Off He Goes Around The Bend

BAHAMAS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 1 of 8)

The title to this blog is a tribute to a classic Vanilla Ice song. It came to represent my mindset as I spent most of my time winding through the country on less than safe transportation. Here is a link to the original white rappers rendition. If you do click the link, I must warn you, the song is as addicting as the video, and within minutes you’ll be in the bathroom shaving lines in your head and searching the internet for parachute pants.

 Vanilla Ice "Stop That Train" Video

Ever since my life changed from one of a sedentary marketing manager, arguing the importance of changing a brochure color from violet to periwinkle, to one of exploration, I planned to travel to Peru and Machu Picchu (MP). The time had finally come when a cheap flight surfaced and my scheduled opened up (who am I kidding, my schedule is always wide open).

I was not as psyched up for this trip as I usually was. I think it was because I was in country for only 8 days and would be on some sort of bus, boat, train, or plane every day. This means there was a high chance of things going seriously wrong. The difficulty being, a delay of one day anywhere along the trip would eliminate MP, as you had to buy tickets in advance for a specific day. The weeks leading up to the trip were spent on Spanish only websites, attempting to make tons of reservations. You have not experienced pure frustration until you become intertwined in the automatic call system of a company that doesn’t speak your language.

The day arrived and I had all my documents printed and laminated (which they love, as they try to tear them in half at your port of call).  I arrived in Ft Lauderdale, which is Spirit Airlines’ hub for Latin American travel and had a 5 hour layover. I sat next to a gentleman heading home to Peru. I usually pepper these types for information but this one had a strange aura (smell) about him. He started talking and realized something was in his mouth. At first I thought it was chewing gum, but upon closer inspection I realized it was his front tooth. He did not bring it up in conversation but his tooth was not attached, but he was so skilled he would lose it in the depths of his oral cavity upon beginning a sentence, but by the end he was able to use his tongue to replace it. I did not know whether to escape or to praise his dexterity. A sort of siren song if you will.

Across the terminal they were celebrating a flight to Cuba. You may have seen that travel to Cuba has opened up for educational visitors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I eventually boarded and landed in Lima around 9pm. Below is a picture of my general path throughout the country (follow the black line).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was scheduled to fly out of the same airport at 7am the next morning to Peru’s second largest city, Arequipa, in the Southern part of the country. I figured I would catch a cab to the center of Lima and hit a late night bar until my morning flight.  I ended up at the Plaza de Armas (The central square of any Latin American city), where I took some pictures of the presidential palace and a historic church

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a couple getting married, so I stole some shots of them and the ceremony.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I blend in real well, as everyone there is shaped like a 5 foot tall square. The history of the people of Peru is rather interesting. When I was in Colombia a few months ago the population was a split of Mestizos (mix of Spanish and natives), Creoles (2^nd generation Spanish) and Africans. In Peru, the population was primarily Natives, some Creoles, and a large percentage of Japanese. There are no Africans in Peru because the Spanish were able to enslave the natives here, where in Colombia, the natives had to be killed (not able to tame) and slaves of Africa and surrounding islands were brought in. Peru was one of the first Latin American countries that allowed the Japanese to emigrate to SA. What was even more interesting is that WWII, the US went so far as to round up all the Japanese Peruvians and place them in internment caps in the United States. Enough of the history lesson, I will continue with a few more pictures of that nights rambles

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most cities in Peru were very poor, but all seemed to have one main pedestrian street lined with western stores and restaurants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As usual I leaned heavily on my Peru Lonely Planet guide for this whirlwind trip. It had mentioned a nice local laborer’s restaurant called Queirolo. Here is a YouTube video of the insides with some pictures I took along with a Cabbage dish I sampled

 VIDEO of Queirolo Restaurant

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I must say that I decided to venture a little further out of my comfort zone on this trip. After piling in Anthony Bourdain episodes before the trip, I vowed to eat where the locals ate. This meant food stands and small markets. Yes, it would mean risking all sorts of parasites and GI maladies, but that which does not kill you only makes you really, really sick.

 

Around 2am I headed back to airport and found a spot on the floor for a few hours sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All had gone according to plan and I felt that if I could board the plane successfully tomorrow I would be looking pretty good.

 

Until Tomorrow,

 

Darren

 

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

 

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 2 of 8)

Surprisingly I was able to get some decent sleep on the floor of the airport. Probably because my bed (floor) at home was very similar in construction. Between the time when I made the reservation for the flight to Arequipa and now I had received a new passport. This meant that my passport # was wrong on my ticket. This was the sort of thing that ruins a trip. None of the offices for the airlines was open at 5am and the ticket counter was empty. I knew from past experiences that I needed to arrive at the gate 2 hours early even though the boarding took only 10 minutes. After searching frantically for 1 hour, found a small desk with a guy that agreed to change the # on my ticket for $15. I thought this was a little absurd, but what would you expect from a country that charges you to use public restrooms.

