“I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.” – Lillian Smith
We rose leisurely, after being trapped for hours in the snow crusted refugio high nestled beneath los cuernos in Torres del Paine National Park. My body felt at peace for once after being so cold, tired and distraught over our miserable, long day of trekking in the Patagonian elements.
I pulled back my covers, climbed out of bed and did the thing I do first each and every morning of the day, no matter where I am: I pulled open the blinds to peer outside. I took in a huge sigh of relief, smiling and thrilled, to see the sun once again. The storm had passed and it was clear once again in Torres del Paine.
We had a leisurely breakfast and left the refugio around ten o’clock for a short four-hour hike along the aquamarine Lago Nordenskjold bringing us back to the luxurious Cascada Eco Camp. Although it was not perfect, it was a gorgeous day in comparison to what we had experienced the day before. It was cool, partly cloudy and dry.
As we hiked away from the refugio, we could see the imposing Los Cuernos (“the horns”) in the background. Cristian told us that the refugio at Los Cuernos was his favorite one in the entire park and we could finally understand why. On a cloudless day, the jagged peaks of Los Cuernos soared majestically in the sky, reaching upwards behind the refugio. The view was quite stunning and serene.
The peaks of Los Cuernos sticking above our refugio.
We took our time and hiked at a light pace, marveling at the spectacular scenery that was finally uncovered. I inhaled the fresh, clean air and let my body relax, taking each step at a leisurely pace.
Passing Lago Nordenskjold, it is still quite cold.
While enjoying our picnic lunch in an open valley, we saw two condors soaring gracefully above us, in search of food. Suddenly I realized that this was what we had come to Patagonia for: An escape from everyday life and a taste of absolute freedom. Being outside surrounded by nature and far away from phones, computers and TV’s, was one of the most liberating feelings I’ve ever experienced. At that moment, I wished we could stay here forever.
Wind blowing fiercely off the mountains….yet the sky was getting bluer and the sun was warming up.
Look at it blow!
Our lunch spot…a little slice of heaven.
We arrived back at the Eco Camp by early afternoon and the weather had done what it is known for in Patagonia—-a complete turnaround. The birds were singly loudly, the sun was shining brightly and there was not a single cloud in the sky. It felt like summer in Patagonia.
View of the Torres (towers) behind the clouds and our destination for tomorrow’s hike.
We took it easy fo the rest of the day, enjoying the change in weather and wishing we had shorts. By late afternoon, our cocktails were awaiting which was followed by a delicious dinner. At this point, we felt truly spoiled. The meal was a far cry from the food at the refugio.
Paul and I enjoyed another gourmet meal at the Eco Camp.
Once again, we had the entire Eco Camp to ourselves and we could only imagine how different our entire experience with Cristian would have been if there were more people on the trip. A group of two is nothing like a group of twenty. The intimacy is gone as well as the serene, peaceful moments which are washed away in continual chatter and noise. How fortunate we were! It felt like fate.
We drank wine as the sun set behind the torres, excited about tomorrow’s hike to the mysterious, granite towers which name this park. We prayed for good weather but remembered Cristian’s famous words: “Never the know” in Patagonia.
Stay tuned….next post will highlight the magical hike to the towers.
“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” – Jawaharial Nehru
After a fitful night sleep with pelting rain against our paper-thin tent and a real fear that our tent would up and wash away in the flooding waters underneath us, we awoke to utter, damp cold. Throughout the night, I pulled on whatever pieces of extra clothing I had inside my backpack to keep warm. A wool hat, gloves, a fleece, long underwear and thick, warm socks. But I was still frozen to the bone. Worse yet, I was even more fearful about our hike ahead. Given the terrible weather, I was sure it would not be fun but there was nothing we could do. Our schedule was tight and we had to go, rain or shine.
Here is me on that cold Thursday morning, freezing in the tent and not wanting to get up to face the long day ahead of hiking in the elements. Notice my one comfort from home, my “international” pillow, that goes with me where ever I go. Given everything, I still had a smile on my face!
Paul nudged me sometime around seven am and it was time to get out of my warm, cozy sleeping bag and start the day. Since I was already dressed
(one benefit of sleeping in your clothes!), I was ready in no time. I unzipped the tent gingerly, and gazed outside. The day looked ok, perhaps even better than expected. It was overcast and there were some dark, heavy clouds. But it had stopped raining and the wind had died down. I thought maybe we’d be lucky and it would clear. Today was supposed to be the second leg of the “W” trek, which was another long hike up to the French Valley, a gorgeous flower ladden valley with supposedly spectacular views of the park.
