The Inca Trail is part of the the incredible Inca road system which was the most extensive and advanced transportation system in pre-Columbian South America.  What makes this trek so incredible is its combination of awe-inspiring scenary, culture, and mystery.  For after four days walking, you rise at dawn and come upon the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu (before the tourists have arrived by train) and see the sight in all its glory.  An amazing experience!

We packed our gear for the four-day trip in the bright blue, ugly plastic knapsack provided by our tour company and to be used for our Quechua porters who would be carrying our gear for us along the trail.  Looking back, I much would have preferred that they carried our belongings in a large backpack as it felt inhuman to make them carry these makeshift packs, tied to their backs.  But I didn’t know and understand as much as I do now about trekking and the social obligations of humane treatment and respect of porters.  This was my first trek I’ve ever done and became the turning point for me in how I like to travel (i.e. by foot….the best way in my opinion).

We met our bus at 5 am, too early to really have any sort of breakfast, and boarded the jammed pack mini-bus which would take us to the start of the Inca trail.  Getting out of Cusco and its surroundings took forever.  We continually made stops to pick up other trekkers as well as our porters.

About half-way through the drive we stopped at a small, run-down village where we had a quick breakfast at a local tea house and then were rounded up to board another, much smaller bus.  We were a bit confused about why we were changing buses until we found out that the main highway to the Inca Trail was closed and we would need a smaller 1960s-styled bus in order to make the bridge crossings on the “detour” route.  I didn’t quite understand what they meant by that statement yet decided to just go with the flow.  Then, the adventure began….

Above is a photo of the village we stopped in for breakfast.  I could see the Andes mountains summoning me, hidden behind the low rising clouds in the background.

As often happens in a foreign country where there are language barriers, we had no idea why we were changing buses from the big to the small and then why we had to wait for thirty minutes on the bus before leaving.  It wasn’t explained until our cook finally boarded the bus, a half an hour later. 

There were five other people from all over the world, joining us on our four-day trek along the Inca Trail.  As the days went by, we would get to know each one of them quite well and were lucky to have a great group of people with no spoilers.  We also had a guide with us named Limas, our cook and several porters who were Quechua, the indiginous people of  Peru.  Apparently all the porters are farmers and do porter work on the side because it pays better at $4 per day and they are guaranteed to be fed three meals a day (reality check: the average salary in Peru was less than $1,000 a year…less than the cost of my trip).  Unfortunately none of the porters spoke English or Spanish making it impossible to communicate with them.  The local language of Peru is Quechua which was the official language until the Spanish conquistadors took over the country and brought along their Spanish language and culture.

As we proceeded along, the driver drove like a maniac, constantly honking his horn at any obstacle in his path from goat, donkeys, pigs and even people!  Then, a bit further out of the village I suddenly realized that the paved road had somehow magically disappeared and we were on some kind of rural, gravel road that was extremely bumpy and very narrow.

I tried not to think about any surprise encounters with an unsuspecting goat or worse yet, villager, and held my breath to fight the motion sickness that was engulfing my already queasy stomach.

Thankfully we couldn’t go very fast given the poor roads.  Our first bridge crossing was awaiting ahead.  One look at the size of the bridge made me instantly realize why the big bus had to go.  We would never have fit!

When we reached the bridge, our small bus came to an abrupt stop and all of the sudden I noticed the porters standing up and getting off the bus.  “Everyone out!”  Limas cried.  Confused, we got off the bus and were told to cross the bridge and wait on the other side.  It took me a minute to figure out the problem.

We never would have made it across with the extra weight of the passengers!  Culture shock!

We watched our bus, crossing our fingers that the bridge wouldn’t collapse and breathed a heavy sigh of relief once it successfully crossed.

The rest of the ride to KM 82, the start of the Inca Trail, was even crazier and it felt as if we were in some nutty movie scene.  The bus following us got stuck in a mud patch and then out went the porters who had to push and pull the old bus out to drier land.  The scene was hysterical.  The trials and tribulations of traveling in a third world country, huh.  And, Phew….another relief! 

We thought we were saved yet then came another bridge and another.  At this point, the road was hardly visible and we drove right next to the edge of a twenty foot drop into the river with only a foot on each side of the bus to spare.  What a way to go! I thought, anxious but trying to see the comedy in the situation.  Meanwhile a foreign woman started to scream “Let me off!” in her broken English.

