Climbing Mount Rainier: A Bittersweet Adventure Part I

14 Thursday Jul 2011

Posted by in North America, United States, Washington State

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Climbing to Camp Muir

Clear skies on the climb to Camp Muir

After months of training-filled, REI-obsessed, anxiety-filled days, our weekend to climb Mt. Rainier had finally arrived.  It meant more than just the $1244 we had spent on the 3 ½ day trip, and the nearly $2,000 on gear.  It was about the almost six years that I had gazed at this mountain every time I drove across Lake Washington.  Each time I saw it haloed in a pink sunset as I drove south on Rainier Ave.  Every time it exclaimed its presence in a made-for- postcard photograph of downtown on a clear day.

The mountain had been calling me for a long time, and I had finally answered.

“I am ready.”

We arrived in Ashford, WA on a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon for our group gear check.  We were introduced to our lead guide, Josh, who seemed competent, professional and very mild mannered.  The kind of guy you like to have around in an emergency.

I learned a great deal that afternoon about gear, and more specifically- how to pack it.  My tips will be highlighted in a future post.

At the Camp Muir Hut

Our first night’s accommodation: a communal hut at Camp Muir

The morning we set out for Camp Muir (We were taking the standard Disappointment Cleaver or “D.C” route) was a blue-bird day, with bright sunshine and not a cloud in the sky.  The guides set a nice, slow, but steady pace on the ascent- which really helped to allay my fear of being the slowest member of the group.  We took five minute breaks every 60-90 minutes, and you made the most of the time by grabbing a snack and water quickly then resting your legs by sitting on your pack as soon as possible.

I was feeling very good about my fitness as this point.  All the workouts had paid off, and compared to when I had first climbed to Camp Muir over six weeks ago, my conditioning had surely improved.  The climb itself is about 4500 vertical feet of gain over 4.5 miles.  Arriving in the late afternoon on my first attempt, I remember truly struggling during the last hour to keep my legs moving; collapsing in a giant heap on arrival.

This time around, I was even able to chat to my fellow climbers on the ascent, and before I knew how much time had passed, I looked up to realize “oh, we’re here!”

Despite my ease with the ascent, a short rest before dinner was definitely in order and we all retreated to the hut that was to be our overnight accommodations to unpack necessary gear and take a nap.  I was happy I had brought earplugs along, as Gordon (who we thought strongly resembled Sean Connery) showed himself to be a very loud snorer almost immediately upon closing his eyes.

Phil Erschler, Co-Founder of IMG and climbing legend

With Phil Ershler, Co-Founder of IMG and climbing legend, whom I had met on my trek to Mount Everest the year before

International Mountain Guides, Alpine Ascents International, and RMI make up the three guiding companies that have permits to lead trips up Mount Rainier.  IMG and AAI “trade off” the nights that they use the hut at Muir, and the tents at Ingraham Flats – our destination for tomorrow’s second day hike.  They also have a cozy semi-permanent tent structure used for group meals, where everyone sits on plastic gear containers while the guides show off their impressive culinary skills.  That first night we were treated to some rather delicious burritos; though everything tastes better on a mountain, especially after a hard day of climbing.

Our group was a rather merry and cohesive bunch: Arnaud and I made the only “couple”, there was also a father/daughter team who were climbing the highest point in all 50 states together, two friends from Oklahoma, a Microsoft”ee” who was raising money for the National Park System on her climb, and a school teacher from Montana.  Between the eight of us were four guides, so each rope team would consist of two clients and a lead guide.  That is an impressive ratio and makes for personal attention and a great sense of safety.

Josh Smith, Climbing Guide for International Mountain Guides

Josh Smith, our fearless leader and climbing guide for International Mountain Guides

After hearing another very calmly presented brief on the following days’ activities (this got to be a thing with Josh and we teased him about it mercilessly) we all retired around 8pm for a long night’s sleep.

We would need as much rest as possible, since our start time the following night would be at midnight or 1am for the summit.

I slept pretty well, but when we awoke we quickly realized just how unreliable the weather forecast could be.  The wind was kicking up a storm, it was completely clouded over and the temperature with the wind chill had a sharp edge to it.  The forecast had called for calm, sunny skies again.