After a quick breakfast, we set out on our hike in uncertain conditions hoping it wouldn’t turn ugly.We knew that the weather in Patagonia can be absolutely crazy and little did we know, we were about to experience it firsthand. About twenty minutes into the hike, the clouds drew darker and the wind suddenly picked up. Cristain said, “Is coming….the rain” and we quickly put on all our rain gear over our clothes. Then Cristian said more urgently, “Is coming the rain, big rain” and we leaped at high-speed under a large bush for cover. According to Cristian, no matter what kind of advanced rain gear you have, you would be completely soaked within five minutes thus it was best to take cover and wait it out. I had never seen such an intense combination of wind and rain before in my life. It was completely, utterly wild.
After fifteen minutes, the rain let up slightly and Cristian thought it was safe to continue. We really had no choice anyway. We couldn’t go back; we had a schedule to keep and had to keep pushing ahead no matter how miserable it was or became. Unfortunately the rain also meant clouds so we could not see a single thing. That is by far one of the worst disappointments possible when it comes to trekking: All that hard work and no reward with a view. Oh well. I was briefly dismayed by the weather when I remembered that the group before us had rain for the entire week and saw absolutely nothing. What a pity! So I decided to count my blessings and hope for the best.
As we approached the turnoff for the French Valley, it was still raining hard and we were starting to get very cold and wet. We took a break in the wooded area that was kind of protected by the rain and ate our soggy lunch in silence. By this point, I was really discouraged because we would not be able to hike the French Valley yet still had another two, long hours to go in the cold, hard rain until we reached the refugio at Los Cuernos.
Here is a photo taken at our cold, miserable lunch. Yes it is the middle of the day and it is black out! I’m amazed that I am still smiling…..
The last two hours of the hike were quite miserable. The wind and rain picked up and the trail was muddy and slippery. Cristian kept telling us to “use the stick” meaning our hiking poles so we could balance ourselves and not fall into the muddy mess. The rain fell down hard, in sheets and at one point even sideways! We were completely soaked and I could feel water swishing between my toes with each and every step. I couldn’t stop dwelling on the weather and the fact that I was missing out on unseen beautiful views. But there is nothing you can do about Mother Nature and here she was in all her glory.
When we finally saw the refugio off in the distance, we were extremely relieved. Fortunately we arrived just in the nick of time. As soon as we got inside, the wind blew like mad and the rain suddenly turned into sleet and snow. An unbelievable winter storm had struck outside and the refugio shook and creaked with each powerful gust of wind. Wow, we couldn’t imagine being stuck outside, hiking in that insane weather. We hung our wet clothing and gear next to a fireplace to dry and then sat in the main common room watching the storm through twenty-foot glass windows in complete amazement and fascination. It was winter in Patagonia indeed.
The rest of the afternoon and evening at the refugio was quite an experience in itself. One by one, wet, soggy trekkers would enter the refugio going through the same routine as we did; first a huge sigh of relief, followed by removing all wet items and hanging clothing to dry by the crowded fireplace, and finally sitting down at our table and telling us about their adventure getting to the refugio. By the end of the day, there were about twenty of us trapped inside the refugio from all over the world. SInce there was not much else to do, we hung out and talked for hours. I couldn’t stop thinking how crazy it was being stuck inside this place sitting at a table filled with people from all over the world in one of the most faraway places I’d ever been.
The wind howled and rocked the refugio all night long yet both Paul and I slept like a baby, warm and dry, with the fire still smoking out in the common area. Since we had no idea what the weather would be in the morning, we decided to indulge in an extra hour of sleep. When we got up, I peeked out the window and lone behold there was a blue sky! We were so happy!
Photo the next day of the Refugio los Cuernos where we spent a unforgetable night.
Photo the next day of Los Cuernos (the horns).
Unfortunately we were not able to get many photos of our day trekking but were thankful for the beautiful days we already had and hopeful that the weather would return to the better. For anything is possible in Patagonia, even four seasons in a day!
Stay tuned…next post will continue our trek along the famous “W” trail at Torres del Paine National Park.
“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” Sir Edmund Hillary
Wednesday we woke up at our usual time of seven o’clock and were the earliest risers in the entire place. I was surprised that no one else in the jam-packed refugio was up because today’s hike was going to be a big one. We would start the park’s famous “W” trek with a 17-mile, 8 hour trek to the Grey Glacier. The “W” trek is the most popular trek in the park because it takes hikers in the form of a “W” to all the park’s major geological features including las torres (the towers), los cuernos (the horns) and the Grey Glacier.