Of course the road was a one-way and inevitably another bus was to come, which it did, causing us to back-up for ten minutes straight.  Everyone on the bus was quiet and had white knuckles by the time we reached KM 82, feeling relieved to get off this piece of sh*t.  The trip could only get better, we hoped.

Photo above of me, feeling sick to my stomach but relieved to be off that stinking bus and finally here, safe and sound. It was only 10 am and we had the whole day ahead of us!

My first impression of the area was one of awe and amazement.  I was struck by the absolute beauty of my surroundings and the remoteness and mystique.  The landscape was very lush and green with rugged mountains jetting up to the sky off in the distance.  If you strained your eyes further, you could see the craggy snow-capped peaks of the Andes bursting out of the clouds.  The entire place seemed surreal.  Like a fantasy-land.  No wonder the Incas chose this place to construct their sacred Machu Picchu. 

Finally a little past ten, we set off on our way trekking the famous Inca Trail which the Incas built hundreds of years ago. 

Our group included seven guests (3 Swiss, 2 Brits, plus my father and I Americans), our guide Limas, two cooks and five porters.  Apparently we lucked out with the small size of our group.  Normally there can be up to 18 trekkers which in my opinion would not be fun.  I prefer the smaller, more intimate groups when it comes to hiking.

The first part of the hike is through lush, tropical jungle and the gorgeous countryside did not disappoint.

We hiked for two hours, talking and laughing especially at the random passing of a wild pig on the trail (photo below) until we came upon a nice, grassy place for lunch.

Our cooks set up shop, making a fire and cooking us a fresh meal of homemade chicken vegetable soup and spaghetti with tomato sauce from scratch for lunch.  It was surprisingly good and everyone ate heartily while enjoying the views of the distant waterfalls.

Here are some views of our lunch spot:

With cloud cover….

With less clouds….we can almost see the snow-capped peaks sticking out in the distance.

After a delicious lunch, we packed up and were off again trekking.  The porters rushed ahead to get to our destination first so they could have our tents ready to go.  I was amazed by their speed, agility and strength, especially given that they were practically half my height!

The first day of the world-famous trek along the Inca Trail in Peru brings you to the fantastic hilltop ruins of Huillca Raccay. The Incas built this watch fort here since it offered the perfect view up and down the Urubamba Valley as well as the entrance to the Cusichaca valley, allowing them to watch for upcoming enemies and hold their turf.

At first sight, it looks intimidating, like some kind of ghost town. Yet when you close your eyes and imagine the powerful Incas living here and protecting their grounds, you get a surge of energy and excitement for the final day of the trek along the Inca Trail: The viewing of Machu Picchu, the most incredible Incan ruins in the world.

A closer look….

We continued on along the Inca trail rambling away with our new friends and learning about everyone’s unique life.  This is one of my favorite things about trekking.   The people you meet.

It felt surreal to be hiking along the very same trail the Incas made hundreds of years ago from scratch.  How on earth did they do it?  And how did they find this place?  The questions added to the mystery of the place and its aura. 

The sun slowly began to disappear behind the mountains.  We were surely approaching our campground for the first night.

Finally, after about 7.5 miles/12 km we set eyes on our first campsite for the night, an old rundown farm near a village called Wayllabamba.  Although the hiking wasn’t the least bit hard, we were all exhausted from the early rise and chaotic start to our day on the bus.

The porters got to work setting up our tents right outside this old, rustic farmhouse while the cooks set up a fire to start another home cooked meal for the group.  There was quite a ruckus that night trying to sleep through all the dogs barking and the farm animals squawking about.   We ate popcorn later and even enjoyed a Cuscuena (Peruvian beer) each, a rare treat as the porters had to carry it this far.  We sat up late talking, enjoying each others’ company and trying to believe we were in this place full of roosters, puppies, dogs and donkeys, en route to the magical Machu Picchu just as the Incas had done hundreds of years before.

Stay tuned…next post is Day 2 trekking the Inca Trail.

Adventure Travel Peru TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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Entranced in Iceland: A visit to the remote Skaftafell National Park: Part II The Hike

Enrapture me dear God

Captivate my soul

For thy am not worthy

For not believing in you so.

Enrapture me nature

Captivate my soul

For your beauty is eternal

And I will always love you so.

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We woke up to the sun casting her glorious light through the thin wool shades draping over the windows.   My heart smiled.  It was sunny!  Although I was tired from the long drive and late night meal, I could hardly wait to get up and put on my dirty hiking shoes and clothes.  It was going to be a grand day.  I could tell.