I will take a moment to explain the currency. Peru uses the Sole. Roughly S3 soles is equivalent to $1. It made an easy calculation. They used coins for anything up to S10, meaning I had to get used to carrying around change that actually meant something.  The first few exchanges ended with me just holding out a handful of coins and them selecting what they wanted, much like passing out candy at Halloween.

The flight was uneventful, and I landed in Arequipa surrounded by beautiful mountain ranges and volcanoes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I immediately caught a taxi to the bus station where I was hoping to catch a 5 hour bus into the Canon del Colca and a subsequent 2 hour hike into the second deepest canyon in the world (deepest is about 2 hours NW of Colca), where there is a small settlement, Sangalle, with bungalows and natural pools.  

 

The only bus I could find was not leaving until 2pm, making it difficult to make the hike by nightfall (approx 7pm) and turn around the next day and return to Arequipa. I decided to take the bus as far as the gateway to the Colca Canyon, city of Chivay, and see what I could get into that night. I had a few hours to kill before the bus left so I caught a cab to a local attraction, the Monasterio de Santo Catalina. It is a working Monastery that allows tourists to tramp through the maze of rooms. I got to the gate and tried to ask them in Spanish how much it was. For some reason he did not understand me. I should say that 4 months ago I had bought a $500 copy of Spanish Rosetta Stone Language lessons.  It has sat in the box for that duration, but was hoping that through osmosis I would have picked up something. Eventually he said in English, “what language are you trying to speak.” I responded, and he said, “why don’t you just speak that language then”. I sheepishly agreed with a “Good day Sir”.

 

Below is a sampling of the pictures I took.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After basically running through the buildings in order to make my bus, I cabbed it back and boarded for Chivay. Once getting out of the city limits, every building was 6ft cinderblock with a tin sheet or tarp roof. This was not what I expected at all. It was much more poor than Colombia. The GDP of Peru is roughly half that of Colombia. I guess they should have dealt more in drugs than Guano (bat droppings). To be fair, both countries GDPs are rising at a rapid rate. A point of concern is the relationship between Peru’s newly elected president (Ollanta Humala) and extreme Leftist leaders of Venezuela (Chavez) and Bolivia (Morales).

I fell asleep for a bit. Upon waking I got up to find a bathroom in the back of the bus. I was trying to open the bathroom door, until I realized that the bathroom was removed and it simply opened to the outside. I vowed that it would be the last bus ride without a supply of empty Gatorade bottles (I have mastered the art of relieving myself inconspicuously in public places). Getting back to my seat I about had a panic attack as I could not breathe. It took about 1 minute to settle down. I realized we had moved up to about 10K in elevation when I pulled out a Clif bar and it was exploding at the seams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A brief lesson in science. The pressure at higher elevations is less, meaning it does not force oxygen into your lungs like it does at sea level, causing a struggle to breathe (air is not thinner, as amount of Oxygen is the same). Since the pressure on the inside of my Clif bar was greater then the air around it, it was pushing out. I began to appreciate my patients who had anxiety issues after having shortness of Breathe due to heart/Lung issues. The fear of it happening again is about as bad as the actual attack. I was not clamoring for an oxygen tank but I definitely felt the difference and knew it would take a toll on my movement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About this time a guy got on the bus with a little Pan flute and started playing a Paul Simon song (The Condor) here is link

PAUL SIMON CONDOR

I was like, great, I come to Peru and these guys are covering Simon & Garfunkel. Later I realized it was Simon who covered a classic Peruvian song regarding the bird famous in the Colca canyon….Stupid American.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After he was done fluting, he talked to me about lodging options. As a rule you avoid the talkers as scams are the norm but he seemed trustworthy and I had no clue what I was to do when I got off the bus. Because I don’t speak much Spanish I end up trusting locals probably more than I should but so far it has worked out ok.

As we reached the rim of the canyon, we picked up a group of artisans heading back down to the city who needed a ride. It was kind of odd as they loaded up their crafts on their backs and then stuffed there Alpacas into the luggage compartments below the bus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The town on Chivay was very poor. I rode in the back this contraption to my Hostel for the night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was pretty tired, but I rallied and planned on hiking outside of town to a hot springs and beyond. After showering and leaving my clothes to dry, I put on my only other dry gear and found the Plaza de Armas.  It started raining and I sought shelter, thinking twice about hiking as I wanted to keep one set of clothes from being wet for tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spent the afternoon checking out the markets and shops. This town was a tourist stop for day tours into the canyon from Arequipa, but few stayed over night. I wanted to pick up some items from Peru that would fit in my pack, so I made a pass through every shop before going back to my favorites.

This lady sold me some fabric that local campesinos use to carry anything from babies to food or crafts on their backs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here are a couple pieces as I have them displayed at my place back home

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is the dog that tried to bite me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once darkness settled, the food carts rolled out and the market streets took on a new social vibe. I sampled a few dishes, and tried to blend in as much as possible with the locals, scoffing as I looked across the street as the tourists entered to pizza joints and high-class restaurants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peru is famous for inventing the Potatoe. They have about 100 types. Most soups are a mix of onions and potatoes in a poultry broth. After eating I passed out at 7:30 in my hostel.