After a filling breakfast of freshly baked breads, jams, cheese and meats, we headed out into the cool, gray day, hoping that it wouldn’t be our first experience hiking hours into the cold, wet Patagonian rain. The terrain was moderate with lots of small ups and downs, and brought us through the beautiful, lush Patagonian rainforest. The distinct smell of cinnamon, coming from the fragrant foliage, made me smile. After awhile, we experienced our first rainfall. It wasn’t too heavy but enough to require wearing our full rain gear of waterproof coats and pants: A necessity when hiking anywhere in Patagonia.
Hiking up through the temperate rainforest, dressed in layers for any possible weather.
One thing that continually amazed me about Patagonia is how often the weather changes. One moment, it is beautiful and sunny and then with a blink of an eye, the clouds roll in, the wind picks up and the rain pelts down and you are freezing cold. Sometimes you can even experience four seasons in a day. Whenever we asked Cristian about the weather, he would reply in his broken English, “Never the know“. That funny, odd sounding phrase became our most cherished remark throughout the trip. We didn’t bother correcting the grammar since that is what made his remark so special.
A picture of me along the way. The weather had become cooler and more typical of Patagonia. We realized how fortunate we were for the previous day’s amazing cloudless sky and continual warm sunshine. A rare treat in Patagonia.
Four hours later, we arrived at the mouth of the Grey glacier where it thrusts into Lago Grey. Although we had seen it from afar the day before, up close it was much more astounding and spectacular. Standing at the edge of Lago Grey, it was amazing to think that the massive glacier is thousands and thousands of years old. It is a pretty unbelievable sight.
Paul and I, frozen to the bone and braving the fierce, unprotected wind, at the first lookout of the mighty Grey glacier.
Grey Glacier is one of many glacial tongues stemming off the massive South Patagonian Ice Field, located between Argentina and Chile The Southern Patagonian Ice Field is massive. It is the second largest ice cap in the world extending for almost 350 kilometres with an area of 16,800 km². To reach Grey Glacier is considered an awe-inspiring highlight of any visit to the park.
View of the Grey Glacier in the clouds. I could only imagine what it would have looked like on a clear day. I’m certain it would have taken my breath away.
As we walked through unbelievable wind and cold, the only comfort was knowing that we were not far from the terminus of the glacier.
We were unbelievably cold yet the clouds begin to slightly lift. We wondered how many people hiked this trail, only to find the glacier completely hidden in the clouds. What a disappointment that would have been after all those hours of suffering the elements!
We have one more corner to round, said Cristian encouragingly. Just a few more steps through the deliciously fragrant Patagonian rainforest.
And then we were there, at the end of the glacier…we made it! Despite the clouds, it was an unbelievable sight. Like an enormous ocean of ice floating into the earth and water. Here I am, very very cold, but happy. What an incredible hike!
Paul and I posing for a shot next to a large boulder for support as well as to illustrate the massive size of the icebergs and glacial tongue. Incredible.
We had lunch at our spot overlooking the glacier and had the entire view to ourselves. We felt so lucky to be here and were even honored to catch a glimpse of two condors flying high above us searching for food. The whole experience felt slightly surreal, like it was all just a pleasant dream during a wonderful, deep slumber. But this was real. We could have stayed here all day, admiring the beauty of the view, despite the bone chilling wind that froze us half to death.
One last shot of Grey Glacier and the magnificent icebergs floating gently across the water.
As we headed back, the clouds began to lift giving us an even better view of the glacier off in the distance and surrounding mountains. We were too tired and cold to take pictures. All we could think about was getting to a dry, warm place and hopefully having a hot shower.
Along the way, we found plenty of fresh water to fill up our drinking water. At first I was hesitant in drinking water directly from a stream as being an American, this was completely unheard of. But Cristian lightly coaxed us, telling us it was the best water on earth, so we dove in, took a sip of heaven and sighed a happy sigh of relief. It was fresh, cold and delicious, like nothing I’d ever tasted.
When we arrived back at the refugio we noticed that our tents had not yet been set up for the night. Poor Cristian had to set them up all by himself after an exhausting 17-mile hike! He finished just in time for cocktails and another delicious dinner was shared together with our newly made friends in the international refugio. We tried to stay up as late as possible knowing that we were in for a cold, rainy night in our lonely, spartan tent. Unfortunately the refugio was booked full that night so we would have to rough it in the cold, wet Patagonian elements.