After a hearty breakfast of bacon, pancakes and coffee, we all put on our crampons for some glacier travel training.  Andy, the German guide (who later helped Arnaud and I form Team Euro trash by being our rope team leader) taught us methods of climbing that would keep the work mainly in the quad instead of the calf muscles: the “Duck Walk” and the “French Technique”, basically a side stepping, flat footed method.  He also had us practice descending on high gradient slopes so that we learned to trust that the spikes on our boots were going to keep us from falling so long as we placed them with force and did not tread in them with trepidation.

Next, we learned how to self-arrest and take a life-saving position should one of our team take a fall.  I found this part to be somewhat difficult, though not for physical reasons.

About a month ago, my guide from the trek I took to Mount Everest last year, Suzanne Allen, was killed in an accident while guiding a team of four on a descent from the summit of Denali.  Suzanne was a fearless leader, and her compassion, humor and generous nature impressed me during the time I knew her.  During our gear check, Josh had pointed out that the majority of falls on mountain climbs were due to poor crampon use, and that a guide had been killed on Denali earlier in the season when one of her team’s crampons had come loose causing him to trip and hurtle down the mountain pulling all four members of the rope team off the mountain with him, tumbling for over a thousand feet.  I got a lump in my throat as he said these words because I knew who he was talking about.

Suzanne Allen, Guide for Alpine Ascents International

With Suzanne Allen, in Thame, Nepal on our way to Everest

Having Suzanne on my mind made it difficult to hear my team mates’ voices calling “falling”.  On summit day, especially during our climb of the Disappointment Cleaver, a narrow ridge of steep rock and snow, I thought intensely about Suzanne and what it must have been like on that fateful day.  This made me quite emotional- especially when I later ran into some of her AAI colleagues from the Everest Trek on our return.

After some snacks, it was time to harness up and get on rope for our 1,000 or so foot climb up to our high camp on Ingraham Flats.  The weather had really taken a turn for the worst, and I felt a fear creep into the pit of my stomach for our summit bid.  We climbed in zero visibility and winds that battered our bodies at every step.

There were moments where I found myself losing balance and felt as though I would be blown off the side of the mountain.  With every step, it was crucial to maintain two points of contact with the ground- so I moved my ice axe up before taking my next step, which was sort of counter-intuitive.

Strange as it sounds, I found that hour and a half climb to be more physically and mentally challenging than the previous day’s climb to Camp Muir.

On arrival at Ingraham Flats, I was cold to the bone and crawled into our tent and quickly got into my sleeping bag trying to warm up.  It was pretty futile, and I grew almost resentful of Arnaud who happily started snoring as soon as he got in his bag.  His ability to sleep anywhere, at any time, makes him a better alpinist, I swear!

The winds were really picking up outside and it proved very challenging to relieve yourself, your butt attacked by the now driving snow and biting wind.  It’s funny now, in retrospect- but it was painful then, and it took a long time to warm back up.

Andreas Polloczek, Guide for International Mountain Guides

Dinner at Ingraham Flats with leader of Team Euro Trash, Andy

We dined in a little tent around 3pm on a bowl of pasta and Italian sausage.  Josh gave us the dire news that they were expecting 35 mph winds at this altitude and 55mph at the summit around midnight.  They were due to begin calming down through the night, but as he explained, we simply wouldn’t know the exact situation until we were in it.  He told the group that he would wake around midnight to check conditions, and wake the group at some point between then and 2am when he felt the weather was optimal.  I have to admit at this point, I went to bed at 5pm with only a little hope left in my heart for success.

But I guess that depends on one’s measure of success- is it reaching the summit of a mountain, or returning home safe and sound with more experience than when you set out?

Find out what happened next in Tuesday’s post.

Climbing Mount Baker & Why I Love Mountaineering

22 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by in North America, United States, Washington State

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Skiers Climbing Mount Baker

Lots of skiers climb Baker too: you sympathize with them on the ascent, then wish a plague on their houses as they fly past you on the descent

Your brain finally registers that the beeping sound is your alarm clock. You can hear the wind howling outside, battering the tent, and every rational thought tells you to stay snug and warm inside your sleeping bag.  But it’s 1 AM, and it’s time to set out for the summit.  Struggling with heavy eyelids, you start to dress, not forgetting your down parka which will help ease the transition to the cold darkness outside. Gear is checked, crampons, helmet and headlamp are attached.  The team finally assembles on the snowfield to rope up together. One final safety check on each harness — and we begin trudging off into the night.