 

Until Tomorrow,

 

Darren

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 3 of 8)

The next day I made my way back to the bus station. Chivay turned out to one of my favorite stops on the trip due to its local small town charm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saw this picture on a pack of cigarettes waiting for my bus back to Arequipa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I thought it perfect. I wondered what it would be like if they tried to adopt this in the US. I figured the tobacco lobbyists would never allow it, and then if it got through congress, the suburban moms would not allow these images to be out in the open as death and dying is best left behind closed doors until it happens to you.

 

While waiting for my bus I saw the driver fill up a 2 liter jug of water and start pouring it into the radiator and all over the engine. I did not have a good feelin’ about this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few hours outside of town, I man got on the bus and stood in front of all the passengers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He began this passionate talk, with words like “countrymen” and “bravery”. I assumed this was some revolutionary speech meant to unite the masses. He went on for 30 minutes and then he stopped and reached into his briefcase. I thought, here comes the literature, but it was small packets that looked like the ones that contain seeds. He started passing them around and continued his “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”, speech. I soon realized they were laxative samples. He went into the difficulties of being bound up and such. He was the original traveling salesman. People were climbing over the seats to buy these packets. It was quite comical. It was a tough act to follow, and the second guy selling antacids was no match.

I returned to the bus station in Arequipa, where I bought a night bus ticket to Puno, the city that lies on the banks of the famous Lake Titicaca. I had 7 hours to kill, so I got a cab to the main square. Before leaving the bus station I pulled S100 out of an ATM. I then attempted to change that into smaller bills, which was virtually impossible.

I was still pretty groggy at this point. I had a perfect storm going; I had the beginnings of the flu before leaving the US, I was now experiencing altitude sickness (headaches), dining on local fare, and sleeping for a few hours on buses and airport floors. I was told that people would stuff cocoa leaves in the mouth to achieve a sort of buzz to help tolerate to the altitude adjustment. The thought had crossed my mind, but as with all illegal substances, I steer clear out of fear that I will wake up naked tied to a tree in the main square with an Alpaca wearing my clothes.

I started snapping shots, going on tours of churches and visiting mansions of Peruvians of years past.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a shot of a Grand Wagoneer, similar to the one I owned back in the states. Actually, with a good cleaning it appears to be in pretty decent shape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I left the main city, crossed a river in search of some quieter neighborhoods

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stopped at one of the famous restaurants on the city’s outskirts, El Sol de Mayo.

 

I still had yet to sample the country’s national drink, the Pisco Sour (A mix of Pisco grapes and egg whites). I looked a bit out of place as I entered the restaurant. I found the bar, tried the drink, which was potent enough to make me realize I was only having one, and headed back towards the main square. Getting drunk in a foreign country is a recipe for disaster, or so I am told.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my travel book, I read about a bar that overlooked the plaza and thought it would make a good spot for some sunset pictures. It was becoming a rather cool night and I had to break out another layer of gortex.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once the people near the railing moved I gathered my pack and moved tables, in the process bumping a table and breaking a few glasses….stupid America.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a restaurant near home that features Ceviche (national dish of Peru), a dish of raw fish and cilantro, and I had to measure it up against the original product. My local restraint actually came out on top.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After wearing out my welcome I headed to an Irish bar to hold up until my bus left. Ending up back at the bus station I was left to wait a few more hours with the dregs of society

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My bus arrived. I downed some sleeping pills, slipped on my blindfold and earplugs and settled in for a 8 hour trip.

 

Until Tomorrow

Darren

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 4 of 8)

I actually slept the whole way to Puno, awaking only as we were coming down into the city limits

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Puno is a relatively small seaside town, which many tourists use as a jumping off point for trips to the islands made of reeds in the lake that many of the natives live on. Unfortunately this has become a very touristy activity and the islands seem to wait until tourists boats come near, and all the people assume their positions and pretend to live the life of a good native, creating bowls and boats of reeds. I chose to skip this event and opt for a trip down the peninsula that juts out into the lake.

 

Here is a link to some of the pictures you would likely see from most tourists visiting Puno

Classic Tourist Pictures

 Here is a map of where I headed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The peninsula is just north of Puno in the lower Left corner of the lake, starting at the town of Capachica.

When I got off the bus I got in some sort of rickshaw that took me to a van that was scheduled to leave for Capachica in 30 minutes. I sat by the van for about an hour, waiting for more passengers to arrive as they did not follow a time clock, but rather a full bus clock. I talked with a young man who was an architect who was married to a doctor and spoke limited English. I was surprised how lower-middle class he appeared vs what his family’s careers would provide him in the States.