Our unfortunate accommodations that night, faced with all the wild and craziness of the ever-changing and unpredictable Patagonian weather.
Surprisingly, I slept fell asleep quickly and soundly, despite the strong gusts of wind and fierce bursts of rain hitting and shaking our tent with elevating intensity. All I could think of was “what on earth were we in for tomorrow?”. It wasn’t so sure it was going to be good.
Stay tuned…next post will cover the third day trekking in Torres del Paine National Park. What will the weather be like?
There are few places in the world that stir up such longings and true joy of Mother Nature than Patagonia….
We arrived at the insanely beautiful Torres del Paine National Park around 5:30 PM, completely blown away by its unforgettable beauty. After taking a few photos near the entrance of the park, we climbed back into our van and drove in utter silence trying to take in the raw splendor of this incredible place.
Not long after entering the park, we pulled into the Cascada Expediciones Eco Camp and were instantly greeted by Cascada’s warm staff. The team included Marcelo (the head chef), two Assistant chefs and Rodrigo. Although I had seen pictures of the camp on Cascada’s website, seeing it in person was much better. It was phenomenal and well beyond our dreams and expectations.
The Eco Camp is a novel alternative lodging created by Cascada to offer an efficient, luxurious, and earth-friendly option for lodging in the park. It is the first Eco hotel south of the Amazon and the only one in Patagonia. It’s innovative design uses state of the art environmental technology resulting in a luxurious four-star “camping” experience in harmony with nature. Although you don’t stay at the tent the entire time while visiting the park (one night was camping outside in a tent in the rain while two other were staying jam-packed in a crowded refugio), the three nights we were at the Eco Camp were heaven.
The Eco Camp was built a few years before our visit by Cascada in an effort to be more ecologically sound by limiting the impact visitors had on the park and the environment. The Eco Camp is far more than your ordinary campground. There are 16 Eco Tents dispersed around the camp, which are built with a wooden floor and a canvas top. Each ten contains one or two real beds making sleeping a much more comfortable experience after a long day’s hike. There is also a separate hut for the ladies and men’s bathroom, with real live hot showers, a rarity in the trekking world, and efficient toilet systems that create little impact to the environment.
However, in my opinion the highlight by far of the entire Eco Camp is the large Eco Dome which housed the dining and living room for the guests and offers a stunning, panoramic view of the world-famous Torres del Paine (towers) from dusk until dawn. The Eco Dome also contains a full kitchen where delicious home-cooked Chilean meals are served for a sunrise breakfast and candlelight dinners.
During a typical week, the Eco Camp can accommodate up to 30 guests. Yet due to our incredible luck, during our week the lodge accommodated just two: Us. Thus the three nights we stayed there, we were waited and dined on by the entire staff in the most amazing, spectacular “tent” I’ve ever stayed in. It was utterly unbelievable.
Here is a photo of me standing outside the Eco Dome where our warm fire awaited, a view of the mountains and delightful hot food made my belly ache.
Since we were the only ones staying at the camp, we got the pick of our Eco Tent and decided on the one furthest away from the Eco Dome and with the best view. Here it is:
We unpacked a few of our belongings, enjoyed a fresh, hot shower (a pleasure in itself after hours on the road) and then headed to the Eco Dome for the remainder of the night.
When we entered the Eco Dome, Cascada’s “cocktails” were awaiting us as well as a warm fire in an antique wood-burning stove. Every night before dinner Marcelo or Cristian would prepare our cocktails. For Cristian, the word cocktails did not mean exactly what one would think. Cascada’s cocktails would always include a glass of the traditional, yet controversial “Chilean” drink called Pisco Sour (there is a fierce battle going on with the Peruvians who claim it as their national drink) and a large assortment of appetizers ranging from different kinds of cheeses, homemade spreads, crackers and always a bowl of lovely olives. We didn’t bother to correct Cristian’s use of the word cocktails since we found it quite entertaining. During the week, cocktails would become a much-awaited tradition after a long day of trekking.
Me thoroughly enjoying my cocktails, even though all I did that day was sat in a van!
Dinner was served around 8 o’clock and we were amazed to see that it was still light out. In the summer, the sun doesn’t set until well after ten giving trekkers many hours of daylight for exploring. Of course we never hiked that long however it certainly was wonderful watching the sun set while we ate to our hearts’ content.
Photo of Marcelo, our chef, preparing tonight’s meal.