No sound left except for the crunch of the snow under your boots, and the heaving sound of your breath.

This might sound like an odd recipe for fun, but the night time summit climb is the most magical element of mountaineering.  It’s difficult to imagine unless you’ve experienced it: but the atmosphere created by the cold starry night, the illuminated path ahead, the crunching snow, and the adrenaline pumping through you as you allow yourself to imagine the sweetness of a successful summit bid is wondrous.

I’ve been trekking in the mountains ever since I was a small child, but it was the climb I did in Bolivia of Huayna Potosi (19,996 ft), that got me interested in alpinism.  I love putting my body through extreme physical challenge and finding out what it is truly capable of.  I enjoy the re-discovering of eating food as fuel.  I love the peace I  feel in the mountains, and the scenery that takes me away from the routine of city life. This is where I am most comfortable (when I’m not traveling, of course, although I have tried to incorporate more climbs/treks into my travels as the years go by. I find I now gravitate towards the natural landscapes versus the urban sprawl.)

Climbers ready for summit attempt

Arnaud and I ready for our summit attempt

After returning from my travels in April, Arnaud and I decided to sign up for a climb of Mount Rainier. I have wanted to climb this mountain for six years, but somehow always found an excuse not to do it ‘this summer’.  I think having a partner to train with, and ultimately to share the experience with was a huge part of actually making this commitment easier to make.  It would also give me a sense of focus and a goal to work toward; something that has really helped me with my “away sickness” since returning from traveling.

At 14,411 feet, and a starting point at 5400 feet, this is no easy mountain. It holds the added complication of having to deal with significant altitude gain over a short period time, especially for those of us that live at sea level. Mount Rainier is the most glaciated mountain in the contiguous United States with 26 major glacier as well as 35 square miles of glaciers and permanent snowfields – so being competent traversingr ice is also important.

We started training for this endeavor quite late in the game, at the end of April.  For me personally, this has meant three or four workouts during the week, consisting of a combination of intense cardio like running, stair master, or biking, with strength training like free weights and Pilates.  On the weekends, Arnaud and I have tried to fit in at least one big hike of at least 3000 vertical feet, have gradually increased the weight we are carrying as we climb, building up to around 40 pounds.

As our last major training session before the big climb, we got together with a group of friends to attempt the climbingof Mount Baker.  Though only 10,781 feet tall, with a trailhead of 3500 feet, and a similar start time for the summit bid, it was going to put us through a very similar scenario to a climb of Rainier.

 

Climbing Mount Baker on a rope team

The Rope Team sets out into the night, Cory, our leader has the red headlamp

We climbed the weekend of June 4 and 5th, and we were lucky enough to have fantastic weather. Arnaud and I had learned our lesson climbing up to Camp Muir two weeks before, and elected to wear our new ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ sun hats to protect against the rays of the sun beating down on us, and reflecting from the snow below. Staying well hydrated was also key on this trek – once the dehydration headache begins, it is almost impossible to shake, so drinking plenty of fluid is vital.

We took the Coleman Deming route on the mountain, and given the amount of snow pack received over the winter, most of the crevasses were currently covered — our greatest concern as highlighted by the Rangers at the National Forest Service Station was going to be avalanche. As such, we needed to move our summit attempt up from 3 AM to 1 AM to ensure that we were past the most dangerous part of the ice field before the sun’s rays hit with their full daytime strength.

Climbing Mount Baker

Sun hits the slope behind Arnaud

This was the first time I was attempting a summit of a glaciated peak without an experienced professional guide with me. On some levels, I was nervous and felt under experienced.  On the other hand, I knew that we would all turn around if we were faced with a potentially treacherous situation.  Luckily, the head of our team had ample rope experience and crevasse rescue skills; however, in hindsight this mountain should not be attempted unless every member of the team has these in abundance.

We didn’t make it into our base camp until around eight o’clock at night, having learned our first lesson: leave Seattle much earlier. Having not found the flat plateau we were promised for our tents, we elected to set up a camp on a slightly undulating slope requiring us to dig out tent platforms using a shovel. Tensions were high, as we were exhausted and hungry, plus the winds were truly picking up.

The following day, we discovered the plateau was only another fifteen minutes or so of climbing ahead of us.