I passed out some bracelets to the kids and soon the bus driver decided to take us on our way.  The bracelets along with my agreeing to buy up some of the empty seats seemed to get the wheels turning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took us about an hour and a few vans to get to our destination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gorge, the architect, was heading to a meeting in the small village to discuss building a community center. We spent the time discussing the politics of various countries of the Americas. After getting sheep and donkeys to vacate the dirt roads we arrived, only for Gorge to find that that the meeting had been moved back to Puno. He was surprisingly much calmer than I would have been. We parted and I found a hike out to the tip of the peninsula.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sat at the edge of the water for a bit but had to keep moving if I was to make the only bus back to Puno, which easily could leave early. I came upon a woman and her sheep. I took some pictures as they were coming up the road. She approached me, staring and throwing a couple dirty words I remember from highschool Spanish and moved on.  The people in Peru were much less friendly then other parts of Latin America. Either they had yet to appreciate the change that tourism can bring to a country or they did not care. Not to say that I blame them. They would just blankly stare at you, as if saying, “Take your picture gringo, and move on”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I caught the last bus and it became a sort of clown car. With every mile that passed we would stop along the road to pick up a weary traveler. I would look out the window and mutter, “That sucks, we have no more room for them”. Then the door would open and they would jam in. By the time I made it back to Puno, we had 21 people in a 12 person van, including the 3 people holding onto the roof (this was not a roof built for luggage or passengers, it resembled your everyday SUV, with 1 aesthetic luggage rack running down each side). Ralph Nader would have had a field day with this one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back in Puno I walked the streets with 5 hours to kill before another night bus to Cusco; the capital of the Inca civilization and gateway to MP.  I headed to the beach, but stopped at a market to find a local toilet. I walked into this bano with my hand over my nose as it consisted of just a row of holes in the ground with feet marks for where you were to squat. I popped some immodium and decided to lock my intestines up for the foreseeable future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stopped at a tavern and had a great meal and a few glasses of wine. I asked the waiter where the bathroom was so that I could wash my wands. After I got back to the table I realized I was getting cocky. When in the US would I ask for a bathroom and go on to tell them I needed to wash my hands? I was beginning to lengthen my requests to incorporate more Spanish words. I thought back to earlier in the day when I asked a vendor for some bread that I could eat and satisfy my hunger. Who does that?  I had become a Spanglish snob.

I returned to the bus station and boarded the bus along with a throng of tourists with all their fresh North Face gear and hired guides. I knew my trip was about to get really annoying.

 

Until Tomorrow

Darren

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 5 of 8)

I arrived in Cusco at 4am. This was the spot I had planned the trip around. I had spent the last month researching the history of the city and the Incas that inhabited it in the 1400s. It was the site of incredible advancements in engineering, as well as mass slaughter at the hands of Pizarro and the Spainards.  A recent book that did a good job of putting it all together: Turn Right at Machu Picchu. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I caught a cab to the main square and begin shooting pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had scouted out lodging, Hostel Suecia II, during the bus ride. I eventually found the place and the owner was outside sweeping the front steps. I was given a room and crashed for about 4 hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had a lot to accomplish today before I boarded the train the next morning to the town, Aguas Calientes, at the base of MP. I had to confirm my flight back to Lima, train to/from MP and my entrance ticket to MP.

I had found a map with a 2 hour walking tour of Cosco and decided to check that out until most of the shops and offices opened up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I should mention that the flag shown above is the flag of the Incan Empire, not the flag of the Gay Empire. Although SA is more tolerant of gays these days, I still would not say this was a gay-friendly atmosphere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I stopped at the market where things where beginning to heat up for the day and grabbed my standard bowl of potatoe soup

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I came across a museum that contained many of the original stones laid down by the Incas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These stones are amazing simply for the fact that there was no mortar used. All the blocks are chiseled with such precision that you could not slide a piece of paper anywhere between the cracks. In fact, the city had suffered many earthquakes over the years and only the foundations built by the Incas (the ones left after the Spainards destroyed the city) where the only ones left standing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I continued on with my sightseeing as I might not have another chance to walk the city on my tight schedule

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I came across a local painter, Andre

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had an incredible gallery. I was immediately drawn to the below painting. I headed back to an ATM and made the transaction, rolling up the canvas in a shipping tube. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I may have mentioned this in previous blogs, but I often get upset at tourists that haggle pricing on local wares.  These people live on $2-$5/ day and you are pressing them down for no other reason then to exhibit your own power over the situation. Just pay them what they want, or even a bit more. It is often that these locals will turn around and give you invaluable advice about the town in which they live and want not to miss.