It was just the three of us for dinner: Me, Paul and our guide Cristian, at our own elegantly decorated table with candles and a magnificent view of the Torres del Paine. Marcelo had exquisitely prepared a delicious four-course Chilean meal, which was served with our choice of red or white Chilean wine (I took some of both!). The entire meal was absolutely yummy and well beyond our wildest imagination.
Photo of Paul and I enjoying a wonderful meal of excellent food and conversation. I decided that I could get really used to this kind of lifestyle!
As the sun began to set over the splendid Torres (towers), it was time to get some sleep for we had a huge day of hiking ahead of us. I could hardly wait.
View outside the Eco Dome at ten pm. It was still light, just like Minnesota in the heart of summer.
It was hard to describe my feelings for this magical place. I had written a few words down in my journal which when I look back, years later, on this trip to Patagonia, I believe give it justice: Amazing, spectacular, magical, surreal, special, happiness, peace and most of all, paradise.
Stay tuned…day one of the “W” hike in Torres del Paine National Park.
“A mere glance of the landscape was enough to make me realize how entirely different this was, of all what I had ever seen until then.”
Charles Darwin “The Voyage of the Beagle”.
Our morning in Punta Arenas ended up being quite startling. The wind conditions in town were so abhorrent that there was not a soul in town except us, the two ugly Americans, checking things out. The wind gusts were like nothing I’d ever experienced. You would be in the midst of walking and all the sudden, an enormous gust of powerful, vicious wind would literally strike you and sweep you off your feet. I was shocked at how intense the wind was and finally understood why there were rows and rows of ropes and metal chains lining the sidewalks in Punta Arenas.
As I mentioned in my earlier post, there was not much at all to do or see in tiny Punta Arenas. However, we did learn a bit about this bizarre, windswept place during our stay. The town of Punta Arenas is about twenty miles from the airport and located right on the Straits of Magellan. It is a wind-beaten town, once known as the southernmost city in the world, awash with history but not much else.
Per Wikipedia, “Two early Spanish settlements attempted along this coast (on the Straits of Magellan), including the first (1584), called Nombre de Jesús, failed in large part due to the harsh weather and difficulty in obtaining food and water, and the enormous distances from other Spanish ports. A second colony, Rey don Felipe, was attempted at another location some 80 kilometres south of Punta Arenas. This became known later as Puerto Hambre, sometimes translated as Port Starvation or Famine Port. These Spanish settlements had been established with the intent to prevent piracy by English pirates, by controlling the Straits of Magellan. Ironically it was an English pirate captain, Thomas Cavendish who rescued the last surviving member of Puerto Hambre in 1587″.
The main industries of Punta Arenas, or “Sandy Point” are fishing, petroleum, tourism and livestock (namely cattle and sheep). WIth a population of a little over 150,000 hearty souls, Punta Arenas’ economy is thriving and it is an amazing testament of the will of people to succeed in this extreme climate.
A little after noon, our transfer from Cascada Expedicionnes, Rodrigo, arrived. We were both taken aback when we saw him, as he was much younger than we anticipated. We shook hands and asked the burning question: How many people were coming along on the trek? Rodrigo replied, “None. You two are it for the week”. Shocked, I asked if this was unusual and Rodrigo said that it had never happened. The week before he had a big group of a dozen trekkers and this week there just happened to be only two signed up. We couldn’t believe our luck! For the next seven days, we would have our own private guide, chef and a complete staff graciously attending our uttermost needs. This was unheard of!
We had a five-hour journey to the park, with a few stops along the way. I sat up front so I could take in the view and more importantly, talk with Rodrigo about Patagonia and our trip. Most of the staff at Cascada is from Patagonia. Rodrigo grew up right in Punta Arenas and was extremely knowledgable about the region. His grandmother was a descendant from England so he spoke perfect English, which was a relief given my lack of Spanish. There are also many descendants of Croatia, Germany and other European countries who came to work the farms.
The route to the park takes you through remote pampa, also known as Patagonian desert land, where you are rewarded at the sight of Patagonia flamingos, horses, guanacos (a type of Patagonian llama) and many species of birds, including large ones. The landscape is dramatic, windswept and wild, yet also stunningly beautiful. It is so incredibly vast and unique that you feel like you are on another planet. In the distance, if you are lucky to have a clear enough day, you can see the snow-capped peaks of the majestic Andean mountains, which reach their terminus in Patagonia.
View of our drive to Puerto Natalas: The pampas and the glorious snow-capped Andes beckoned us.
The drive was long and tiring so we were thankful that there were stops along the way. Our most important stop was at the Cascada office in the town of Puerto Natalas, a sprawling town of 15,000 residents, mostly known as the main stepping off point for the surrounding parks.
