El Fin del Viaje

Well that's all she wrote...we're heading home tomorrow and should be in Miami some time in the afternoon. A rented convertible awaits us there and we'll ride like the wind up the east coast, stopping to see some of our people along the way. It's been an awesome trip. Despite illnesses, sleepless nights on busses, lost photographs and a few shady characters we've made it through six months in the southern Americas. In the end, the innumerable positive experiences have by far outweighed any difficulties.

Thankfully Nathan and I are still married and will probably even miss being in each others' presence 24-7. Though at first we'll probably try to barter with cashiers in Wal-Mart and walk into shops with a resounding "Buenas tardes!" I think our readjustment period should be relatively painless. With luck we'll soon find employment and a place to call our own. Until then we just might end up on your couch one of these days, so be forewarned.

Here's to seeing you all soon and catching up on the last six months!

A Hodge-Podge

Since Choquequirao we've been having a grand old time meandering about and mostly taking it easy. We spent another few days in the Cusco area checking out the Sacred Valley, which runs northwest from the city towards Machu Picchu and holds more significant ruins from the Incan Empire. First we stopped at the ruins in Moray which archaeologists hypothesize were used for agricultural experimentation, specifically to test crop vitality in different climate zones, whose conditions were mimicked by the successive terrace levels.

From there we walked to the nearby Salinares. This collective salt mine has been used continuously since Incan times. Each pool belongs to a family who harvests the salt for personal use and extra income. A system of small aqueducts carries water from a spring above down through the complex so that each plot can be flooded with salt rich water then left to evaporate, leaving fresh salt behind.

Later we stopped for a night in Ollantaytambo, a town inhabited since Incan times and still built upon original Incan stone foundations. In true cheapskate style we scrambled up a hillside to sit at some patchy ruins (free entry) and watch the the tourists walk through the larger paid entry ruins across the valley. From there we headed to another small town called Pisaq and hit their famous Sunday market. The central square, and all the narrow cobbled streets leading up to it, were full of vendors selling weavings, clothing, jewelry and other such touristy stuff, but the central square is also the place where campesinos from the surrounding countryside come to sell their wares. Lovely fruits, veggies, dried herbs and spices, natural dyes and all manner of household goods could be bought.

Upon return to Cusco we learned we couldn't travel to Arequipa, as hoped, owing to road blocks in nearly every direction out of the city. For weeks people had been protesting proposed goverment acquisition of land for resource extraction by foreign companies, but when a bloody confrontation between natives and police led to dozens of deaths in northern Peru in early June, the whole country joined the fight. Recently the government overturned the controversial legislation and roadblocks were cleared, but by the time we left Cusco we had only one way out, and that way led to Lima. So there we went.

Arriving in Lima was a bit disappointing. We'd heard pretty much nothing good about the city, but had nonetheless figured we could find something to do in a place that big for a week until we flew out. Lima is not so bad, but not good enough to spend seven days in. One day was sufficient to check out Pizarro's tomb, the creepy but intriguing catacombs full of intricately arranged bones at the San Fransisco convent, and a museum on the Spanish Inquisition.

The next day we hopped a bus to Hauraz, where we can now be found. Huaraz is busy, bustling and maybe even a tad chaotic. Our hostel is a bit sketchy, but that has nothing to do with the ladies selling live guinea pigs and chickens out of bags on the street outside. Actually, that's my favorite part about this city. In the Mercado Central across the way you can find just about anything you need, including a two course lunch for less than a dollar.

Though we didn't have time to do one of the big trekking circuits we'd originally planned to, we did get into the Huascaran Park yesterday for a lovely hike up to Laguna 69. Though a rare bought of bad weather graced us with snow and rain at the higher altitudes it was nonetheless beautiful.

Choquequirao

Another day, another ruin. On our way back from Machu Picchu we ran into a fellow American named David, who was on his way back from some other ruins. After chatting a bit, he quickly convinced us to join him on a trek to Choquequirao, quickly becoming known as "the other Machu Picchu". So we returned to Cusco for a day to prepare then set out on the hike. It turned out to be a pretty brutal descent to a river one day, then an even more brutal 1500 meter ascent straight up to the ruins the next. Those Incas sure loved their mountain top cities. As usual, we declined the sensible option of mules to carry our gear and subjected ourselves to climbing with full packs.

All was worth the effort, though, as the ruins themselves are truly awesome. For one, the complex is larger than Machu Picchu, though only about 30% of it has been cleared. We saw many more government workers and archaeologists up there than tourists and enjoyed chatting with them about the plans for the site. The Peruvian goverment wants to bill it as Machu Picchu's sister, so that those coming to see the former will invariably visit Choquequirao, too. Thus far they have flushing toilets and showers at designated campsites and they hope to put in a cable car up to the ruins. For now, though, only hikers and those with enough money to land in a helicopter on the sacred ceremonial platform can access it.

When the ruins are completely cleared it will really be something spectacular. It already is. There are extensive agricultural terraces with designs of llamas built into the stone retaining walls, beautiful remains of temples and ceremonials sites, and lots more. You can still peek into the jungle and see more structures hiding under the vegetation. As you know from the recent "Correction", Machu Picchu was not a final holdout of the Incas against the Spanish, but researches believe that Choquequirao actually was. Rather, it was a kind of checkpoint into the area of Vilcapampa, where the Inca´s held out until the bitter end. This makes it that much more romantic and exciting.

We feel pretty lucky to have happened upon our friend David and to have seen this place before the masses hit. If they really do put in the infrastructure to make it easily accessible (which in itself will be an engineering feat par-Inca) the place will certainly become internationally renowned. If you can, get it while the gettin´s good and visit before it makes everyone´s life list.

Correction

So...Nathan got a little Indiana Jones on you and was carried away by his own adventure story of Macchu Picchu, so he may have been just a wee bit off in his Macchu Picchu facts. Being the stickler for accuracy (and, incidentally, the beautiful wife of the heroic adventurer) I feel I must set you straight. Machu Picchu was not a last stronghold of the Incas, though that sounds pretty cool. Actually, it was abandoned less than one hundred years after being built in the mid-15th century, perhaps due to the devestation of smallpox. It's precisely because it was abandoned, however, that so much of it remains today. Because the Incas left before the Spanish discovered it, the city wasn't plundered or destroyed.

Though much remained when Hiram Bingham was led to Machu Picchu by a local Quechua boy in 1911 (while searching for another site that was the actual last stronghold of the Incas) it wasn't as neat and tidy as it is today. It was consumed by jungle vegetation, and we recently learned that it was burned in order to clear this vegetation. This only destroyed a little itty bit of the original stonework, so don't worry. Most of what we see today has been rebuilt and restored. Regardless, it is spectacular and an amazing architectural feat.

Nathan also neglected to tell you about the savage beasts and hungry cannibals we fended off with machetes and whips while climbing vines to reach the lost city of Machu Picchu. But that's just details.

Machu Picchu

The last three days found our adventurers subverting the rising tide of tourism, sticking to their mantra(there must be a cheaper way), and taking a lesser trodden route to the most popular destination in South America. After spending a few hours on the internet, the dashing hero and his beautiful wife set out for that alternative way to those fabled ruins. Unfortunately, even the most famous "lost city of the Incas" has become a tourist trap that even the most dashing and the most beautiful adventurers must work to fight off the aggressive tactics of the commercial industries. There was a cheaper way, and surprisingly it wasn't all that difficult. All it took was a day's worth of bus rides with awful music and a few mini-van rides that had vertigo inducing cliffs(100 plus meter drops) without any guard rails. Yes, the adventurers are quite something.

To put it simply, the tourist industry of Machu Picchu is there for a reason. It is amazing. The aspect that I found most interesting about the ruins was the fine craftsmanship of the stonework. The walls of the temples and the royal enclosures were so finely constructed that even after a half a millenium they are still standing and still beautiful. The lost city was one of the last Incan strongholds as the Spanish conquest moved through South America. There are a few of these cities scattered throughout the mountains hidden from their invaders, Machu Picchu being the most famous.

Machu Picchu had a few temples, a royal enclosure, an astronomical observatory, agricultural areas, a guard house, 2 separate urban areas, and a central plaza. At one time, it was a fully self-sustaining community. All of this remains virtually hidden until the very moment you come upon the city on the mountaintop. We highly recommend a visit to this area of the world. Between the the beautiful city of Cusco and the endless Incan ruins, you can have yourself a nice little vacation.

Ausangate Trek

I suppose my turn to write finally came up so Nathan is on vacation for this one. We have made it back in one piece from another trek and this time we're a bit glad we don't have many more to go. Though a few more tempt us, we're not sure how much more energy we have left. We think we can squeeze one more out, though.


The Ausangate circuit, which circles the impressive Ausangate massif, is yet another example of the astounding world we live in. This planet continues to amaze me. Though we'd planned six days we managed to complete the circuit in five. It passes through incredible mountain terrain, complete with glaciers and associated lagoons and churning streams, but even more impressive to me were the settlements we enountered, most probably enduring since pre-Incan times. The mud brick huts and extensive stone fence lines are sturdy and solid, just like their inhabitants. Alpacas and llamas brave the harsh mountain weather all year long, feeding on the often sparse alpine vegetation. The Peruvian Andes harbor hearty creatures.



All the locals we met were very friendly and always eager to chat and exchange greetings (and sell us their wares). Children begged sweets (dame dulces! dame dulces!) which was a bit disappointing, though not surprising given how many western trekkers pass through their villages and probably do give sweets. On our final day we camped in the pueblo of Calachaca and woke to a frost laden tent and two tiny children in thin coats and sandals hovering by our camp waiting for a treat. They never asked, just sat by shyly, enduring my attempts at conversation in Spanish and waiting patiently for us to give them something. Most campesinos who live so remotely speak and understand only Quechua, so I got a lot of nodding and blank stares. But they understood a gift and a few happily walked away with our extra oatmeal, quinoa and raisins, even though they'd hoped for chocolate and jam. I guess we were like those people who give out pencils on Halloween.


As for the trekking itself, we were pretty happy to find that we could hack the altitude and carrying our own packs. Not to say we weren't exhausted. Two passes over 4800 meters and two more over 5100 meters were no cake walk. We did look longingly at others being carried by horses and their gear by mules and are contemplating this method for next time. Nonetheless, the scenery was spectacular and well worth the burning lungs.


Now we're back in Cusco and will head out to Macchu Picchu in a couple days. Though it's expensive as all get out and obviously very touristy, it seems almost obligatory and everyone who has visited has said that even the hordes of people and snapping cameras can't take away from the magic that emanates from the place. We definitely look forward to it and will of course report back.

Confessions of a Loser (of things)

Team morale hit an all-time low back in La Paz, Bolivia about a week ago. I lost the flash drive with all the pictures of the past four months on it. Cue sad face. Fear not, for all is not lost, only most of it. We still have the blog pictures and we put some up on photobucket.com, and I even have a few on Facebook. I think that this unfortunate event may haunt me for eternity. I can picture Beth, old and gray, telling all the grandkids about our exotic adventures and saying something like... "Well I would show you all the pictures but Grandpa lost them all in La Paz." At that point I would hang my head in shame while my own grandkids heckled me for my actions 40 years before. Anyway, we don´t even know for sure that all these digital pictures will even last that long. While we are on the subject, I lost my jacket and the headphone splitter so that we could listen to the Ipod at the same time. I almost lost my other jacket and my passport, but they were successfully recovered.

Let´s move on shall we and talk about adventure and pretty things. Over the last few weeks we have been doing some smaller hikes. Outside La Paz, we did a trek called El Choro which was a gruelling 4 day hike on an old Incan trade route through the mountains. What made it rough was that we began the hike at 4800 meters and descended down to 2200 meters. I have never been so sore in my life from hiking. Our knees were aching. It was a beautiful walk through both high altitude mountains and lush jungle valleys. It passed through towns where people still spoke Quechua and scratched out an existence by farming land that was 1 or 2 days walk from the nearest road.

After escaping the city of La Paz, we headed for Copacabana on the shores of Lake Titikaka. For my entire life, Lake Titikaka was just some lake that made me chuckle in my youth. (I still think that it is kinda funny, but now know it means "Rock of the Puma" in Quechua and Aymara.) It is a spectacular place. The sapphire blue waters are surrounded by mountainous terrain. We spent most of our time on Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun). It is where Incan legend places the beginning of the world. Beth thought that this was her favorite landscape so far. We spent 3 days traversing the island inspecting ruins, finding solitary campsites in empty coves along the lake, and trying to figure out where exactly we were. The locals on the island were exceptionally kind and helpful. Lake Titikaka has a kind of Mediterrenean feel to it and is definitely worth a visit.

We are currently hanging out in Cusco, Peru where we are preparing for another hike. It will be 6-8 days depending on the weather and other logistics. After the hike we will visit Macchu Picchu.

Rancho Montana

We know, we know. We´ve been neglecting the blog a little. I must say, though, it is not because we just didn´t feel like it. We were kinda on vacation. It is difficult living this way. Everything we do turns into an epic journey. Just finding food or an envelope leads to a wild goose chase through the city. I am sure you are thinking something like "cry me a river." We won´t take offense to that. We had a wonderful vacation from our traveling. We spent three weeks an hour north of the city of Santa Cruz, Bolivia on Rancho Montana.

Rancho Montana is a two hundred acre farm that belongs to Brent, an ex-pat from Montana who works in the seismic business. Staying with Brent and his family made us feel like we were royalty. The farm is teeming with activity. He has a hundred or so chickens, 20 or so head of cattle, 10 dogs, 3 horses, 2 peacocks, 2 pigs, a handful of geese, and a kitten. Pati and the girls were always preparing delicious food for everyone. Brent grilled steaks on the barbeque and got his smoker going for ribs and steaks from a steer that was butchered while we were there. I am fully commited now to building a smoker like his someday.

We contacted Brent through an organization called WWOOF, which means something like "willing workers on organic farms." The deal is to work on the farm in trade for meals and lodging. The ecology of the area would be something like a savannah. It was hot there, a big difference from the high altitudes where we have been spending most of our time. The temperature was always hovering around 90 degrees Farenheit with 50% humidity. Sticky.

Our main responsibility was to prepare his garden beds for the winter planting. I guess the summer is too wet and too hot to grow there. It is unbeleivable how fast things grow there. We cleared lots of brush and fence rows, we pruned the banana trees, and trimmed hedges. After that was done, we began to turn all of the soil by hand with a heavy duty hoe. It was a great feeling for both of us to actually do something to get our hands dirty. By the time we were getting ready to leave, we had all the gardens turned, tilled, and manured. Beth had planted some seed for their starts.

The worst part about the experience was that I was sick a lot with a stomach bug. I still hadn´t kicked the bug that I had picked up in La Paz. I would feel good for 4 or 5 days and get sick for 3. Eventually they took me into town and helped us navigate the Bolivian healthcare system. We would not have been able to do it on our own. It is very different than what we were used to in the states. Pati made me soups and things to help me feel better. They were really great.

Some of our favorite things while we were there...

...the fresh lemonade made from the lemon tree

...watching the peacocks lurk around the garden eating bugs

...the softball sized tarantula we found while we cleared brush

...the smoked ribs

...the inside scoop on South American politics

...seeing how a steer is butchered

...getting our hands dirty

Thanks to Brent and his family for the wonderful experience!

Thoughts on La Paz, Bolivia

We have been in La Paz, Bolivia for almost a week now. Unfortunately I got a bug so have laid around reading and playing games on my Ipod and have gone for little walks. Beth has ventured a bit further, exploring the city's markets and street foods. Our hostel is smack in the middle of the Witches Market, where you can find ladies selling magical herbs and tinctures and dried llama fetuses.

Any kind of walk in La Paz is quite an event. The city sits on the eastern shoulder of the Andes at over 12,000 feet above sea level. The narrow, cobbled streets are steep and will have you panting like a dog in the summer heat before you know it. The sidewalks are thin to non-exisitent. A dull stink of sewer and grime wafts constantly through the air, and people are everywhere buying and selling and bartering. You buy can buy everything from toilet paper to sunglasses on the street markets. The food has been wonderful, although not helping my stomach bug. You can buy eggs, bread, jewelry, snake skins, herbs, small stuffed alligators playing little guitars, fake Rolex's and fake Ray-Bans. The drivers are ruthless which makes crossing the streets a stressful and death defying act.

Cathedral San Francisco

Throughout our travels we have frequented many beautiful churches. Cathedral San Francisco, sitting like a fortress two blocks from our hostel, is spectacular. The plaza in front is packed with market vendors selling flowers, food, juice, palm crosses and jewelry. Upon entering the church I realized what a sanctuary this must have been for people living in this fast-paced and chaotic city. The church was dimmly lit, and people were scattered in the pews praying or just taking in the unshakeable character of this building. The walls are made of huge stone blocks nearly 4 feet thick and really make one feel secure. Along the side walls you find ostentatious shrines to various saints.

In many of the South America churches we've visited, Cathedral San Francisco no exception, these shrines tend to be particularly gory and graphic, with bloody and savage representations of the cruxification. Paul Theroux, in The Old Patagonian Express, commented on this observation too. He makes the interesting point that in this part of the world, where the people have seen so much blood, torture and pain themselves, in order to make the sufferings of Jesus appear to exceed their own he must be represented with the utmost gore and anguish. He's right. The images are sometimes downright revolting. The shrines of the Virgin Mary are quite the opposite, however. Mary is always the idealic vision of a queen mother, perhaps reminiscent of the Spanish queen of the motherland during conquest.

Coca

Quickly upon entering northern Argentina and Bolivia we saw vendors selling coca. As a westerner the first thing I thought of was the synthesized drugs made from these leaves that are causing all kinds of havoc throughout the Americas. However, coca has been cultivated for medicinal, ceremonial and alimentary uses since the time of the Incas. It is deeply rooted in family tradition and social culture. It's therefore important to separate the plant from the drug that causes so much fuss. It is a way of life to drink coca tea, chew coca leaves to reduce the symtoms of altitude sickness, and maybe get your fortune told by "reading the leaves." None of these activities even approaches the experience of using the synthetic drugs. Their effects are mild and beneficial, with no harmful ramifications for the body.

In the 18th century, the Catholic Church banned the use of the coca leaf, calling it a weapon of the devil and an obstruction to broad scale conversion of the natives. The church then rescinded this stance when they saw how much harder the natives worked in the silver mines while chewing coca. In the great mines of Potosi and elsewhere the amount of coca consumed by the workers often exceeded in monetary worth the gold and silver extracted.

Moving On

We are heading east to Santa Cruz, Bolivia today to spend some time on a little family run vegetable farm for a week or so. Beth is quite excited to get digging in the dirt and maybe hang out with some animals. We are hoping the lower altitude will help me recover from my bug.

Bolivia and The Salt Flats

We made it out of Argentina and crossed into Bolivia at the little outpost town of Villazon. We needed to stay in La Quiaca, Argentina for a day so that we could allow the Bolivian Consulate to swindle us out of 2 weeks living expenses. It is clear that the relationship between the U.S. and Bolivia is not particularly strong. Evo Morales instituted a "reciprocity" fee for Americans just to enter the country ($135 per person). It is equal to the fee the U.S. charges Bolivians. Not only did we have to pay, but they mandate all kinds of photocopies of our important personal documents likes pictures, credit cards, Yellow Fever vaccinations, Bolivian hostel reservations, etc.

Once we managed to jump through all their hoops we walked across an ugly concrete bridge manned by armed guards into what is clearly another country. There is a big difference between Argentina and Bolivia. Bolivia is the poorest country in South America. Only 10% of the roads are paved, illiteracy is high and many people still claim pure indigenous Quechuan blood. The country is the most rugged, highest in elevation, and the most isolated country in the hemisphere. It is called the "Tibet of the Americas."

We walked around Villazon for a few hours while we waited to go to Uyuni. Unfortunately, the best thing about the chaotic and dirty village is the train that takes travelers out of there. After 11 hours of the Expreso del Sur stopping and starting and shimmying we pulled into Uyuni at 1:30am. We wandered through the desolate town with a hundred other travelers searching for our forcibly reserved accommodations. We found ours and zonked out.

The next morning, just after rolling out of bed, the hostel manager accosted us to let us know that there were 2 more spots on a 3 day 4WD expedition into the Salar de Uyuni and southwest desert of Bolivia. It was leaving in 2 hours. We hummed and hawed about it until she dropped the price for us and before we knew it we were on our way. We were crammed into a sweet Toyota Landcruiser with 3 sisters from the Los Angelos area and 2 French guys. Our masterful driver and guide, Cornelio, drove us across barren and desolate landscapes, through creeks and mud, and around volcanic geysers and fumaroles.

The Salar de Uyuni covers 12,000 square kilometers. There are no roads across the flats. Each driver just drives across the white and open plain of salt. The locals harvest and process the salt for export as well as harvesting the salt for building material. Our first night's accomodations were in a building made mostly of salt. The walls were made of salt bricks with salt mortar. The tables and chairs were also made out of huge blocks of salt cut from the salt flats. We got really lucky with our tour. There were many other tourists we ran into along the way whose drivers were mean and unpleasent. Some said that they weren´t given enough food to eat, and just didn´t have a good experience. We had wonderful food and wonderful company all around. It couldn´t have been better.

On day two, we visited lagoons of various colors where flamingos causually walked their high step walk picking at whatever they could find. The landscape between the lagoons was barren desert surrounded by high volcanic mountains. We drove to a pass at 5,000 meters (15,000 feet). It was miles of sand speckled with marginal shrubbery, dust being kicked up by the truck in front of us, and an intense sun beating down on us. It was clear that Cornelio had little patience for being stuck behind other tours. We could relate to his driving after living up at Spruce Knob for years.

Some of us at The Mountain Institute tossed around a theory on driving the washboard and pothole ridden road of Spruce. The theory was the faster you drive over the holes and washboards, the smoother the ride. Cornelio proved this theory to be true time after time. Driving across the desert was like driving on a 15 lane highway, everyone always trying to pass everyone else. It was easily the closest we have ever come to being in an off road overland race. I loved it. On the third day we woke up before sunrise to see the sun come up over a landscape of boiling mud pits and steam funneling up into the sky from the ground.

All in all, it was another grand adventure. We arrived back in Uyuni early in the evening of the third day, found a cheap room costing us less that $6 US, and slept. We are now in the highest capital city in the world, La Paz. It is a high speed city, smelly and choatic, with markets that sell everything from fine street cuisine to baby llama fetuses. Weird.

Out of Argentina

As we walked through the cobbled streets of Humahuaca, Argentina, passing the stray dogs and endless markets where women in brightly colored clothes with mouths full of coca leaves sell jewelry, trinkets and all manner of woven goods, we realized that we´ve been on the road for a long time. We´ve seen all kinds of things and met all kinds of people. Fear not, this entry is not going to be like one of those sit-coms where they revisit all the zaney adventures from the old shows. If you want that, you should reread the old posts and hum a wistful tune. We decided it would be fun to do a 3 month round-up. Why 3 months? Because initially we set out for a six month journey. Of course our dwindling funds cause us to reconsider daily the possibilty of six months, but nonetheless we feel we´ve come to a halfway point.

Some unintentional symbolism has accompanied this benchmark. Through the cracked bus window on our way to Humahuaca from Jujuy we saw a rather unceremonious sign indicating the Tropic of Capricorn. Though we are still in Argentina, we clearly entered an entirely new cultural and geographical zone on our 3 month anniversary. Those picturesque Andean hills and hardscrabble Quechua towns you might envision in Bolivia are here in Northern Argentina too. So without further rambling...

Hours on a Bus: 208
Nights on the Bus: 8
Nights in a 1 1/2 person tent: 36
Miles hiked: 177
Pairs of shoes destroyed: 2
Packs of Ear plugs bought: 4
Times we thought we lost the camera: 2

Times we lost the camera and then found it: 1
Countries visited: 2
Border Crossings: 10
Empanadas eaten: dozens
Days we spent more than our daily limit: most
Knives lost: 2
Sick days:8
Lowest Latitude: 55 degrees

That is all we can think of right now. Any other suggestions?

Junin De Los Andes, Argentina

The region of Patagonia covers the entire bottom third of the South American continent. It´s world renowned for trekking, climbing, and fishing. As most of you know, I´m an avid fly fisherman, so I packed my rod, fishing gear and waders, and have been lugging them around for the past three months. My fishing goal of 30 fishing days has not yet been met, but I am half way there. Our latest excursion was to Junin, just one of the many places in Patagonia where the fishing is "the best in world." It is amazing how many Patagonia towns claim to be the trout capital of Argentina and how many rivers claim to be the best or most important river in the world. The trout are not native, but they are thriving in these waters and people from all over the world flock to fish here. It is a huge industry and the most expensive around it seems in terms of guides and other similar services. We went to another of the most important rivers to fish. They wanted $100US per day just for the license. Big business.


Junin is a small town of maybe 10,000 people. The Lonely Planet said it is the kind of place where you see the same stray dog over and over. It is true, and in fact, we didn´t see the same one dog over and over. We saw the same four, and they also slept outside our tent while we were there. Beth puttered around town and went for walks while I spent my time on the river. She had a stray dog escort everytime she went into town. Unfortunately a few of the mornings I also had a stray dog escort to the river. They had a great time playing in the water and scaring away all my fish. I had to resort to yelling and throwing rocks at them to get them to go away. They were sad.

I put myself on a strict fishing schedule of 6:30am to about noon, and 3pm to 6pm. I spent the 4 days fishing the Chimehuin that is said to be another of the best rivers in Patagonia. It is late season so the water is low, and the fishing a bit more difficult. I caught fish using dry flies, nymphs, and streamers, both floating line and sinking tip. I caught both rainbows and browns. Most of the fish were only about 12 inches, but I landed an 18 inch brown which ended up being my biggest fish thus far.

It has already been worth lugging the gear around. When we are rich, I would like to come back and spend more time fishing. Now, my sights are set on some kind of Amazon fish...maybe piranas or something. More research needs to be done.

I apologize for the lack of pictures. USB is technology that hasn´t quite made it to Humahuaca.

Osorno, Chile: A nice place to get sick?!?

After more than 3 days on multiple buses driving north from the "End of the World," we stumble off the last bus into a bustling station in Osorno, Chile. It is dark outside, and as we step off the bus the humidity begins to seep into our clothes. In consistent style, we have no idea where we are going to stay. We flip through the pages of our 8-year-old Lonely Planet and start heading in the direction of some hospedejas. We find one and settle in for the night. It is not the nicest place in the world, but we´ll only be here for a night. Right?

We came to Osorno to prepare for a trek around a volcano that had been recommended by friends. After three days on a bus, no one really feels in tip top condition including Beth. We had been sleeping on a bus the last three nights, eating junk food, listening to podcasts while we watched the world to go by. We were ecstatic to sleep on a bed that was horizontal.

When the next morning rolled around Beth was feeling worse. For three more days, Beths intestines waged war on a gnarly South America virus and I wandered around the city. On day four, we went on a mission in search of healthcare. We ventured into a local clinic, made an appointment, and Beth saw a doctor later that day. Her experience was positive. I was impressed that she saw a doctor and was given medication at absolutely no cost. To make a long story short, we have been here for seven days and Beth thinks shes finally licked the bug. Orsorno is not a tourist town, but it is a nice town and very inexpensive. I think that the Lonely Planet says not to bother with Osorno, but I would have to disagree. This busy little town has a good thing going. The plazas are busy and clean, there are markets here where you can get everything from socks to sugary fried peanuts (which we love) and the fruit and vegetable stands are beautiful and plentiful. I think that most of all it seems like an normal town. This trip has so far been filled with amazing sights, both natural and man made, and it´s a nice change of pace to spend some quality time in a place that paints a clearer picture of an ordinary life in Chile.

Beth is feeling better now. We decided to bow out and skip our volcanic adventure. We are heading back into Argentina tomorrow in search of some fishing before the season ends.

Pictures

This is back in El Bolson. This is a sculpture that sits in the central plaza. It is supposed to be a crystal-powered energy transferring device. I personally believe that it is an alien brain scanner. I wasn´t getting near that thing, but Beth on the other hand was in the mood for a little crystal power.

Islands on a glacial lake.

A shot of us at Torres del Paine

Fishing on Isla Navarino in Bahia Windhond.

Fishing on Lago Windhond.

An Epic in Three Parts

The last two weeks or so have been an adventure of epic proportion. We assume that this story will become a part of family legend and will be recounted for many years to come. To appropraitely capture the magnitude of this we have decided to split this entry into three parts. Each part having a specific title and theme. This story is set in both of the world´s most southern cities in the world. Ushuaia, Argentina has a stronger marketing arm, and for all intents and purposes is not the southern most city in the world. Puerto Williams, Chile sits 30 kilometers across the Beagle Channel on Isla Navarino. It is a town of 2,500 and is geographically isolated from it´s own country. Puerto Williams is difficult for everyone to get to, but has the allure of a town that has not yet been overrun by the masses of tourists that flood the streets of Ushuaia. Our antagonist, Ushuaia Boating, will rear it´s face in parts 1 and 3, while part 2 will find the heros slogging through peat bogs and beaver dams towards Cabo de Hornos (Cape Horn).

1. Waiting for Navarino

An Age of Optimism drew us out of our Blue Period only to deliver us to an Age of Resignation... we became nameless fugitives at the mercy of chance. Our hopes relied on such fickle things as the Patagonian weather and the mutual contempt that Argentina and Chile have for each other. We consider writing an epic poem recounting our maladventures with Ushuaia Boating- a great tome to rival even the Odyssey itself.

After publication we shall consider more means of artisitc expression in order to more fully relay the true depths of this rollercoaster of emotion we call "Waiting for Navarino." We will explore all mediums including operas, cinematic works, musicals, orchestral pieces, and folksongs. Perhaps the royalties from these pieces will carry us home. Until the end of part 1, Nathan sought solace in 500 cc units of cerveza while Beth in her pen and cafe con crema.

3 full days of "we´re leaving in 3 hours for sure" slowly wore us down. It was sandpaper scraping away our hope of making it across the Beagle Channel in a dingy to the Dientes de Navarino, the mountains that had captured our imagination after an encounter with a few charasmatic Belgians in Puerto Natales, Chile. On the evening of the third day of waiting and being emotionally tossed around, we boarded a small blue and white dingy for our journey across the channel. Our fellow passengers were two other travelers, one from California and the other from Spain. The Beagle was angry that day. The seas were high and rough and the winds manhandled our little boat like a child and his ragdoll. We are pretty sure our dingy caught some air at least once.

We arrived at Puerto Navarino to go through customs. Chile is very serious about making sure no fresh meat, dairy or vegetables cross the border. Oddly enough, the borders are so randomly made that it is difficult to believe that it even matters. After another 2 hour wait in the customs house in Puerto Navarino, we board a 15 passenger van for the final 50 kilometer ride to the southernmost city in the world, Puerto Williams. The ride was actually comforting for us. It was a reminder of the high speed driving done on the dirt roads of West Virginia. We made it in no time. The van dropped us at Hostel Pusaki.

2. Fin del Mundo ( The End of the World)

Our actual objective was a trek called the Dientes Circuit with a side trip to a lonely refugio at the northern tip of a large lake called Lago Windhond. We spent 8 days in the wilderness of Isla Navarino and never completed the Circuit. It was pouring down rain the evening we arrived meaning snow in the mountains. We had friends who were a day ahead of us on the same itinerary. They were in the middle of that storm. We have learned that the weather can change dramatically in minutes. It can be pouring down rain and quickly change to rainbows and sun within an hour.

We ran around town early the next morning picking up the final rations for our trip. We called a taxi to take us to the trail head. As we sat in the back, we could see the snow eccentuating the topography of the mountain we were heading into. If it all went to plan, our hopes to catch up to our friends at Cabana Charles on Lago Windhond. Our first two days of trekking took us hgher into the mountains. We had to cross two passes to get to our refugio. This far south the altitude of the mountain are not very high, but at this southern latitude treeline begins at an altitude of less than 2,000 feet. The snow melted away in a matter of hours and all was well in the Dientes.

At the end of our second day, we arrived late to Cabana Charles. Cabana Charles is a shack built in the mid-sixties. It has a woodstove, a table to cook on, and a few bunks to sleep on. It was fantastic, and the best part is that hardly anyone ever goes there. Our friends had caught 10 nice looking trout and planned a fishfry. Two days from civilization, we ate trout, nipped some whiskey, and made brownies over the fire. Perfect.

We hung around the refugio for two days fishing with little luck and enjoying all the amenities the refugio had to offer. By the end of the second day at Cabana Charles, we decided to no longer complete the Dientes Circuit, but instead head off trail to the south shore of the island to Bahia Windhond. We left around 10am, following some vague directions, but keeping close our handy map and compass. Much of the hiking on the island is what we termed as "slogging." It was hours and hours of walking through the most saturated environment we had ever trekked in. Almost everthing was steeped in a dark brown tanic water. Six hours later after a lot of "slogging," a little fishing, and a waist deep river crossing, we climbed up the last rocky knoll and gazed out into Bahia Windhond. The water was crystal clear, and the beach was completely deserted. We set up camp in a small grassy area, built a fire on our own personal beach at the bottom of the world, dried our wet shoes, listened to the water filter through the perfectly smooth rocks that lined the bay, and gazed out at the Wollaston Islands, home of Cabo de Hornos.

The next morning we headed north, because we had run out of south, and only had food for three more days. We made it back to the refugio, stayed the night, and continued to "slog" through the bogs and the beaver dams to our final campsite. (Some years ago, someone thought it would be a good idea to introduce beavers to this part of the world in hopes to create a beaver fur industry. I am not sure that a beaver fur industry even exists anywhere now. The beavers have thrived, and now there is bounty of 5,000 Chilean pesos per beaver--that amounts to $8.50 US.) We arrived in our campsite, made dinner, and sat by the fire until it started to drizzle.

The drizzle turned into pouring rain, and it continued for roughly sixteen hours. The next morning, everything was wet. Normally we would have stayed in our small one and half person tent and waited it out. (Guess who the half person is?) We could see the woodstoves of Hostel Pusaki in our minds eye, so we swallowed hard and went out into the rain. We were clearly socked in by low clouds. This storm was not going anywhere. We packed and "slogged" for about three and a half hours. By the time we arrived at the warmth of Hostel Pusaki we were drenched completely. What the rain hadn´t been able to get to, the trees and bogs finished. We trudged happily back into the abode of Paty at Pusaki, she kissed us both on the cheek, cringed about how cold and wet we were, and we headed for a hot shower.

3. The Denoument

The rest of the day, we sat next to the woodstoves, ate empanadas, drank coffee and told the others of our adventures. We made contact with Ushuaia Boating for our return trip, and heard the infamous line, "tomorrow for sure." Why go with Ushuaia Boating you ask? There is no other company that goes. We were hopeful this time.

That evening, we went to the Yacht Club Bar that folks on the tourist circuit call the "Shipwreck Bar." The bar is a retired boat called the Micalvi. The boat is a popular destination for sailors all over the world. They dock their boats along side the Micalvi, crawl out onto the decaying boards of the dock and into the decaying walls of the Micalvi. Upon entering the boat, one notices that the floor of the boat slants at about a 15 degree angle. We walked up to the bar. The ceiling dripped what we hoped was water onto the bar, each time the waitress wiping the spot with her towel. She wore an embarassed smile. The leak continued, and finally she resorted to just leaving the towel under the leak. We ordered the traditional drink called the Pisco Sour, and settled into the smokey atmoshere of the "Shipwreck Bar." People from all over the world drank and talked and enjoyed the quirky surroundings, writing on walls and ordering more drinks.

The next morning we planned to catch our ride back to Ushuaia. We arrived at the Ushuaia Boating office at 9:30am. 9:30 quickly became noon, and we were on a first name basis with the rest of the people waiting. There were two more Americans, a few French folks, and some Swiss travelers. They played cards and hoped for departure. Beth and I were already bitter from waiting before (see Part 1). We didn´t help things by telling them our story. Beth became the groups chief interpreter. We found out that since the weather had not improved since we had got off the trail, all ports in the area were closed including the ones we needed.

Eventually they told us that there was no way we would leave that day, and we all headed out looking for a place to stay that night. Oddly all but a few of us ended up back at the Hostel Pusaki with Paty. The ones that didn´t asked Paty to make them dinner that night. By dinner time, her hostel was full, and we were drinking wine and having a good time. The next thing we know, Paty is rolling up the carpet and pushing the table and chairs to the sides of the room. She wanted to dance. We danced for hours. The police eventually came and asked her to turn off the music but she told them that she had lived there longer than they had and she closed the door on them. Because we were in Chile and not the States they left without a word instead of arresting her and the night began to wind down anyway. It was good fun.

The next morning the bus came to pick us up. They drove us to Puerto Navarino for the return trip. The Beagle Channel was glassy and smooth that day, and we were closing the chapter on Isla Navarino, and just trying to take it all in.

Beth Hits it Big on the Polish Blogging Circuit

So a few weeks back in El Calafate, Argentina, Beth is shopping for food in La Anonima. It is more or less the Walmart of Argentina, but they take siesta from 100pm - 400pm. This seemingly inconsequential shopping event makes it on a Polish couples blog. The entire blog is in Polish, except for the post with Beth in it. Scroll down a ways to find it.

The link is http://www.basiaimateuszwdublinie.blogspot.com/

Enjoy, and yes this is really random.

The "Q" at Torres del Paine

Today is a recuperation day in Puerto Natales, Chile. We returned to our hospedaje, Alma Gaucha, last night in time to get pizza with some friends in town. We finished a 96-mile circuit in one of Chile´s most beautiful and busy national parks. After trekking in the park, we can easily see why. Never before have we experienced so many fantastic views in one setting. We hiked in and around glaciers, climbed mountains, stomped through mud, sat beside gorgeous azure rivers and lakes, and watched magnificent Andean Condors fly below us.

On the first day of hiking we saw our first gaucho. He was running a group of horses across the windy patagonian steppe. The gauchos take pride in their culture by wearing brightly colored scarves and chaps unlike the cowboys of the American West. In the park, the gauchos supply the refugios with food and other things as well as some tourists with transportation.

Along this trek and many others all over the continent there are what they call refugios. These refugios offer a myriad of services to trekkers and visitors. Sometimes, miles away from everything, you can buy your dinner. You can also buy wine, beer, all kinds of food, rent a tent if you don´t want to carry one, and even rent a room for the night. It really democratizes trekking by allowing more people to access beautiful places. Some are really crazy in terms of people and others are a little more low key. Here is a picture of one of the crazy ones.

We woke up early a few mornings to catch the sunrise on the mountains, which was well worth it. Here are a few pictures.

Our favorite part of this adventure was exploring some ice caves in Glacier Grey. We took a rest day to make time to explore around the glacier. A river running into it allowed us access into a glacier blue room complete with waterfall. It was spectacular, and easily one the the most amazing natural wonders we have ever seen. I was taking all kinds of pictures and forgot that the camera was in incandescent setting so we call the picture with Beth and I in it a part of my Blue Period.

All in all, this was our most favorite trek that we have ever done. Tomorrow we will head further south to Ushuaia, Argentina to prepare for another trek called the Dientes Circuit which is the southernmost trek in the world. It will be cold and windy. After that, I suppose we will head north. Mostly because there will be no more south to explore. We hope everyone is well, please feel free to send us emails and comment if you want.

And finally, a disfunctional self portrait.