Rehydrated hot food never tastes as good as it does inside a tent after a long hard day of climbing. We soon passed out, though I went to sleep believing that we would all be too tired after only a couple hours of sleep to go for the summit.  Looking back, this removed my anxiety about getting up so early, and actually helped me get a full two hours of rest.

Climbing Mount Baker Coleman Deming Route

On the Rope Team

Strangely enough, I awoke at 1 AM feeling quite rested and alert. I could hear the other members stirring in their tents.  I dressed, and stepped outside onto the snow.

What I saw took my breath away.  It was a clear night, stars were twinkling overhead, and the lights from the city of Bellingham shone below like a thousand lit up Christmas trees, creating an orange glow in the lower sky.

I was excited.

Once on the move, our team progressed slowly but steadily. Only five of the seven of us were heading out for the summit, and I was unsure about the condition of two of the members who seemed to be struggling.  I was surprised by how good I was feeling despite the lack of sleep… I felt like I could keep climbing forever.

Unfortunately, at about 9300 feet, a member of our team stopped and declared that he could not go any further. He said that his feet were soaked through, and his toes were frozen (I hadn’t realized his boots were not mountaineering boots- Arnaud and I were wearing double insulated plastic boots and our feet were toasty- this is why climbing with the right equipment for the conditions is so essential.)

 

Mount Baker on the Coleman Deming Route

In our 'Lawrence of Arabia' hats: We'll be back to try again

With only about two hours to go to victory, I was deeply disappointed, but I knew we had to turn around since we were all roped up together and one person’s failure would mean the failure of the entire team.   I fought the urge to complain and commiserate with myself out loud, as we began our descent to base camp.

It was still an amazing experience, and I know Mount Baker will be there for me to climb again, this time with more skill and more experience.   And I was very happy that Arnaud got to experience one of my favorite things about mountaineering: the nighttime summit bid.

There really is nothing else like it.

Our climb of Mount Rainier is scheduled for the 25-28th of June.   I will be following this post with a detailed account upon my return.

The Perfect Party To End TBEX ’11

15 Wednesday Jun 2011

Posted by in Canada

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"TBEX 2011 Boat Party Vanvouver"

TBEX Blogging Crew

TBEX 2011 in Vancouver was my first blogging conference, and it was an absolute joy to finally put faces to the names of persons whom I already think of as friends.  The travel blogging community is like no other I’ve experienced – there is endless support, encouragement, and of course, willingness to party!

A huge thank you goes out to Tara Berger, Social Media & Communications Coordinator of AM Resorts for organizing our farewell boat party with Sunset Bay Yacht Group on the Corporate Yacht.  Much fun was had by all, but none more than me: I was lucky enough to be allowed to perform with the band Goby Catt and the Catt Pack.  Here is my performance of Fats Waller’s 1929 Jazz classic “Ain’t Misbehavin'”:

Check out Michael Hodson of GoSeeWrite in the clip.  A special thank you to Dustin Main of Skinnybackpacker, for shooting this footage for me (and not being afraid of putting me off by getting right in my face!)

The rest of my photos from TBEX can be viewed here.

Here is some fun footage also shot by Dustin showing us TBEX’ers getting our groove on to the Bee Gee’s.  Enjoy!

Coming Home: Why Does It Have To Be So Hard?

26 Thursday May 2011

Posted by in Opinion Articles

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Coming back is not all bad: Parties and being darker than your friends

I flew back from Mexico seven weeks ago today. In the few weeks that followed, I set about planning and implementing my self-hosted travel blog. I was full of enthusiasm and excitement for the list of articles that I had still to write, not having had time to finish them all while in Central America.

When I’m backpacking, its all I can do to not write a post every single day about the amazing experiences that I’m having and the sites that I am witnessing. And while the travel excitement did last for several weeks after my return, I have found it increasingly difficult to blog about the rest of my trip.

Blogging is not exactly new to me, I started writing about my travels back in 2001 when I completed a Semester at Sea voyage around the world. However, the idea of continuing to write about travel when I’m not traveling is something I’ve always struggled with.  And it’s not for lack of stories, I have hundreds of ideas that I think of as I am going about my day-to-day life. I just missed how alive and vibrant I feel inside when I’m on the road. How much I want to write about that, every day.

I’m happiest when I’m carrying a back pack

I guess part of this has to do with the reverse culture shock of returning home. I know culture shock is supposed to affect you when you leave home and go to a foreign land, but for me, my time here in Seattle has been so tumultuous over the past few years, it feels more like home when I’m traveling than when I am back.