Paul and I outside of Puerto Natalas, where we picked up our guide for the trek.
At Cascada’s small office, we met our guide for the trek, Cristian, and loaded up the van with our backpacks and the supplies for the week. Like Rodrigo, Cristian is also from Patagonia and is a true outdoorsman. His love and understanding of nature gave him a certain kind of intensity and zest for life that was infectious. Although his English was not as perfect as Rodrigo’s, his ungrammatical phrases and use of words seemed to add to his charm and always made us smile. We got along great over the week and in some ways, his personality had the same kind of mystical feel as the park itself.
Our drive from Puerto Natalas to the park was fascinating. Cristian had studied birds for the last few years so he pointed out different species along the way. We saw buzzard eagles, Chilean pink flamingos, nandues (ostrich), black-necked swans and on rare occasion, the magnificent Andean condors. Throughout our trip, the condors were by far my favorite sight. These spectacular creatures are one of the largest birds in the world, with a wingspan of up to ten feet and weight up to 33 pounds. They are not easy to spot since they spend most of their day soaring thousands of feet above the ground thus we considered ourselves lucky every time we caught a glimpse of one or two of them.
As we approached the park, the drive became more spectacular. There was the typical Patagonian cloud cover so we did not see the full magnitude of where we were headed, but occasionally we would get a glimpse of the majestic snow-capped mountains bursting through the clouds. It felt like the whole park was hidden, which added to its mystique.
At 5:30 PM, we finally arrived at the entrance to the park. After so many hours of travel, we were relieved to finally be here and were anxious about the week ahead of us. As we drove to the Cascada camp, we were greeted by a group of grazing guanacos and we were in awe at the incredible beauty of our surroundings. At that point, we knew that our research had clearly paid off and that we were in for a trip of a lifetime.
Entering the Parque Nacional Torres del Paine….our first sight.
Paul and I thrilled to finally arrive at the main entrance to the park.
Stay tuned…next post will feature the one and only Cascada EcoCamp…the way to travel in Patagonia!
Patagonia’s utter remoteness and isolation has added to its appeal because it has helped keep the hordes of tourists out and allow only the true adventurers in. In fact, getting to Patagonia is half the adventure. It often requires well over 24 hours of travel. For us, it took three flights totaling 17 hours in the air just to reach Punta Arenas, one of the southernmost commercial airports in the world and our launching off point for Torres del Paine National Park. Once in Punta Arenas, it takes a minimum of five hours by bumpy car ride to finally reach the park, and then you are finally there in the middle of nowhere.
Here we are loading our first of two flights from Santiago to Punta Arenas:
Landing in Punta Arenas instantly reminds you of where you are. Located on the blustery shores of the Strait of Magellan with Antarctica’s ice-mass not far away, it is not unusual to land in extremely windy conditions.
Although I had read about Patagonia’s notorious wind, I truly was not prepared for how windy it really was. As we made our final descent, I could see the gigantic white caps below and the tiny runway awaiting us. Although I was clutching the armrest of my seat as hard as I could, I still could not contain the excitement and energy I felt about finally arriving in such a wild and remote place. Our captain informed us that we had landed in over 60 mph winds and unfortunately we would have to wait a few minutes to get off the plane because it was too windy to attach the gate!
Stepping outside the airport, I finally understood what mucho viento meant. Too much wind. Incredible amounts of wind, like I’ve never experienced before, anywhere. Excitement rushed through my veins as a wind gust nearly knocked me over. The wind was absolutely unbelievable. All I could think of was “Welcome to Patagonia!”.
We spent the night in Punta Arenas at a quaint hotel located only two blocks from the main square. Despite the fine comforts of our hotel room, we both had a restless, fitful night’s sleep. Our minds were not put at ease. We had no idea what kind of adventure lay ahead.
Photo of our lovely hotel, Hotel Isla Rey Jorge
We woke up the next morning to the buzz of traffic circulating the busy streets. It was Monday and the town had come to life. Most people in Punta Arenas travel by taxi so that explained the crazy stop and go whirl of traffic.
Unanswered questions loomed inside our minds. How big would our group be? Where would they be from? What would the weather be like? And most important of all, would we have fun? We couldn’t wait to find out.
There was not much of all, if anything, to see in Punta Arenas. Yet we made the most of our morning walking around the windswept town. We visited the main city cemetery which proved extremely interesting.
Here is a picture of the crazy trees and Paul standing outside the entrance on that cold and windy morning:
Having never been to a South American cemetery before, I was amazed at how they bury their dead….above ground!
