“May I never miss a sunset or rainbow because I am looking down”. –Sara June Parker
One thing I’ve learned is there is nothing like a gorgeous, undisturbed, peaceful sunset. Sunset has always been a celebrated, magical event. For who doesn’t love a beautiful sunset?
I believe, to witness a sunset in a place where no one else is around makes it even better. To indulge in the beauty of our planet and its inexplicable wonder never ceases to stir a wondering soul.
Jacksprinter’s Sunday post is valuable. Something we find and hold near and dear to our hearts. It could be money. It could be land. It could be freedom. Or it could be memories. For me, there is nothing more valuable than my childhood memories of our annual fall trip to climb Eagle Mountain. A tradition that started a lifelong love of nature, togetherness, family, and hiking.
Eagle Mountain, the highest point in Minnesota, will always hold a special place in my heart. Located in the northeastern part of Minnesota at the start of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and Wilderness, it is one of the best kept secrets in the Midwest. Pristine forests, magical untouched lakes and impressive wildlife are all the wonderful things you will find along the trail.
Photo credit: Wikipedia Commons
As a child, I hiked this trail every single fall with my family, until I moved away to college. It was a family tradition that I will never forget and is held deep within my most precious, sacred memories of childhood. The fall colors once we reached the top were an artistic tapestry of brilliant hues of pumpkin orange, golden yellow and crimson red. If I close my eyes, I can almost see it now. Almost.
The state of Minnesota may have some severely cold winters, yet one thing that makes up for it is the fact that we do have lakes. Lots of them. Recent estimates have put Minnesota’s lakes in the 11,000-13,000 range, depending on what you count as a body of water. Lakes not only provide us with water but with everlasting, pure beauty and recreation. You can hardly drive anywhere without seeing a lake.
I felt like I needed to spice my blog up a bit. Lately I’ve done an awful lot of posts on Minnesota and even have another one in the queue. When I started this blog it was mostly for sharing my stories and photos from traveling somewhere else. Yet I came to realize that many of my readers have never even been to Minnesota and perhaps don’t realize how incredibly beautiful it really is. Hence my recent focus on places around the land of lakes (we do have over 13,000!).
This morning I wanted to share some photos I’ve reworked from my trip to Iceland back in the summer of 2008. Iceland truly appealed to me. It has all the nature you could ever desire, loads of hikes, and not many people. I found a lot of peace and serenity in such a beautiful, magical place. It is my hope that I can return someday as there is much to see in this gorgeous land.
Here are some photos that will help illustrate what I mean. Hope you enjoy!
It is not possible to wake up at 4:30 am, hike a volcano and not follow up with an immediate visit to most popular natural spa in all of Guatemala. The plan to go immediately to Fuentes Georginas proceeding my volcano climb popped into my head during the knee-aching, slippery descent of Santa Maria. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the remainder of the day, rewarding my tired body and soul, and soaking in one of the four hot pools of Fuentes Georginas located in the mountains nearby.
View from the Top: Xela lies thousands of feet below.
“Getting to the top is optional. Getting down is mandatory.” -Ed Viesturs climber and author of “No Shortcuts to the Top: Climbing the World’s 14 Highest Peaks”
After my surreal experience on top of Santa Maria volcano, witnessing my first live volcanic eruption just a few thousand feet below my perch on a jagged rock, it was time to say goodbye. Heading back is always the anti-climax of a hike, especially a good one in which you reach your peak and for that moment in time you are on top of the world. But as I always say, all good things must come to an end. It was time to head back.
The start of our descent….you can see terraced farmland first, followed by the town of Xela far below.
“No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied — it speaks in silence to the very core of your being”. —-Ansel Adams
Around 10:30, five hours after starting our hike up the dark and slippery path of the Santa Maria Volcano we had finally arrived at her pointed peak. The clouds had started to form and blanket the valley of Xela thousands of miles below. Yet fortunately they hadn’t fully conquered the peak. There was still a spectacular view of the surrounding volcanoes and valley beneath.
As we approached our resting spot for an early lunch I was perplexed by a low humming sound. The sound of voices, high and low, big and small, filled up the empty open space around me. As we come closer to the noise I realized with amazement that it was a human chain of chanting. The Mayans were singing their prayers to their gods. The voices of their chants flowed smoothly together making a monotonous tone at times, entrancing me and captivating my soul.
“The Beauty of the Mountain is hidden for all those who try to discover it from the top, supposing that, one way or an other, one can reach this place directly. The Beauty of the Mountain reveals only to those who climbed it…” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery
View of the grand Santa Maria volcano off in the distance as I was leaving Xela via shuttle on my way to Antigua.