 

Here was a lady selling birds eggs. I did not sample these…I have my limits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My walking guide mentioned a set of ruins on the outskirts of town. I tried to cut a few corners and ended up at this staircase.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Although it may not look like much, is was about straight up and I was already breathing heavy as small school children passed me by.  I ran across a woman, and asked if this was the way to the ruins, pointing up the stairs. She nodded affirmatively, unfortunately. She agreed to take me to the top by way of a shortcut if we swung by her house seen here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We continued up I had to stop every 20 feet to bend over and hyperventilate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She would just look at me like I was a sad specimen. I tried to explain that I was not weak, but that my illness and altitude was killin’ me. She just continued to stare as seen below

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eventually we made it to the top and I collapsed like a castaway landing on the beach of a deserted island. In this picture you can see the road that most people take and to the right is the incline I selected

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We parted ways and I then saw all the tour buses lined up

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I passed on the S30 entrance fee and just followed the intended road back down into the city

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this point I went to the train company’s office to confirm my tickets for the next day. They said I was all set, but told me I better confirm my ticket for MP itself because what I showed them was only a reservation without indication of payment.

I spent the next 2 hours, walking 4-5 miles looking for this office, only to realize I was standing about 50 ft from it, when I inquired to two men as to its whereabouts. I am always amazed how lost locals are in their own cities when it comes to obvious landmarks.

I waited in the 1 hour line to get to the teller. I showed them my reservation. They looked it up in the computer and said they had no reservation for me. I laughed and told them to please check again. My heart starting beating fast and my world was crashing down as I realized that I might not be able to go to MP, making the whole trip a disappointment. She told me I had made the reservation online but did not pay, thereby canceling my reservation after 10 days. I was fuming cause the website could not have been harder to figure out. I explained as I am sure everyone else does, that I had come thousands of miles and must have a ticket. She consulted the manager and found me a ticket. If I was unable to get a ticket, I had fully intended to still continue to MP and bushwack through some back entrance.

I had no alarm clock so I after grabbing an early dinner I went to sleep around 5pm so even if I slept a long time, I figured I would wake by 6am the next morning.

 

Until Tomorrow

 

Darren

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

 

 

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 6/7 of 8)

I woke every hour paranoid about the time and eventually showered up at 3am and found a cab to the train station 3 hours before they opened.

 

At this point I was in the full grips of the flu. I just waned to get on the train and sleep. The fact that I worked midnights back home had allowed me to function at random hours on minimal sleep but I was reaching my breaking point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a picture of your typical jackass with an expensive camera, who doesn’t have a clue what he is doing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I arrived in Aguas Calientes and searched for an hour looking for “Hostel Joe”. Again in a town of 4 hotels and 2 streets, no one seemed to know where it was. I eventually stumbled upon it and slept for the next 20 hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I woke and gathered my gear to board the line of buses set to drag the tourists up to MP

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some people were actually hiking up the hill, which was an impressive straight up hike, but with my lingering sickness I opted for the switchback road.I should also mention that there is also the option of a 4-5 day hike along the Inca Trail, but I did not want to spend 5 days in the jungle when I could be exploring the country instead.

Reaching the top, I was still nervous until I actually got through the entrance gate. I finally knew that nothing else was going to go wrong and I had finally made it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because of my SNAFU the day before I did not have my original tickets which allowed me the hike up the mountain behind MP, Wayna Picchu. So I had to settle for the taller mountain in front of MP, Cerro Machu Picchu.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I began the hike I talked to a guard at a checkpoint who told me only about 25 of the 2000 people that visit MP each day actually make it to the top of Cerro MP.  He also charged my S10, which I later found out was a scam as it did not cost anything to climb this peak.

I met a paramedic from Canada along the hike. He was barely making it. He made me look awesome, so I decided to stay with him. He was a few years older and an avid smoker. He had to stop every 10 ft to my 20. eventually I pressed on to reach the top.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I really was not in a hurry as I had 8 hours to spend at the ruins and fog was everywhere, meaning I would be waiting for the sun to burn through before I could get a bird’s eye view of MP.

 

I reached the top and there were a few people up there shivering in the cold

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A German girl, asked if she could take my picture so I stood on the edge as seen below

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was only after standing there for 1 minute like a jackass did she ask for my camera to take the picture. For some reason I thought she was so impressed by me that she wanted to take a picture of me with her camera.

 

All the people waited for about 20 minutes and then left. I could not believe that people would climb for an hour and then split as soon as they realized they could not see anything yet. I waited for 2 hours up there and was rewarded with some incredible views

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I eventually headed down knowing full well that I was going to hate the next part of the experience.  By the time I got down there the place was crawling with tourists.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I tried to get some shots without them but that proved impossible. I did get a few of the classic MP shots, one with me in it to prove my presence to the doubters

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are a couple shots of the place called the “3 windows”  a place believed to be a clue to the origins of this mountain city.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This rock is Intihuatana. It was used to predict the Solstices, the center of the Incan culture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Here are a few more random shots

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is the switchback road that our buses climbed. The hiking trail bisected it and although it does not look that steep, it most definitely was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a stone carved into a condor head, marking the entrance to the prison area.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a look at the amazing plumbing system used by the Incas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Similar to the Romans, they use subtle gradient changes to bring fresh running water to all the houses at MP.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before leaving MP, I sat for an hour trying to imagine the people who lived here back in the 1500s. It was difficult with all the tourists. Throughout the trip I saw natives living on the outskirts of towns, breaking their backs all day to put meager amounts food on the table. I always believed that people in years past had a simpler better life, but the natives did not seem to be happy or relaxed. Few actually smiled. I thought, maybe what I was looking at with MP, was the easy life I sought. Working a few hours a day cultivating crops on the hillside, spending the evenings under the stars drinking and telling stories. But maybe this is just another example of the illness documented in a recent Woddy Allen movie, Midnight in Paris, where one believes that living in times of yore would be better than the present.