I jumped out of bed, walked over to the shade and pulled it gently aside.  It was picture perfect.  Not a cloud in the sky and the sun was beaming brilliantly across the verdant green hills.  I knew that this was going to be a day to remember.   One of those quintessential postcard-perfect days of hiking in Iceland.

Rise and Shine…what a perfect morning for a hike!  Picture below of the view outside our hotel window.

Setting off…

There are two options for lodging:  Either staying at the Hotel Skaftafell or camping (unless of course you want to sleep in your car!)

The vast sand deltas called sandars off in the distance remind you how remote you truly are.

The vast tongue of the ice cap appears to jet out from the sky.

It is barren, vast, remote yet so alive.  It feels like life and death are dancing together in perfect harmony.

The start of the hike is easy.  In fact, there is not much elevation gain.  Just walking and making sure you keep your eyes on the trail which is hard to do when you are completely awestruck by such incredible beauty.

The clouds roll in yet it doesn’t seem to dampen the beauty of this place.  In fact, perhaps the clouds even make it more magical and surreal.

The green rolling hills are lush and alive.

As we get higher you can see the meandering rivers created by the melting glaciers.

We keep hiking up through the fields of joy, having no idea what an incredible view is awaiting on top.

As we climb higher, we realize how truly out there this place is.  We are officially Lost in Iceland.  There is nothing but dead sandors for miles and serpentine rivers making their mark across the land as they have done for thousands of years.

As we approach the top of the overlook, we are anxious about what is to come.  Below we see the earth-colored remains from the terminus of the glacier.

We reach our destination and are completely in awe and disbelief.  The beauty of this place is breathtaking.  It is like no place on earth.

We spend a few moments here, awestruck and euphoric.  This is why we hike.  To  go down that road less traveled.  To see the things that make everything that is bad in the world seem good.  To see God’s creation in all its glory.

We wish we could stay here all day but unfortunately it is time to go.  Despite my desire to sit here and embrace this vast landscape until it is forever engrained in my mind, we must leave and finish our hike.

The hike continues in a loop around the monstrous terminus of the ice cap.  We walk up another brilliant, green landscape wondering what awesome view we will find next.

When we round the corner, we can tell we are in for a wonderful surprise.  The rolling hills stop as did the other hikers.  And, there it was, a massive, frozen mass of a glacier that shone in the sunlight like a gleaming, sparkling diamond of ice.

Next to the late summer greenery, it was absolutely stunning.

The remains of powder-puff flowers blow gently in the wind, reminding me of the wildness of this place.

It is hard to fathom that this is just one of many glacial tongues flowing off the mighty Vatnajokull ice cap.

The last view of a hike of a lifetime….from a trip that I will never forget!

Stay tuned…next post will be about my last day in Iceland and a visit to the Blue Lagoon!

Adventure Travel Iceland TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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Entranced in Iceland: A visit to the remote Skaftafell National Park: Part I The Arrival

After a day of driving filled with natural wonders, I couldn’t wait to finally reach remote Skaftafell National Park.  Europe’s largest and perhaps grandest national park is a hiker’s delight filled with awe-inspiring glacial tongues, waterfalls, twisted birch trees, verdant grass, and the crème de la crème, the aquamarine Vatnajökull at it’s glory.

As you get further along in the drive, there is nothing but glaciers and the haunting dead, black sand deltas known as sandars juxtaposed against the brilliant green-covered hills and plains.  It is quite a sight to see!  Life against death could never be so sensationally beautiful. 

We pull into our lonely hotel, Hotel Skaftafell (the ONLY hotel for hours) close to dinner time.  The undistinguished hotel has 63 small, clean rooms.  There is nothing luxurious about this place.  However, unless you want to camp, it is the only option.

Here is a photo of Hotel Skaftafell which in my opinion looks a little more like a military base than a hotel.

A glimpse of the hotel from above.  Note there is nothing in the horizon except the sandars, the brownish, gray or sometimes black sand deltas.

Looking the other direction outside of our hotel room is a lovely view of what awaits….

As you walk a bit further behind the hotel, you are suddenly and surprisingly encountered by Svinafellsjokull, another gigantic glacier lurking off the immense ice cap:

Looking back again on the hotel, you can see and feel the remoteness of the place.  Lost in Iceland, is anybody out there?