There are things you’ll experience in Guatemala that will stay with you forever: the smell of a freshly grilled tortilla; the assault-on-all-senses of a jungle trek; the people you bump into on the road and become lifelong friends…..In the west, a volcano looms on almost every horizon, almost begging to be climbed. (Opening lines in the introduction to Guatemala, Lonely Planet 2010).
It was with these words, “almost begging to be climbed” that I joyously opted to skip my already-paid for Spanish class on Wednesday and wake up at the break of dawn to climb Guatemala’s fourth highest volcano, Santa Maria (elevation 3772 m/12,375 feet). It didn’t matter that I was utterly exhausted nor that I didn’t have the right gear. All that mattered was there was an enormously, inviting volcano begging to be climbed. There was no way I wasn’t going to climb it.
It’s something of a paradox. The more untamed, untrampled a place, the more it seems to soothe the soul. Even as it races the heart. – Advertisement of skiing the Ridge in the Taos Visitor Guide.
Taos Ski Valley view from Kachina Peak at the Ridge. A ski purist heaven that only recently opened its doors to snowboarding two years back.
Today I became an official “Ridgehead”. I climbed and skied the Ridge, a no man’s land of off piste skiing located at the top of Kachina Peak at 12,481 feet. It was an exhausting endeavor which quite frankly I had no business doing. Yet, did I enjoy it and was it worth the effort and the pain? Yes! It was an adventure that I had not yet accomplished in skiing and even if I was breathing heavy and my legs burned each and every step of the way, it was so incredibly worth the view and the accomplishment.
To access the ridge is half the battle. You take the last chair lift up to the top at 11,819 feet, take off your skies and carry them on your shoulder in heavy snow for an hour and fifteen minutes up to 12,481 feet. The walk up is arduous and exhausting. You gain over 600 feet in elevation and are doing it wearing uncomfortable ski boats and lugging your skies and poles up each breathless step of the way.
Note to readers: I am here on vacation in the White Mountains of northeast Arizona, home to the largest freestanding Ponderosa Pine Trees in the world, thinking that I would be writing my next few posts on a past trip to Australia. Before leaving, I uploaded all my pictures from Australia and prepared some of the posts. Yet, when I arrived here in the small, hilltop town of Show Low, Arizona, I realized that I was missing the “third eye”. There is plenty of incredible awe-inspiring nature, beauty and culture here to write about. I just had to use that “third-eye” approach and get out there and find it. So instead of Australia, I’m going to write my next few posts on this relatively unknown area of the world: The White Mountains. I will write about the firs, the pines and the most beautiful monsoon clouds I’ve ever seen. Here is my first post in this series. Hope you enjoy! thirdeyemom
We rose early to the morning sun lighting up the pine tree tops lining the White Mountains. The morning sky was azure blue with not a single cloud in the sky. That would surely come later. For we are in the tail end of monsoon season in Arizona where the magical clouds slowly appear, form and become bigger, whiter, brighter and then darker before they release their angry water.
Three generations were going on a hike today. My father, myself and my six-and-a-half-year-old son. We were off to see the tallest mountain in this part of the state, the sacred Mount Baldy. At 11,4000 feet, Mount Baldy is home to some of the oldest, most beautiful Douglas Firs in the world. Some of them dated from 300-350 years old! We were going to find them.
We took the White Mountain Scenic Byway for a little over an hour, driving through some of the other small towns along the way. We passed through meadows, fields of wildflowers and lots and lots of Ponderosa Pines (some dating over 700 years old!). It was a beautiful ride that took us through some unbelievable scenery. I had to pinch myself to remember that we were in Arizona as we had left the desert and cactus long ago.
The last stop before entering Mount Baldy is the huge White Mountain Apache Indian Reservation. There is the usual casino followed by a stark poverty which is very sad. Even the casinos have not been enough to help them here, in this remote part of the country.
As we drive up to the start of the hike to Mount Baldy, we admire the gorgeous, fragrant pines that dot the landscape. These pines could have all been swallowed up in the most recent and largest wild fire in the state of Arizona. The May 2011 Wallow Fire which was started by some careless campers, engulfed 525,000 acres of ancient pines and took over six weeks to put out. It was stopped before reaching Mount Baldy. It would have been even more of a tragedy if these incredible trees were all destroyed.
Here we are at one of the entrances to the trail. Roundtrip the hike is 16 miles, way too much to do with my young son. So we would just hike an hour to the wall and back. We would be certain to find lots of nature and firs.
I had to take a picture of Dad’s notorious backpack with his Nepal patch that we got sewn in when we were there.