We also passed by the premier hotel in this tiny, uneventful town: Hotel Jose Nogueira.
By lunch time we had seen everything and had only a little more time until we would meet up with our driver from Cascada who would take us to the park. We found a little pizzeria and enjoyed a delicious lunch as the only foreigners in sight. We could hardly wait to meet our guide and hit the long ride out to Torres del Paine. It was sure to be an adventure of a lifetime!
Stay tuned…coming soon is our arrival at the glorious Torres del Paine National Park!
Hidden at the far southern tip of Chile is Punta Arenas, a dramatic, windswept Patagonian town that has managed to survive centuries despite its fierce climate. In the heart of the town lays the Plaza de Armas, which holds the glorious bronze statue of Ferdinand Magellan, the great explorer who discovered the Strait of Magellan in 1520. When looking at the statue, your eyes are drawn to the feet where the toes are rather polished instead of worn. Local legend says that anyone who rubs these toes will return to Puenta Arenas someday.
Photo taken of the infamous statue in October 2003.
I had always dreamed of going to Patagonia. After many earlier travels focusing on Europe, I had longed for something different and off the beaten path. Furthermore, the concept of going to the end of the earth intrigued me immensely. I was not alone.
Patagonia has captivated and inspired the imagination of explorers and travelers for centuries. Geographically, Patagonia is one of the most remote places on earth. Located on the Southern tip of Chile and Argentina, and only 621 miles from Antarctica, Patagonia feels like it is at the end of the world. Patagonia’s remote and utter isolation combined with its spectacular scenery has added to its mystique. It is truly a magical place that is relatively untouched by man.
Like other adventurers who visited Patagonia, I had desperately wanted an escape from the hectic pace of modern-day life. My husband Paul and I longed to go to a faraway place where we could find peace and only have our minds, our bodies and our souls as our guide. Patagonia seemed like the perfect refuge.
After extensive research, Paul and I found the perfect destination for our Patagonian trip: The world-renowned Torres del Paine National Park in Chile. Known as Chile’s prize jewel, Torres del Paine is located about 216 miles northwest of Punta Arenas and is one of the most beautiful national parks in the world. Many people consider the park to be in a league of its own; few parks are as magnificent as Torres del Paine. We had found our refuge. Next we had to figure out what we were going to do.
There are many ways to see the park depending on your level of fitness, adventure and budget. For us, it was an easy choice. We wanted to see the park on foot. Doing a multi-day trek had been a goal of ours for years and we had found the ideal place. The dramatic scenery of the park—snow-capped mountains, emerald lakes and rivers, awe-inspiring glaciers and Patagonian rainforest—set the perfect location for a weeklong trek. All we had to do before booking our trip was find our guide.
Finding the perfect adventure travel outfitter for a trek in another country can be a daunting task, especially if you have language barriers and budget concerns. Luckily for us, we knew exactly what we wanted: A local company and guide. When we travel, we like to go with the locals as we both find the experience much more meaningful. It also is so much more cultural and definitely beats being with a bunch of Americans (no offense but we can find plenty of them at home!).
On the internet, we found a Chilean tour company called Cascada Expedicionnnes that looked very promising. After reviewing their website, I was hooked. The guides were almost all from Patagonia, the trek was exactly what we were looking for, and the price was right. Best of all, the daily hikes looked absolutely breathtaking. We signed up for the last week in October 2003, which would be the fourth week of the park’s opening for the season, and then we were off.
We left Minneapolis after working a half-day (exhausting in itself, yet we Americans don’t seem to get enough vacation days!) and caught a four o’clock out on American Airlines to Dallas-Forth Worth Airport where we then caught a 10 pm flight to Santiago, Chile. We didn’t arrive at our hotel in Santiago until 11 am the next morning, tired and stiff from being crammed like a sardine for ten hours straight. Yet the nice thing is that flying south has no jet lag (unlike going east or west to Europe or Asia) so we were able to adjust quite soon.
We had a light breakfast and then were off on a half-day tour of Santiago with our hired tour guide Alejandro, who ended up being quite a character. I had read in our Frommer’s guidebook that Santiago is certainly a hodge-podge of different types of architecture. In some parts of town, you are immersed in modernity and surrounded by skyscrapers while a few streets down you find yourself surrounded by old, historical mansions. There is definitely a lot of French influence in the architecture of the city and less Spanish influence than I would have imagined.