After a fine dinner (nothing fancy, but wholesome good food and of course at a price, given our remoteness), we head out again for a short hike beyond the hotel.  For some reason, I love this picture of my dad walking off into the distance.  It is mysterious, magical and intimidating all at the same time.   Also, it is about 10:30 pm….and it is still light!

And this is what we find…..

The sun slowly dips behind the clouds and it is almost bedtime.  We have a big day ahead of us of hiking and exploring this unbelievable land.  I can hardly wait!

Goodnight glacier…we will see you tomorrow!

Stay tuned….next post will show the outrageously spectacular photos of our day hike in Skaftafell National Park.  A hike of a lifetime!

Adventure Travel Iceland TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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A Hike in Hengill: A land awash in geothermal wonders

A short distance off the Ring Road along the Golden Circle tour (see earlier post:  Searching for Gold in the Golden Circle) is a fabulous afternoon hike in one of Iceland’s lesser-known spots:  Reykjadalur or the “Smoky Valley”.  Upon arriving at the head of the trail, it is instantly obvious where the name “Smoky Valley” came from:  All the pillars of steam and smoke spiraling up into the sky!

Reykjadalur is a typical Icelandic natural wonder.  The valley is surrounded by geothermal activity.  There are bubbling mud pools, venting steam, boiling hot springs, and if you bring your swim suit, a natural hot pool at the top of Mount Oklelduhnukur.  All this in a couple of hours hike!

As we pulled off the Ring Road and headed into Hengill towards the start of the hike, we were utterly stunned to see a real live golf course in the middle of this incredibly active geothermal valley!  Can you imagine playing golf in the midst of steaming vents and gurgling mud pools?  What if you ball rolled into one?  Would you pick it out or add a point to your score?

Here is a photo of the golf course in the “smoky valley”….Fore!

At the head of the trail:  Feeling a little uneasy about hiking through all this crazy stuff!  But “When in Rome”!

Setting off on the two-hour hike.  Easy, right.  Yet a bit on edge about all the natural hazards:

There is even a sign to remind you!

Not a great picture yet it illustrates the perils of this hike!  Plus it shows the surreal experience of hiking through steam.

We were soon passed by a couple of hardy Icelanders, dressed in swimsuits and carrying their towels, on a race to the top for a quick dip in the hot pools.    But the REI group (in picture below) couldn’t pass us!

Looking down below at the boiling, bubbling stream:

The views of the “Smoky Valley” are stunning and quite different from other parts of Iceland that I have seen.

The “Smoky Valley” is stunning!  Look at the color of the black rock juxtaposed to the verdant, green valley.  Incredible!

The end of the hike…we made it without any mishaps!

Soon after our hike, we were back in the car en route to Reykjavik.  All I could think about was what an amazing day it had been!  The Golden Circle tour was quite magical and the hike definitely let off some steam.  I was looking forward to another fabulous dinner, a good night sleep and my next adventure.

As I closed my eyes, I reflected on my day and came to the obvious conclusion that Iceland, the land of fire and ice, is a land of pure wonder and dreams.

Stay tuned….Next post will cover the highlight of my trip to Iceland.  A drive along the coast and visit to the remote, serene Skaftafell National Park.

Adventure Travel Iceland TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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Hike to Cerro Torre

The small alarm clock beeped incessantly for at least a minute until I turned it off, groggy and cold.  It was already past seven o’clock and I was surprised that I slept “in” so long.  To my dismay, there was no beam of light shining through the thick woolen curtains.  Just darkness.  There were no birds singing their beautiful songs, only the sound of the nearby llama grunting and the thunderous footsteps of other trekkers clomping past our room.

Despite my heavy meal and multiple glasses of cherry red wine, I slept poorly which was surprising given the extreme fatigue and exhaustion my body felt from the successfully completed eight hour hike.  Then I remembered the reason:  That late night thumping, crashing and booming of techno music from down the street.  I thought being in an extremely small town, in the middle of nowhere guaranteed peace and quiet throughout the night.  Obviously I was dead wrong!  Apparently there is a disco several blocks down the street that is open until 4 am and it is usually wall to wall people every weekend night.   I had to remember that I wasn’t twenty anymore; in fact perhaps this was a sign that I was getting old!  Yet I was still cranky that morning, not having enough sleep and not seeing the sun shine through the window.  I desperately needed a hot cup of strong, rich java.