I boarded a bus back to Aguas Calientes and killed some time before my train headed back to Cusco

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Below is a cool picture I saw. I had never noticed this, but apparently turning MP on its side reveals the outline of a man’s face

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I boarded the train back to Cusco. This was an upgrade from the train I took to Aguas Calientes, but a step down from the $2K luxury liner named after the founder of Machu Picchu, Hiram Bingham

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was complete with ritual dances and fashion shows

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While sitting on the train I thought about the controversy surrounding MP’s discoverer, Hiram Bingham. It was actually the 100^th anniversary of the event. Locals do not want to admit it was discovered, because they knew it was there all along. A similar case to Columbus “discovering” America. At first I agreed with the locals, but I began to think that Bingham was indeed the one who discovered it, because the definition of the word in my mind means revealing it to the general public. And with that revelation began a landslide of tourism and explorers. Peru has reaped billions from MP and without it being discovered it may have remained buried or even destroyed. The good with the bad I guess, as throngs of tourists mucking up the site, turning it into a tourist trap is not ideal either.

Again I found the bed early as I had to catch my flight back to Lima in the morning.

 

Until Tomorrow

 

Darren

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

“Stop That Train I Wanna Get Off” (Day 8 of 8)

We enter the final hours of my grand adventure. I awoke early in Cusco and had breakfast of Juevos Rancheros.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I checked at the local airline office and found my ticket had been moved to earlier in the day. It was scheduled to leave in 3 hours for Lima. I told the agent that I would head over to the airport soon. She instructed me to hurry and that she would call the gate to preprint my ticket. Of course I then hurried to the airport only to get through security and wait another 2 hours.

 

On the plane back to Lima I met a couple of solo travelers and agreed to meet them for a drink in the Mirasflores district of city.  I left my luggage at the airport and followed them to their hotel, which was basically a family’s house downtown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They had a table just like one I had back in my place in the States

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the travelers was a woman from Equador and another a gentleman from Spain. The guy from Spain did not speak English, so the Equadorean woman played translator (she spoke English). It was awkward because whenever she went to the bathroom, we just looked at each other until someone said something like, “this room is big, no?” or, “I like the green wall”. We bummed around the city taking pictures

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We ran into a outdoor festival where they were serving all of Peru’s favorite dishes including Guinea Pigs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner we went into the bar district. As we crossed a street this huge fat man called over to me and gave me a hug. He asked how long I had been in town and how it was good to see me again. I fumbled a bit not sure what to make of the situation. He asked about a mutual friend, I assume, and then asked if I needed the green or white stuff. I said I would think about it and get back to him. I am sure it was a routine they use to avoid looking like street drug dealers but it pretty much freaked me out as I thought he was gunna drag me into an alley and rape me.

Eventually we ended up in a bar to watch a soccer match between the 2 best teams in Peru. It ended 2-1 as someone scored in the last seconds. The whole area went ape shit, with half the people celebrating and half looking like the were gunna start flipping cars in anger.

 

We quickly exited and found a German Beer Hall. This place was hilarious because you had all these little Peruvians dressed as the Von Trapp family

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We drank too much and spent the night playing some stupid game involving the mouth of an alligator. Of course we found it increasingly entertaining.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We closed the night at a dance club

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I crashed at their place until 6 am when I made a made dash for the airport after a brief altercation with the landlord over compensation for my spending the night at his house. I made the plane and was happy to be on my way back to the States. Looking back, I had a few mishaps but considered myself extremely fortunate to stay on schedule.

In a few months I will be coming back to Peru to explore the Amazon, and that will be one of my greatest challenges thus far. “You gotta test yourself everyday”. Oh, and par for the course I came back sick and could barely function for 2 weeks, hence the delay in the this blog reaching the press.

 

Until Next Time

 

Darren

 (Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

West Virginia, Mountain Mama

With all this international travel, my home country was getting jealous and my pocketbook was running on fumes so I structured a week’s vacation and headed down to West Virginia.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I have spent a fair amount of time in WV, but mostly on the West side of the state for rafting. WV is a beautiful state that not many people appreciate because they think it is full of hicks and inbreds, which is fine with me (the misconception, not the inbreeding).