Our first stop of the tour was to the lovely Metropolitan park where we took a gondola up to the peak and saw the grand, bird’s-eye view of Santiago and unfortunately its smog:
Photo above of my husband Paul on top of the peak overlooking Santiago.
We walked down the nice path back to town, marveling at all the Chilean joggers running up and down the hill for a workout, and then we did a three-hour city tour of the main points of interest in Santiago. I must have been quite tired (or else just not that impressed) because I only have two photos of our city tour of Santiago.
Photo of Paul and I “somewhere” in Santiago. I did like Santiago much more than Lima but it paled in comparison to the sensational Buenos Aires which I would visit a few years later.
Photo above of the Metropolitan Cathedral located in the main square, Plaza de Armas.
After our tour, we were completely wiped out. I was surprised we had even lasted that long on so little sleep yet somehow or another we managed to catch a second wind and explore the city for hours. We relaxed at our peaceful boutique hotel, called The Orly Hotel, over a bottle of Chilean Sauvingon Blanc and then proceeded to be the first arrivals at dinner at 7 pm (apparently Chileans eat late like the Europeans thus 9 or 10 pm is considered normal).
It was lights out early because we had another long day ahead of us. Two flights all the way south to the small town of Puenta Arenas, at the tip of Southern Patagonia. We couldn’t wait!
Stay tuned…next post will document the start of our Patagonian adventure and I promise to not disappoint…there will be loads more pictures of this magical place!
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
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 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!
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.
The mystery is out. Where on earth did thirdeymom decide to go to spend her eleventh year anniversary for a family vacation? Greece, like I dreamed of going many years ago during a three-week honeymoon throughout the Greek Isles? No. Florida or California to see Disney and the gang? Absolutely not. Well, where on earth did she go then?
Here are a few hints. It did not require a plane ride (unless you fly on a float boat, which people do here!). It is in the same state that I live in, lovely Minnesota. Ok…we are getting closer now! And it was not at home in Minneapolis. So, where did we go? For our second annual family summer vacation, we chose the the good ole’ Historic Grand View Lodge in lovely Nisswa, Minnesota.
Located about 2.5 hours northwest of the Twin Cities, Nisswa is part of the Brainerd Lakes area which is loaded with lakes, cabins, resorts, golf courses, and plenty of family fun. The Grand View lodge dates back almost one hundred years (yeah, nothing compared to other parts of the world, but significant for us Americans!).
In 1916, real estate guru M.V. Baker purchased 238 lots (each a 50-foot lot) on the shore of splendid Gull Lake. He shortly after began selling the lakefront property for $10 per foot and his business grew so rapidly that in 1919 decided to build a lodge to house prospective clients. (This information I found in the Grand View Lodge history book at the lodge. It was complete with black and white photos from the early 1900s which were fascinating as well).
Baker brought in a small crew of workers to build the lodge using many of the Norway Pines that grew along the property. The lodge today remains unchanged and is an excellent example of Rustic lodge architecture. In 1980, it was chosen to be a member of the National Register of Historic places which means that no remodeling can be done that would change the true character of the building. Today, it doesn’t truly have the “Grand View” of the lake as it was intended (as it was built quite a bit back from the lake and it has all grown in with majestic pines). However, the view as you approach the lake and surrounding property is Minnesota at its finest. It is simply gorgeous!
In 1937, Baker sold the property to Reynolds Frederick Brownlee Cote otherwise known as “Brownie” by the locals. Brownie was a pioneer resorter in the area thus with his guidance and expertise, the Grand View Lodge grew into the fine Minnesotan resort that it is today.
Today the Grand View includes a large array of 1-8 bedroom cabins spread across 750 acre year-round resort on two lakes: Legendary Gull Lake (2,500 feet of shoreline) and the more secluded, nostalgic Roy Lake. The resort also offers three championship golf courses, a fabulous spa, an indoor pool and waterslide, beach front activities, boating, tubing, bike riding, kayaking, and dining. Not a bad place for a family vacation!
Well, it isn’t Greece that is for sure. Yet, given the fact we are traveling with two young children ages 4 and 6, who require a lot of attention, wake up at the crack of dawn and need to eat exactly at five, the Grand View Lodge turned out to be a Grand Ole vacation!
Here are some pictures of our trip, starting with some photos of the Historic Grand View Lodge, the beloved Chocolate Ox ice cream and candy shop, the lakefront, the beach, the pool, the nature (photo of the Minnesota State Bird, the Loon and her baby), our little red cabin at Roy Lake and best of all, the serene sunsets! Hope you enjoy!
The majestic Grand View Lodge, basking in the sun:
