#but i live right on the same elevation. no hiking up hills to get home. im right next to everything

[ditttiii]

Brothers Conflict || 01.

Thrust into an already established family, you struggle to find your footing while dodging the advances of seven, incredibly good looking stepbrothers.

Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (final pairing: will be decided by readers, could also be ot7) (reverse harem)

◈ CHAPTER ONE

WC: 2585

Warnings: Curse Words (sfw) 

Masterlist (all available chapter links are here)

Taglist

Your eyes take in the humongous structure in front of you, and you try your best to not look too awestruck. You aren't sure how well that works out, considering you can hear your best friend muffling her laugh beside you, but you don't bother to turn and check.

'Pretty sure this isn't the last time this is going to happen either.' You think, as you bite your lower lip and wipe your sweaty hands over the denim of your jeans.  

"Girl, you scored a jackpot." Sunmi teases, her angelic yet somehow demonic at the same time, giggle following close after. 

You, in response side eye her and choose not to reply. What would you even say? Depending on who answers, the reply would differ anyways. 

Though you still aren't sure what your answer would be.

Till a week ago you were just a 20-year-old university student, who while technically was said to be living with her father, at the end of the day virtually lived alone. 

Your father is a famous adventurer. You don't know what that term entails precisely, but too scared of the possible connotations that it might bring forth, you avoid letting your curiosity run too deep. 

You think some part of it involves climbing and hiking mountains though. 

Has to be.

"Are we seriously going to stand here like a bunch of creepy fangirls all day? Woman, that is your home now. Move it before I do it for you!" Sunmi grumbles before she locks her arm with yours and then proceeds to forcibly, drag you across the driveway.

"Wait! Sun stop! Ohmygod, Will you stop you crazy banshee?" 

Sunmi, in all her eccentric glory, does not. Instead, she turns, gives you a non-pulsed look and then continues to drag you over against your will, her silky,  long, black hair billowing behind her like a cape and hitting you in the face. 

Of course. 

You try to dig the heels of your converse into the pavement below, but it's smooth and cemented, and you almost trip and break your jaw, before you decide that it is simply not worth it and allow her to drag you against your will. 

"This is an insanely long driveway, for fucks' sake, why would anyone need such a long driveway anyway?" 

You let out a snort when you hear her say that and let your eyes take in the view as you reply, "It's a rich people thing, you peasant."

The answering elbow that digs deep into your ribs is totally worth it, you decide.  

The cool breeze feels heavenly, and you sigh as you feel it between your strands and over your heated scalp. The area that surrounds the large sprawling five-storey mansion in front of you is lined with trees. Tall hills coloured green by vegetation, with their tips shrouded between clouds, form the backdrop. 

There is also a fancy, intricate water fountain that you think is made of white marble? Or some sort of white stone maybe? In the middle of the driveway. 

‘Expensive,’ You decide and glance around.

The driveway itself spreads all across the front of the mansion, forking and getting divided into two separate pathways a little further away from the building. Between the divided paths is where the fountain is, it's base surrounded by a kaleidoscope of pretty, bright flowers.

At the call of a bird, your gaze snaps up, and you see as a couple of graceful, little, birds fly over and pass you by. Their chirping fills the quietness of the atmosphere, with a pleasant, dulcet ring. 

If nothing else, at least the place is beautiful. 

You stop when Sunmi rings the doorbell and scoot a few inches behind her. 

'I am not trying to hide, I'm just strategically camouflaging.' You think to yourself, but you know you're lying.

Sunmi apparently does too, as no sooner had you scooted back, that she yanks you ahead of her. You wince when you feel your muscles protest, and aim a glare at her. 

"I hope you realise that if you dislocate my shoulder, you will have to assist me until it heals back." 

Sunmi gives you a look before she quips back, "Why would I? I hope you realise that you now have seven ridiculously good looking brothers to take care of you instead." 

At your disgusted expression, she wiggles her eyebrows and of course because the world is never at your side you hear someone clear their throat behind you. 

A part of you dies inside when you realise that someone probably overheard what your stupid, loudmouth of a best friend had just said. 

Add a mental note to punch Sunmi at the earliest. 

You are snapped back out of your thoughts when you feel her pinch your stomach and you yelp as you twist back to face the door, only to stop dead in your tracks. 

There holding the door open and standing at the threshold looking like a Greek god, was Kim Seokjin, who if you remember your information right was the oldest brother. Now your stepbrother. 

He smiles when he sees your startled expression and bows. 

"Ah, yes we have been waiting for you Y/N. I am Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin-oppa if you'd prefer that." 

Startled, your face breaks out into colour when you hear that, and your voice comes out broken as you say, "O-op-Oppa?"

You don't know if he doesn't hear you or if he's just ignoring you, but the next second he's bowing and introducing himself to your best friend. Sunmi, of course, preens under the attention as she does the same and somewhere in the back of your mind, you snort at how much of an attention whore your best friend is. 

Once they are both done, he turns to you and his smile widens as he holds the door open, as if indicating for you to move in. Your eyes fall to his smile and thus to his lips, and all you can think about is how his lips are better than yours.

‘Why does he need such full lips anyway?’ You think jealous, and more than a little self conscious.

Sunmi, however, takes the hint and tugs on your hand again, stepping in first. 

You trail a few inches behind her taking in the interior of the house, only to jump when you feel someones’ hand at the back of your waist. 

You spin on your heels and pause as you realise that you are now an inch, away from Seokjins very wide, very built chest. The smooth, pale skin of his torso, glimpses back at you from in between the deep V-neck of his button-down shirt, and you feel a blush rising from deep above your own chest, as you realise the close proximity. 

The feel of his hand that is still, on your waist doesn't help either. 

However, before you can ponder on too much, over the utter perfection that are your eldest step brothers shoulders, and then promptly be horrified at that following train of thought, you are walking again. 

Sunmi apparently had not caught onto your little pause, as she continues to tug you across the room.  

Stumbling, you try not to trip face-first onto the floor. Your eyes widen, and your face burns when you feel the hand that was till now placed lightly over your waist, grip your side, before twisting you forward and then moving away. 

A second later, your brother lightly brushes your shoulder with his as he moves forward and directs you and Sunmi to where everyone else is apparently waiting for you. 

You blink as you try to wrap your head around what had just transpired.

You think he was just trying to help you but is gripping your stepsister's waist seconds after meeting her for the first time an acceptable form of action?  

Out of your depth, and baffled at his actions, you just follow along behind Sunmi, as you try to get your thoughts straight and your raging blush under control. 

Deep breaths Y/N, in and out, there we go.  

Once your cheeks no longer feel like they are trying to light themselves on fire, you raise your head and glance around. 

The interior was just as grand as you had expected it to be. The walls tall and glassed, let in the sunshine from outside and created a bright, warm ambience. There were potted plants, placed around every few steps, and you wonder if they are real or fake. There's an undertone fragrance of jasmine in the air that makes you think that maybe the plants are real. 

The ceiling is high and most of the interior white, or metallic. Lights hung from the ceiling in designer, metal frames and there were white leather couches spread around along with a few showpieces. 

The uniformity of the interior is only interrupted by the vast array of paintings around you.  There were paintings scattered all across the walls, some hung higher than the others,. You try to see if there is a pattern or not as you pass a few by and look closer, but quickly give up when you realise they are pieces of modern art.

Yep, too dumb for that. 

You let that train of thought go as you force yourself to stop suddenly to avoid smashing headfirst into your best friends back. Looking ahead, you realise that you are now standing in front of an elevator. You clench your jaw to prevent it from unhinging to the ground and instead glance at Sunmi, to see if she is as gobsmacked as you are.

Your best friend, apparently somewhere on the way had taken her cellphone out and was now aggressively hitting the screen as she tries to text back with one hand, the other one still firmly locked with yours. 

Apparently not then. 

Your jaw still clenched, you look up to see the capsule-like glass-walled lift come down to your floor. It stops with a soft 'ding', and you follow behind Seokjin, for once tugging Sunmi instead of the other way around.

It's when you are inside the lift ascending to some floor above, that you realise your predicament. Sandwiched between Seokjin on one side and Sunmi on the other, you try not to fidget as you feel your stepbrothers shoulder brush with yours, as he leans back against the wall beside you. The lift is spacious, and you don’t understand why you all are standing so close, but you don’t say anything or move.

Trying your best to not seem rude, you just bite your lips and look down at your feet, rocking back on your heels, as you tug the lace of one of your converse with the other. 

The ride up is quiet with only the low, generic elevator music ringing in the background. 

'This is awkward, should I say something? I should probably say something.' 

That's when you realise that you hadn't introduced yourself, nor said a single coherent word since Seokjin had opened the door for you. 

The thought sends you tumbling down another self-induced shame spiral. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, you think back to just what, he had heard when he had opened the door, and you decide maybe not saying anything would be a wiser course of action. Least you open your mouth and embarrass yourself further. 

Realising the potential harm of using your vocal cords, you stay quiet and instead take the time to really look at your eldest stepbrother. Or is it just brother now?

Would it be rude if I referred to them as my stepbrothers? Is the thought that your mind brings forward and you bite your lip as you think of how you should proceed ahead. 

As you look at your brother from the corner of your eyes, your breath hitches when you realise just how good looking he is. The picture that your father had shown you clearly did not do him justice. 

His luscious, black hair, is gelled back to keep it off his forehead and his ridiculously thick eyelashes are long and slightly curled at the end, framing his almond-like eyes.

As your gaze trails down his side profile, you gulp when you realise that while he looks like a classic movie-star with his thick, high arched eyebrows, you probably look like a haggard, homeless woman in contrast.

The thought doesn't quite sit well with you, and you let out a quiet huff in annoyance. 

Apparently, you huff wasn't as quiet though because not a second later, you feel Seokjin nudge your side and your gaze snaps up to look at him—his brows raised and a look of concern plastered over his face. 

Your lips part, as you think to reply but when no words come out, you snap them shut, pulling on a tight smile instead and just shake your head to assure him that you are fine. 

The unconvinced, concerned look on his face stays, but thankfully he doesn't pry and leaves you to your own devices, with a soft reassuring, squeeze to your hand. 

You, however, because are socially awkward and love to embarrass yourself, proceed to let out a yelp as you flinch away from his touch and crash into Sunmi's side.

"Jesus ouch! Y/N are you okay? Did you see a spider or something?" Sunmi asks concerned, as she slips her phone back into her pocket and pulls you to her side, wrapping an arm around your waist. Beyond mortified, you just shake your head and curl yourself around her body, seeking the familiar warmth and comfort of your best friend. 

You don’t turn to look what the expression on Seokjins’ face is.

'This day couldn't get any worse.' You think now utterly embarrassed and push your head into the side of Sunmi's neck, and hope that the world crashes so that you don't have to look into your stepbrother's eyes again.

'He probably thinks you're a psycho.' Your brain adds, and you internally groan and snuggle into your best friend more, the increasingly familiar blush overtaking your face again. 

Earlier, you think you might have jinxed yourself. Because no sooner, had the doors of the lift opened, and you had stepped out, that you tripped and fell face-first onto the floor. 

Smooth.

Thankfully the floor was covered with a soft plush carpet, and soon your best friend was by your side, her concerned voice ringing in your ears, which was then followed by Seokjins’ as his crouched figure comes into your peripheral vision. 

You would be more embarrassed, but you are pretty sure he already thinks you are deranged, so you just take this one in stride and raise your face to look up and reassure them both that you are alright. 

However, the scene that greets your eyes is a little different. 

Standing there in front of your fallen form, faces ranging from curious to concerned are six more men. 

Six more men that you realise, are the rest of your stepbrothers.

The realisation hits you like a bucket full of ice water being poured down your back, and you hold back a frustrated scream, as the absolute ridiculousness of the day catches up with you. 

But instead of shrieking, you just groan and let your raised face fall back onto the carpet.

Carpet fur in your mouth and mushed against your face, you realise that no, your day could and just did get a lot worse. 

A/N: ETMY is still my priority, but I write wayy too much angst so here’s a light hearted, fluffy, crack fic to balance my masterlist. Lemme know your thoughts, and remember the final pairing will be decided by you, there won’t be any vote but I’ll keep a track of who is being favoured. OT7 can also be the future pairing, if you guys so choose.

Thanks for reading and have a pleasant day ahead!

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Just Beyond the City

Genre: wlw urban fantasy

Summary: a young woman moves to a new city where she begins exploring fresh hiking trails, only to hear of something strange in the woods there. Something ancient and dark and that doesn’t belong.

The hiker starts seeing a witch in the woods and wandering closer and closer to whatever this malevolent presence is. A story in three parts.

PART ONE

I liked hiking. I liked it since I was a kid and my mom had to tighten the laces of my boots with both hands and my baseball cap flopped right over my eyes. I liked following her bright purple backpack up the trails with the sound of my shoes crunching on the rocky path. I liked slathering sunscreen on my arms in large creamy dollops. I liked pushing my body up and up and up and feeling those small complaints in my muscles telling me I was moving. I was here. I was living.

Most of all, I liked how inexplicable things were. My mom raised me by herself and I was not an easy kid. I often talked so quickly I bit my own tongue and then cried about it. I was well-liked, but if anyone even looked at me wrong I would come home in tears. I hated being apart from her and the school nurse would often call in the middle of the day saying I demanded her come pick me up. I asked a thousand questions wherever we went: why did the movie end like that? Why does that woman carry her dog that way? Why can’t I be wheeled around in a chair like that person?

I was overly curious. I was sensitive. I was over dramatic. I was clingy. Very few things made sense to me. The outdoors didn’t make sense either, but they did so in a way that was enchanting.

I liked the sounds of birds trilling to each other in a language I couldn’t possibly fathom. I liked the way the wind blew in directions I would never be able to follow. I liked how the trees knew things I never would and how the roots went in thousands of directions at once that I would never fully grasp.

In those mountains, in the trees and the dense forests, and in everything else, I was okay with not knowing.

When I was 26 I moved away from my trees and my mountains and my snow and I found myself on the outskirts of a sprawling metropolis. Normally, people move to LA to try and become starlets or script-writers or big-time directors. I had never dreamed of being an actress since I threw-up if too many people looked at me at once and definitely didn’t think I was pretty enough. I simply went because the Franklin Law Firm was the first one that offered me a position.

There were plenty of lawsuits in California, enough that even a small-town girl from Montana could find work right out of law school. It took their bar exam. I passed. I applied. It was a change.

The sky was piercingly blue and the air thick with smog and people all moving and chatting and absolutely littered everywhere. It reminded me of watching ants troop back and forth on their hills, making lines, and zig-zags, and following invisible cross-walks. Things were busy.

I felt it in my veins and through my head and just underneath my tongue, like a metallic aftertaste, as I drove through the slow-moving traffic. That “busy” was everywhere. The streets were sun-soaked and warm with thumping feet. The wind carried noises of dogs barking and music playing and life going on. I had to take deep breaths until I took a right and started driving away from the “busy.”

I was so grateful that instant for being a hiker. My mom had suggested it, she had always been my beacon to follow, and I took an apartment almost forty-five minutes away from my work on her advice. The commute wasn’t going to be fun.

However, it was worth it. Away from the thick smoggy crowds of buildings and youthful men in cut-off jean shorts and beautiful women in shirts that showed off their flat bellies. I passed residential neighborhoods with immigrant families and struggling playwrights and then up past gated communities with green cut lawns and paychecks that looked like lucky numbers on fortune cookies.

Finally, I passed right up toward a ridge outside the city. I would bite off my own tongue before I’d call it a mountain (as some people there did), but it was luckily a little bigger than a hill.

I exhaled as I got closer to the hiking trails and there were finally bigger gaps between the houses. I was so grateful I chose this over convenience. It was different of course, the bushes were dusty and barren, and the trees were squat and barely greened. But it was outside the business of the city.

I smiled at the trails as I pulled up to a grey apartment building with concrete balconies and four stories just below it. I got out of my little Nissan and peered up toward my new home. It would have to do. I got out the keys I had received earlier that day and found my way inside to the fourth floor.

It was a decent modern building with air-conditioning on high and big mirrors in the elevator with shiny metal panels on the sides. I found my way to my room where I opened it to find the same modern aesthetic with a sleek silver refrigerator and a simple metal bed frame left behind from the last tenants. I wondered around the boxy rooms each with one or two windows and bare floors. It had the feeling a bit of pre-packaged meals, neat, and tidy, and underwhelming, but it would do the trick.

I went back outside and started unpacking.

I heaving up boxes from the trunk of my car and it was only on my second trip up that I realized someone was watching me. He was outside on the sidewalk and stood perfectly still as I got out my next box. He had a strong jawline thick with stubble across his face and neck. I looked to either side of me to check that he was staring at me and not some other girl in a bikini standing behind me.

“Need some help there, new neighbor?” He finally called out with a wave. “Uh,” I fumbled with the box for a moment and tried to come up with an excuse to shake him off.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Not a stalker. I just knew I’d be getting someone new across the hall from me. I was just checking to see if you needed anything.” “Uh,” I repeated again elegantly. I was definitely a lawyer. “Sure.” I said after a long pause. “Always nice to meet... neighbors.” He came over and helped me with another box. I wondered if the stranger danger alarms in my head should start going off at that point, but they never seemed to. He was wearing North face gear and smelled like the ocean and was relatively benign.

He just took a box and started chatting, “yeah, I can tell you about all the good restaurants you have to drive thirty-minutes to in order to reach from here.” “Ah,” I said as he slowly made our way back inside. “I thought it’d be pretty far away from things. Yeah.” “You come in for Hollywood?” He said with interest.

I just snorted. “Not even.” We talked about work and the price of gas and the area for another few minutes. His name was Doug and he had lived there for three years and was still a waiter/aspiring actor himself. He liked my leather bracelets.

“So,” I finally brought up what I really wanted to talk about. “How’s the hiking around here?” “Dunno.” Doug shrugged. “I wouldn’t go near the stuff nearby. Like I said, most good things are a thirty-minute drive at least.” I furrowed my brow and looked over my shoulder at him. “You don’t go up Timber Ridge? Online said it had some nice views.”

He looked away and waved a hand through the air. “Nah.”

“Why not?” I asked a little too hastily.

“I mean,” his eyes darted left and right. “Look, I’m not superstitious or anything, but...” “But?” I gave him a focused look.

He shrugged again, “I’ve heard some weird stuff about it.” His eyes darted back and forth, “weird even for this place I mean.” I made a face, “should I be worried about a serial killer on the loose?” One of my mom’s new favorite hobbies was reminding me about all the serial killers that came from California. “No. I mean like,” he placed my box down outside my new apartment door. His brow bent innards and he whispered slowly. “They’ve been finding... stuff.”

I bounced my eyebrows up and down, I tried not to smirk, “monster stuff?” “Bloody rags.” He said solemnly, “rocks with strange symbols, plants that shouldn’t be here, bones, and I dunno... bad vibes.” He cleared his voice and leaned forward so much so that the air hummed with his discomfort. “They say it’s a witch.” “A witch?” I tried not to laugh.

Doug sniffed, “just saying.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Though I’d rather be eaten by her than take the interstate 405 again.” He changed the subject back to complaining about traffic after that and I let him.

---------------------------

I didn’t see any witches the first time I went up Timber Ridge. I didn’t see much of anything actually. 

The path was dusty instead of crunchy, the bushes were low to the ground and mostly leaf-less and dry, the trees were tiny and hid nothing from the eye. If my tall forests back home were thick with greenery and secrets, LA nature was brittle and easy to digest.

There weren’t that many bird sounds, but even from that high up sometimes I still heard honking and sirens and voices from someone’s open window. I still wasn’t that far from the city.

I ached from sleeping on the floor in my sleeping bag because I hadn’t bought a new bed yet. I had also for some reason given Doug my number and he kept texting me-- which felt like a game of jeopardy I accidentally entered where I didn’t know any of the right answers. I was sore and not particularly impressed with my new living situation. I missed my mom. I missed my dog.

I missed my mountains.

I frowned at it all as I climbed. The path was long at least and for moments at a time dipped down far enough that the city itself disappeared. After an hour I finally climbed up far enough that I reached the top of the ridge and I did have to stand there in awe.

My mouth fell open gently and the weight in my chest shrunk to nothing. It was probably because it was dawn and there was always something selfless about dawn: it gave and it gave and it gave.

The sun shimmered in long pink and orange streaks behind me and just beyond the city was an expanse of ocean that ate up my vision. An ocean vast and smooth and heart-stoppingly creamy blue. I had gone to the ocean once when I was a kid, but it had been cold and unfriendly and the waves were too big. Now, it was the backdrop to something that made my eyes water.

I sniffled and wiped at my tears as they fell. It was probably because I missed my mom and my dog and hated my new city, but that didn’t stop me from wiping at my cheeks and tasting salt. I cried at that sunset on the first day.

Finally, I turned around and something flitted dark and swift in the corner of my vision. I jerked my head around and there was something on the ground. It was transparent and yet tangible, like clothe. Dark. It was something I could only call a “shadow” that lingered long and twisted across the ground. It seemed to dance across the path with no end for a long second. I looked up quickly to try and catch it’s source, but nothing but the small trees and dusty bushes remained.

“Hello?” I said, but nothing responded.

I touched my left elbow and turned around in tight circles. When I stopped I got one last look at it slipping away. There was a shadow staring back at me: hollow eyes and hollow mouth and a gaping frozen expression caught in some unknowable stomach-clenching emotion. I gasped lowly, took a step back, and when I blinked again it was gone.

I hurried away from that spot. I chalked up the strange vision to too much crying and not enough breakfast that morning.

I didn’t see a witch on the ridge that first day or at least or, at least, I didn’t think I did.

------------

part 2 coming soon! 

So all of my hours were cut at my job bc of coronavirus, if you enjoyed my writing please, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or becoming a patron I could really use the help!

[roswellroamer]

Day 12. February 10, 2020. Te Anau day ride. 155km.

Woke to low 40's and gray which made me question the Carrot and Weather Channel apps which had shown 72° and sunny. But closer inspection revealed a marine type layer probably due to the massive lake's shores which was projected to burn off by 11. The kitchen came stocked with farm fresh eggs, bowl of assorted fruit, milk, butter, juice, yogurts, cereals. We set about making some eggs and toast and then of course after finishing off yesterday's blog we grabbed the two frisbees and the "golf course diagram" and headed out. A half life sized chess board on the sprawling manicured lawn provided the tee for the first hole. All the bikes were truck tires with the hole number painted on the rubber. Got to explore their grounds and have some fun tossing the 'bee. We then got into our GoreTex gear and headed towards Milford Sound after a CalTex has stop in town. Knowing we couldn't get to Milford due to road closures/flooding we were aiming for a swing bridge made of three cables. One for your feet and one for each of your hands that spanned the west branch of the Eglinton River. It was featured in one of the NZ touring books I had bought last summer. We saw that the trail sign to identify the turn off was the Earl Mountain turnoff and headed that way. We wound a bit away from the water and gained some elevation and then came to a construction zone. Not being sure if this was related to the recent flooding we got in mine behind a few cars and waited. Maybe less than ten minutes and the opposing truck, bus and camper passed us then we were allowed to proceed. Usually the 120km up to Milford takes over two hours due to the heavy traffic. Top tourist destination in NZ, one road in and out. Lots of buses and cars jockeying to get parking at the roadside attractions. One huge benefit of having the road closed about 75km ahead was that there was hardly any traffic! Great road and scenery as jagged Teton-esque peaks wound into view between the nearly sheer yet forested canyons as we gained elevation. After passing through a few more, wait, take a wild guess... sheep farms 🐑 we came to a diversion. Funneled into a lane off the road to what appeared to be a toll booth, explained to the gal we were in search of a cable bridge off the Earl Mtn. Trail before the closed section. She allowed us to pass. So far so good.

You can tell when you enter Fiordland NP. Sure, there's a sign off to the left (but placed behind a farmer's field/fence so inaccessible for a reasonable picture). But immediately farmland disappears and you are envelopes in the eery dense tunnel of what seems to be darned close to tropical forest. With the 21 feet of annual rainfall being lush shouldn't be a surprise but the immediate drop off in brightness is dramatic as well. Almost like going in a cave. There are some open "flats" but much of the area along the one road there is heavy forest. The other concern for vehicles but especially bikes involves the encroaching algae/moss on the roads. Two tire tracks are largely clear of it but the center of the lanes and the road as well are mostly a bit greenish with the slippery stuff. Lots of "slippery when wet" signage and it wasn't for the Bon Jovi album. I imagined it could be taxing to stay in the worn and clear tire tracks on one of the 250 rainy days. With clear blue sky and dry along with no traffic, the 55,65 and 75kph turns were superb sweepers and we had a ball carving up that road. One of the stops was at Mirror Lakes. Aptly names and even though a couple of fish had disturbed the surface, the pics are keepers. We rode up into Fiordland a ways and then there was the Earl Mtn. sign. We pulled in to the parking area and saw the line of yellow tape across the entrance to the trail. Also no other vehicles were there. The sign said it was closed and also had a few poison signs around the lot. They described the poison that was dangerous to animals and people to attempt (as is often done here) eradication of a non-native predator. In this case it seemed to be some sort of weasel that was endangering a bird that lived on the ground. We had discussed this cable swing bridge and yellow tape and warnings weren't gonna stop us! We worked around the tape and stepped into a dense forest trail. The first 10 minutes took us along an occasionally muddy trail. Tons of tree roots. Most of the deep mud had sticks or small logs tossed in to provide steps but a few ill advised steps resulted in 6" plunges and lovely boot pulling sucking noises to dislodge my Alpinestar SMX-6 from the muck. Then found my way down a thirty foot hill by treading solely on exposed tree roots from one tree! (Pic above) After that, following the well marked red triangular plastic blazes into the heart of Frodo land, the forest was a magic pliant spongy floor. It took a while to figure out that about 6-8" of moss has somehow grown over a network of interconnected tree roots. When I stepped, the entire ground in a five foot radius would give in and move a bit. It was weird and beautiful. After another 10' we heard the Eglinton River and were blocked by some fallen trees and yellow tape. A work around brought me to the river just above the cable swing bridge. A very large tree had fallen on the bridge from our side and collapsed it. Instead of a V shape, the 3 cables were mostly flat but still spanning the river. Ugh. No go. Managed to work our way with some difficulty through the dense brush to get close enough for a pic on the first rung of the bridge which was also the last possible one to reach due to the tree and damage. Pic above. There was a cute little bird on the ground by the bridge remnants. He seemed happy to see us. Wasn't afraid of people evidently as he strutted about watching us, walking under the branch I was balancing on without flying away. He seemed to enjoy company. Said goodbye to my new friend 🐦 and found the blazes trail which included a half dozen improvised detours to avoid deep muck. Scaled up the root ladder which must have been connected to Eywa as the whole forest seemed a bit magical. 🌳 One couple was following our lead to enter the forbidden enchanted forest as we exited. They were disappointed to hear the wire bridge was out. The entire trail from there is about a three hour hike.

I must comment that tons of serious hikers (trampers in local speak) come here and cover long distances. Temps are good. Views and scenery fantastic. None of those deadly spiders and snakes one may encounter across the Tasman Sea in Oz. I get it, just don't love hiking that much to spend days or weeks doing it. This area shows why Peter Jackson used it for LOTR. Nearly pristine and just overwhelmingly stunning. With boots and Klim pants properly mud coated, we were now sweating quite a bit. In fact while holding my Latitude jacket I believe I finally lost my first set of reading glasses on this ride. I have a couple spares but oh well. Think they fell out as I was scaling some of the hill or tree root sections. 👓 I opened up all the vents on my jacket and pants and started the bike to stand and let the 65° breeze do its job. Turned around a couple kilometers further at Lower Holyford Rd. as the heavy machinery was at work. Estimated repair on the sign said that the road would reopen on Friday, four days from now. We stopped a few times on the way back for scenic spots that were too good to pass by. One of the files above is the .gif of some chopper footage. Stopped to watch him load and fly away with a few tanks of what may have been fuel? Most likely bound for Milford Sound which was still isolated from the rest of the country's road system. On one of the last stops Ted must've not closed his bag since when we pulled into Te Anau town center his right saddlebag/pannier was open! Ba quick inventory revealed his polartec jacket and a plastic bag with a wipe were missing. The chain lube that Kiwi gave us as well as a helmet lock were still in the pannier. Those darned side opening clamshell designs! I said I'd get a table at the Ranch outside and wait for him to hopefully retrieve his stuff. I showed him how to flip up on the iPhone to reveal exactly where that last pic was taken. He was just putting on his helmet when a white car pulls up. A guy walks out and hands him his stuff! So lucky. They are bikers and saw his stuff and followed us into town. Nice. After some thank you a they drove away and the day got even brighter. The Ranch delivered me a couple Cokes and an interesting prawn twist dish. 8 shrimp individually wrapped in a long thin dough sheet and fried so the whole 8" long finger is edible and 3 sauces to dip accompanied the serving. Then a calamari salad. 😊 Back to the homestead for some blogging (so I won't fall asleep tonight trying to get this down) and rest before we scored a reservation at the top place in town. The Redcliff cafe. Ted was here last year and unable to get in! We rode to town and were walking down the street when Ted recognized the Aussies who returned his stuff at lunchtime. We turned around and flagged them down. They were perfectly willing to join us for a thank you beer and had a nice time talking with them. They were riders but here to scatter ashes of a friend up north and had received money and were encouraged to make a great trip out of it. They had been to Burt Munro as well. Our appointed hour arrived and we were seated on the back porch of the Redcliff cafe. A few tables of Americans nearby and some conversation with a California couple by us and an excellent meal. I had a salmon tartare dish followed by venison which was amazing and a date and ice cream dessert which were each remarkable. Redcliff did not disappoint. Probably the biggest culinary splurge of the trip. Even with a couple drinks my total ended up being just over $50 and it would've been 50% more for that same meal at home. Had a great evening and got back to the homestead in dusk around 10. Ready to roll northward tomorrow. 😴

[brynandchristopher]

New decade, new adventure

Happy New Year!!

I hope you have all had a wonderful celebration of the end of the year and are ready to start this new one. As they say, new decade, new me. We are very excited for what this year will bring! Our outdoor adventuring in New Zealand is about to really kick into gear and our travel prospects in Australia and elsewhere later this year are bringing us great joy and anticipation! :)

Since our last post we spent a couple of days in Tauranga posted up on the beach. We had a lovely camp spot and made the most of our proximity to the ocean! I was tempted to go buy a cheap surfboard, but I think that endeavor will have to wait until Australia. From Tauranga we drove southwest into Te Urewera National Park towards the start of our first Great Walk around Lake Waikaremoana. We spent a night deep out in the woods all by ourselves- it was a bit eerie to be all alone but it was the first campsite we’ve had all to ourselves and the solitude was quite welcome. We made one of the best meals of our trip that night - we marinated Tempeh (a soybean curd from Indonesia that we fell in love with while living in Bali) in olive and sesame oil, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, chili paste and then fried it up in sesame oil. We served it over a highly spiced mix of brown lentils and brown rice. It was a good load-up on nutrients for our 4-day trek we started the next day.

We drove about 20 minutes the following morning to the trailhead on definitely the worst road I’ve driven on in a car in my life, but Sweetie managed swimmingly. We had a bit of difficulty finding the trailhead and when we did we were bit confused by there being only 1 other car parked there, nonetheless we had found the start and headed off. About halfway through our first day we got to one of the backcountry huts where we took lunch and talked to some of the other trekkers. We quickly figured out why there were no other cars, because nearly everyone was doing the trek in the other direction, so they had parked at the other trailhead. This backcountry hut was right on the water and quite a few of the trekkers there were waiting for water taxis to take them across the lake back to their cars. A couple approached us, thinking we were in that same boat, and asked if there was space for two more in our taxi. We explained we weren’t taking one and they were bummed, as they were a bit stranded and worried about how they would get back. We were setting off to leave when an idea struck me, albeit one that required quite a bit of faith in two strangers we had just met. Our original plan was to hitchhike back to our car when we had finished the hike, and while we probably would’ve been able to do this, it was a bit worrisome that we might be stranded as well. So we decided to ask this couple if they wanted to finish the hike out and drive our car back to their car. They were a bit shocked at the suggestion but happily accepted as it saved them a pretty major headache and both of us a lot of time - the other people around eavesdropping on the exchange all laughed at the audacity of our proposal. So we trusted in our new friends from the Czech Republic and kept on walking. We finished the 7.3 mile first day of our trek at the Waiharuru hut/campsite - it was right on the water and we immediately hopped into the lake for a swim. We had planned on camping that night, but while swimming a couple of people told us there were a dozen or so empty bunks if we fancied not setting up the tent, so we opted for the extra warmth and slept in the hut that night. We ate a lovely dinner of lentils and couscous with salt and chili flakes, played cards, read our books and hit the hay. 

The next day was our longest of the trip at around 9.5 miles. We woke up and ate our oatmeal and set off. Despite being the longest, it was the easiest terrain of the trip. It was all pretty flat and skirted the lakeside the entire time. Being along the lake was really cool as we were able to see flocks of black swans with bright red beaks most of the way. This lake was a sanctuary for a lot of water birds as it was incredibly quiet and remote. The lake was massive and beautiful with dozens of really cool little coves that back home would have had hundreds of boats on it, but we saw no more than 10 the entire trip. We finished our second day of hiking, and our final day of the year at Korokoro Campsite. We got there before most other hikers and got the best secluded spot a short walk into the trees. There was a nice small field and a little shelter to cook under, as well as a tiny beach you could swim off. We went swimming again, although a bit warily as there were a few swans feeding nearby and they can be quite territorial. We had no problems with the birds and gave ourselves a nice scrub to get the day’s sweat and dirt off and laid out in the field to dry off. A bit later on a few more trekkers showed up, as well as two boats that set up a luxurious camp near the shore. Being New Year’s Eve, I had carried a bottle of champagne out on the trail - I went to chill it in the water and the boat campers laughed at my commitment to the holiday and offered to chill it in their cooler. We never figured out exactly who it was but the guy who I gave the bottle to chill was apparently a really famous athlete from New Zealand - we overheard some Kiwi’s talking about how they recognized him, we think he played rugby but weren’t totally sure. There were a dozen or so trekkers at camp so we figured there would be a small New Year’s contingent staying up but everyone except for Bryn and I were in their tents by 9:30. We made more couscous and lentils, and added some instant rice to mix things up along with our champagne and had a lovely New Year’s dinner. A bit different than our 4-course meal and wine pairing we had two years ago but it was actually really nice to just chill out in the woods. We exhaustedly played cards until midnight, rang in the New Year, and were asleep by 12:10. 

Our next day was undoubtedly the hardest. We began by doing a 2 mile side-jaunt to Korokoro Waterfall which was probably around 50 feet and absolutely beautiful. We continued on for a couple of miles around the lake before eventually leaving the waterside for good where we began a grueling 5 mile uphill. We gained around 3000 feet of elevation as we made our way up quite a few stair ladders and tree root systems. It was very tiring and particularly tough on Bryn, who had developed some gnarly blisters at this point, but we listened to a couple podcasts and took lots of breaks and persevered! And we were well rewarded, as we reached the top we got the first real views of the hike. We were treated to some beautiful panorama views and relished in the hard work we  had done in getting there. We finally made it up to the Panekiri hut where we luckily grabbed the last two bunks next to each other. We were starving so we made an early dinner of rice, couscous, and sardines. It was the first time I’ve ever eaten sardines and while I didn’t hate them, I probably won’t be choosing to eat them again anytime soon - all the same, a nutrient starved body makes most things very edible. We went to bed early so we could get up for sunrise the next day.

Sunrise wasn’t all that spectacular to be honest. The view was mostly blocked by trees and it was very hazy outside as winds had blown smoke over from the fires in Australia. But it’s always nice to be up really early in the morning and we ate our final breakfast of oatmeal with all our leftover trail mix stirred in and set off. Our last day was a breeze, 6.5 miles of all downhill, we were treated to the best views of the whole trek on our final day and were a bit smug thinking ourselves lucky for doing the trek backwards. We could see the entirety of the lake and its wild jagged shape and had our final granola bars setting atop the lookout called Bald Knob. We sauntered down the hill at a frenetic pace, ready to be done, and made it to the trailhead. To our great relief Sweetie was waiting for us in perfect, albeit very dirty, condition - the couple left us a lovely thank you note and a big pile of candy and we were incredibly happy we had made that call and didn’t have to hitchhike on a remote road for the rest of the day. We set off further southwest to the coast where we have been the last couple of days. We are currently staying in Napier, a lovely coastal town that boast an affinity for Art Deco and the heartland of New Zealand's wine country. We treated ourselves to hot showers at a local gym for 3$, got a much needed carwash, and got a pizza for lunch. We pulled up to a parking lot on the beach to camp for the night, and to our surprise the van next door belonged to the Czech couple!! We talked to them a little while and made pasta and soy-meatballs for dinner. 

We will be here for a couple more days, camping on the beach, hitting up the local farmers market and a few shops before heading to the town of Rotorura to meet up with an old friend of ours from Bali who lives here now. In Rotorua we will be going whitewater rafting and exploring the plentiful hot springs around town before starting our second Great Walk in about a weeks time! We start the Tongariro Circuit on January 9th and will post our next update after we finish that tramp (NZ’s word for trek).

Our best,

Christopher and Bryn

[its0katka]

A Personal History of Mountains

I’m five years old, seven years old, thirteen years old, and I drive through mountains to get to my cousin’s house an hour away in Duchess County. I know they aren’t really mountains though, because they aren’t tall enough, or craggy enough. They don’t look like the mountains I see in books and on TV. 

I’m used to tall things because of living in New York but the skyscrapers are oftentimes too tall and give a warped perspective on what tall actually is. Nature is different, though. Nature is real.

They look pretty in the fall when the leaves change colors, but when it’s summer they just look like oversized bushes, in the winter they are a dead bark brown. They aren’t rolling, it’s usually one large dome and then normal-sized foliage otherwise. Sometimes they look pretty when they are covered in snow.

I try not to think about mountains because one time I tried to hike Bear Mountain and I hated it.

I’m 20 years old and I’m flying to Ghana. We transfer planes in Germany and as we fly south, we cross the alps. I don’t know which alps, but we’re so high up above them that all we see is snow-capped tops and sharp peaks clearing the sky. I remember how excited I was to see them, because they looked like real mountains, and I was so close to them.

In Ghana I went on another hike to Mount Afadjato. I thought it’d be fine because I’d done a hike to Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh the summer before, and that was alright, it was the same amount of time (two hours up, an hour down) and I figured I was spry enough to do it.

I wasn’t. I fell behind the group quite far, especially when trying to walk down the mountain. I was suffering badly with the elevation. I was wearing Crocs. 

Arthur’s Seat was 822 ft tall. It had stairs along the way, and safety ropes. Mount Afadjato 2,904 ft tall. It had nothing but steep climbs, slippery rocks, and a worn train. I lost my footing at one point and slid down the mountain, I thought I was going to die. The group went to a cave the next day and I opted to stay home and try to watch the Ghanaian version of American Idol on the TV we had that never really worked.

I’m 22 and living in Žilina, Slovakia. I was provided with a three bedroom flat all to myself, for the modest price of $400 Euros a month. My Independent Study stipend pretty much covers the rent, I have to use my personal funds to buy food but it’s not too bad because I don’t have a fridge, so I basically have to eat vegetarian, eat out, or not eat at all.

From my balcony (yes, I have a balcony, yes, it’s where I keep my milk, cheese and yogurt to stay cold in the frigid November temperatures), I can see the Malá Fatras, a Slovak mountain range that’s popular with skiers. I love standing out on the freezing balcony looking at it because these are the tallest mountains I’ve ever seen, and the closest I’ll ever get. It makes me feel normal, like the world is not so vast, like there are borders and boundaries and it’s somehow cozy, in a weird way.

One weekend, all employees of Stanica are gone on holiday; Dusan goes on a trip to Bratislava with his girlfriend, Audrey and Helen go to Budapest. I am on my own except for Ints, who offers to hang out with me while everyone is gone, who makes sure to take me out to bars and have a good time, who drags me out to a mountain nearby to go see some castle ruins, except that I’m hungover as hell and the walk up is steep as hell and we stop for a cigarette break halfway through and I admit that I’m dying and I’m sore and dehydrated and can’t go on, can we please go home?

We stop at a bar on the way home and have warm beer. We go out later that night and I scream at him drunk in the snow because I want to have sex with him but he keeps saying he has a girlfriend but no one has ever met her, ever, not even his closest friend Aldrick and everyone keeps saying to me, “Wow are you Ints’s girlfriend?” and it killed me every time.

Years later I would understand that he was doing the right thing, he liked me but he was doing the right thing and knew it would be bad if we got involved. 

I’m 28 and on my honeymoon and we make a stop in Lake Como. I’m still not feeling 100% health-wise, and I welcome the chance to relax along the lake. Our Airbnb is a time capsule, it’s a separate room and bathroom attached to the home of a spry Englishwoman who married an Italian man and basically gets to see out her days in their Sala Comacina flat, with paramount views of Lake Como and a water taxi stop down the road. 

It’s more beautiful than anywhere I’ve ever been. The air is clear and crisp and warm, the Italian alps are visible in the far distance, snow capped and a stark comparison to the emerald green, sloping hills along the lake. When the sun sets, it turns them brilliant neon colors of pink, orange and purple.

We dine on prosciutto pizza and grilled fish at a place where the tables and chairs are made of plastic, and the local teenagers drop by for cokes. I take a picture and post it. Someone asks, “Is this a painting?” No, it’s reality.

I’m 30, and we’re driving through Switzerland, exhausted and half sick but determine to visit Berggasthaus Aescher, the famous building built into the side of a mountain, which serves food if you’re lucky enough to get there. I’ve done all the research, including figuring out how to get there by car, through winding roads and up steep elevations and narrow streets where the Swiss sports cars zip around like it’s no big deal except if you aren’t careful enough you may well drive off a cliff because there are zero barriers, dude.

We see old people, old people, riding bikes up the hills and I just feel really bad about myself, in comparison.

We find pockets of green space, sprawling hills with farms and cows, so many cows, cows everywhere and adorable cottages and I just keep wondering, “Oh my god what does one do here to occupy their time, especially with all of these insane hills and narrow roads to climb?”

Finally we reach Ebenalp and the cable car that will take us to the top of the mountain. All the way there we’ve been surrounded by tall crags and ranges of snow-peaked geo wonders. I can’t stop taking photos of them because this truly is the closest I’ve ever been to a real mountain. It’s 5,380 ft high and I wonder how on earth it’s possible for this cable car to bring us up so steeply and yet be so smooth and yet never just one day fall apart and crash.

We get to the top and realize we are sorely underdressed; I, in a thin sweater and a designer purse, Handsome Man in a long sleeve shirt and dress boots. Everyone else around us is wearing legit hiking gear — industrial boots, heavy coats, snow pants, bandanas. All of the things I read about Berggasthaus Aescher said it was an 15 minute hike to the guesthouse. I am winded in the first five minutes and I am walking down, not up.

At Berggasthaus Aescher, we realize it’s too late to buy food because the last cablecar leaves at 5:30pm, and if we miss it, we must hike all the way down, and who knows how long that’d take and what condition we’d be in by the end. We take some marvelous photos and retreat back where the steep climb has me stopping several points through to catch my breath. I see old women and little kids hiking and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

I really liked Switzerland when we were there, it was this crazy place where everything was so expensive and no one looked like each other and the language, what even was it, and we paid $40 for pad thai at a takeout place, and Handsome Man got food poisoning because he didn’t cook his fondue meats well enough.

But what I can’t stop thinking about are those mountains, and valleys, where it’s just you and the land and the animals and the nature, and it’s so beyond beautiful and peaceful and you wonder how anything could ever be wrong there, and it’s not wrong there, it’s perfection.

[iseultsdream]

Mar 15, 2018 - The Ides of March ...and a very long story -photo taken Jan 11, 2018

Years ago when I was in my 20's I almost died in this pond. The memory of that day has stayed with me as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. I think having a near death experience sears that event into your memory in a way that you wish other memories could be retained.

This pond sits in a isolated spot which is not accessible by vehicle. It is usually approached on foot, by by bike, or on horseback. The land around it is slightly elevated, giving it a bowl-like appearance. There are a couple of houses now on one side, mostly hidden from view in the woods above the pond, but back when this story takes place there were none.

Back then I lived on a small farm, about 1/2 a mile from the pond, in a house without electricity, which was located down a long, mostly rough dirt road, a mile from the main paved road. It was a simpler time on the Vineyard then, so this was not as unusual as it might sound. On my farm I had a small herd of Nubian dairy goats, a few Muscovy ducks, a flock of chickens of various breeds, a couple of hives of honey bees, and an old horse named Jinx who had been left on me to care for which turned out to ne for the rest of her life. I shared the house with a couple of cats, 4 Afghan Hounds -2 adults and 2 puppies- and a now ex-partner of mine.

Across the dirt road from the house was the big farm field, the same one I now walk around on an almost a daily basis. Back then the fields were unfenced, and for a time no one lived on that farm, so it became, in a sense, an extended part of my little farm. I would let Jinx graze out there freely, and the dogs could run around in the field, although usually under my supervision, since being sighthounds their keen eyes were always seeking the far horizon and what exciting adventured might lie out there.

Spring is slow to come to the island due to the moderating effect of the cold ocean that surrounds it, but that sunny March morning there was a hint of early spring in the air. As I did some spring prep in the garden, the puppies were playing together in the near-by field. I was keeping an eye on them as I worked. One of the times I looked up, I noticed that they had wandered further out into the large farm field.

When I caught up to them, they were near the top of one of the low hills that surround the pond. They were excitedly hunting for mice in the clumps of dry winter grass, and almost didn't look up when I reached them. I watched them for a moment, while I lingered there in the beauty of the field, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. After a bit, I lifted my gaze to the pond below. The pond still retained a good portion of ice cover with an inch or two of snow covering the ice. The edges had started to melt back, and the open water had reached about 4-5 feet from the shoreline in most places. As I looked down on the pond, a hole near the center of the pond caught my eye, and I wondered what had caused that, but that thought broke off quickly when I was shocked to see something move in that hole. With growing horror I recognized it as a distant neighbor's dog, a large white German Shepherd. Initially, the white dog had blended in with the snow-covered ice. For a few seconds I took in this dreadful scene, and then quickly I rushed to gather up the puppies, and took off racing across the rough field back to the house. Thankfully, my partner was at home. Out of breath, in a frantic voice, I described the situation. In trying to think of what to do, all that came to my mind were ladders and ropes.

Well..this was the point when a different decision should have been made, but neither of us considered any other option.. We couldn't call for help. There was no phone in the house, and there certainly weren't any cell phones back then. To get help it would have required driving a mile over the rough dirt road out to the main road, and then somewhere further to find a phone. It felt like by then the dog would be dead. Besides I always consider myself good in a crisis, so I felt it was something I could handle. When I look back on it all now, and that happens every single time I encounter a frozen pond, or hear on the news of an ice rescue, I realize how little I understood of the extreme dangers that lay ahead, in that moment of youthful enthusiasm and determination.

So, we took off in his truck withe a ladder and ropes, straight across the bumpy, still frozen field. Upon reaching the top of the hill above the pond, we jumped out, grabbed the ropes and the long ladder, and with great difficulty hauled it all down to the shoreline.

In the time it had taken for me to get back to the house, the weather had changed. March is always a mercurial month here. The feeling of spring had dissipated. The sky was now darkly overcast, and a cold wind from the ocean had come up. Standing next to the edge of the pond, it felt like we had been plunged back into winter.

We could now see the Shepherd clearly, clinging to the edge of the hole with her front paws. Her eyes now intently fixated on us. It seemed the only way to reach the main body of ice would be to get into the water and hike yourself up onto it. Time was running out, so, without thinking further I found myself chest deep in the coldest water I had ever experienced. I was totally unprepared for the sudden shock of that icy water which seemed to suck all the air out of my lungs. It was almost impossible to breathe at all. Despite that, I continued on, but when I reached the edge of the ice, piece after piece broke off in my hands. It became quickly apparent that this was not going to be the way to reach the dog. After getting back out, we noticed that on the far side of the pond( which in the accompanying photo is across the pond to the right of center) there was a section of ice still attached to the shore, so we dragged everything over there.

Here is where we made our second, and most serious mistake. I had the idea of sliding the ladder onto the ice, and tying a rope to it, then I would move along the ladder to the hole and then somehow get hold of the dog's collar. In writing this now, it all seems crazy, but in an emergency situation like this, if there is no other help, you go into it figuring that you can do it, or at least you have to try. Somehow though, in the midst of this rushed effort to get out to the dog, we forgot a very important element. We had tied a rope to the ladder, but forgot to also tie another rope to me.

I moved along the ladder by straddling it in an almost prone position, and then pulled myself along it. As I slowly approached the hole in the ice the dog became more animated. She had started to whine, and was making more desperate attempts to reach me. When we had laid the ladder on the ice, we found it was too short to reach the hole, so we came up with the idea of once I was almost out there my partner would try to slide the ladder forward a few inches at a time towards the hole. Each time he pushed, I had to hold on tightly, so as not to fall onto the ice. We progressed forward little by little, but just before I reached the edge of the hole, the ice suddenly gave way under me, causing the ladder to upend and send me plunging into the hole with the dog, who immediately grabbed hold of my shoulders with its paws and held on. The ladder plunged into hole also, and disappeared quickly under the ice, dragging the unsecured rope with it.

This happened so suddenly that the shock and horror of my situation didn't register immediately. At first I just tried to get back up on the ice around the hole, but as with my previous attempts from the shoreline, the ice kept breaking away. I could see the fear and shock in my partner's face who had plunged himself into the water at the shoreline trying to reach the edge of the ice to get up on it, only to run into the same breaking ice problem.

I remember treading water, since it was well over my head. I was cold of course, but I think the wool vest, and felt-lined boots I had on may have slowed a bit the dangerous chilling of my body. I remember feeling a brief moment of panic, which fortunately didn't last too long, as our desperate attempts to get me out kept failing. No one knew we were there, and at that time of year it would only be by chance that someone would happen onto us.

As the situation began to feel more hopeless, I began to realize that I just might die there. In my head I started seeing newspaper headlines about two foolish people and a dog who happened out onto to March ice, for whatever imagined reason, and were found dead. In my desperation, after more futile attempts to get onto the ice, for a very brief instant I though maybe I could swim under the ice to the open water since it wasn't that far, but thankfully something stopped me from considering that in any serious way. I was told later that I would most definitely have died if I had tried that.

I remember there was a point where I wasn't as aware of the cold anymore, and almost felt euphoric. As I treadled water, wondering how I would ever get out of there...or if I would..I started to feel very tired. I remember so clearly watching a large flock of Red-winged blackbirds, just having returned for the spring a couple of weeks before, suddenly flying in and alighting in one of the near-by trees filling the air with their loud,distinct and welcome spring song. I remember feeling absorbed for a few seconds in the exquisite beauty of the sight and sound of those birds. As icy water slipped through the layers of my clothing, I knew time was running out and hypothermia was setting in. I remember wondering if the sight and sound of those birds would be the last thing i had a sense of before succumbing to the cold water. Perhaps that may have been part of what suddenly pushed me into a renewed effort to try to get out.

With waning strength I returned to trying to heft myself up onto the ice, as it continued to break away. All the while the dog held on, digging its claws into my shoulders. And then one of those times I got a bit further up on the ice, and the buckle on my belt caught hold of the ice, giving me just enough traction to get my whole body all the way up onto the ice. For a moment, I couldn't quite believe I was out, but quickly realized I was not out of danger since the ice could break again at any moment. I looked back at the dog who was paddling frantically now at the edge of the hole, and without thinking, I quickly reached back, grabbed her collar, and somehow, with a strength I never would have guessed I had, I dragged this big, heavy, wet dog up out of the hole and onto the ice with me. When I think back on that now, I am still amazed that I was able to do that.

Fortunately, the frozen surface held as I slid myself across the ice, dragging the dog with me. We had to get back into the water where the ice had melted back from the shore, and then finally with incredible relief, we were back on land. I could hardly stand at all,and my hands felt like useless clubs. The dog couldn't stand at all. The truck was at the top of the hill, so my partner carried the dog, while I, with great difficulty, struggled up the hill behind them.

We got the dog back to its home, just as the owner of the dog was arriving home with groceries. We were soaking wet, and I had almost lost my voice completely from the chilling in the icy water so it was difficult trying to explain what had happened. We told her that she needed to help the dog get its temperature back up to normal. She seemed a bit confused about all of that, and so casual, that I realized that she wasn't taking in how dire a situation it had been.

The dog survived and was fine for a while. I'd occasionally catch a glimpse of her in the neighbor's yard, or trotting up and down the dirt road. It made me happy to see her. I was saddened to hear many months later that she had died hemorrhaging while giving birth from an unplanned pregnancy.

I took my temperature when I go home and it was 92. If it had dropped anymore, and I had still been in the pond, I most likely would have become unconscious, and then drowned. I got in a warm shower, which I found out later, is apparently not the safest method to use to warm up from hypothermia, but I didn't know that at the time. I just wanted to get warm. For about a couple of weeks afterwards, I felt very weak and had no energy for anything. I felt as if I were recovering from a long, debilitating illness. For a few months, I had terrible recurring nightmares which always consisted of me trying desperately to get out of a hole in an ice-covered pond. Thankfully, I don't have those anymore.

Side note: Not many people have heard this story, except for family and a few friends. I realize no matter how many times I tell it, I am unable to find the right words to truly and vividly describe what it really felt like to be trapped in that ice cold water, with a feeling of no escape, and the sense for a bit that I just might die there. The local newspaper would have covered the story, probably using it as a warning to others as what not to do, if they had been told.

After that experience, you couldn't get me out on an ice covered pond ever again, even if I was reassured that the ice was thick enough. And in case, you might wonder what t do in a situation like this. First of all, if you are able, call for help. Don't try this alone. But if you accidentally fall through ice,and are stuck in a hole as I was, apparently, the best thing to do is relax your body and let it float up into a more prone position in the water, and then start kicking your feet which should propel you forward onto the ice. Stay prone, and try to slide yourself forward until you reach more solid ice.

[travelswithzsubes]

The Golan Trail: A trip report.

Ah, it’s like exercising the old muscles again, writing a report of a trip here. It feels oh so good. I love writing, yet find many excuses all of the time to not spend my time doing it. 

I got the harebrained idea in my mind to hike the Golan Trail in four days. It’s 125K, so you can do the math. It’s basically going from 0 to 60, nothing to something significant. My roommate, however, came through big time. He ended up having pretty much all the gear I needed and more (blow up pillow? sit pad? wind screen?) and donated it to me for the few days I was going to be out in the woods. He is a tzaddik.

I took a bus up to Majdal Shams, a Druze city that is one of the most northern places in Israel. There I stayed in an Airbnb with Ahmed for the night. Ahmed showed up in a pickup truck after talking to the driver of the bus I was on, telling him to make a special stop for me by the gas station. He knows everyone in Majdal Shams, or so he says. “What a cute, petite guy,” he said of the bus driver.

Ahmed offered me whiskey and hookah and told me his family had lived in the area for 1,000 years.

Day 1

The next day, he said, I should call him after 9am so that he could pick me up and take me to the top of the hike, in the Hermon. When I (non-authentically) protested that that was out of his way, he dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “No other way for you to get up there,” he said. And so he drove me around the steep curves, up the mountain, and there I was, by the sign marking the top of trail. I couldn’t believe I had the gear, and the time, and the ability to do this hike - one I have wanted to do for quite a long time. I am incredibly lucky. And I was very happy. 

Me and Ahmed

The beginning.

My goal was to hit 31K per day - something around 19 miles. Each day, though, the morning was, for whatever reason, slow. I didn’t know this would happen on Day 1. But the section from the Hermon back down to Majdal Shams was probably one of the more difficult sections of the entire trail, at least in terms of technical descending. It’s also easy to lose the trail. Thankfully, I had the AllTrails app, which helped me out a ton (I promise I am not getting paid for this). The poles I got from my roommate were incredibly helpful, though. I think they may be a mainstay for me in the future. 

It was beautiful, though. You’re up at 4500 feet or so, and you can see very far. The whole world is ahead of you. 

I find that I get frustrated easily on these hikes. I spent a good 15 minutes at one point going back and forth, trying to find the trail that really wasn’t so difficult to locate. I think I’m pretty bad with directions in the wilderness, for whatever reason. But I got to the bottom of the section, and so began a relatively easy next few kilometers, through Kibbutz Nimrod, Masa’ade, and around a reservoir. Before Nimrod, there’s a point where you can see Kiryat Shemona, Metula, and into Lebanon. It was a lot of downhill on a road, and then it started to go up again after Masa’ade. The landscape was wide open, and you could see pretty much everything around you, including the snowy Hermon peaks, Majdal Shams resting comfortably on the hill, nearby mountains, and so on. It was kind of hazy though. 

The view into Lebanon.

Majdal Shams and Hermon.

The climbing wasn’t hard, but it was there. I stopped for lunch near some cows. It was getting a bit late in the day, and by this point I was getting nervous for timing. I had wanted to get to a point where the trail crossed Route 98 (the highway the trail skirts for most of the way), but I wasn’t sure if that was going to happen. 

The climb then continued, all the way up to Har Odem, which is a bizarre tangle of mining sites and some sort of other contraptions on top. From there, you get a whole other viewpoint south. You really started to see what was left of the Golan, what you had in front of you, what was coming. Mini-volcanic peaks, grasslands, and so on and so forth.

Har Odem.

From there, there was a slight descent. Birds were chirping, and it was beautiful. I still felt pretty good physically and was simply trying to make good time at this point. I knew there was a climb coming my way, but it took longer to get there than the map indicated. A road goes around Har Hermonit to avoid a military installation on top, and so I took that, and hit the top at about 4:30pm - about an hour and a half of daylight to go. But when I looked at the map, it said I had gone a full mile less than what my watch was telling me. I was certainly concerned at this point - everything really had to go perfectly for me to finish in four days.

From here you could see straight into Syria. 

Looking into Syria - signs for land mines.

Hazy sunset.

I got lost at one point, but by virtue of getting lost I passed a sign that told me I was entering the Emek HaBacha - Valley of Tears, so named for being the site of a major battle in the 1973 Yom Kippur War. Now it’s home to the Golan Heights Winery and many wind turbines.

It was getting dark, but I realized I was within a mile of the point I wanted to get to that night. I didn’t quite make it all the way to the road, but I got even closer, and found a nice grassy patch by the site of the trail where I decided to spend the night. After setting up the tent, cooking, and taking care of some phone business (I hate having to use my phone while hiking or camping, but too much was going on in the world that day for me not to, in terms of many things in my life) it was already 9pm by the time I crawled into the tent. Still, I felt OK, physically, and knew I had a long next day ahead of me.

Day 2 

It took me a little while to get out of bed this day. By the time I did all the morning things, it was already 8:45am. That was when I left - later than I wanted to. I knew I was near the town of Merom Golan, and I was hoping to reup on water there (that’s basically how you do it on this trail; there aren’t THAT many water sources, plus I thought I brought iodine with me, but it turned out to be iodine neutralizing flavor tabs, which don’t make water clean, so, yeah...). 

Again I got lost and walked 0.6 miles out of the way, which doesn’t sound like much, but feels like a lot when you have a tight schedule. I walked back, though, and then encircled a reservoir, and eventually arrived at the base of Har Bental, the steepest climb of the trail. It was certainly steep, but the trail was lined with flowers (I haven’t even talked about those yet, they are everywhere; red, purple, white, etc.) and it was a lovely time. There’s also a coffee shop on top called Coffee Anan (a three-way pun, by my count). I duly purchased a cappuccino and filled up on water there. 

Har Bental flowers.

Sculptures at the mountaintop.

 I then kept a fast pace through to the point where I next crossed Route 98, which was already 10 miles in. It was through red flowery fields, and it made for fast walking. This was the first time, though, that I noticed that my left shoe was starting to come undone (the toebox was starting to flap open), and that was scary. I also felt some blisters starting to form.

But things kept going. A friend actually met me for a short part of the trail here, and had a car, so I was able to drop my pack in the car and continue on (we met up along the trail, but the car ended up being parked near that night’s camping spot). I flew through the next miles, even though there were three separate small climbs. It went fast, and I felt pretty good, even all the way up to Mile 16. More views of Syria from the top of the climbs.

After descending the final climb (Har Chozek) I ended up in a grassy field, and it was just so peaceful. Cows lounged around, and I even saw some wild horses. You could still see pretty far into the distance, but there was green all around you. I was quite happy.

Wild horses.

All day, every day.

This was my longest day, but physically I felt mostly OK, although I did notice I was starting to feel pretty tight. My feet were hurting, and I had blisters. My shoes weren’t in great shape. When I didn’t move anywhere for 10 minutes and then moved again, I felt like I couldn’t walk so well. And I still had two days to go. It didn’t feel all that promising at this point. 

This was also quite a chilly night. I slept through the night, but the camping spot at Choresh Chushnia wasn’t so great (lots of wonderful cow poop smells), and foxes were howling very near us. At one point my headlamp caught their eyes, and all I saw were two beady red dots in the distance, staring at me. Spooky! There was a small moon, though, and the stars were out, and there was a wide open sky. Perfect.

Day 3

The elevation profile for this day told me that it would be all downhill. That wasn’t really true, but any climbing that happened on this day really wasn’t so bad. I was counting on blowing through this day quicker than the others, though, especially after a relatively slow start. That did not happen.

Cattle gates. Endless. I didn’t take a picture of one, probably because I was just constantly frustrated by them. You turn to your left, pass through the first part of it, oh, watch out for that barbed wire, turn to your right, make sure you don’t tear the sleeping pad bound to your pack, oh, you can’t fit through? Take off your pack, lift it above your head, risk your back health, and take valuable time.

And repeat the same thing 400 meters later.

So that was annoying. The hiking was also on top of a mini-ridge that followed a stream. It was certainly beautiful, but it was a bit slow. There was one point where I went the wrong way and ended up walking through a barbed wired surrounded gate into a wet stream, another time where I slipped and my feet were muddied (remember, my shoes were falling apart at this point). I was frustrated.

But I found a mini-waterfall in which to swim. The hiking was beautiful - real grassland hiking, long plains stretching out westward and forever. There is also a strange, Stonehenge-like arrangement of rocks at one point along the trail (called Rujum al-Hiri), which historians cannot really explain. Combine that with faster walking in the middle part of the day and I was in a better mood by lunchtime.

Grassland hiking.

Swimming waterfall.

I went around another reservoir and found myself next to a large canyon right around the time to break for lunch. That canyon came out of nowhere, and it was stunning. The trip guide told me I would have an opportunity to hike down into the canyon (here it was called the Gamla Natural Reserve) and I was excited to do so.

But I was pretty tired at this point. This was the point where really everything started to hurt. My feet, my heels, every muscle in my legs, muscles that I didn’t even really know I had.

Still, the walking was good after lunch. I kept a consistent pace, and made decent time, even though I was hurting. It was only when I started to go down towards the canyon that I started to feel that familiar marathon-race type pain, the one where your body simply wants to shut down but you have to push through it. It was scary, a little bit. I was not feeling good, and I still had a long ways to go. And I could see the sun starting to drop in the sky, just a little bit.

But the canyon was honestly maybe the most beautiful part of the entire trip. Cows grazing, red flowers, lush greenery - and, at the bottom, a shaded water crossing that led to the Syrian Bridge crossing in the area (unclear to me, exactly, its historical significance).

Look closely and you’ll see red.

Awesome river crossing.

From there, another climb. After the climb, I got my first view of the Kinneret of the entire trip - a goal to work towards. I was exhausted, though - I was about to hit 17 miles on the day, and wasn’t sure where I would camp.

Kinneret visible between the mountains.

I reached the end of that particular hiking section, though, and it informed me that after a 2 mile descent, I would reach sea level, and a camping spot (at Mifgash HaNachalim, where two streams would meet). I had enough daylight for that left - about an hour. I walked (poorly) downhill for two more miles, and made it - but was met at the bottom with three water crossings. I took my shoes off for the first one, but the next two I plodded through - I was too tired at this point to keep taking my shoes off and putting them on, especially when the shores themsleves were probably my biggest burden at this point. 

At the campsite, a father-son duo watched me as I trudged through the final water crossing. “Why did you go through the water?” they asked. “There is a way around!”

The final insult. There always is one.

I cooked dinner, put up my tent, and finally got my shoes off. An unbelievable feeling. My feet were wet, blistered, and doomed to remain wet for the rest of the trip, I knew. One more day, though. Another 20 miles, but one more day.

(I heard some suspicious panting outside my tent, though, and thought for a second it might be a wild boar. But, in the end, nothing happened.)

Day 4

I needed to get out early on this day - and I basically did. I was out and hiking by 7:30am, but not before hearing some rain pitter-patter on my tent in the morning. Luckily it only lasted a minute or two. It didn’t matter, really - everything was basically wet and muddy at this point.

The morning began with a climb, which went fine. But I got lost (thank you to the angel at the top of the climb who pointed me in the right direction) and then, while hiking though heavy underbrush, lost again. I tried to bushwhack to find the trail, but it was no use. The trail was nowhere to be found. This was insanely frustrating, but fit in with the common theme of unexpectedly difficult mornings the entire trip. 

But I was able to stay on some sort of dirt path and make my way uphill toward Givat Yoav - a kibbutz. I had to open and close a few gates to get there, but once I was there, I was near the trail again. There had been more views of the Kinneret along the way.

Getting lost had cost me some mileage, but it also put me further along the trail, meaning there was a small section that I actually didn’t end up doing. I’m intense about such things, and spent brain power feeling bad that I had “skipped” part of the trail - the part that went very close to the Kinneret, no less. (I felt better when later in the day I met someone else who had also gotten hopelessly lost in the same place.) And, in Givat Yoav, a very nice young man offered me water, and I got a chance to look at the kibbutz sheep. Overall, an insanely peaceful time. 

Morning viewz.

Givat Yoav.

I did take a small side trip to check out the section I had skipped (after I took my pack off). My bad side told me I hadn’t done the whole trail since I had skipped it - but I ended up doing more than the mileage the trail actually is, so I choose to not believe that bad side of myself. I did the whole trail, dammit.

“Skipped” section.

From there was a long down and up to the Golan Amphitheater. The trail moved away from the Kinneret side, eastward, and went down a long descent past other kibbutzim, before eventually making its way uphill to that spot. It didn’t take that long, though, and there were plentiful flowers along the way. With about 8 miles left, I was starting to smell the end. I ate a three-tortilla lunch and took a little more time than normal at lunch. I’m good, I thought.

I thought the next section would be similar to the last - a long descent, followed by a long ascent, not too bad. And that is basically what it was - but the long descent was technical, down to Meitzar Stream, and then the walking along the stream was covered in low trees and grass. Not the fastest hiking - but honestly some of the most lush, stunning landscapes of the whole trip. Everyone should go to Meitzar Stream - just a beautiful waterway nestled inside the Golan.

Golan flowers.

Top of Nachal Meitzar.

The Meitzar trail.

It was slow hiking, and then to climb out of there, you had to hike up a long, paved road that led you back up to the plain. That was endless and at this point I really could barely move. Someone offered me a ride - how tempting! But in the end, I saw the top, and to my left, Syrian villages were visible, beyond them Jordanian mountains. I knew I had a Kinneret view coming up to me soon - even though I got lost one more time and had to walk an extra half mile, just for good measure.

When I arrived at the last trail section (I don’t think I mentioned the trail is divided up into 15 sections, with moderately inaccurate information on each side that introduces each section) I knew I had 5K to go, even though the sign was telling me 7K (blatantly false). 

I allowed myself to smile a bit on the easy way down to Ein Teufik and to the bottom of the hike. I had done this section with my parents a couple of years ago, and while not the most impressive trail, you do get amazing Kinneret views. I saw people doing some sort of paragliding in the sky. “You look tired,” one guy watching the spectacle said to me. And I was.

At the end.

I met a couple guys at the end of the hike who had taken five days to do the whole trail. In retrospect, four days was crazy. I sit here four days later and I still am sore (although a massage last night helped a bit). Still, they accompanied me to the end, and it was nice to have partners in crime to finish the trail with, with a big whoop at the finish.

There were certainly points where I didn’t think I would make it.

We all needed to hitchhike down from the trail. Within 15 minutes, I was in the car with a very nice couple who drove me way further than I had expected - all the way to the airport area, where I caught a bus back to Jerusalem. I sat in their car, eating kohlrabi they offered me, pleased to be off my feet, looking forward to that best moment - when I would peel off my wet socks and the underfitted shoes on my feet and sit down, in a room, just for one second.

Hitchhiking from here.

54,000 steps in a day - maybe a record?

In the end, of course it was worth it. I think I get frustrated easily by little things on these hikes, and judge myself for not going as fast I the impossible standard I hold myself to. I don’t always see the green that is inevitably there. A lesson - to take deep breaths, know that it’s going to work out, even if the sun is setting and you’re getting lost and your feet hurt. It’s really OK - more than OK, really. Downright flowery and beautiful.

[brucestambaughsblog]

Old Rag is a popular hike in Shenandoah NP.

My wife and I have enjoyed Shenandoah National Park since we moved to Virginia three years ago. There’s a lot to love about the park, and it’s less than an hour away.

We’re not the only ones who appreciate it, of course. The estimates of annual visitors compare to those of Ohio’s Amish country, our former residence. Each location attracts millions of visitors a year.

Of course, the novel coronavirus pandemic has put a damper on tourist numbers everywhere. With the virus cases flattening out in Virginia, the park has mostly reopened.

When we want to break our stay-close-to-home routines, Neva and I head for the hills. Sometimes I will venture out alone, birding, hiking and shooting photos. It’s an enchanting place, a multi-sensory extravaganza.

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I hear the beautiful song of an indigo bunting, and I raise my binoculars, scanning the area for the likely source of the melody. Novice that I am at identifying bird calls, I want to make sure I am matching the right species with the song. I’ve learned that, like human accents, bird calls of the same species vary geographically.

Once I find the bird, I switch to my camera to try to get a decent photo. With the trees in full summer canopy, that’s not easy to do. Now and then, I am fortunate to find a bird singing in the open, and I click away.

I catch a slight, silent movement out of the corner of my eye. Is it a doe with a fawn, or perhaps twins? Is it a black bear grazing before nightfall? One never knows. On warm days, keeping a lookout for a lounging timber rattler while scrambling on a rock outcropping is always a good idea.

Male Indigo Bunting.

South River.

Beauty in any season.

Hike rewarded.

Ridge view.

Gold and black.

Pink and blue.

Peregrine Falcons.

The park is a great place to take sunset photos, too. But sunsets in the mountains can be problematic.

The expansive, rolling Shenandoah Valley is bordered on the east and west by mountain ranges. Sunsets can be as disappointing as they are stunning. Weather plus geography equals a formula for the unknown.

When we lived in Ohio, all we had to do was look out our windows to know the potential for a spectacular sunrise or sunset. We were spoiled.

Here in the breadbasket of Virginia, the rising and falling topography makes it iffy to predict what the eastern and western skies will do at dawn or dusk, respectively. You hope, pray, and go for it. Sometimes you are disappointed. Other times, you are speechless.

From this…

…to this dreamland sunset in a matter of minutes.

(Mouse over the photos for the captions)

It can be cloudy and raining in the valley. The view from the mountains of the park, however, might be spectacular if you wait long enough. Pick one of the many west-facing overlooks along the majestic Skyline Drive, and prepare yourself for come-what-may.

The elevation of the old, folded mountains ranges up to 2,500 feet higher than that of the valley. From the park, you can see the Allegheny Mountains that mark the boundary between the Commonwealth and West Virginia.

Patience, intuition, and good fortune can be the formula for bathing in a dreamland. Even with a thick cloud cover, the sun can still break through, turning drabness into beautiful in the blink of an eye.

I’ve learned to be ready for the unexpected as the sun slinks below the jagged horizon. Will the clouds refract the sun’s rays into pinks and blues, lavenders and oranges? Or will they merely steal away the sun without fanfare?

You don’t have to have a national park to enjoy heavenly landscapes. Wherever you are, just wait and watch, and let nature do the rest.

Sunset in Ohio’s Amish country.

© Bruce Stambaugh 2020

Loving Shenandoah National Park My wife and I have enjoyed Shenandoah National Park since we moved to Virginia three years ago.

[roundtheworldrambles]

Wanaka, Lake Hawea and the West Coast, New Zealand

Day 119 – Queenstown, Wanaka and Lake Hawea

Packing up my campsite in the morning, I befriended some of my fellow campers – Spaniards, Brits and Germans, parked near to me. We chatted over breakfast, swapping travel tips for the South Island. Many of them had been travelling around New Zealand for much longer than me, and were happy to share their recommendations. 

View from Queenstown Hill

Driving along the shores of Lake Wakatipu, I arrived in Queenstown and began to drive up the steep neighbourhood hills, arriving at the trailhead for Queenstown Hill Loop. Paragliders swooped overhead, having just taken off from the nearby Bob’s peak. I recall being particularly proud of my parking job that day – not only did I parallel park on the “wrong” side of the road, but I also did so on a steep hill (its all about the little things when travelling!). 

Lake Wakatipu

I began the 500 metre uphill climb to the summit of Te Tapu-nui (Maori for the “Mountain of Intense Sacredness”). My hike took me through a grove of massive, ancient pine trees, the strong smell of evergreen filling the air. Ascending through a break in the trees, I caught sight Lake Wakatipu, stretching out into the distance. As I gained elevation, the surrounding views became even more rewarding – golden hills framing the brilliant waters of the lake, and a 360-degree view of the surrounding mountains – including the Remarkables and Coronet Peak ski areas. Pink lupins were scattered around the hilltop, swaying in the breeze. Queenstown Hill is also directly above the airport in Frankton, and I was able to see several planes land and take off from a bird’s eye view – and could really get a sense of the impressive manoeuvring it took to fly in and out of the mountainous area! 

Cardrona

I enjoyed a picnic lunch at the summit, and met a group of Americans and Canadians who were living and working in Queenstown on temporary work visas. It was fascinating chatting with them about their experiences, and hearing their stories made me fall in love with New Zealand even more. In the short time I had been in NZ, I quickly began to feel like I could live there. Of all the countries I have been fortunate enough to visit, NZ definitely felt the most like a “home away from home”. 

Descending back into town, I fuelled up my campervan and hit the road, heading north to Wanaka! Located about 1 hour North of Queenstown, Wanaka is often described as a “mini Queenstown”, with many similar outdoor adventures in the vicinity, but without the same crowds and tourism. On my route to Wanaka, my campervan chugged up a series of steep switchbacks, leading to a high-elevation highway that traversed the Crown Mountain Range. I stopped in the small resort town of Cardrona for a coffee midway, a scenic township surrounded by the popular ski fields of Treble Cone and Cardrona. 

“That Wanaka Tree”

Descending into Wanaka, I was greeted by another spectacular turquoise lake, backed by yellow hills and snowy mountains in the distance. My campsite for the evening was at Wanaka Lake Holiday Park – which was a nice change from the DOC campsites as there were showers! I was pretty tired from the activities of recent days by the time I arrived, and spent most of the remaining day relaxing, with a stroll along the scenic waterfront to pick up some food for dinner. Arriving at the waterfront, I immediately sighted “that Wanaka tree”. An iconic landmark of the town, this semi-submerged willow tree is tilted on its side, casting a perfect reflection in the lake when the waters are still. I ate my dinner along the waterfront, admiring the striking landscape around me. 

Day 120 – Wanaka

Waking up to rainy weather, I used this day as a rest day to relax in town, as I had many activities booked for the following few days. I was feeling fairly lonely at this point on my trip – as wonderful as solo travel is, sometimes it gets to you! Because travelling in New Zealand requires a camper or car, hostel stays are not as common, and I was finding it a little more challenging to meet people naturally. That said – in true extrovert fashion, I still went out of my way to find ways to connect with other travellers and locals!  

I had the good fortune of meeting a friendly local guy (also named Guy) when I was in town later that afternoon. He worked as an operations manager for a luxury lodge out of Te Anau, where the lodge flies people into remote wildness camps by helicopter. The lodge is a jumping off point for hunting, fishing, skiing and hiking – and was pretty sweet job in my books! Since it was a rainy afternoon, Guy invited me up to his place in Lake Hawea, a nearby town, to hangout over beer and pizza. It was very welcome company! He also gave me tons of tips for my following weeks of travel around New Zealand – and was definitely the right person to give me the inside scoop on outdoor adventures in the country. 

As the weather cleared up in the afternoon, we grabbed our bathing suits and headed down to the waterfront for a swim in Lake Hawea. The water was cold and crystal clear, and incredibly refreshing after a week of sleeping in a campervan!  It was a wonderful, unexpected day and looking back, I smile when I think of Guy and how friendly and hospitable he was to me – a perfect stranger!  Moments and connections like these are one of my favourite parts of travelling.

Day 121 – Roy’s Peak, Wanaka

Roy’s Peak

I woke early in the morning to a sunny, warm day. I drove a short distance out of town to the trailhead for Roy’s Peak, the 16-km hike I was set to do that day.  With the town of Wanaka as my backdrop, I began to ascend a series of step switchbacks, winding up the alpine meadows and tussocks from the lake. Early into my hike (or “tramp”, as Kiwis like to call it!) I met three fellow hikers – Van and Anita, dentists from the Gold Coast, and Stephanie, a backpacker from Lake Tahoe. We chatted and kept each other company, which was good motivation to push through this challenging, uphill trek!

As we gained elevation, we began to see the distant bays and inlets of Lake Wanaka, framed by hills and alpine meadows. Further in the distance, the horizon was lined by the Southern Alps, with Mount Aspiring just visible amongst the far-off peaks. 

Two and a half hours into our hike, we finally arrived at Roy’s Peak, a windblown, grassy knoll with sweeping views of the surrounding region. There were very few trees and the top, and the wind whipped through our hair as we ate our picnic lunches and admired the breathtaking scenery. 

After taking what must have been hundreds of photos, and cheering on a pair of fellow hikers who got engaged at the peak, our group of four began our descent down the slopes. Hundreds of sheep grazed along the nearby hills, bells ringing as they trotted along the narrow footpaths. 

Rippon Vineyard

6 hours after beginning our hike, we finally arrived back at the parking lot. Stephanie and I decided to reward ourselves for our hard work by stopping into Rippon Vineyard, a family-run winery along the shores of Lake Wanaka. We arrived just on time for a wine tasting, which was the perfect reward after a day of hard physical work! In the evening our hiking group grabbed a celebratory dinner together in town before parting ways. 

I ended my day parked in my campervan along the waterfront, relaxing in the back with the doors open and my feet up. I enjoyed a glass of wine while watching the end of a Redbull-sponsored sailing race, dozens of small boats speeding along the windy waters. I admired the sundown over Lake Wanaka before returning to my campsite for the night – heading to bed early before my long drive to the West Coast the following day. 

Day 12 – The West Coast and Franz Josef Glacier

I woke up at 6am and headed west out of Wanaka, embarking on a 4-hour drive to Franz Josef Glacier, my destination for the rest of the day. I was beyond excited for my day of adventures – as I had splurged on a Helicopter ride over the famous Franz Josef Glacier! As part of this glacier tour, we would be dropped on the ice to do some guided glacier walking and traversing. The photos I had seen of Franz Josef depicted a landscape that was simply otherworldly, and I was both apprehensive and exhilarated, as glaciers can be dangerous, unpredictable places. The wet, stormy weather of the West Coast can whip up unexpected rain and snowstorms in the mountains, and the helicopter rides heading to the icefield can be cancelled on an hour-by-hour basis for safety reasons. 

My drive left Wanaka as the sun was still rising, winding up the shoreline of Lake Wanaka and Hawea as I headed into Mount Aspiring National Park. As was the norm by this time on my roadtrip, thousands of sheep flocked along nearby fields as I headed west.  As I approached the wet, blustery coast, the vegetation around me became progressively more rainforest-like, with waterfalls and lush greenery lining my route. 

As I neared the West Coast, I could see the pounding grey surf in the distance, long lines of white wash forming far offshore. At this point in my drive, I was in such a remote part of New Zealand that I did not have cell phone service for hours. Not that this mattered – as the sights transfixed me along my way! I arrived in the tiny town of Franz Josef around 10:30am, and headed to my check-in point. The weather had been starting to look gloomy for a few hours, but since my departure wasn’t until 12:30am, I had my fingers crossed! When checking in, I was advised that was likely that my departure would be cancelled for that day due to inclement weather, but was told to touch base with them again in a few hours. I was well aware that this would be possibility, given the unpredictable mountain and glacial conditions, but I was disappointed nonetheless. I killed some time in town at a local café, grabbing a coffee and a bite to eat to recharge after my long drive. Checking back in with the glacier tour a few hours later, I was told what I had already feared – that my helicopter tour had been cancelled for the day due to dangerous alpine weather. Unfortunately, since I was on such a tight schedule in New Zealand, I would not be able to stay another day and try again the following day. 

Determined to make the most out of my remaining day, I relaxed in the hot springs in town, before retracing my route from this morning back towards the East. Since I now had more time for my return trip than expected, I spent my time stopping at a variety of lookouts along the West Coast, and in Mount Aspiring National Park, including a hike along the Blue Pools track. This short, one-hour hike took me over a swing bridge and through a native beech forest, before arriving at a series of azure-blue pools in a small gorge. A bridge spanned over the pools, with people diving and flipping into the turquoise water below. It was a perfect place to stretch my legs after a long day of driving.

Blue Pools

As the afternoon waned, I kept driving into the night, with my goal to get as close to Lake Tekapo as possible, my destination for the following day. In retrospect, this probably wasn’t the best decision, as this also meant that I would be crossing Lindis pass at night, a steep mountain road crossing the saddle between the Lindis and Ahuriri valleys. The fact that I was ascending a high-altitude pass didn’t hit me until I was already mid-way up the mountain in the dark, with bright lights from oncoming cars and trucks passing me closely on the narrow alpine roads. Needless to saw, it was a more harrowing drive than I anticipated – especially after a full day on the road! I was thrilled when I finally pulled into my riverside campsite in Omarama in the pitch darkness, and promptly fell dead asleep.

[wherespaulo]

Hiking across Spain -- Seville to Santiago de Compostela

May 22 – June 26, 2019

From late May to late June of 2019 I’d decided to walk across Spain, from Seville to Granja de Moreruela along the Via de la Plata, and then to Santiago de Compostela on the Camino Sanabres -- 635 miles over 36 days. The Via de la Plata follows the route of an old Roman Road which, in the 9th century, along with the Camino Sanabres, became a pilgrim’s route to the tomb of St. James in Santiago de Compostela. As I’m sure has been the case with many a pilgrim on this route over the centuries, the inner journey would be just as important as the geographical.

I’d stay in small B&B’s/hotels and have my luggage transferred between them, so I’d only need to carry my day pack. I would navigate using Gerald Kelly’s simple guide and follow the way markers which vary depending on the region, although one can always rely on the customary and rudimentary painted yellow arrows on any Camino route if you get stuck.

I’d learnt over the years, and trust me on this, that light footwear is much more comfortable over long distances -- if you’re fit and steady on your feet then heavy boots are only really needed if carrying a heavy pack or walking in snow. So I wore very light running shoes for the whole route. When travelling light the average daily distance of 18 miles on relatively gentle terrain was not difficult, but the scorching heat in the south was tough for a while! For the first 14 days, Seville to Caparra, I had to set off very early, many times when it was still dark, so that I could finish by mid-afternoon before the temperature rose above 92F – after Caparra the temperature generally stayed below 80F as the altitude had increased to above 2000 feet.

I passed through some beautiful old Roman towns -- Zafra, Caceres and Salamanca were some of my favorites. Most had approaches into their walled towns over ancient pedestrian-only arched bridges spanning wide rivers, leading to enormous stone cathedrals and opening into vast plazas but the approach into Zamora, which sits on a riverside cliff top, took some beating.

Throughout the south and middle of Spain the landscape would continually interchange between open woodlands of cork oak, perfect lines of olive groves and vast expanses of vineyard. But when passing through uncultivated scrubland I was forever accompanied by the wild gum rockrose bush – as the sun started to rise, and once the temperature had exceeded 75F by about mid-morning, it’s distinctive intoxicating yet subtle woody and spicy aroma would start to fill the air. I could almost set my watch by it, if I had one. But as soon as I entered Galicia in the north west the landscape changed to lush shades of green, it started to rain (the first on my hike) and the bush promptly disappeared. Together with the Celtic traditions and bagpipe music everywhere (the Galician Celts were never really conquered by the Romans) I thought I’d unknowingly traveled through a portal into the wilds of Ireland. As well as the tastier food and solid granite architecture everywhere I’d probably say, if I had to choose, that Galicia was my favorite part of the hike.  

I’m always on the lookout for interesting wildlife and I heard these before I saw them, cheering me on as I entered every town and village. The incessant clapping of multiple white stork beaks as they precariously peered out from their characteristically large, robust nests, all packed together and perched on top of every elevated position in sight – the ancient church or castle towers providing perfect galleries from which to applaud the performance below. 

The storks were sorely missed when they abruptly disappeared somewhere in the north of Spain but another highlight of the avian variety was while eating my lunch in the shade of an olive bush, somewhere between Almaden and Monasterio, when I was thoroughly entertained for a full hour by a family of colorful European bee-eaters swooping for their own preferred cuisine in a never-ending dance of dazzling blue, yellow and red-brown flashes.

Being one of the less popular Camino routes I didn’t meet too many people but when I did they became the major highlights of the trip:

I met Joseph, mid-fifties, paunch, dark hair and thick moustache, over a few badly needed beers outside a small bar in Aljucen on a scorching hot afternoon. While chain smoking he would totally crack me up with his fast Galician accent but there was something mysterious and shifty about him – over the coming days he would just appear at strange times, as if out of nowhere. We’d hike a few times together and I would learn that his ‘real’ name was actually Ramon (or was it?) and he’d spend half the year working on an Argentinian fishing boat. Great guy but I wouldn’t buy a second hand car off him!

In the albergue in San Pedro de Rozados I met David who offered some of his pig cheek when he saw I wasn’t impressed with the tiny chicken drumsticks I’d ordered. We hiked the next day together to Salamanca, regaling stories from our pasts, our hopes and fears. He told me he was 71, although he seemed strangely ageless, and that he lived in the Findhorn Community, an eco-village in the north of Scotland – it wasn’t what he said so much as how he said it, the way he looked at me, as if he was peering into my very soul. I knew right then that I had to visit this Findhorn place. Indeed, they say the Camino’s are like that, where guiding lights will lead you onto new and unexpected paths.

Clemente was my soulmate. Of similar age and shaved heads we were totally in-tune even though we spoke different languages, communicating in single words, by using Google translate or waving our arms and making noises. We hiked many days together, sometimes in silence, always stopping for tortilla and expresso mid-morning and finishing the hike off with a very large late lunch washed down by copious amounts of red wine. One of my favorite memories was walking together in the rain, and without any prompting, we broke out into a rousing chorus of “I’m singing in the rain” with such enthusiasm -- me in English and Clemente in Spanish. We carried on like this for about 30 mins in pouring rain without a care in the world.

Silvia seemed to be in a rush with a purpose about her as she sped out of Salamanca in the early morning darkness like a ‘bat out of hell’. I was probably the only one around capable of catching her. She became my pace setter, almost at running speed. I did eventually catch up where I learned she was from Barcelona. I was thankful she spoke a little English, and she explained how the first couple of days of a long hike always served to remove the stress from her other life – by the third day she would start slowing down a bit.

Many people hike the Camino’s for the inner journey, being in no rush to reach any particular geographical destination. I spotted the young Korean about half-a-mile ahead, sitting on his rucksack in the middle of the footpath, watching the clouds, meditating and smoking a cigarette – he hadn’t moved an inch by the time I passed him where he barely even noticed me. Then there was the young Italian guy, unhurried, holding his roughly hewn staffs vertically and purposefully, one in each hand, planting each one down firmly with each very slow step. He’d ambled all the way across Spain like that – I never asked him how long it had taken him, but he didn’t care. And mustn’t forget the guy in his 80’s wearing traditional pilgrims attire, lugging his wheelie bag along a boggy footpath, unperturbed by the enormous hill that reared up in front of him. So how did he get to the bar in A.Gudina before us? Of course, it was the spirit of the Camino -- others had carried his bag over the hill for him…just like they did over the next few days too!

Most of these guys, who I would meet multiple times at different stages, were staying in the alburgues (bunkhouses with no fee, although the etiquette was to pay 10 euros per night) and carrying all their luggage. This all made me feel a tad guilty with my relatively posh accommodation and small day pack to carry. In retrospect, staying in alburgues is probably the best way to hike in Spain if you want to meet lots of interesting people -- as long as you can put up with the snoring. I did get invited to dinner a couple of times at their alburgues – one of these was in Tabara where Jose, the friendly yet eccentric manager and local author, passed around a selection of his home-brews; dangerous and probably illegal moonshine equivalents in dusty looking corked bottles. I’ve never tasted rocket fuel but if I had…

I was thrilled to be joined by Alex in Ourense and we caught up from where we last left off over the next four days en route to Ponte Vela. The highlight of this section was a visit to the 13th century Monasterio de Oseira. It had been raining hard so there were less than ten parishioners for their Sunday service, shivering and bedraggled. We were more than happy to have a chance to warm up when prompted by joining in the procession with the eight resident monks, doing circuits of the cloisters while Gregorian chanting, a pastime which originated in Galicia and which Clemente’s father was a well known local practitioner. As the voices from our small choir echoed around that vast, cold and damp interior, they seemed to resonate with something much deeper…something infinite.

As I stood before the enormous cathedral in Santiago de Compostela and considered the many weary pilgrims who’d ended their trek at this very same spot, I wondered  whether, just like me, they’d considered that the real journey had only just begun.

[celebratebeyoutyblog-blog]

While I enjoyed many activities, and saw many sights during my time in Ubud, Bali, the most rewarding activity had to be the climb of Mount Batur. I had not initially planned to do a hike on this trip. Sure I was hoping to do some activities, but the most effort I anticipated was maybe climbing some rocks to get a nice picture under a waterfall (never got that by the way). There was no plan to go above and beyond to test my physical capacity. Now that I look back, I don’t think anything could have prepared me for this particular climb. First off, my day had to begin at 2:00 am since the plan was to make it to the top of Mount Batur by sunrise. An idea great in its’ theory and views, but let’s be honest, no one wants to be awoken right when they are about to enter that perfect deep sleep. Nonetheless, me and four other girls (two of which are my friends) got in a cab and by 2:30 am were on our way to our desired location. At the bottom of the mountain we met our guide, whose name escapes me unfortunately, but he was 24 years old and did this climb every morning before sunrise for a living. I do wish I could remember his name or had taken a picture with him because he was incredibly kind to all of us and showed tremendous patience and effort in getting us up that volcano. But with meeting him I thought to myself, “well okay, he does this every day so must be do-able”, not to mention there were many groups of people there of all shapes and sizes. Needless to say, I expected to breeze through this climb. Let me tell you, I could not have been more wrong. Now before it sounds like I am tooting my horn by believing I am so equipped to complete this climb, I would like to share that I have done hikes before. We have a lot of different parks in New Jersey where people can take hikes, sometimes rigorous and long. And on top of that, I am someone who goes to the gym as much as I can, usually 3-4 times a week. So, trust me when I say I did not expect this climb to be oh-so-incredibly challenging. The path was 30% rough rock and 70% loose dirt, at a rather steep elevation. Those three things combined made for a lot of slipping, a wonderful burning sensation within my calves and a whole lot of huffing and puffing. We stopped every fifteen minutes, that is how demanding it felt. And all along the way guides would hold onto those who were struggling, help pull hikers up a particularly difficult rock formation and show the utmost amount of patience when asked to stop as quickly as fifteen minutes on a trail they were clearly not struggling with. With their motivation, and some from our own (thanks Merissa!), we made it to the top two hours later with an hour to spare. Sunrise was at 6:20 am, and every second between 3:30 am and that time I was assuring myself that this climb was not worth it. The pain I had to endure could not be made up with any natural beauty. I promised I would let all those who convinced me to go on this climb know how terrible it was and vowed to let every new volunteer know the same. These were the inner thoughts of my mind, very determined…until 6:20 am rolled around, that is when my inner thoughts were told to shut up. Watching the sun rise, the colors of the sky change every single second right before me like that left me speechless. I have seen many sunrises in my day, some even in beautiful locations, but there was something different about this one. It took your breath away, no writer could put into words the feeling of bliss the sunrise carried, no painter could capture every color that consumed the sky. Slowly, all the contents of the view came into play. We could see the city underneath us alongside a lake, an ocean hidden by the mountains, monkeys that call these hills home. The colors of the earth now joined the colors of the sky, making the view even more unreal. I know this may sound a bit excessive, after all it is just a sunrise it happens every day. But that’s exactly it, there was something extraordinary in the ordinary. And just like that I realized why no one ever mentions how brutal the climb is, because what you experience at the top leaves you so mesmerized you completely forget the pain. I think out of my whole trip, this was my favorite experience. Within the beautiful beaches and islands, this is what I loved the most. That moment when I saw the sun come out and do its’ dance is the single most important view ingrained into my mind when I recollect my trip to Bali. It exposed me, my physical being and my emotional one. It made me work hard and rewarded my labor with the fruits of a breathtaking picture of beauty. It was humbling to be in the presence of something so beautiful that man could not fathom to make. And it was humbling to have to work to get there, and to share the experience with my fellow volunteers. This experience helped me define Bali for what it is, a natural beauty that brings joy in the simplest of ways. In life we have a lot of great moments, some short-lived and some stay with us. That moment on the top of Mount Batur is one that will stay with me forever, this I know.

[gracelaramusings]

Day 6: Kalaw to Inle: Dinosaur Eggs and Leeches, oh my!

One of the most popular things for any backpacker in Burma to do is the three-day hike from Kalaw to Inle Lake. The trekking company sends your bags along to your hotel in Inle, and you take s small bag with enough things to keep you covered for two nights in homestays in villages along the route. In fact, we took just four small bags, and the ukulele, of course!

We were greeted by our guide, Galia, who was to lead us through the hills and paths, help us dodge buffalo and navigate rice paddies, cook for us and share stories of the people and  places we’d see. All this, she did, and it was both fascinating and spectacularly beautiful. That said, we anticipated walking 60 kilometers in just three days would be somewhat difficult… but knew aches and pains would be ignored (as much as possible) so as to celebrate the completion of each day’s route.

We were toId we could make the finally decision as to the precise route upon setting out, using the weather as a guide—if rainy, or not feeling prepared for longer-walking-days, we could take a shorter route. I felt torn at the start of the journey when I learned that if we did the long-long route, we would miss Galia’s family’s home. I felt bad not giving her the opportunity to return home to see her family, but on the other hand, we all really wanted to see the sights we could see only on the long route, and would otherwise miss out on. So indeed, with a heavy heart (but great anticipation), we took the long-long-route, to experience the pine forest, tea plantations and lake.

As we started the walk, I joined Galia while the others (the only time, during the entire three days…) lagged behind. I treasured each time I was able to join Galia, peppering her with questions about her family, her culture, local stories, politics, and anything and everything I could think of to make conversation as we walked. Not only does that serve to pass the time (we would be walking, after all, for three straight days...) but also it was a wonderful opportunity to gain insights into local culture directly from the source.

Galia’s English was good enough to share so much—the company’s guides completed a special intensive spoken-English course to help prepare them to do so. Galia shared that she had seen trekkers come through her village, and decided that she, too, wanted to be a guide. She told her mother, who objected at first, preferring she work in the fields, not believing she could learn English. But Galia insisted, and her mother later understood that this was, indeed, the right decision for her daughter and their family.

Galia was from the Pa-O people. When I asked how the Pa-O people came to be in that region, I got an answer much different than what I bargained for. I presumed something like “descendants of Chinese who walked to this area thousands of years ago etc etc etc…” but what she shared, instead, was the Pa-O creation story. For the Pa-O are named for the sound of the breaking-open of a dragon egg (pa, the sound of the shell breaking, o, the sound of the shell opening…), and the Pa-O people, along with their brother-tribe the Keren, are both descendants of a dragon mother.

(Yes, I admit, in case you are wondering, after she shared her amazing story, I asked if she heard of Game of Thrones, and proceeded to tell her about the Khaleesi, Mother of Dragons, who has now taken over the hearts and minds of millions and millions of television viewers… I wonder if George RR Martin built that character from the Pa-O creation story...)

We had sufficient time for her to share the story the way stories are meant to be told-- in great detail, with no rush to get to the point. For blog purposes however, let it suffice to say that a local man ventured into the forest and fell in love with a dragon who had changed into the form of a woman. After falling in love and marrying, she became pregnant with twins. He returned home one day earlier than usual—while he was away, she had changed back into her dragon form—and, surprised by his early return, did not have time to fully return to her human form. Frightened, he fled. She gave birth to her twins—a black and a white egg. The black egg, which needed help to break open, was the Pa-O tribe: to this day, they wear black clothing, and leggings and a headdress that is mean to resemble their dragon origins. Galia had grown up hearing that the white egg bore descendants of a Chinese people… but during her guide’s English course, her teacher, who was from the Keren tribe, revealed that they, too, had the same creation story, yet they were from the white egg (and wear white, to this day…) Once hatched, the brothers ultimately separated, getting lost in the forest and wandering far from one another… Amazingly enough today, though from vastly different regions and different tribes, their languages indeed are strikingly similar. She shared many more details—ask me one day, and I’ll tell you the full story (involves snails and banana plants and more…).

Along a road, we passed a woman in rainboots with a large umbrella traversing the trails towards her family plot with a huge basket in tow. Then, we trekked through jungle-like paths, past wild brightly-colored mushrooms, and eventually reached a road that opened up to a remarkable scenery of tribespeople picking tea, densely forested hills and deep valleys. After a monk on a motorcycle left us in the dust, a short walk later we reached our first stop: a Nepali family that made their home on a hilltop, with a little viewtop restaurant.

Curious at how Nepalis had ended up in such a remote location, and not having done sufficient homework to presume, I left the remarkable view for just a short while so I could join the family in their home and learn a little something. Indeed, I discovered the grandfather of the restaurant-owner Moti (‘my name is like an Israeli’s, I am told”) was a soldier in the British army, and chose to remain after independence. Still with family in Nepal, each has visited the other, both sides of the family happy with where they have chosen to live.

Indeed, the idyllic view was accompanied by a similarly-idyllic lunch consisting of a potato-yam curry, chappati, an avocado salad, rice, and a selection of fruit.  I can think of few other places I would prefer to eat watermelon.

Leaving Moti, his family, their chickens and the spectacular view behind, we continued on towards our next destination—the manmade reservoir, again, created by the British as the increasingly-distant town’s source of drinking water. Continuing on after a short rest, we left the “long-long” part of our trek and started towards the scenery that would accompany us for the next couple of days.

Warning: blood mentioned in next paragraph, so if easily grossed-out, skip:

Reaching rice paddies, we learned that “mountain rice” grows on the higher elevations with the monsoon rainfall the only water source, while white rice was on the lower fields, with their trails of water making walking a bit complicated (but fun—in parts, like walking a balance beam.). Worse yet, the lower-elevation rice paddies were irrigated by leech-infested waters. Albeit almost cute when little, the leeches transformed into huge blood-suckers once they discovered our family’s sweet blood. Apparently, Paz’s blood was the sweetest—he broke the family record, with five. I only had one, caught it quite quickly, so the little sucker (literally) had no time to enjoy his afternoon meal on me. When a quick flick wouldn’t remove it, Paz volunteered to pull it off me. Note to self: next trek through leech-infested waters, bring salt, which quickly, painlessly and less-scarily removes them. Silly perhaps, but I was so proud of my kids, that they (again, literally) took the leeches in stride and found them just a slight annoyance, with the constant flow of blood due to their leech-saliva quickly mopped up by their socks and then lots of tissues once we were able to remove our shoes and the culprits.

Towards the end of our first day’s walk, I started feeling my back, and the light weight of my small backpack seemed to get heavier and heavier with each step. I was finally able to convince the kids to let me carry the ukulele for a while, and though they cringed at carrying my sweat-drenched bag, they were good-natured in helping me out any way they could.

As we approached the village, one of the paddies had a little wooden bridge instead of the period plank or mound of mud… I remarked to Paz how such a little thing such as a footbridge could be so deeply appreciated and bring such happiness.

We reached the end of our first day’s walk and approached our first family stay, greeted by an elderly man, the family’s patriarch. We were shown the “shower” (cree large barrel of water with a large bowl, in a hidden area behind the house) and the toilet (bulls-eye of course, which we have come to love) and then were led to the place we would call home for the night.  

When I complimented Sheleg on how well she walked, with no complaints and literally skipping along the way, she noted: “Well mom, I am 13 and you are almost 50.”

A two-storied house, we removed our shoes, (hello, leeches!) walked up the steps, reached a porch then entered a large common room, with the room’s centerpiece a Buddha with the flowers and decorations that surrounded it. On the floor were five thin mattresses, each covered by a sheet with a pillow and two warm blankets neatly folded at the foot of each mattress. A round, low table was the only furniture in the room, and where we later had our (again, delicious) dinner of local foods, including okra, a tofu dish, stir-fried cauliflower, a chicken curry and more.

Sheleg quickly got a lesson in Buddhism, when, lying on the mattress, was gently asked to turn so her feet would not be facing Buddha. From that point on, we made sure to honor that request. With barely enough electricity to light the room, we used our flashlights to illuminate our meal and then the nighttime card game played by the kids until they called it a night. One of those slap-a–card-quickly-while hooting-with-laughter games, every sound they made sounded thunderous in the total silence of the village. Soon enough, we all were happy to call it an early night, knowing we would have a full, hard day of walking on the next day.

[randyk1m-blog]

Things To Do In Death Valley National Park

We are excited to share this guest post from Matt at Ditching Suburbia. Him, his wife and 7 kids share their experience at Death Valley and all the places they recommend you stop!

As we drive away from amazing places, we will often say to each other, “We’ll have to come back”. With so many Things To Do In Death Valley National Park, our tent camping visit in 2016 wasn’t enough and we went back in our RV in 2019 (but don’t worry if you don’t have an RV there is a great hotel on site!).

Death Valley gets really hot in its off season. Though some do visit in the summer, and staff live in the small town of Furnace Creek year round, it really is more of a winter destination. In the winter it’s beautiful, nearly the perfect temperature, the star gazing is great as the air is still a bit cold (which I hear helps), and the animal life isn’t hiding from the sun as much.

One thing to note about Death Valley is that there is a lot more life here than the name suggests. Though it’s a desert, there are plants and animals that make this their home to which our kids like to call it valley of life in protest of it’s given name. When you visit, keep a watchful eye for all the life here.

Badwater Basin

This is the lowest point in all of North America. At 282 feet below sea level, this basin of salt crystals is one of the main attractions for visitors to Death Valley National Park. This is truly a surreal landscape with a salt plain that is crisscrossed with a patchwork of hexagon formations that look like inverted cracks on white concrete.

We went in the late afternoon which is a great time to go as the sun shines on the mountain behind you and you can see, 282 feet up the mountain side, a sign that shows where sea level is. Late afternoon is also a great time to go as the sun casts long shadows of the patchworks onto the white salt giving a great light and dark contrast.

This is a popular place and depending on when you go you might have a hard time finding parking. It’s a decent sized parking lot, but there are a lot of visitors too. There is also an outhouse that is equally busy when the parking lot is.

After parking you walk out onto a small boardwalk that leads to a long trail through the salt flats. There were foreign tourists speaking many different languages and some walked barefoot saying they would pay good money for a foot treatment like this back home. Our kids kept their shoes on as the salt would sting tiny cuts in their feet (from all the other times when they don’t wear shoes when they should).

Devils Golf Course

On the road from Furnace Creek to Badwater Basin, there is a turn to the west that goes to Devils Golf Course. Here you will see a large area of salty mineral deposits that were formed long ago and are now shaped by wind and rain water. Though it also has salt crystal formations, being a few feet higher in elevation from Badwater Basin this place is dry as the rainwater pools in Badwater Basin and not here.

Salt Creek

One of our children’s favorite places here is Salt Creek where a long boardwalk traverses vegetation and the water. This place looks far from what you would think you would see in Death Valley.

The creek below the boardwalk is home to pupfish, a tiny unique type of fish that are adapted to live in this environment. They are a bit hard to find, but there is a trick. Stand right next to a small bush that overhangs the creek and give the bush a light shake with your foot and watch for the fish to dart out.

Life

In addition to the pupfish and their adjacent plants, there is a lot of life throughout the valley to look out for. Notice the plants, birds, and trees (with our favorite being the palm trees) at Furnace Creek. Devil’s corn field is another place with living plants. The best for us though was seeing an elusive kit fox crossing the road – so be on the lookout for one of those.

Dante’s View

One thing to note about Death Valley is that it is full of contrasts. With the distinction of having the lowest point in North America, it’s sometimes easy to forget about the enormous mountains that surround the valley. The best place to get a view of these extremes in elevation is the overlook at Dantes View.

At over 5,400 feet in elevation, the clouds were surrounding the mountain, the parking lot and obscuring the view. From the lookout we only got glimpses of the valley below through occasional gaps in the clouds which made us feel like we had climbed Jack’s beanstalk and could only occasionally look down on the land below.

We did it during the day but apparently the best time to venture up to Dante’s View is early morning to catch the sunrise. You need to get there early so you can watch as the sunlight first hits Telescope peak on the other side of the valley before descending the Panamint Mountains and eventually across the basin. It gets really windy and cold up there so you will probably want to dress warm with gloves and something to break the wind.

While you are up there, you should do one of the hikes. There is a fairly easy trail that goes to the north and has it’s own spots that are great for a lookout. As we hiked, the clouds parted and the sun shone through giving us a great view.

Scotty’s Castle

This attraction has been closed for years due to flooding. Apparently in October of 2015 there was so much rain that it destroyed parts of Scotty Castle and the road up to it. So you’ll have to wait until it reopens to visit (hopefully 2020).

Ubehebe Crater

We didn’t make it to Ubehebe Crater as it was over an hour drive from our campground on the road that also splits off to the closed roads to Scotty’s Castle. The fuel prices in Death Valley are very high, so we decided that we would save Ubehebe for next time when we can do both it and the castle on the same day. We were told that there are trails to explore and that you should schedule no less than 30 min to see it (and that’s if you don’t hike the trails).

Racetrack

Way beyond Ubehebe Crater is the Racetrack, a flat valley where fallen rocks that have left trails behind them as wind and ice have slowly moved them across the landscape. Driving here is a risky endeavor as the long dirt road is covered in sharp rocks that frequently pop tires. A park ranger told us that people often need to be towed out and that the bill for towing is over $2,000. Potentially being stranded in the desert with an impending huge tow bill didn’t appeal to us so we skipped this.

Artist’s Drive / Artist’s Palette

This was my favorite place this trip. The Artist’s Drive is a colorful one way road that loops away from and then back to Badwater Rd. This thin road was fun to drive as it goes up and down small hills and around sharp curves.

What’s best about Artists drive is all the colors on the rock formations around you. Being colorblind, colorful rocks have never a big deal to me before. However, last year I was given a pair of Enchroma color correcting glasses for the colorblind and driving Artist’s drive with them on was unreal.

Along the drive is a parking area where you can look out on what is known as the Artists Palette. This is a colorful rock formation that is well worth a stop as it’s pink rock swirls seem to glow in the sunset. There are lots of things for you to see in Death Valley at sunset, so stay several nights and be sure that one of those sunsets you are at Artist’s Palette.

Golden Canyon

Golden Canyon is a great hike for the whole family. The parking area isn’t very big, but it’s not as popular as some of the more heavily visited areas so you should be able to find a parking spot without too much issue.

This trail is where the old road used to come into the valley. We didn’t hike to the end and eventually turned back, but there were several small outcroppings that the kids had fun exploring.

Zabriskie Point

As you come into the valley off highway 190, you will drive right by Zabriskie Point. We all enjoyed going here as the trail was easy to walk up for some amazing views.

The best thing here is the colorful rocks and how the sun makes them look like they are almost on fire. Though you can’t really see the valley, you still have a unique view as there is a stark contrast between the colors of the more immediate Zabriskie rock formations with the Panamint Mountains in the far background. It’s really cool.

Harmony Borax Works

This is a small historical stop just north of Furnace Creek. They used to mine borax here and take it out of the valley with a 20 mule team. It’s an easy stop and our kids liked looking at the ruins.

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes

One of our kids’ favorite places in all of Death Valley is the sand dunes. These are your quintessential sand dunes and though they don’t go on forever, the area is big enough that you can spend a long time here.

We went just a little before sunset along with with seemed to be every photographer in the park. The parking lot is probably big enough when it’s not sunset, but by the time we got there, there was only parking in the non-paved sections on the outskirts of the lot.

The dunes are fun to climb, slide down, and of course wrestle. Our children had a blast playing king of the hill and having a free for all wrestling match to see who could get to the top of each dune first. If you go at sunset, the shadows are long and make for great photos.

Star Wars

If you are a fan of the original Star Wars (and you should be), much of the Tatooine scenes were filmed in Death Valley. Go watch the movie before you visit for a fun way to interact with the scenery.

Where to stay

RV Park – Stovepipe Wells – there are full hookups for RVs and access to a swimming pool. There are also cheaper primitive sites with no hookups. Years ago we tent camped (though there are RV spots) at Furnace Creek which is a beautiful place right near the Visitors Center which is great for the evening ranger programs.

Hotel – The Inn At Death Valley – Located right in the middle of Death Valley is a beautiful hotel with a spring-fed pool and a restaurant on site. 

Getting Around

You will need to drive everywhere. The valley is huge and depending on how long you stay, plan on having to fill up with overpriced fuel at least once.

Internet

Verizon (don’t know about AT&T or T-Mobile) internet coverage is spotty. We were offline most of the time and many times couldn’t even get a signal for phone calls. Ask the rangers and they can tell you where the sweet spots are for coverage.

Video

Here is a video of when we Crazy Family Adventure visited Death Valley in 2016. You will see we visited a lot of the places that Ditching Suburbia recommended! 

Want to spend more time in California? Check out more posts on what to do when you visit this epic state!

12 Epic Things To Do In Northern California [Map Included]

15 Magnificent Things To Do In San Diego With Kids

The 23 Most Epic Things To Do In Los Angeles With Kids

17 Unforgettable Things To Do In San Francisco With Kids

14 Magnificent Things To Do In Big Sur California

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[patriciakara]

Want to Get Fit? 4 Secrets for a Successful You! BY PATRICIA KARA

When it comes to health and fitness, I thought I would be the last person to give anybody advice. For years, my bodyweight yo-yoed and I would fluctuate anywhere from 10 to 25 pounds above what was considered healthy. I am a Greek girl from Chicago, so I love food like pizza, burgers, pasta, and sandwiches. Everything was always about food and to a large degree, it still is for me. Thankfully, food is a part of my life in a much different way than it used to; a healthy way.

In addition to my unhealthy eating habits, I have always found it difficult to get into a consistent workout routine. I could sometimes fight my food issues by working my butt off, literally, but it would never last and I could never find a workout that kept me coming back for more. Often times, I would start a regimen and then I would get lazy, disinterested, or a combination and all of my work would go down the drain. Couple that with the food I was eating and my 10 to 25 pound estimate from earlier makes a lot more sense!

The general assumption from people about me is that, because of what I do for a living in the entertainment industry, I am naturally fit. I am always told how easy it must be for me to stay in shape and eat all the right things. Let me tell you all, keeping fit takes work, A LOT of work, but the key is sticking with it and conditioning yourself so that it does not FEEL like work.

1. A few extra steps each day…

As an illustration of what I am talking about, years ago, when I moved to New York City, I started trying my best to walk to everything. The island of Manhattan is pretty dense, so if I gave myself enough time, I could almost always find a way to hoof it. I did whatever I had to in order to avoid taking the bus, the train, or even a cab. I would make it a point to take the stairs instead of the elevator. These types of adjustments to my daily routine changed my approach to exercising and, in turn, changed my life.

Since those days in New York, I have become an avid power walker. But now that I live in Los Angeles, things have gotten a bit more challenging. People in Los Angeles drive everywhere, even if it is only a few blocks away. The automobile is a way of life and leaving my car keys at home takes a lot more dedication. I would have a hard time telling you how often people look at me as though I have two heads when I tell them I walked to meet them. But it is surprising that when you put your mind to it and keep telling yourself that you can do it that habits become instincts.

Just like my adjustments to life in the New York, I have had to adjust to how spread out Los Angeles is geographically. While I have even amazed myself with how far my feet can take me, there are plenty of times where walking is not practical. In those cases when I need to cross town or cover the bulk of the mileage on four tires, I will always park a bit further away to get in some extra steps. When possible, I will park a few blocks away, instead of using the valet or the parking garage. Just read those parking signs, because those tickets can be more expensive than a gym membership if you are not careful!

I had to learn that exercise is different for every individual, and the things that work for others did not mean they would work for me. Just like my instinct to walk, I try to encourage people to find as many ways as possible to keep moving throughout the day. Eventually you will find your thing, and once you do, stick with it. The more you enjoy what you are doing, the more motivated and inclined you will become to keep on doing it.

2. Start with small changes.

After all these years of fighting my bad habits with food and exercise, it became obvious to me that both subjects required the same type of adjustments for me to finally to successfully change. I had to start out slow, make simple changes, and then stick with those basic adjustments until they made way for bigger changes.

I substituted day after day of unhealthy food for one cheat day a week. I started getting up and making sure that I would walk at least 10 minutes and stretch each morning. The next thing I knew, it would be a month in between cheat days and I was walking 5 miles every morning. I got some small hand weights and, in between my post-walk stretches, I would do some simple weight exercises. I found myself forming good habits without even thinking about it and, most importantly, I liked every minute of it!

Now, I do not want to fool anyone into thinking that I never slipped up and got away from my routine. I had my bad days, my sore days, my overindulgent days, my binge days; but the key was that I would always push myself to get back on track. As soon as I would drag myself outside, or push away from the table, I was amazed how much better it made me feel. I started to feel the positive reinforcement that came from a healthy lifestyle and I LOVED IT!

3. Don’t be afraid to mix it up.

One secret that I used to keep myself from falling off the wagon was variety. At first I would make sure that I walked different routes and while I was out, I would find new restaurants to help inspire me to try new healthy foods. I would spend extra time walking the aisles of the grocery store and seeing what foods I could add to my diet for a change. I would vary my stretches and do different weight exercises after my walks. Sometimes, I would add music or check out the scenery to see if there where good spots to take pictures along my route. The key was that I would avoid getting bored or feeling too much like I was in any kind of rut.

Rainy days would give me the opportunity to do jumping jacks or jump rope. The summer would take me to the beach or find a waterfall. The winter would give me a chance to hike in the hills. I would vary my diet with the seasons too and try to keep up with the freshest and healthiest foods depending on the time of year. Eventually these types of changes also became instinctual and now they happen without me even thinking about it.

4. Stop comparing yourself to others. Instead, find what’s right for YOU!

Another secret for me was that I stopped comparing myself to anyone else. If my motivations, habits and interests were my own, there was no way I was going to try and settle for the image someone else created. I wanted to be myself and I wanted to be proud of all my hard work. Getting inspiration from others is one thing, but trying to live up to others is a totally different ballgame.

I would turn to my closet and try on my clothes. If I liked the way that my clothes fit and the way they looked on me in the mirror, then I knew that I was on the right track. When things got tight, or something did not fit the way it did a month ago, I knew it was time to push myself a little harder.

The other problem I found with trying to look like someone else is that results take time. I knew that if I tried to compare myself to someone who may have been more dedicated or working harder and longer was not fair to me. As long as I focused on what made me happy and made me feel good, I knew that I could not go wrong. I had to be dedicated, but I had to be dedicated to me, and only me.

It has been a long road to get to where I am now. I still struggle at times and have my setbacks. But I have been working at this for such a long time and I have enjoyed so many positive moments along the way that it only takes a little time to reflect on those memories to inspire me to get back on track. I know that I will never be perfect, but as long as I keep looking up and pushing myself to be the best me that I can be, I will always be happy, healthy and motivated to keep improving.

Want to Get Fit? 4 Secrets for a Successful You! Want to Get Fit? 4 Secrets for a Successful You! BY PATRICIA KARA When it comes to health and fitness, I thought I would be the last person to give anybody advice.

[thealiceinwanderland-blog]

Merlion Park

July 17 – Malaysia

It was our last day in Malaysia and we packed up for Singapore.  At 9 am, our tour guide drove us to the bus terminal station warning us about gums and cigars, and how strict the security guards will be (in the immigration) if we did not throw them off while we had the chance blah blah.  As usual, we were the early birds, after filling out  papers about our personal profiles, we waited for another hour. At 10 am, the bus finally started moving.

Touch screen at the back of each chair

Inside the Bus

2:00 PM –Singapore

The bus stopped at its final destination. Uh oh, but it wasn’t our hotel. It’s really difficult to fix problems encountered abroad because of the language difference and the poor networking but we were lucky to find a grab station outside the hotel lobby. The security guards were very accommodating and kept us feel secured until the grab car arrived. At the hotel, we managed to contact our agency here in the Philippines and later on learned that we were supposed to stay at a stop before heading to the last destination (where our driver was supposed to fetch us).  It wasn’t a good thing because it kind of compromised the schedule for the whole day but I consider it as a learning experience for the coming trips. Things like these should actually be expected when travelling abroad so it is always good to be prepared and make sure to keep a connection with your family way back home.

View at the 9th Floor

Hotel Boss

We stayed at Hotel Boss. Aahhh, the smell of paradise! Entering the hotel felt extra rewarding considering all the fuss that we had to go through that day. I kept obsessing over the  chandelier while waiting for our room. After six long hours of sitting in the bus, I could finally  lay down and rest my aching butt.

Up in the room, I realized how small Singapore really was. You can almost see the whole of it when you get really high (I mean in elevation, if you know what I mean). It’s also wonderful that low rise developments are still present in the city. I found out then that the government was really strict with keeping the architecture in style, color, and density for the sake of order and security– a thing that made me fell in love with the country even more.

Merlion Park in the evening

Light Show at Marina Bay Sands

We were lucky to have witnessed the light show at Marina Bay Sands. Thank heavens for the kababayans we met in Malaysia who told us about the light show – Ate Sariya and her boyfriend. It so happened that ate Sariya was a vlogger and she was actually doing a facebook live while talking to us back then. I was smiling the entire video but inside, I was dying…gosh my inner introvert started crying at the appearance of her camera. The light show starts every 8:00 pm and lasts for about 30 minutes. Man was it extravagant! Not to mention the music whimsically joining the brimming lights as one color changed to another (It was classical). It was so beautiful but not with the sight of filming hands, although, I plead guilty. After taking some snaps, I put down my camera** and just enjoyed the rest of the show.

**At this point, the only documenting device that I had was my camera because my phone got lost or stolen in Malaysia.  Read it right my dear, Malaysia is a dangerous place! I kid, find out more about this story in my Malaysia tour blog which will be coming soon.

Burger King

Fullerton

First dinner in Singapore! While our eyes were fed with the city lights, our tummies growled for food. We have decided to try Burger King but the menu was quite surprising with the sight of foreign flavors. I think some of them were locally inspired. My order tasted native and asian. My Filipino tongue searched for rice in partner with the burger patty (lasang ulam yung patty nila). The flavors were unusual for a burger; for a moment I thought they had curry in it or something, but it was nice to try something new.

July 18 – Day Tour

Food

Lobby of hotel Boss

Breakfast Buffet

  You know what they say, you never went to Singapore unless you tried their famous “Hainanese Chicken Rice”. The food is all over the internet, so we had to try it. The servings were big for the price.

Of course, milk tea! One of the best milk teas I ever had. So authentic and just like here in the Philippines, a lot of Singaporeans love it too.

Little India Arts Belt

A short tour at Little India Arts Belt. The place featured ornate and colorful architecture but it appeared to be a market or a shopping center. The street art brings with it a very interesting story which shows the union between Singapore, Malaysia, and India as symbolized by the three colored cows in the picture.

National Orchid Garden

National Orchid Garden is a 5 hectare manmade natural site which houses different kinds of orchids and incredible landscaping. The tour follows a path that resembles a hill where you have to climb up to the highest peak first, where the orchid museum is, then hike down towards the gift shop.  Nothing feels better than surrounding yourself with nature, Singapore afterall is a green city!

This is my favorite part of Singapore. Their green Highways. It was so beautiful how nature roofing is valued in this country. The temperature was cool for a tropical place. How amazing that even their roads are worth sightseeing. I wish every country had the same sincerity towards nature and its people.

Changi Airport

As one great adventure begins, so it goes to an end. Our 2 day trip in Singapore was worth it. It was a small city but I fell in love with the discipline of the citizens together with their respect for nature. SO much to learn from! I will definitely come back for Sentosa and Universal Studios. See you!

  TO GOD BE ALL THE GLORY!

SINGAPORE – The City that Breaths July 17 – Malaysia It was our last day in Malaysia and we packed up for Singapore.  

[bike42]

Days 5&6 Wednesday and Thursday August 12&13, 2020

As we get further into the river, we’ve dropped in elevation so the evenings have become progressively warmer, but still cool. The weather has been perfect, although the deeper we get into the canyon, the less sunshine we get on the river.

Wednesday morning we had biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs with bacon and Mike made savory pancakes using the left over quinoa and herbs. Jessie led us through another yoga session, and what an amazing connection to the earth that was. We were in a beautiful camp, where the Shoshone Indians (Tukuduka) had lived for an estimated 10,000 years. They’d spend the summers higher in the mountains hunting Big Horn Sheep, and the winters at camps like this where they lived in Pit Houses - holes about 8 feet deep, with logs and hides for the roof.

We set out on the river, Jeff and Me in duckies following Jessie. Just after starting out on Wednesday, we passed the Big Creek confluence that signals the start of the Impassable Canyon. The canyon is so named because with the steep vertical granite walls that rise from the river, the trail couldn’t be built along the river. The canyon is pristine, and one of the deepest gorges in North America, they say even deeper than the Grand Canyon.

We had a few water stops, filling our bottles from a cold spring, and saw a few waterfalls that must be spectacular during high water. I was glad lunch was on a sunny beach again as after a few hours of sitting in the water and having cold shots of water over the bow as we churn through the rapids, I needed to bake in the sun and warm up.

After lunch, we stopped at Veil Falls, the most magical moment of the trip for me. We hiked up to a cavern, and noticed the green oasis which signifies water, and we heard water, but just saw a tiny bit leaching through the cavern. Sadie led Jeff & me and Her mom down a trail to a large rock and told us to lay down. From there, we saw this magical mist coming from the top of the cavern. The wind created a migrating curtain of mist, swirling down towards us. It was amazing how with the sun hitting the mist, you could follow a single drop all the way down. I laid there thinking this was the most magical experience I’d ever had in nature, and then I could hear M&Mc singing and playing one of my favorite songs of theirs ... “You Take Me Somewhere,”. It’d been in my head all week and whenever I hear it from now on, I’ll be transported back to that magical moment.

We probably paddled another hour, with some really fun rapids. Jessie really freaked us out a few times with her seriousness as she was describing where the “ducky eating holes” were and which side of critical rocks we needed to be on. By now, Jeff and I were feeling pretty comfortable with the tiny inflatable kayaks, and even when we weren’t able to hit the exact line we wanted to, we were agile enough to go with the flow, not tip over when we slammed into rocks, and most of all, keep paddling. On occasion, one of us would unintentionally spin in the middle of the rapids and shoot through a hole backwards (like the hotdog kayakers do) - always worked out anyway and we awarded ourselves extra style points! On the last rapids before camp, Jessie instructed us to hug the right side but not get stuck in the shallows, - and then a big paddle to the camp. She warned us not to get sucked into the rushing water along the wall or we’d shoot right by camp. I watched later as Onne did just that, whooping with glee as he shot by in the fast water. I didn’t see how hard his paddle was back to camp however!

Campsite was on a shelf overlooking the rapids and the imposing rock wall across the river. After we landed, we watched two other groups come through the rapids - it was mainly lots of water as the river narrows around the corner, so fun to run but they all sure screamed and got soaked.

The ledge was small so our tents were huddled together, we had our beverage and snack table nearby as well as the fire pit. The kitchen was set up down the hill on a gravel bar. The only problem with the site was the wind whipping through the canyon made it tough to have music on the last night. Those of us that were interested huddled close to James and Kort in order to hear.

Another fabulous dinner - hor d’oeuvres were baked Brie, main course was steak, salad and potatoes with brownies for dessert. The last night was a little somber and reflective. Sadie read us a poem about the river that was quite stirring. After dinner, we gathered near the river for group photos, the guides were getting squirrelly - probably thinking ahead to dropping us off Thursday and many of them are starting with a new group in a day or two!

The cohesiveness of our guide team made this trip really special. They’re all talented with different skills and personalities, and the way they worked together was unusual I’d guess. They seemed to easily share the work, and it seemed ok with the others if one sat and visited with one of us for an extended time. From time to time they’d mess with one another - paddle splashing, or once Sadie leaped to another boat to try to throw one of the guys in - didn’t work, but it happened so fast I was shocked!

The meals they prepared were amazing - day six they were still producing fresh tomatoes and avocados from somewhere in the depths of their magic boxes!

As we prepared for Thursday morning, Jessie told us how crazy the takeout spot can get, so we had the goal to be first group to the there. So coffee was ready while it was still dark, and breakfast was cold but still fabulous (our favorite Greek Gods yogurt with granola everyday, plus lox and bagels today). People packed up efficiently and we were on the river by 8 am.

No one in the duckies today - I think they wanted to move fast, and we had some serious rapids today. It was cold when we started; Jeff and I wore our rain jackets, which is the only thing that saved me from hypothermia. Paula, Jeff and I sat on the front of Jessie’s boat

Really fun rapids - we got stuck again and spun around and around, but finally needed a bump from Taylor’s raft to become dislodged.

As we came out of the canyon, the sun finally hit the river. As soon as we’d warm up though, we’d slam through the next rapids and get soaked again! After about three hours, we reached the confluence with the Main Salmon River, which had a road running along it. What an odd concept to see cars and buses whizzing by. The road goes just beyond our take out at Cache Bar, to where people who are running the Main put in. One of the coolest parts of being in the wilderness was the sounds: water, wind, birds, an occasional plane. What we didn’t hear: traffic, cellphones, unpleasant blasts of music, the sound of electrical appliances and TV sets. As I saw the first car, I was sad that our serenity was coming to an end.

Mark had successfully landed our sweep boat at the take out. We watched the sweep from another company get up against a rock at the landing and nearly go down the next rapids. Mark ran to help, and they winched it to their truck and brought it back to the ramp.

We unloaded and changed into dry clothes, then said goodbye to the guys who were staying to load and unrig the rafts so they could do it all over again.

Sonja, our bus driver, filled us in on what’s been going on the past six days: Joe Biden picked a VP running mate, earthquake in the Sawtooth Mointains near Stanley, and other Stanley gossip that was only of interest to Jessie and Sadie. I wasn’t quite ready for reality just yet, but you do wonder when you’re completely unplugged if you’ve missed something significant with an event or the health of a family member.

We’d seen a mom and baby sheep one afternoon on the river, but from the bus we saw several who even posed for photos, as well as several mule deer.

We had a box lunch on the bus, and stopped in North Fork where we said goodbye to Mark and Mary (they’d had their van shuttled there to shorten their drive home) and Sadie (who’s fiancé met her there). We did some shopping in their little store and ordered Huckleberry milkshakes which were amazing. Three hours back to Stanley, I read and dozed and it felt like we were back at the warehouse in no time.

Back to the hotel for a glorious shower, and then most of us met for a final dinner and some stories. As usual, we lucked out with great fellow travelers, as typically like-minded people do adventures such as this.

While this was a very special trip, it was different from many of our adventures. We were pretty busy and active most of the time, and with so many others it was difficult carve out downtime and for me that’s often where the magic of getting away happens. I had several moments out of my comfort zone (jumping from the rock, solo kayaking through class IV rapids) and I feel good about that. I really enjoyed the music on this trip. I could have listened to James and Kort for hours each evening. Their harmonies, the easy style with which they play multiple instruments - and in such a magnificent setting. Just wow. Above all, our wonderful team of guides!

We donned our masks and have gone back to civilization and the creature comforts and life that I love so much: our house, our kids, our cat, WiFi, our bathroom with it’s flushing toilet - shower and soaking tub, our work and my garden. But a little piece of my soul will never be the same after the beauty and the inspirational moments along the Middle Fork.