 

I planned to hit 3 spots on the East side of the state in the Monongahela National Forest: Dolly Sods, Seneca Rocks and Harpers Ferry. The itinerary also included a hike in Shenandoah National Park up Old Rag Top, but that did not materialize. Here is a link to my rough Plan

 

My first stop was Dolly Sods. It has always been highly recommended as one of the top hikes in the state with many trails dominated by highland meadows. Here is the Trail Description. I arrived at the trail head around 11:00pm and since it was an open area on top of a hill the wind was whipping and I opted for sleeping in the car.

 

The next morning I set out about 7am. Here is the sign I saw at the trailhead. Nothing like adding a little unexpected challenge to a seemingly innocent hike.

 

 

I wandered through meadows for a while, ducking into a brief patch or two of tress.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had a short ascent onto the largest hill in the area and was confronted with this boulder field

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After losing the trail a few times as I traversed the rocks, I made my way back down into the boggy area. I passed 2 tents, the only sign of civilization on the trek. I later ran into their owners and found they were hiking the area for 7 days. Personally I cannot spend more than a few hours in a spot without needing a new form of stimulation but to each his own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before finishing up my 9 mile loop I ran into this monster

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because you can’t gauge scale in this picture, those are tree trunks, not twigs. He actually stretched 45 ft head to tail. 

 

I was back to the car by noon and road over to Seneca Rocks (15 minute drive). I scouted out my trail for the next day and headed to the Seneca Shadows Campground. $19 was a bit steep for a campsite, but I did not feel like hunting around for a place on the cheap (free).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After setting up camp, I drove over to the rock formation. It is a favorite of climbers. I proved in a recent trip to Colombia that I am no climber so I planned on hiking a trail up to the top.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I got to the trailhead I saw this sign

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It explains that the trail is closed for repairs. That’s like having me drive to Florida for family vacation and having a sign saying that the state is closed.

 

I jumped the fence and off I went

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I reached the top after 1.5 mile switchback trail and found this observation platform. The problem being that I was not really at the top. I looked up and to the left and saw another sign

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This describes the danger in going any farther and the number of people falling to their death. I passed it and made my way onto the spine of the rock

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can see from the pictures above that the rock is only about 4 ft across at this point. I sat there for a bit then made my way back down. My plan was to watch the sunset but I was not able to sit still for the required 2 hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made my way back to camp and gathered some wood and built a bonfire. It was only going for 5 minutes before the ranger came over and told me to put it out if I could not keep it under control. I thought it was under control, but I guess we had different definitions.

 

I was asleep early and slept until 10:00am, not wanting to emerge into the thunderstorm that morning brought.

 

Eventually I gathered my stuff and made my way to the North Fork Trial. I was leaving my car here at the end and then riding about 8 miles back up the road to enter the trail at a place called the Redman Trail

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Here is my Trail Description

 

The only problem was that the road for my bike ride was made up of hills and valleys, with an equal amount going each way so it mattered not where I started my trek. I admit that I got off the bike twice and had to walk up some hills. By the time I got done with the bike section of the race I was exhausted and the last thing I wanted to do was have a 2 mile uphill hike.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here are some shots of the valley when I reached the top of the trail, which is followed by a hike along the spine of the mountain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once I finished it was around 6pm and I was racing to make it the last 2 hours to Harpers Ferry before dark. I got stuck in the below small town, bringing up the rear of a parade. I did my best to join in by waving and throwing Clif bars at the children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got to Harpers Ferry in the dark and stopped at a bar for dinner. I then parked in a Quality Inn parking lot for the night so I could partake in the complimentary breakfast in the morning. 

 

 

Here is the trail description for today’s hike. Download Map)  It was a little tough to find the trailhead as I walked along the expressway, but soon enough I was back on the climb. Always climbing.  Here are some shots of Harpers Ferry from a distance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a few miles on the Appalachian Trail, I emerged onto a bridge and made my way into the tourist trap of a town

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is called Jefferson Rock because TJ came here in the late 1700s and stood here. They put those pillars up in the 1800s to prevent the rock from rolling down the hill into the town below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I walked through the town, but everything was closed as it was only 9am at this point. I crossed a bridge and followed this path to the bridge on HWY 603 to my car.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was very fortunate. There was a car accident on the bridge which allowed me to walk across it.  The bridge was under construction and the pedestrian walkway was torn up. If the accident had not of been there I was either going to redo the 6 mile hike in reverse or swim the river, which was clipping along pretty good with the recent rain storms.

 

 

I got back to the car, and there was a traffic jam. I smelled horrible and I wanted to shower at my car but I was parked along the road with cars sitting 2 ft from me. I decided I did not care and removed my clothes and washed up along the freeway. It was a bit awkward, but oh well.

 

After I was cleaned up I headed to DC for a couple days of relaxation with a friend from college.