Today’s hike was to another famous landmark, Cerro Torre.  Cerro Torre and Fitz Roy are two of the most formidable mountaineering feats in the world due to their steep, upwards granite spikes that seem to swirl up into the air like a giant tornado.  I learned that mountain climbers from all over the world come to El Chalten, where they base themselves for weeks and even sometimes months waiting for the one or two days possible to summit the peaks.  The weather there is that unpredictable.  The summits are that dangerous as well.

I’ll never forget the story Fabricio, our Argentine guide, told us about that perilous climb.  He said that two young men in their twenties, at the height of life and oblivious to the fact that they were not invincible (which we all believe we are in those prime years of youth and discovery) had set out to summit Mount Fitz Roy.  The weather was excellent when they started out but somehow it turned from bad to worse and the two young men were trapped on top of the mountain in insanely strong winds and whiteout conditions.  They tried their best to get down but unfortunately there was a tragic accident and the rope to one of the climbers was clipped on a jagged, razor-sharp rock.  He stumbled hundreds and hundreds of feet to his untimely death, devastating his climbing companion and the entire climbing community.  It brought a cold chill to my bones thinking about how fragile our lives can be and how quickly things can change in Patagonia.

The hike to Cerro Torre is not as long or difficult as the haul up to Fitz Roy however, it is supposedly equally as beautiful and pristine.  We were obviously not as fortunate weather-wise as the day before.

Photo of Day Three hike, much colder.  The weather had changed.  A storm passed through over the night and the strong, gusty winds brought in cooler air and snow a fresh memory of the winter to come for me at home in Minnesota:

The sky was misty, a typical day in Patagonia.  We realized how much we had lucked out the day before with the crystal blue sky and cloudless day.  A rare treat in Patagonia, that is for sure.

A new couple joined our group, Ricardo and Illaria, newly-weds from Milan, Italy.  Rici was a true gem, a rare find of humor, self-deprecation and intelligence.  Exactly the kind of person I love to meet on a hike!  The four of us talked for hours, sharing stories about our lives and cultures.

One of the best things about hiking in another country is the people you meet.  Usually they are just as wild and crazy as you are and there is always a place they’ve discovered that you’ve never been to….yet.  I could talk about traveling for hours and truly loved to meet others as passionate as me!  My mind was racing as I secretly plotted out my next adventures, hoping my husband wouldn’t find it as an excuse to tie me to a chair.   It was obvious to me that a true wanderlust will never be satisfied with their desire to see the world.  It is a passion that is never-ending and one I hope to someday instill on my young children’s hearts.

As the hike progressed, the visibility worsened and it got really, really bone-chilling cold.  Again, it was nothing at all like the twenty below zero tundra of late January in Minnesota.  Yet still it was very damp and cold which made hiking rather unpleasant.

We reached the end of our hike, freezing and slightly disappointed that the weather had not improved.  The end of the hike was supposed to offer a fabulous view of Cerro Torres but it was hidden in the clouds.  We could barely see the glacier at end of lake, too bad!

Needless to say, it was a very cold place for a picnic lunch.  We sat on the cold, hard glacial stones in silence while we devoured our avocado, chicken and tomato sandwich.  A few handfuls of mixed nuts and morsels of French chocolates helped warm me up:

Despite the fog, the view was incredibly lovely of the glacier and icebergs and once again it was a phenomenal place to refill our water bottles.  The water was so pure, it was outrageous and tasted delicious.

We proceeded directly back to our hotel to warm up and rest (of course over a warming glass of red wine).

That evening, we had one of our best meals ever in Argentina at the little inn next door.  The owner had built the first building in this town 25 years ago and the place was full of black and white photos of his inn, the mountains and nothing else.

It was our last night in the tiny town of El Chalten.  I was feeling rather nostalgic about it.  It was a place that you only can experience in a dream; it is like nowhere else I’d ever been.  What amazed me the most about it was how it had managed to survive, all these years, so far away and in such an extreme environment.

As we left on the one bus out of town, passing through the old, tin buildings on the long, rustic street that lead to Ruta 40 and back to El Calafate, I thought of an old proverb I had heard about Patagonia.  Once you’ve been there, you’ll always come back.  I trusted those words to be true.

Adventure Travel Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking
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El Chalten: The End of the World

The flight down to El Calafate takes about five hours non-stop from Buenos Aires.  It is hard to believe that Argentina and Chile stretch for so many miles from north to south (Chile is an extremely long country covering 2,653 miles from north to south while Argentina is slightly shorter at 2,268 miles from north to south).  During the flight south you can really capture the amazing distance between the two ends of the country as the landscape and geography dramatically change from lush, green farmland and pastures to barren, wind-blown, flat pampas and jagged, snow-capped mountains and glaciers.  It is like going from one extreme to the other and the change is quite startling.

We left for Calafate early in the morning.  It was almost 30 degrees Celsius in Buenos Aires that morning and we were sweltering hot in t-shirts and pants.  As we descended into El Calafate, the landscape had dramatically changed from vibrant greens to dusty browns and the wind was so incredibly fierce that the plane bounced around like a flying rollercoaster.  Having traveled to southern Patagonia before, I was prepared this time for the hair-rising landing into windy, turbulent Patagonia.  My stomach still dropped and my palms still sweat, but I knew that this was to be expected because Patagonia is by far one of the windiest places on earth. 

The airport was located in a flat, open plain with little vegetation and little to see.  El Calafate, which is named after the calafate berry which is prominent in this part of the world, is a small, tourist-based town that does not have much to offer besides a strip of overpriced restaurants, shops and hotels.  Most tourists use it as a launching off point to visit the world-famous Perito Moreno Glacier or some of the remote, yet priceless National Parks that surround the glaciers and craggy mountains in Chilean and Argentine Patagonia.  There has been much debate over which Patagonia is better and as someone who has been to both sides, I find them both equally magnificent.  Realizing how important the spectacular landscape of Patagonia could be for the invaluable, lucrative tourism industry, both Chile and Argentina have fought for control over the land resulting in a funny, dotted and somewhat jagged line on the map splitting up Patagonia into a horizontal jigsaw puzzle from north to south.  Yet somehow it manages to work.  I learned quickly that you should never discuss this with the natives, however, as it is still a sensitive, thorny subject.

Once in the town of Calafate, we had time for a short lunch where we met a representative from our tour operator, Cascada Expedicionnes (the company I used several years before during our trek in Torres del Paine) and then headed off to the small, rundown bus station at the end of town where we would enter into the next leg of our long journey, a three and a half hour bus ride through the vast pampas and nothingness, until reaching the tiny outpost of a town, El Chalten:  One of the last frontiers before heading off into Los Glaciares National Park. 

There was only one bus a day to El Chalten, which left at 6:30 pm and arrived by 10 o’clock.  As expected, the bus station was jam packed with Gortex and backpack clad trekkers all heading to the same tiny village at the foot of the stunning, massive Mounts Fitz Roy, Cerro Torre and Puntiagudo.    

The bus was remarkably silent for being so full.  Perhaps the others were just as tired as us.  There was nothing to really see and nothing to really say so we just sat back and tried to enjoy the long, bumpy ride.  We stopped about half way along the way at the tiny one-building/hotel town of La Leona, which is the infamous hideout of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  There was absolutely nothing there except a hotel, a ranch and the tourist propaganda.   (This picture below represents THE town.  Sign indicated directions to all countries from that point). 

We boarded the bus after a fifteen minutes break and were on our way.  The sun began to set across the vast, flat pampas and the bus was completely silent for the remainder of the ride.

We arrived in El Chalen at night in the dark.  It first appeared as a glimpse from the distance.  It was black all around.  Total darkness except for the soft light coming from the bus headlights, bouncing off the barren landscape and empty pavement.  No street lights.  No cars.  Nothing.  Just darkness. 

Then there it was.  First a twinkling of light.  Then as we approached, more.  Several old fashioned lampposts lined the streets of the small mountain town, an outpost, at the end of the world.  It reminded me of some kind of Hollywood movie set for an old western film that used to run on TV in the middle of the night.  It was like no place I’d ever been; it didn’t feel real.

The bus drove down the one and only street, slowly passing rustic shops, restaurants and small, dated hotels until in no time it reached the makeshift bus station, a small, basic backpackers’ hostel.  We got off the bus, with knees aching and fatigue setting in, to find our host, Diego, smiling and welcoming us to the car.  We drove the short distance to our small, basic hotel, El Puma, and settled into our room.  But our night could not end without a much necessary bottle of deep, ruby red Malbec and a conversation with Diego about the hikes planned for the next few days.  I was looking forward to exploring this mysterious, remote land.  When I reached the room, I had no problem drifting suddenly and soundly asleep into a blissful, restful sleep.

Adventure Travel Argentina TRAVEL BY REGION Trekking/Hiking