In many ways I have been extraordinarily blessed over the past two years with the number of travel experiences that I’ve had. This started when I got laid off in January of 2009 from a company whom I had worked for five years. I had dedicated so much of my time and energy to getting my CFP certification, and climbing the ladder in the financial services world, that when it ended I went through an identity crisis. Who was I when I didn’t have that position?

I also learned that the people I had worked with, who had literally been my entire social circle for so long, were not truly my friends – our friendship had been dependent on my continuing to show up at the office every day. To make matters worse, my boyfriend had just left me two weeks previous. So, here I was without my career, my boyfriend or the people I typically turn to for support. It was the perfect time to get away. To get the kind of perspective and clarity that only travel can give you.

Back then I went to Guatemala for a couple of weeks, and ended up returning from Bolivia four months later. It was an amazing trip, but it was very difficult to come back to my empty life in Seattle.

After several months of job hunting I finally landed another position in financial services, which I was then fired from three weeks later due to a personality conflict. That time I left to travel to Nepal, Cambodia and Thailand.

On my return from that trip, I was fortunate enough to land a dream position away from the financial services world that I had grown to mistrust. As many of you know, I landed a position as the Content Editor of TravelPost, the travel tech startup formed by the founding members of Expedia. I was being paid to write about all things travel, and I discovered the wonderful travel blogging community that I now feel a part of.

My last day in Mexico

Just when things were starting to look up, I got laid off again in January of this year, together with another eight employees. Once again, I react to these situations differently than most people would in my circumstances. I don’t panic and start frantically looking for work, I immediately begin thinking about where I should take the next trip to clear my mind, clear my heart, and reassess what is really important in my life.  It’s the pathology of long-term travel junkies, right?

After a Middle Eastern itinerary seemed badly timed due to the political uprisings, I elected to return to Central America and see the rest of Guatemala, Belize and Mexico. It was an incredible journey, and it served to fuel the wanderlust that grows ever larger each time I come home from an amazing journey like that.

I don’t mean for this to be a whine-fest, I’m extremely grateful for the amazing experiences I have had traveling, and in many ways, the three job losses have enabled me the opportunity to travel because of the time it has afforded me to go away. If I had the money, I would probably still be making my way around the globe.  But why do I only feel like myself when I am on the road?  Am I just escaping reality and my problems?  People often ask me how I’m able to just get up and go off galavanting solo around the world at a moment’s notice.  I reply that for me it is easy: what’s hard is making life work staying put in one place.

Must it be so difficult to come back home? And why is it difficult to write about my experiences now?

Anyone who’s been unemployed can tell you that it is extremely difficult to stay upbeat and  motivated when you’re looking for work. This is especially true for me as I feel like being unemployed and looking for work has become my career.  Having only been an online editor for seven months, it seems I cannot parlay this position into another one where I would be writing, even if it wasn’t about travel. Meanwhile, my financial licenses are expiring, and the time it has been since I served in an advising capacity to clients grows longer, together with my doubt as to whether that is the right career for me anyway.

Arnaud and I training for our Mt. Rainier climb

On the positive side, I have been kept wonderfully distracted by training for an upcoming climb of Mount Rainier with my wonderful boyfriend, Arnaud, and by planning a move to the city of Kirkland on the east side of Seattle at the end of this month.  I’m hoping a change of location will do me and my head some good. I know writing this post has already helped – I feel that I have come clean with you, my audience.

For those of you reading this who are travel bloggers, how many of you only write about your travels when you’re traveling? How do you bring yourself to stay motivated to write about your experiences when you’re not?  I would really appreciate any advice you might have, because even though I have been writing for 11 years now, I am new to the world of consistent blogging even when I’m home.

And thank you so much to all of you who have told me that you enjoy my stories, and who have encouraged me to keep writing.

I promise to keep trying.

Please, Don’t Be A Pretentious Traveler Part II

03 Tuesday May 2011

Posted by in Guatemala, Opinion Articles

≈ 33 Comments

Border into Panama

No signs at this border crossing

I recently wrote a post about a very pretentious traveler whom I met in Guatemala this past March. Lots of you commented, and it would seem that it was a common experience shared by most of you at some point or another. I wanted to follow that post with this one dedicated to a traveler named Martin, who was the antithesis of Miss Fancy Hula-Hoop Pants, but whom I incidentally met on the same day and at the same hostel.

