Category Archives: South America

The Glorious Sunrise over Machu Picchu

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Our last night sleeping on the Inca Trail was a night to remember (or forget depending on how much you had to drink!).  The party began at 4:30 pm as our group gathered for our Incan Golds atop the overlook in Winay Wayna which means “forever young” in Quechua.  We drank our beloved beers, laughed, talked and enjoyed each other’s company along with the other hundred or so guests for the night at the Trekker’s Hostal located at only 8858 feet/2700m.

The Trekker’s Hostal was no paradise but after three days trekking and sleeping in a tent, it was nice to have at least a western toilet (instead of the detested, stinky toilet tent), cold beer (which the porters carried up three hours on their back from the nearest town), and music which unfortunately played until 11 pm.  I tried my best to go to bed early but it was impossible to sleep since we were right next to the bar filled with revelers singing their hearts out to American rock.  But I knew our 4 am wake-up came awfully early and I was finally beginning to lose steam after so little sleep on this trip.

The noise slowly stopped and I fell into a deep sleep until my rude awakening at the crack of dawn.  The sun was hardly up, and it was pitch black save the moonlight shining down upon us.  I dressed quickly, ate a hearty breakfast and snapped a few fabulous pictures trying to capture the beauty of the sun rising over the Andes.  If only I had a better camera! I cried.   Here are some photos and documentary along the way.  Day 4 trek to Machu Picchu.

5 am:  Our last day of the trek to Machu Picchu.  Picture of the sun rising over the mighty, snow-capped Andes Mountains.

5:30 am departure:  We were on a race to cover the short distance of an hour and a half in order to reach Machu Picchu at the peak of sunrise and before the busload of tourists (who didn’t do the trek there) arrived and spoiled the view.

We left quietly and quickly into the darkness trying hard to watch our step carefully.  Below is a picture of the Trekker’s Hostal below in the distance. What a fantastic location!   Unbelievable.

The last hour of the hike to Machu Picchu was spectacular.  It was so incredibly peaceful and tranquil.  I tried not to talk much and indulge myself in the beauty of this magical place.  I listened to the birds singing softly while the sun rose over the lush, verdant mountains.   I closed my eyes and realized that this is why I do it, why I trek.  It isn’t the accomplishment of climbing a mountain or finishing a multi-day trek that is important to me, it is the peace and serenity that I achieve with my inner being and soul that is priceless.  For I am in my element and doing what I love best in life.

We are approaching the final turn in the trail that would bring us to our destination:  To the lost city of the Incas known as Machu Picchu, hidden by the world until their amazing discovery in 1911 by Yale archaeologist Hiram Bingham.

Then as we turned the corner, we suddenly saw it:  The glorious lost city of the Incas perched high atop a ridge at 7,834 feet/2400m in the Andes.  The first sight of Machu Picchu was breathtaking and absolutely spectacular.  We made it just as the sun was to rise above the blanketed peaks of the mighty Andes.

After four days of hiking through jungle, cloud forests, and steep, stone stairs, the sight of Machu Picchu took my breath away and made my heart melt.  I could immediately see why the Incas choose this remote location.  It was incredible.

As we approached the ruins, we had no time to stop and marvel at its beauty and mystique because we knew that the buses of tourists were loading up below in the nearby town of Aguas Calientes and soon our private viewing of the site would be over.

The place was astounding and I could hardly believe my eyes.  How the Incas built such an amazingly, intricate city located in such a remote, mountainous area is beyond belief and a miracle.

A panoramic view of the site.  The Incas chose the most remote, sacred part of the Andes to build Machu Picchu.  The high mountains form a natural open valley with a perfect perch in the midst where they could build their shrine.  Machu Picchu was built on a rocky enclave with steep, thousand foot drops off the side making it difficult to reach and impossible to see from the nearest town, Aguas Calientes, located thousands of feet below.  No wonder the Spanish never found it, leaving it hidden for over 400 years. An amazing feat!

On the righthand side is the perilous Huayna Picchu, a beautiful mountain that offers stunning and views from a different angle of Machu Picchu which is 400 m below.  Climbing it however takes some serious guts since it is extremely steep and there are no guard rails…..climb at your own risk!  Yet of course the view is absolutely stunning!

It had rained the night before and thankfully cleared up enough to give us excellent, picturesque views of the mountains and of course, Machu Picchu.  I found the low hovering clouds to be lovely.

Finally around 7:30 am we arrive at Machu Picchu with very few tourists.  The beauty of doing the visit on foot!  (The gates do not open to the public until later meaning trekkers have a huge advantage since they can arrive before the crowds).

We made it!  My dad and I at Machu Picchu in November of 2001.

I could not stop taking pictures of the ruins.  It was so incredible.  Apparently only 10% of the ruins were visible when Bingham discovered the site and it took many years until all of Machu Picchu was uncovered.  Persistence paid off!

Our guide Limas gave us a detailed tour of the site and we stopped to take a picture of at the intricately carved stones.  How did they accomplish such an amazing feat of architecture?  It must have taken hundreds of men and years to build.

As the clouds blew in, it enhanced the mystical feeling of this amazing place.  There are so many unanswered questions and many things we will never know.

I stood in awe and amazement as I took this picture.  It is by far my favorite of the entire trip because it illustrates the incredible mystique of Machu Picchu.

After touring the ruins, we took our lives at hand and climbed the short, yet difficult peak of Huayna Picchu.  I had heard and read that the views from atop were the best of Machu Picchu.  Yet the hike up was pure hell and scared the wits out of me.  It didn’t help that our guide informed us of the unfortunate tourist who fell thousands of feet to his death while he was climbing Huayna Picchu. 

It was rough going up.  Thank God there were metal chains and ropes to hold on to for extra support and safety.  As I mentioned before, there were no guard rails and if you made one wrong step, you would fall thousands of feet to your untimely death.  I’m not sure whether or not this has changed over the last ten years, but this kind of safety mishap would never fly in the US (where we have more lawyers than we know what to do with!).  I wasn’t sure why I did the climb, but when I got to the top I realized it was worth the pain and the fear.

The view below of Machu Picchu blew me away.  Incredible!

I’m king of the world….well, not really, but it was fun to believe for a moment (especially for all those Titanic fans!).

I was relieved to head down to the safety of the ruins and flatter land.

Meanwhile the tourists began to arrive.  I was so happy we had arrived early and got so many spectacular “tourist-free” pictures.

After our visit to Macchu Picchu was over, we arrived safely down in Aguas Calientes feeling grimy, dirty and exhausted.  Yet we were excited to find a nice place to eat.  Thankfully neither of us got sick along the way (a few of our friends got a bad case of the runs….definitely no fun when there are no bathrooms!). I was happy to avoid any stomach mishaps and glad to be heading back to Cusco where I’d get a nice hot shower.  It was going to be heavenly after four days gathering dirt and grime.

The town:  This picture isn’t the best (my eyes are closed) but I thought it was worth sharing since it shows the poverty of the place.  This is Aguas Calientes, the town located a couple thousand miles below Machu Picchu and a launching off point to see the ruins.

The poverty

I recalled a story our guide Limas told me along the way.  As a young boy growing up in the mountains of Peru, he lived in a rural village with no electricity and little material goods.  He had to walk almost two hours to school each day, which thankfully for him, he spent studying (yes, while he walked).  The other boys from his village used the walk to horse around and those were the ones that never left the village.  Education was only required up until age 12 and most children just simply dropped out.  It is an unfortunate reality for many rural Peruvians who grow up uneducated and poor.  Yet, their strong culture and pride remain and still continue to inspire us.

Peru is a place I’ll never forget!

Stay tuned….I’m dusting out my files and hope to write about another fabulous trip.  Not sure yet whether it will be Australia, Argentina, Chile or New Zealand.   It all depends on what inspires me at the moment.  Thanks for reading! thirdeyemom

The little makeshift bar in the clouds along the Inca Trail

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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!!!!

Day 2 Hiking the Inca Trail

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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!

The Bumpy Ride: Day 1 Hiking the Inca Trail

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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.

Unraveling Cusco: The Heart of the Inca Emprire

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We woke up day number 2 of our trip at the crack of dawn once again.  Our 6 am flight at the Lima airport required an early check-in since apparently flights in Peru are notorious for leaving early. Thankfully, I had read the guide book and knew this advance.  The plane left twenty minutes before its scheduled departure!

The flight to Cucso was only one hour which made it hard to sleep.  I was able to get a few shots out the window and thought excitedly about the journey ahead to the Andes.  I love mountains and couldn’t wait for the trek.

Cusco is known as the heart of the Incan Empire and was founded in the 13th century where the Incas ruled until their tragic defeat by the Spanish in 1532.  Located near the Urubamba Valley in the midst of the Andes mountains, it has an alarmingly high altitude to the newly acquainted tourist:  11,200 feet/3,400 m.

In 1983, it was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO and serves today as a major tourist destination and launching off point to the sacred Inca Trail and Machu Picchu.

As we made our descent into the Cusco airport, I was alarmed with my palms sweating full force.  Due to the high altitude and precipitous location of the town, the pilot had to do some crazy maneuvering over the 12,000-foot high mountains and at one point it felt like we would make a crash landing right into the mountains!  I was completely freaked out. Just when I thought it was over, the pilot swerved violently, making a rapid, frightening decent into the steep valley where the airport was perched at a mere 11,000 feet. I felt faint but recovered most likely once I realized that after I pinched myself, I was alive.

If you have never landed in a high altitude place, it is a strange, discomforting feeling.  Normally, you have time to adjust and acclimatize to the altitude of a place. For example, if you are driving out west in the United States to the Colorado Rockies, you slowly ascent and get used to the altitude.  But this is not the case in the height of the Andes Mountains!  I felt the 11,000 or so feet instantly after exiting the plane. My young, twenty-eight-year-old body felt winded and breathless.

Thankfully, a driver and representative from our tour company, Andean Life, was there at the airport to meet and greet us. He went by the name of Timothy and most likely reached my armpits (the indigenous people of Peru are quite short, especially compared to a tall American woman).  We were once again welcomed by a live Peruvian band which woke us up out of our stupor.  Timothy lead us to the modest car, and loaded our luggage in the trunk.  I sighed with relief knowing that everything was safe and got in the back seat of the small car with my dad.

My first impression of Cusco was one of amazement.  It is a fascinating, old and outright grimy city in the valley of the spectacular Andes mountains. Once again, the poverty of the place was instantly noticeable, much more so than in Lima.  Being in central Cusco felt like stepping back one hundred years in time.

The houses were very old and dirty. The roads were bumpy and awash with scum. There were no signs of luxury except for the majestic cathedral which was probably THE most impressive cathedral I’d ever laid eyes on (this is a big statement given the fact that I’ve spent years traveling throughout Europe and have seen a lot of impressive cathedrals). I think what stuck with me most was the fact that the Spaniards literally tore down the Incan Empire and placed their Catholic Church right on top of it, and adorned it with the most amazing, impressive Silver and Gold-encrusted altars that I’ve ever seen. This kind of beauty and wealth juxtaposed to such poverty seemed to me like an outright crime.

Timothy brought us directly to our hotel a lovely authentic place called El Balcon located in the heart of the Incan Empire, Cusco.  Here is a picture of my dad carrying his “luggage” (we were requested to pack everything for our trek in a duffel bag) outside of the hotel, El Balcon (or “the Balcony”).

Photo of the street leading from the main square to our hotel.

We were warmly welcomed by the owner of our hotel, a Quechua woman who spoke no english or spanish whatsoever.  We gingerly climbed the one flight of stairs, stopping to catch our breath at every step and came upon this view of the rooftops and the courtyard garden below from the large balcony spanning the width of the hotel.

Our room was spartan but clean and served its purpose for the night.  We would be guaranteed a good nights sleep in this peaceful place yet were to be rudely awakened the next day at 4 am to start our travel to the start of the Inca Trail.

The balcony was gorgeous and intricately carved reminding me somewhat of the gorgeous balconies we saw in Lima but on a more casual construction.  We were offered some coca-leaf tea, a common drink in the high Andes, which is supposed to relieve altitude sickness.  The tea tasted remarkably good.  Yes, the coca leaves are derived from the coca tree, the same plant as cocaine.  However, there is less than 0.4% trace in the tea and it is a common drink in the high altitude Andes countries.  (No, I didn’t get a high from it but it did reduce my headache slightly).

I was fascinated by the beautiful red rooftops and couldn’t get enough pictures of them.  I also loved the dramatic mountains in the background which offered a promise of the beauty that was to come.

The city of Cusco with a shot of the main square and cathedral in the background.  Hard to believe that this village was once the stronghold of the great Incan Empire that now ceases to exist.

After a brief rest and more coca tea, we decided it was time to explore the town.  Timothy would be our guide for the afternoon.  But first we were going to walk around a bit and grab some lunch. Here is a photo of me (mind you, ten years younger) holding the map to this mysterious city.

We ate lunch in the building on the right, outside on an old bright blue, wooden balcony.  We lavished in a delicious red beet salad and delightful pizza, a bit surprised by the level of international cuisine in a town that seemed so impoverished.  The beggars seemed to be missing a bit from Cusco.  Perhaps we were just in the wrong part of town.

After lunch we met up with Timothy, our guide for the afternoon, and headed to the main square, Plaza des Armes (aren’t they all called that in Latin countries!).  Below is a picture of the main cathedral, the Cathedral of Santo Domingo that was one of the most impressive piece of architecture I’ve ever seen.  Inside, there are two dramatic altars, each one at least 100 feet hight, soaring to the sky, and one of the altars is completely embossed in silver (an amazing sight).  The cathedral was built in 1654 taking almost one hundred years to complete, and was literally built smack on top fo the remains of Corichancha, an Incan temple torn down by Spanish colonists.

This picture below is of another, smaller catholic church in the Plaza des Armes, the Iglesia de la Compania de Jesus, a rival church to the cathedral.

Larger picture of the Plaza des Armes.

It was amazing to be in a place with so much history and so much tragedy.  I reflected a bit on the defeat of the great Incan Empire and the spread of christianity throughout South America.  It felt so unjust.

After our tour of central Cusco, we headed to another part of town, where the only remaining Incan ruins still stood.  These ruins are called Sacsayhuaman (which made me laugh as the guide pretty much called them “Sexy Woman”).  The walled complex located on the northern outskirts of Cusco are a rare find.  Like many other constructions made by the Incas, Sacsayhuaman is made without mortar.  Each boulder was carefully cut, polished and fit together as seen in this picture below.  An amazing feat of architecture!

To demonstrate the size of these stones…here is my silly dad.  There is much debate among scholars how the Incas moved and worked these stones to complete this amazing structure.

After our tour of the ruins, we headed back to our van.  I couldn’t help but notice a local shepherd in the distance, herding his sheep and working the old-fashioned way.

The view of Cusco from Sacsayhuaman is absolutely stunning.  The old Inca Empire in all her glory.

As we approached our awaiting van, of course there was a market located directly across from the parking lot.  The locals were selling all sorts of Peruvian goods such as handicrafts and blankets for next to nothing.

Then there were the local children offering you a “Kodak moment” for a buck.  Although I felt guilty encouraging child labor, I couldn’t resist taking the shot.  The only one smiling is the laughing llama.

Then I got the whole family in traditional dress.  Cost?  Priceless.

We climbed back the meager flight of stairs, breathless and exhausted beyond belief by the last two days of travel and adventure.   I climbed into my thin cot, pulled over the wool covers and was out as a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.  For tomorrow was going to be yet another day of extreme adventure and fatigue.  But I was ready…

Stay tuned….next post documents Day 1 trekking the world-famous Inca Trail.

“Lovely” Lima

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We woke up early, feeling like a disgruntled employee.  We hadn’t slept a wink after our “rough entry” (see preceding post) into Peru.  Yet, on the bright side, we had the entire day ahead of us to explore Lovely Lima, my first visit to a South American capital.

Lima is the capital and largest city in Peru.  It has approximately 9 million residents in the metro area, making Lima the fifth largest city in Latin America (after Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro).  Like her Latin compatriots, Peru has the all to familiar history of an indigenous population taken over by Spanish Colonial rule.  On January 18, 1535 “la Ciudad de los Reyes” or the “City of Kings” was founded by Francisco Pizarro, a Spanish conquistador, who earlier defeated the powerful Incan ruler Atahualpa and overtook his empire.  The Spanish influence can be seen everywhere—in the lovely architecture of the buildings, cathedrals, and homes, as well as the Spanish language, religion and culture.

A perfect way to see a huge city like Lima quickly is by doing hiring a driver and doing a private tour.  After our experience last night, being mugged only forty minutes after being inside the country, we felt like a private tour was an excellent choice.  Our hotel, Hotel las Americas (a five-star hotel for a mere $75/night…remember this was ten years ago, but still!), arranged an English-speaking driver and guide named Pablo for our half-day tour of the city.

Note:  These photos are incredibly grainy and poor quality.  They were taken over ten years ago with my cheap camera and had to be scanned so I could include them in the post.  Please ignore the quality and use them only as a reference! 

Above is a picture of me and our driver/guide Pablo.  We felt honored to be in one of the nicest, cleanest cars in Peru.  Yet, we were also constantly aware that we could be seen and viewed as an easy target so we opted to not carry along anything valuable.

We first headed to visit the main square in town, Plaza des Armes/Mayor and then headed over to the beautiful, famous St. Martin Square.  The Spanish colonial architecture was stunning.

Photo below of the Plaza Mayor (or Plaza de Armas):  Lima’s administrative and political center which contains the Government Palace, City Hall, Cathedral and Palace.

The Government Palace:

The Cathedral:

A walk around the Plaza revealed the gorgeous, intricate architecture from the Spaniards.  This is where we first saw the famous balconies, a major feature of Lima’s architecture during the colonial period.

Photos of the amazing, spectacularly carved balconies:

Church balconies:

The Convent of San Fancisco (XVII Century):

The gorgeous gardens outside of the convent:

A perfect view of solitude:

St. Martin Square:

My black shoes were looking rather dirty and dingy as the shoe shiner pointed out.  I would normally never get a shoe shine (never have before!) yet for twenty cents, what the heck…when in Rome!

After the tour, we drove over to one of the main artists square where I purchased a lovely painting that is still hanging in my house today.  Here is a picture of the square:

The day was finished with dinner and a beer at one of the local restaurants nearby our hotel.  Our food was fine yet what wasn’t fine was the beggar woman walking directly outside our window nestling a baby in her arms and nursing, while her hand was out asking for money.  Of course, I felt completely awful to see this kind of poverty while we were inside drinking wine and eating a fine meal.  However, the restaurant owner was not the least bit sorry about the situation and instead he was furious.  Apparently, the woman was poor yet using the baby (who was most likely a borrowed one) to get more money!  This is a common trick found in Peru and the owner had seen her before.  He shooed her away before we could reach into our pockets and give her money but it still let an unpleasant feeling inside of our hearts.

Overall, my first impressions of Lima were a little bit negative.  I am sure that I was tainted by the mugging experience, however, I found Lima to be not what I had imagined it to be.  I was a little disappointed by the city because it was nowhere near as beautiful as I would have expected.  I had pictured a beautiful, romantic city yet found it to be dirty, poor and chaotic.  The architecture was stunning but it was hard to ignore the poverty, the pollution and the dirt.  (Now remember this was over ten years ago and it was my first visit to South America.  Perhaps I wasn’t using my thirdeye!  But these are just the perceptions I had written down in my journal thus I thought they were worth exploring).  We had learned during our tour that over 50% of the eight million people of Lima live in poverty (there is huge unemployment) and many live without running water.  Our guide had also said that he believes that Lima is almost 35 years behind Chile and probably 50-60 years behind the United States in terms of development.  Again, perhaps this has improved over the last ten years, but I am doubtful.  After traveling and seeing many places in the world, I’ve come to understand that poverty is real and it takes time to change things.  It also makes people desperate because they have to fight to survive.

Another thing that bothered me about Lima was the level of security which gave it a menacing feeling.  There were armed guards at every corner and armed security outside and sometimes inside every nice store (even inside the grocery store!).  This was a constant reminder that crime and theft are common as the poverty exists and surrounds you.  The desperation of the people was upsetting and startling.  Beggars were everywhere asking for hand-outs (especially street children) and you constantly had to watch your back for pickpocketers.  It was a troubling feeling that made me very uncomfortable.  Little did I know at the time, that much of the world is this way.  It is a sad reality.  Yet, I had not ventured much outside of Europe so for me, it was a very eye-opening experience.

Photo above of Lima taken from our hotel in Miraflores, the upscale district of the city.

We returned to our hotel somewhat dissatisfied about what we had seen.  Looking back, it was a good lesson and would help change my outlook on the world and reinforce my ideas that you must give back.  We are so spoiled.

Stay tuned…next post is our visit to Cusco, heart of the Incas and launching off point for the world-famous trek along the Inca Trail.

Rough entry

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Photo above taken driving in Lima, Peru – November 2001.

We left for our trip to Peru less than two months after the horrific events of September 11th. I’ll never forget that day as long as I shall live. Every American remembers where they were when the first plane struck the Twin Towers in New York. The horror that unfolded over that fateful day and the next couple of days of despair, confusion and pain will forever remain in America’s psyche.

It was hard to imagine getting back on a plane after everything that happened but I had no choice.  At the time, I traveled for a living and made two to three flights a month. Going to Peru was even a bit scarier for me as I’d never been to South America and the flight was longer.  Yet the hope of doing something great despite all the tragedy was worth it.  My father and I were going to hike the Inca Trail!  So I swallowed my fear, packed my bags and boarded the plane to Lima.

Luckily, were able to score a pair of Emergency Row exit seats giving us plenty of leg room for the flight.  After a few glasses of free (yes it was free in those days!) wine, I felt calmer and was able to relax.  Yet I couldn’t help occasionally glancing around the plane, nervously, looking for anything out of the ordinary.  It was hard to fly to a foreign country, let alone even be on a plane, after hours on end of CNN replays of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers.  The visuals from hell where impossible to erase from my mind.

We landed without incident, safely in Lima, Peru around ten o’clock at night.  I couldn’t help letting out a huge sigh of relief to be safely on the ground.  I made it!  I thought thankfully to myself.

As we exited the plane, the Lima airport welcomed us instantly to the sound of Peruvian music and culture.  A full-fledge Peruvian band was playing lively music with wooden flutes and indigenous drums as we headed to gather our luggage and enter through customs.  My heart skipped a beat.  Here I was, finally in new continent to discover!  South America here I come!

We gathered our belongings, easily passed through customs (a bit of a surprise given we just experienced 9/11 hell and getting through any security at the airport in the States required lots of patience), and exited the airport to the lurking crowds.  People were everywhere-drivers, cabbies, families and friends-all holding up big white signs with names written in big letters.  We had no one waiting for us.  This would end up being one of the biggest mistakes we’ve ever made while traveling.  (Rule #1:  ALWAYS hire a respected driver from the hotel to meet you at the airport, before entering into a foreign country).

We walked outside to the masses of chaos, and found the line for the taxis.  Before entering the cab, we made sure that we knew the going rate to the city and that the cab had a meter.  Everything seemed fine.  My dad, being a curious fellow, decided to sit up in the front so he could get a better view of our new surroundings, while I sat alone in back (Rule #2:  Never do this!).

Like most “smart” travelers I had read the US State Departments Travel Advisory and Warnings documentation (http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/tw/tw_1764.html) as well as the country profile for Peru, before leaving.  I had a copy of it in my packed suitcase.  Yet unfortunately in all the excitement of the trip and the nervousness of a repeat of 9/11, I forgot.  (Rule #3:  Always read the above documentation right before you are departing or better yet, even on the flight there).

The half-hour ride from the airport to lovely Mireflores, a rich, upscale district of Lima was mostly uneventful.  It was dark and there wasn’t much to see.  I asked the driver in broken Spanish some questions here and there.  But he wasn’t really the talkative type.

We followed the main drag from the airport into quiet, peaceful Mireflores and reached a stoplight.  It was dark and there were no other cars around. I was getting excited to reach our hotel, and unwind.  Then, all of the sudden, out of nowhere….WHAM!  Glass flew everywhere, I screamed and thought I was going to die, while I saw a long, black-sleeved arm reach inside of the back of the car and grab my bag!  It happened so fast that I was speechless. 

After realizing that I was ok, my dad jumped out of the car (as I frightenly followed) just as the motor scooter pulled away with my backpack!  All we could see where two dark figures with a baseball bat and my backpack driving away.

Horrified, I burst into tears and noticed that two policeman were at our side talking to the driver quickly in Spanish.  There was nothing we could do.  It happened so quickly and then they were gone.

We arrived at our hotel, completely horrified about our experience.  I’d been inside the country for less than an hour and had already been mugged!

I called my husband at home, in tears, more so due to fear than loss of anything valuable.  I did a quick inventory of my bag and realized those thieves would be sorely disappointed for all they got was my make-up, a hairbrush, some personal medication and unfortunate for me, my beloved journal (which had all my thoughts and feelings about 9/11 written down in anguish, in English).  There was nothing of value to them whatsoever in my bag.  I’m sure it was promptly discarded into the Peruvian trash.

I couldn’t sleep a wink that night.  I was terrified by the experience.  What a rough entry!  Unfortunately that experience would taint my views on Lima and make me constantly uneasy and nervous.  Yet somehow or another, we weren’t going to let one bad experience ruin our trip.  I remembered to keep my eye on the price….the upcoming hike along the Inca Trail.  I also realized that I had learned a valuable lesson about traveling.  Never let your guard down.

—————————————————————

Note:  After I returned home to the US, I re-read the US Government Travel Summary for Peru and saw to my dismay and horror that what happened to me was not a random act.  It said in big letters that there have been many reported muggings and robberies along the main road from the airport to downtown Lima, and be vigilant!  To my disgust, I realized that the entire deal was most likely a set-up, that happened at the airport.  The muggers waited and watched for us, easy prey, as my father got in the front seat of the taxi and me, a stupid American victim, in the back alone.  They probably followed us the entire way, waited for the right moment (a stoplight) and bang.

The good news is at least they didn’t get anything valuable except women’s toiletries!  The bad news is it shows how desperate people are in third world countries.

P.S.  I looked up the US Government Travel Website and here is what I found.  FYI- I went to Peru over ten years ago and this warning still exists today!  It is exactly what happened to me!!!!!

 “Violent crime, including carjacking, assault, sexual assault, and armed robbery is common in Lima and other large cities. The Embassy is aware of reports of women being sexually assaulted in their place of lodging. Women  travelling alone should be especially careful to avoid situations in which they are vulnerable due to impaired judgment or isolation. Resistance to violent crime often provokes greater violence, while victims who do not resist usually do not suffer serious physical harm. “Express kidnappings,” in which criminals kidnap victims and seek to obtain funds from their bank accounts via automatic teller machines, occur frequently. Thieves often smash car windows at traffic lights to grab jewelry, purses, backpacks, or other visible items from a car. This type of assault is very common on main roads leading to Lima’s Jorge Chavez International Airport, specifically along De la Marina and Faucett Avenues and Via de Evitamiento, but it can occur anywhere in congested traffic, particularly in downtown Lima. Travelers are encouraged to put all belongings, including purses, in the trunk of a car or taxi.” (from http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_998.html).

Obviously I made a stupid mistake and should have been more careful.  Furthermore, this kind of stuff can happen anywhere, even in Minneapolis where I live.  All I’m saying is that you just need to be cautious when traveling to another country, especially one where the population is much poorer than your own.   Lesson learned!!!!

Stay tuned…next post about “lovely” Lima. 

Scotch on the 400-year-old Rocks

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After leaving El Chalten, we boarded the sole bus headed back down Ruta 40 to El Calafate.  This time, I wasn’t shocked by the barrenness of the land, the no man’s land of guachos, guancos, condors and pumas.  I was just plain old tired.  Tired from all the hiking, and tired of all the travel.  It is amazing how truly long it takes to reach this part of the world.  Four flights, long, bumpy bus rides and then there you are in the middle of nowhere.

We arrived at the bus depot in El Calafate late at night, met our driver who swiftly escorted us to our hotel and were just in time for the ten o’clock dinner seating.  Eating so late is not my favorite.  First of all, I’m always starving by 5 or 6 pm, which is my usual dinner time (blame it on the kids!), and second of all, I find it hard to sleep on a full belly.   Yet sometimes you have no choice in the matter, especially when you are traveling in countries where eating late is the norm (such as Spain where I could hardly stay awake for the eleven o’clock dining).  Regardless, we were famished and all that remained open was our lovely hotel bar where we wondrously gobbled up an entire meal (appetizer, salad, entrée, dessert, and of course a bottle of vino tiento).

We were up at the crack of dawn again but this time it wasn’t an anticipated hike that woke us up but the crazy, noisy strange birds that screeched outside our hotel window.  Extremely curious what on earth could make such a horrendous sound, I pulled back the curtain to find these large, annoying, unusual looking birds who sounded somewhat like Canadian geese, having some kind of party outside my hotel window.  Oh well, at least it was a built in alarm clock.

Today was yet another big day.  We were off on a grand, full day excursion to see the world famous Perito Moreno Glacier, and I could hardly wait!

A visit to the Perito Moreno Glacier, located about 78 km/48 miles from El Calafate in the Los Glaciares National Park (declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1981) is one of the most spectacular and unforgettable experiences in all of Patagonia.  Known as one of the few still advancing glaciers on Earth, Perito Moreno is also one of the most unique tourist destinations in all of Argentina.  The magnificent, massive glacier measuring approximately 250 km2/97 square miles and 30 km/19 miles in length is one of 48 glaciers fed by the Southern Patagonian Ice Field  (the world’s third largest reserve of fresh water).   It’s massive size (a true beast of a glacier) is so incredibly amazing that many people are completely awe-struck and taken aback by its magnificence.    It is truly a wonder of this magnificent, unbelievable Earth.

The Perito Moreno glacier was named after the renowned Argentine explorer Francisco Moreno, a trailblazing pioneer who studied the region in the 19th century and played a major role in defending the territory of Argentina in the conflict surrounding the international border dispute with Chile. Ironically, Moreno, never even saw the incredible ice-formation that bears his name today.  What a pity!

Here are some photos of the trip to this unforgettable place (Please note:  unfortunately the photo quality is not the best and the pictures are a little grainy.  My computer was attacked by a mean virus so I had to download my pictures off my saved Shutterfly making them not as clear.  Oh well….at least this will give you an idea of its beauty.  Enjoy!)

Driving to the glacier, a two hour bus ride through nowhere land:

Approaching the Perito Moreno Glacier…world famous and one of only glaciers in world that is not receding:

First sight:

The only way to reach the glacier is via boat.  After disembarqueing the boat, the tourists walk over to a small pier where they await the arrival of the boat that will ferry them across Lago Argentino to the banks of the glacier.  Here is a picture of the pier:

Here we come…look out WIND!

First sight….wow!  Hard to capture on film how massive it is:

Perito Moreno Glacier advances into Lago Argentino separating it into two halves.  As you take the boat ride out to the terminus of the glacier, you can see this bizarre division and it appears as if there are two separate lakes, one on each side of the gigantic face of the glacier.  The pressure and movement of the glacier creates an incredible show for the spectators.  As the glacier is pushed forward into the lake by the massive Southern Patagonian Ice Field, every few minutes one can hear the thunderous roar and crash of enormous pieces of heavy ice breaking off of the glacier and smashing into the lake (this phenomenon is called “calving”) then floating away as majestic, glistening icebergs.  It is an amazing site to see, that is for sure.  The sheer mass and power of the ever-changing glacier, breaking apart into “baby” icebergs makes is somehow seem like its alive.

As you approach the glacier, you are startled at the sheer size and mass of this enormous piece of ice.  It is truly from out of this world.

The Perito Moreno Glacier is one of only three Patagonian glaciers that is growing. The reason remains debated by glaciologists.  The terminus of the Perito Moreno Glacier is 5 km/3 miles wide, with an average height of 74 m/240 ft high (above the lake) and an ice depth 170 m/558 ft.

Picture of boat docking shows magnitude of this giant mass of ice:

We were dropped off boat at the foot of the glacier for our next adventure, an ice trek:

Our guide giving us some history of glacier:

Another beautiful picture:

Glacier trekking is the most first-hand way to experience the Perito Moreno Glacier.  By trekking across the icy surface, you’ll feel the wind and cold of the grand Southern Patagonian Ice Field, hear the roar of falling ice blocks, and see beautiful vistas of Lake Argentina.  It was something I was really looking forward to doing as I’d never hiked on ice before (except on the sidewalks outside my door in Minnesota—-but that doesn’t hold a candle to this!)

Off we go headed to our hike (note the contrast in size between the people and the glacier towering above our heads):

More shots of the glacier…sorry I couldn’t stop taking photos!

Its freezing out here!  I have two jackets and two pairs of pants on and the wind off the glacier is still cutting through to my bones! (here is a photo of me and my father):

The amazing 400 year old (front part of the glacier is this age, back is much older) up close.  Note the brilliant deep blue colors in the ice.:

Going overboard on photos but I couldn’t stop taking them because it was so amazing.

Entering the glacier.  Not sure if you can see the tiny dotes of people on the left side.  That is where we start our climb after we get fitted with our crampons.

Grabbing our crampons:

Getting them on.  Burr…it is blowing like mad but better in here. Good thing the hut to put on the cramptons had some shelter from the wind:

Our ice guides, showing off:

The gorgeous ice:

View of the green forest to the left of the massive glacier.  Strange juxtaposition:

Not so close…a 100 foot deep ice crevasse.  There is actually a strange type of insect that lives in the ice and eats microscopic organisms inside the glacier!  Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction!

Scotch on the rocks await with a piece of 400 year old ice inside:

Two of my favorite pictures. View of the glacier through the forest:

My father and I, traveling sidekicks:

An attempt to show how massive this glacier is.  It comes off the enormous Patagonian Ice Field which runs down Patagonia through Argentina and Chile.

Patagonian Condor….they are enormous and have a 10 foot wingspan:

View from above on the observation platform:

Glacial calving…the glacier booms, bangs like an explosion as a new calf is born into the water.  The glacier is truly alive:

Thirdeyemom in her element.  True Bliss indeed!

One last shoot before I leave….Goodbye Argentina…until we meet again!

We left Argentina the next day for our long journey back.  It was an amazing trip, one that fulfills the imagination and keeps me dreaming for the day I can come back!

Hike to Cerro Torre

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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.

Hike to Mount Fitz Roy

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One of the most blissful things about trekking is the amazing amount of energy you expand throughout the day.  For someone who loves to eat and drink, being able to eat and drink whatever I wanted and not gain a pound was something truly incredible.  Sweets, breads, nuts, cheese were on my mind and eaten with pleasure throughout the day while delightful, homemade Argentine treasures were rapidly consumed at night over a bottle of dry, smooth, aged Malbec.  Needless to say, after a long day of trekking out in the elements and an extremely satisfying and filling meal and bottle or two of wine, I instantly dozed off in a deep slumber and slept peacefully (a rare treat for me these days) throughout the night.

The next morning I awoke earlier.  Something was different.  I couldn’t figure out immediately what it was until I finally got my achy, sore body out of bed and gently pulled open the dark, thick curtains.  And there it was…the big, wonderful, glorious sunshine!  I was overjoyed to see the sun because I knew only too well what it meant.  Excellent, unobstructed views of one of the best hikes in Southern Patagonia!  If we got up, inhaled our breakfast and got on our way soon, there would be a good chance we would make it to the crème de la crème, Mount Fitz Roy and see the craggy, jagged ice-capped peak in all its glory.  Given the ever changing weather in Patagonia, seeing it or anything is not always possible.  In fact, Fabricio said that typically it is only a one in ten shot that the day will be clear when you reach the top, meaning 9 out of 10 unlucky trekkers see absolutely nothing but gray, massive clouds and fog.  That would be an enormous disappointment given how many hours it took to reach this remote place and the unlikely chance that I would ever get to see it again.  Thus, I was up and ready in a heartbeat and impatiently awaiting our guide’s arrival so we can begin our hike.

The trek to Mount Fitz Roy is not technically difficult.  It is just grueling and long, taking eight hours with a short break or two for lunch and rest.  I had done long hikes before and found that I really enjoy them.  There is something about being in it for the long haul, and challenging your body that gets you in some kind of mysterious bodily rhythm and mindset.  Trekking is kind of like running a slow marathon yet better.  Not as intense.  Not as extreme.  Yet, that same kind of exhausting, mind over matter feeling where you somehow enter a zone of deep contemplation and relaxation.  For me, hiking is the only sport that does this to me.  It brings me far, far away, into areas of my mind and body that have been long sealed up and hidden.  It represents some kind of crazy, deep release that makes me feel refreshed and whole once again.  There is something about using only your body and being in nature that brings me peace. And the longer the hike, the better.

We reached the start of the trail at half past eight and saw no one.  The air was fresh and crisp and there was not a single cloud in the brilliant deep blue sky.  I felt an energy and excitement for the day that made me feel truly alive.  I couldn’t wait to see the top and be rewarded with a supposedly gorgeous view of a postcard perfect Patagonia.   My brain was running wild with thoughts and conversation flowed freely and effortlessly.

The start of the trail:

Day 2 Hike:  8 hour exhausting hike to Mount Fitzroy:

Start of hike, beautiful weather.  We lucked out.  Not always certain you will see the peaks.  In fact, only a one in ten chance:

One of the surprising things about Patagonia is its purity.  When I was in New Zealand several years ago, I remember the big advertisement at the time was for “100% Pure New Zealand”.  I of course fell head over heels in love with the raw beauty and nature of New Zealand’s South Island yet it never felt as remote and pure to me as Patagonia.  Perhaps it was the utter ruggedness and harshness of the landscape and environment that made Patagonia seem so utterly pure.  I’m not sure if I can point a finger to exactly why I felt this why but I did.  In Patagonia, anything seemed possible.  The first time I dipped my empty water bottle into a flowing, glacial river I was extremely hesitant about its safety.  Yet my local guide encouraged me to give it a try, stating that it was the purest, freshest, most delicious water in the world.  And, it was.  I’ll never forget the incredible taste of Patagonian water directly from the source.  It was amazing and I could drink it forever.  Water in park is so pure, we used it to refill our water bottles getting drinking water directly from the streams and glacial lakes (burr…cold sticking your hand in but hugely rewarding for the effort).  Here is a picture of the rock landscape protecting the rapidly flowing glacial river with delicious drinking water abound:

As we climbed further along the empty trail, we suddenly saw a glimpse of our destination.  Here is a view of Mount Fitz Roy through the thick beech forest:

Small glacier pouring out of the mountains:

We were indeed truly lucky as the weather remained picture perfect clear.  Not a single cloud had arrived into the sky to mess things up.  What a miracle!  We knew that they last eight consecutive days on the trail had been misty and full of fog.  To hike eight hours and not see a thing would be a huge disappointment!

On the approach to the top and our much deserved picnic lunch:

Heading up through the snow:

The breathtaking approach of Mt. Fitz Roy:

View of where we started below:

At the top—wow, did we luck out on the clear sky.  Only 1 out of 10 days like this in Patagonia!  And no wind!!!! (there is a lot of wind, and there is mucho mucho mucho viento as they say here):

Wow….what a place for a picnic:

Strange patagonian clouds:

Almost home…one last look:

One of our great drinking holes:

First Hike into the Wild

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We woke up early after a wonderful, restful sleep tucked away in our rustic Patagonian “cabin”.  It was eerily quiet and still.  The morning sun was barely coming through the seams of the heavy woolen curtains.  I peered outside the small window.  It was gray and looked cold; a dramatic change from sunshine and t-shirts just a day before in Buenos Aires.  Yet I did not hear that unforgettable, forceful wind that I remembered only too well from my last trip to Patagonia.  Fortunately for us, the vicious wind was nothing to worry about here.  It was nothing like the incredibly strong gusts of wind that nearly knocks you over backwards in Punta Arenas, Chile.  There, they actually have chains along the sidewalk for those brave souls to grab on to in the event of severe, forty to fifty mile per hour wind.  So I was relieved to know that El Chalten appeared to be better protected from those glacial winds. 

We ate a quick breakfast of delicious homemade breads, fresh strawberry jam, and fruit.  I secretly wondered where the food came from and how often it arrived in town.  We had not seen a single truck on Ruta 40, the only way in to El Chalten from El Calefate.  Yet the food was surprisingly good and amazingly fresh.  How on earth it got there was a mystery to me.

Our guide, Fabricio, from Cascada Expedicionnes was meeting us at eight o’clock sharp to begin our day.  It would be a short hike, only 5-6 hours, with not too many ups and downs.  A good “get in shape” hike to test out the waters and explore the park before hitting the bigger, more difficult ones.

Fabricio arrived exactly on time and off we went.  We wore several layers of clothing since it was fairly cold and dreary out that morning.  I had learned from my last two trips to Patagonia that when it comes to the weather, anything is possible.  You can literally have four seasons in a day going from short sleeve shirts and sweltering hot to maddening, wild wind, sheets of rain coming horizontally, sleet and even a full out blizzard.  This experience of the “four seasons in one day” happened to my husband and I when we were trekking the infamous “W” trek in Torres del Paine National Park, Chile, where we got snowed in to a remote, mountain refugio. Thus, the bottom line is to be prepared and have multiple layers of waterproof and warm clothing packed in your day pack.  Otherwise you will be awfully wet, cold and miserable. 

It is also a must to have an excellent, broken in pair of hiking boots as well as sturdy set of hiking poles or “sticks” (with the Spanish accent it was always “steeks”).  The sticks are what save you when you have to pass through slick, slippery mud or snow-covered steep paths.  You not only need the poles for balance, but safety so you don’t kill yourself or your knees.

We set off with Fabricio and a husband and wife team from England, and were on our merry way.  Like my father, the English couple was in their sixties and in excellent shape.  They had traveled the world together, seeing much of it via foot.  I instantly gravitated towards them and we talked the entire time about their life together and of course their biggest adventures.  Unbeknownst to me, I learned about my next future trip from them, the incredible Annapurna Circuit Trek in Nepal.  They marveled about their experience and said it was a trip of a lifetime that I had to do.  Little did I know, that set the wheels in motion for what was indeed a trip of a lifetime and was recently completed in November of 2010.

The best thing about El Chalten is that it is so small that the trails leading to the mountains and incredible views are not a far walk from town.  Within ten to fifteen minutes, you are able to reach all the trailheads and suddenly all symbols of mankind are erased from your mind, except the infrequent hiker passing you by on the trail.    It is truly incredible.  There are no huge, annoying parking lots loaded with overflowing tourist buses.  No McDonalds.  There really isn’t much of anything except a couple hundred unpresumptuous buildings, one main road and the wild.   A perfect place, in my opinion, to get away from it all and escape.

Here are some photos along the way:

Day 1 of our first trek.  We left at 8 am directly from our hotel, walking right down the main steet in Chalten.  Chalten was formed in 1985.  It now has 2-3000 inhabitants but before then, there was nothing.  It felt like middle of nowhere probably because it was.  There was nothing there except a handful of houses, buildings and the great outdoors.

View of the town with Mt. Fitroy in back:

At the trailhead (1st hike):

Our destination, above:

Hiking instructions:

View of the town below (tiny tiny):

Despite the snow and cool air, Spring is in the air.  Blossoming shrubs dotted the snow packed trails giving one a splendid contrast of color:

Far away shot El Chalten…you can see how remote the town is.  Beyond the town, there is nothing for hours until you reach El Calafate three and a half hours later on Ruta 40:

Getting colder.  Snowed night before so all the mountains are covered:

My favorite pic…My dad and our guide—picture shows mysticism of place:

And this is Spring in Patagonia: Fresh snow on the mountains!

At the top, a cold lunch picnic (picture of my father and I):

Coming down…rugged, jagged Patagonia in all its glory:

Heading back to town (village in background):

PINCH ME….AM I REALLY HERE?

The Tiny Outpost in the Middle of Nowhere

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El Chalten is a different kind of place, an outpost in Patagonia, in the middle of nowhere.  It was established in 1985 as a trekking base for mountaineers who wished to summit the nearby, towering and difficult Cerro Torro and Mount Fitzroy.  It began slowly with only tents and today, twenty-five years later has a handful of small restaurants, hotels and shops.  The local population is about 2,000-3,000 residents depending upon the time of year.  Some people stay only during the main tourist season from October to late April, when the mountains and trails are accessible and tourists flock in.  Others remain for the whole year, living through the intense Patagonian winter and are nearly cut off from the rest of civilization until the Spring arrives in October.  It is a wild place, like no place on earth, and is a fitting location to explore the spectacular, divine Los Glaciares National park.

Here are some photos of El Chalten to stir up your imagination:

The town of El Chalten:

Our little humble hotel in Chalten.  El Puma.  It was actually quite lovely with a wood burning fireplace in the reception area and nice rooms:

The llama outside the hotel…watch out!  They spit!

Entrance to the town:

El Chalten from the mountains, in the valley below:

The one and only main drag in town:

The only grocery store:

The lone convenience store:

The road leading up to our hotel.  I couldn’t get enough of this old, crazy car:

For such a small town, I found lots of interesting photo opps:

Symbol of living in a small, remote town:  A classic!  My impatient Dad, waiting at the ONLY Atm in town, with the bank car there, yet you couldn’t get any money.  The wire connection was down.  No cash for the entire town until tomorrow.