 

Until Next Time,

 

Darren

 

(Link to All Trip Pictures)

This is Not Your Father's Colombia (Day 1 of 10)

I was looking for a cheap flight to Latin America. Spirit Airlines has added a number of locations (I have commented on the frustration in my last blog on Spirit, but you get what you pay for and I accept that). I found that they fly to 4 different cities in Colombia for an average roundtrip of $400. I did some quick researching and found that the country is actually one of the safest in SA, although the perception in NA is still that of a drug infested wasteland.

 

I was all set to go. Here is my initial plan ( Download). A month before I was to depart, Spirit emailed me and said the flight was cancelled and it moved my flight a whole 2 days earlier. Spirit! (shaking fist toward the sky). Actually it worked out fine for me as my schedule was flexible, but I foresee this backfiring on a future trip. I was to spend 10 days in-country. I thought it might be a bit much but I readjusted my plans and loaded it with extra attractions. A rarity for me, my brother was going to accompany me for 5 days.

 

Here is the basic map, with numbers corresponding to the major cities I will hit in order.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I flew from DTW to FLL (Spirit’s SA hub) and boarded my flight with no events. I sat between 2 Colombians, spread my map across the three seats and began peppering them with questions on the terrain, cities, food and local drinks.  They were, as I would find with all Colombians, extremely friendly and interested in learning what brought me to their country.  My standard answer was price, culture, and adventure.

 

Landing in Cartagena, I found an airport controlled cab stand and headed out along the coast toward the old city where I would be spending the next few nights awaiting my brother’s arrival.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The old city makes up a small portion (2 sq miles) of the city, and I was scheduled to stay in a hostel just on the outside (expensive lodging inside). Inside is a trip back in time to the colonial city, tight streets, vibrant colors, and ornate balconies. I noticed a lot of motorcycles around the city. At first I just thought they were private, but soon realized they were Cartagena’s primary taxi service. I would have a baptism in the near future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I checked into Media Luna hostel. It is a backpacker’s hostel, which is mainly composed of people from every white-faced country. I dropped my stuff in a dorm, checked out the view from the roof and looked forward to the excitement to come

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before I left home, I visited a site called Couch Surfing (Link). It is a kinda facebook where international travelers meet and share lodging in their apartments/homes. A great way for visitors to see the real culture, and for the host to learn about other contries. I had sent a message out on the Cartagena message board that I was coming in and wanted to see if anyone would be interested in meeting for a drink. A girl email me back, who was the Ambassador of the CTG chapter, said she would meet for a drink the night I came in and show me around the old city.

 

I headed out to explore the city and meet her at a bar called Café del Mar, which sits on top of the wall, facing the ocean, a prime spot for sunset.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got to the Café a bit early and just hung around waiting for them to open and provide my first Colombian beer…Aguila

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My friend showed up, we talked in broken English since my Spanish was much worse than broken. We talked about travel, school, and future life plans. She was a proud Colombian, passionate about her country. She was half Colombian and half Africa. Similar to North America. Europeans brought Africans over as slaves and they eventually integrated with the local population. Like the USA, Colombia still possesses racism, but it seems more obvious here as my friend and I were refused entry into certain locations because of her skin color. I am sure we made an interesting pair as we strolled the town.

 

Eventually a couple other friends showed up and they attempted to speak English to keep me involved in the conversation. Per usual I felt like an ass and vowed to learn Spanish when I returned home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 After a few drinks we moved to another bar in the old city, Donde Fidel, where prices were cheaper and street acts dominated the landscape.

  

 

 

Finally, we went up to the roof of a local club and took in the view of the rest of Cartagena, which included the Castillo de San Felipe and Convento de la Popa in the background of this shot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We closed the night at an all night pizza place (Colombians seem to enjoy pizza, and was happy to see these restaurants rather than the golden arches littering the landscape). I struggled to find a cool present to bring to my tour guide. In the end I settled on a print of a retro poster, similar to one seen below (could not find the actual one)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I should also mention that I had talked to her a couple times before I left on Skype. This was an education. Although I used to work in the tech industry, I have kept it at arms-length for the last few years. Eventually I figured out how to use the camera and microphone on my computer and found the program pretty solid.

 

 

After a night with locals, and returning to the American hostel, I was ready to switch my lodging to something more private and intimate with the culture. I had not had this complaint on recent trips as the American/European hostels always gave me an opportunity to meet English-speaking tourists who were willing to share travel expenses and join in on an expedition, but that seems to have changed.

 

I recently read a book, Honeymoon with my Brother. The work of Nonfiction begins with a fiancée dumping our author and he in turn dumping his life to travel the world. He stayed in some pretty swanky accommodations, so I was not a big fan of what he termed, “roughin’ it” but I guess I began to agree with him that ditching the Lonely Planet book and avoiding the backpackers was the best way to get to know a country. There was no way I was ditching my Lonely Planet book, as I had a short time frame and a lot to see, but I tried to find a middle ground.

 

 

The next day I would explore the city a bit more and look for new lodging

 

(Link to All Trip Pictures)

 

 (Link to Trip Good Shots)

Until Tomorrow

 

 Darren