Picture of my son and I on our first hike together.
Grandpa and Max setting off..
Entering one of the trail heads to Mount Baldy.
The once cloudless sky is no longer as the monsoon glistening white clouds begin to form above the pines.
Entering the first part of the forest which is mostly pines. You can hear the distant woodpecker searching for food and the bees buzzing.
There are three meadows to pass through before we hit the deep woods. We don’t see any elk just lots of wildflowers.
More clouds are forming. We have until eleven to get off the mountain before the monsoon starts and lightning flashes.
Finally we are inside the fragrant, deep forest searching for 300-year-old Douglas Firs. We found one!
The size of these trees is unbelievable.
When you look at the bark, you can see years and years of fire damage. Yet, somehow these trees have managed to survive and even thrive.
Looking up to the Gods.
Our destination: The wall. Here is where you start heading up but for us it was the perfect lunch spot.
Grandpa and Max sharing a picnic.
After lunch, it was time to head back. The monsoon clouds were forming and getting darker and darker. Along the way, we saw lots of beautiful, special things in the forest. It was fun teaching Max about how things grow.
Here is how the Douglas Firs start….
And lots and lots of colorful mushrooms!
Me saying goodbye to this lovely tree.
The beautiful things I found in the forest…
Showing Max how to count the rings and age the tree:
As we leave, just on time, the clouds continue to form and develop into magical, white, marshmallows…
We are out just in the nick of time….for the clouds begin to darken and the unavoidable afternoon storm began…
The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are. – Samuel Jackson
We woke up Saturday morning to perhaps one of the most perfect days in Patagonia. The birds were singing in full glory to welcome the rising sun above the serene Patagonian landscape. The sky was as blue as the sea and clear except for a few lazy powder puff clouds lingering off in the distance.
We packed our belongings and ate our last meal at the Eco Camp with our friends. Despite the amazing week we had experienced, I felt a deep sadness and distress at the thought of leaving. I knew that leaving the park represented a return to reality: Work, stress, life in the fast lane, and no more “smelling the roses” each day.
As our van pulled out of the park’s main entrance and we looked for one last time at the breathtaking landscape around us, we realized that the view was the exact opposite as when we had pulled into the gates of the park at the start of the week. When we had arrived, our first sight of the park was completely hidden by clouds. When we left, it was nearly cloudless and spectacular.
Like my soul, the clouds had lifted and we could see the phenomenal beauty of the park in all its glory. As I took in my last sight of the park, I made a promise to never stop marveling at the beautiful world we live in and more importantly, to relax more often, enjoy life to its fullest, and most of all, be happy. Out of everything that I had gained from the trip, these few words of wisdom were the most valuable of all.
Last view of the park.
On the way home, in Punta Arenas, I made sure that I had a chance to stop in the Plaza de Armas and rub the toes of the infamous Ferdinand Magellan monument. That means I’ll be back. I certainly hope so!
Stay tuned…next post will be to the Land Downunder!
“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” – Bill Bryson
Today was it. The final leg of the “W” trek to the infamous, mysterious las torres, the towers, which are the trademark of this incredible park. It was going to be a long, tiring hike taking over 8 hours of our day. But I was ready for the challenge as I always am. We prayed that we would have a clear day so that we would be able to actually see the towers and the Gods must have been watching us from above. When we woke up in the morning, the sun was shining brilliantly against an azure blue sky. It was a postcard perfect day, a rarity in Patagonia.
Morning view outside our Eco Tent. A few fluffy clouds floated graciously against my favorite colored sky: Blue.
We felt so incredibly lucky. Cristian told us that a group of Irish travelers had attempted the trek to the towers three times over two days and had never seen a thing. Since the towers are the most famous and unique feature in the park, we really wanted to do the hike and more importantly, have decent enough weather so we could make it to the top and see las torres unhidden by the clouds. The thought of such dedication, persistence and perseverance of the Irish trekkers intrigued me. What a pity, I thought reflectively yet secretly hoped we would not be faced with a similar fate.
After another large breakfast of an all-you-can-eat-yet-not-feel-the-slightest-bit-guilty buffet, we headed out for our big hike to las torres. The first forty-five minutes were relatively tiring, knee-breaking work as we ascended from 0 to 1,500 feet rather quickly.
A few more clouds trespassed into the sky. Yet so far so good. The view was still promising.
The hike was a lot of ups and downs through a huge river valley that afforded spectacular panoramic views of the park. The pure air was so fresh that my lungs were overjoyed and at ease. I tried to enjoy each and every step with my eye on the prize.
Here is a picture of the heavenly Valle Ascencio beneath our feet.
I was amazed how well my body was doing given all this hiking. No major aches or pains. I felt like I was on top of the world both physically and mentally, nothing like how I felt healing my old battle wounds for six months after completing my first marathon a year before while working a job that required a ton of tedious travel and unwanted stress. I could feel each part of my body as it worked to move me forward, methodically and purposefully, towards my goal.
There were lots hills in the hike. At times it felt like hiking over a rollercoaster track.
The hike was gorgeous. Our views of the surrounding mountains and the massive glacial valley were phenomenal. I took it all in as best as I could, knowing that today was our last day in the park. We also hiked through a beautiful Patagonian rainforest that had patches of snow on the ground leftover from the previous day’s storm. Thankfully the storm was yesterday and not today as I would have been extremely disappointed to miss this hike.
The blossoming red flowers within the Patagonian snow-covered rainforest. Somehow, Spring had managed to arrive.
The windswept trail showed years and years of trees that had faced the wild forces of Mother Nature in Patagonia.
Cristian pointed out a tree that was recently damaged by the wind. There were remnants of snow scattered across the ground from the previous day’s storm.
The last hour of the hike was the most difficult. We hiked one hour up on terrain peppered with large, slippery rocks left over from the glacial age.
Going up and hitting the glacier Moreno. (No…I’m not falling over with exhaustion or tripping….just bending down to tie my shoe! Thought this picture demonstrated the difficult trekking conditions. I’m seriously not that clumsy!).
At this point, the snow was up to our knees so it was quite exhausting work, taking up all our energy and effort to continue up. We also had to be extremely careful because the rocks had become slippery and we didn’t want an accident to happen hours away from camp.
As we got closer to the top, I had a surge in anticipation. The sky was still clear and we had an excellent chance at seeing all three towers. We knew that this was a rare opportunity so we hurried up as fast as we could. We finally reached a huge boulder, which marked the last ten minutes of the hike to the top. We still couldn’t see anything and were forced to keep our heads down the remainder of the way due to the treacherously slippery and steep conditions.
Almost there!
We continued up and then all of the sudden they appeared, three stunning blue granite towers soaring majestically up in the sky. The sight was so extraordinary that we felt like we were on another planet.
And finally….here they are, all three of las torres, in all their glory jetting up to the sky.
We hiked up to a flat plateau with a superb view of the towers and admired their spectacular height. At almost 10,000 feet high, the towers rose above us in an intimidating manner and it was hard to grasp their true magnitude.
I made it! Yeah!!!!
Paul and I, thankful that we reached the top, got to see the three towers before they disappeared into the clouds.
Getting windier and colder. It was time to put on more layers.
After taking several pictures, we found a perfect spot for our last Patagonian picnic lunch with arguably one of the best views Torres del Paine National Park has to offer. As we admired the view, we felt truly lucky to have seen all three towers uncovered by the clouds, knowing quite well that this rare opportunity was truly a special gift. We stayed for over an hour despite the strong, cold winds that were penetrating our multiple layers of clothes. It was hard to leave knowing that this would be our final trek of the journey.
Me marveling at the towers and reflecting on what this week meant to me. It is amazing how utterly relaxed I felt. It was if my body, mind and soul became one for a last fleeting moment in time. Soon, regretfully, I’d have to go home and face reality.
The knee breaking descent…
As we hiked back to the camp, I took in each awe-inspiring view as much as possible, trying to seal it into my memory as best I could. Despite my fatigue at this point in the trek, I somehow felt a bit lighter with each step as if all the stress in my life had finally been released, up into the sky, chasing after las torres and dissolving into the heavens.
As we made our final approach to the Eco Camp, I at last understood what utter freedom truly meant. When the only thing that matters in life is life itself. I felt so happy and at peace with myself that I didn’t want this trip to end. I wondered why we need so much in today’s world and why our lives are so stressful. It didn’t make any sense to me. In nature, none of that stuff matters.
Almost there…
We arrived at the camp filled with a glorious feeling of accomplishment and deep satisfaction. We had reached our goal and even surpassed it beyond expectations.
Photo of Paul, me and our wonderful guide, Cristian.
That night, we celebrated the end of our journey with our guide Cristian and all the other members of the fabulous Cascada team. We indulged in a fantastic send off dinner and this time the three of us split two bottles of wine. We shared stories of our trip and laughed a lot more freely with our Chilean friends. It was quite a memorable evening despite my lingering headache the next day.
View of the towers from the Eco Camp.
One last look before we went to sleep.
Stay tuned…next post is my last one of Torres del Paine National Park.