A group of us were sitting down to dinner. We were having a typical conversation about where everyone had been and stayed. Sitting at the end of the table was an unassuming looking man with brilliant blue eyes freshly dreaded dreadlocks, who was eagerly tucking into his food. During the first 15 minutes of conversation, he didn’t really engage. The conversation turned to Lake Atitlan, as Arnaud and I would be traveling there next and were looking for a good hostel recommendation for Panajachel. A few people interjected their thoughts, and then I turned to the silent guy at the end of the table and asked him whether he had been to the lake, and had any accommodation recommendations?

He mentioned the name of a hostel, but pointed out he had only chosen it because it was extremely economical and was pretty far away from the main action of the downtown area. He did tell us about a great little bar that had great live music. He casually mentioned that he typically camped as he was traveling to save money, as he was on an extended trip.

Up to this point we hadn’t really noticed anything special about this person. He was friendly and trying to be helpful. Pestering him with a couple more generic questions, we discovered that he had just had his bicycle stolen. This wasn’t all that incredible either, until he explained that he had basically been cycling for the last year all the way from Tierra Del Fuego in South America to Guatemala!

This information got me extremely interested. This was a traveler with a unique story, and certainly one that a lot of people would’ve chosen to brag about. However, in a very mild-mannered English accent, Martin began captivating us as an audience as he began to explain how he had actually been traveling for the past eight years, and how his decision to cycle from the southernmost tip of South America to the northernmost tip of North America wasn’t really anything special. He explained that hundreds of guys did this every year, and so he didn’t really think he was that unique anymore.

Well. I’d certainly never met anyone doing this! I was interested!

Aconcagua, 22,841 Feet

Mighty Aconcagua, 22,841 Feet

We were fascinated and started peppering Martin with questions about what it had been like, what tools he had used to get from place to place, how much gear he was carrying with him etc. It turned out that in addition to cycling, Martin was an avid mountaineer and was climbing high altitude peaks along his journey, including the mighty Aconcagua, the tallest mountain in the continent. He was even carrying all of his cold weather gear on his bike; everything except an ice axe and crampons.

Martin was happy to answer our questions, but he never once took any credit for his outstanding achievement, and brave forays onto a truly unbeaten path on the back of a standard road bike. He told us about his bike rides through winter blizzards, his Aconcagua ascent, his malaria and water-borne sicknesses he’d endured because like the locals, he no longer treats his drinking water. One particular story stands out in my mind, and it concerned his crossing the border from Colombia to Panama, overland.

“Well, you see, crossing the border via the dense jungle on a road bike is a bit tricky,” he explained.

“I basically don’t carry any roadmaps, because they are so unreliable in Central. I typically end up following a compass, rudimentary markings in the lonely planet guide, directions from locals along the way, and my gut. I was passing through during the rainy season, when I knew it would be especially difficult to get across by bike. And since it’s considered a rather dodgy area, there are not very many road signs,”

“At one point, I think I’d been biking about two days on one small road I thought was the correct route only to find out later that it looped back to where I had started from. I was gutted as it had been especially physically demanding. Not wanting to be discouraged, I set about on a different route only to find that the rain started coming down so heavily that I had no choice but to pull over, set up my one man tent in the bog, and wait for the weather to clear.”

“After a rather crazed, mosquito-filled sleepless night, I awoke to water inside my tent, and when I peered outside, there was a river flowing where yesterday there had been a road! Some locals had come across my tent in a boat and were just sitting there waiting to see what crazy person had set up a tent in the middle of the jungle so close to the Colombian border. I think these guys were Wounaan Indians, so they didn’t speak a word of Spanish or English. It was rather difficult trying to get them to understand where I needed to go- that I need their help was, believe me, rather obvious! “

Map of No-Man's Land: Border between Panama and Colombia

“Eventually I understood that they wanted $10 for me to get in their boat and be paddled across the border; at least, I hoped that was where they were heading! I remember thinking that $10 was a lot of money because based on my best guess-work; I was no more than a few miles from the border. Turns out, I was in that boat with those two guys for the next 15 hours before safely crossing over into Panama. It was absolutely wild. I can’t begin to tell you how precious and unique that experience was for me. Being paddled to Panama by those guys.”

Martin’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, and we sat listening with rapt attention. The writer in me kept asking him, “Have you written any these stories down or blogged about any of them? Seriously?!”

He just kept insisting that he’s an ordinary guy who loves to travel, loves to climb mountains, surf waves, and have adventures. He didn’t think his stories were anything special.

“People who can live in one place. Have a home, a family. Keep a job that they go to every day of the week. They are special. Not me. This is my life”.

I found him inspiring. He was the epitome of cool- because he didn’t consider himself to be.

After my encounter with hula hoop girl earlier on in the day, I can tell you that meeting Martin was a refreshing change. He had experienced so much and been traveling for so long, he even admitted that he looked 10 years older than his mere 29 years. Yet despite this, he was more than happy to discuss where I might like to stay in Panajachel. Only after probing him did he offer up this array of colorful stories of adventures into the wild unknown that most backpackers don’t get to experience.

Funnily enough, I met another traveler in Rio Dulce who had encountered Martin and was likewise struck by his tale and accompanying modesty. It seems Martin is leaving a trail of positive impacts in his interactions as he heads north. I did give Martin my e-mail address, and let him know that he had a place to stay once he got to Seattle sometime next year, but I haven’t heard from him yet.

“So… Where’s next for you? Now that you’re bike-less?” I asked Martin as I left the table.

“Well, turns out that the police in Panajachel found my bike today. Which I really wasn’t expecting. So I’ll just enjoy my bus journey back to the Lake…and then I’ll be on the road again. Maybe find some work for a while to save up some more cash before heading to the States.”

He smiled and hungrily shoveled some more dinner into his mouth, clearly content that he could enjoy some food that wasn’t packaged noodles boiled on his camp stove.

I am curious to know if any of you pretension-hating travelers out there have met Martin? Or at least someone like him that inspired you?

Please, Don’t Be A Pretentious Traveler

28 Thursday Apr 2011

Posted by in Guatemala, Opinion Articles

≈ 101 Comments

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Undoubtedly one of the greatest joys of travel is meeting like-minded people along the way.  I would even venture to say that whether one’s recollections of a particular place fills you with warm fuzzies or a sense of indifference has more to do with who you spent time with while there than with the location’s inherent merits.

For instance, I had an incredible experience trekking through Patagonia because our five-person team gelled so cohesively.  I can no longer separate my memories of that trek from the people who I shared it with. Likewise, sad to be parted from my new little group, I was in a bad mood for the following week that I spent in Buenos Aires on my own.

 

My awesome trekking team in Torres Del Paine, Chile

That being said, sometimes the characteristically negative interactions one has with other travelers can be equally memorable.  The loud, disrespectful guy who turns on the lights in a dorm room after coming home from the club at 3am.  The backpacker who complains about spending the equivalent of 30 cents more than the locals, on a purchase at the market.  Or, the pretentious traveler who exudes superiority whenever she opens her mouth.

I met the last example during my stay in Lanquin, Guatemala.  There was an American girl there in her mid to late twenties, admittedly very attractive, who always wore cowboy boots paired with a mini-skirt and rapidly batting eyelashes when she spoke.  She had a rather hairy, pony-tailed English guy traveling with her on a motorcycle, and they struck me as a rather mismatched couple.

George, the English guy (I have somehow blocked her name from memory), explained how they had met up in Nicaragua and how he had invited her to join him traveling the rest of Central America with him on his motorcycle.  He was very down-to-earth as he explained that they were enjoying their slow travel style, and he was obviously completely enamored, with an “I can’t believe she’s with me” look on his face as he talked about her.

I should mention that I was in a typical Mayan stone sauna at this moment, and that George and his travel companion had an audience of about eight others.  The conversation was proceeding as typically as you’d expect in a hostel full of strangers meeting for the first time: Where have you been traveling? How long are you traveling for?  Where are you from? Etc.

Meeting fellow travelers on the hike to San Pedro

I addressed the American girl with the typical latter question.  Despite her strong East Coast American accent, she nonchalantly replied “Oh, I’m a citizen of the world”, while running her fingers through her black wavy hair.

Stifling my desired response of “Is that what you tell immigration authorities when you cross the border?” I replied asking, “Ok. But what part of the States are you from originally?”

“Oh, I was born in Boston.  But I don’t consider myself American anymore.”

“Really?  Why’s that?”

“Well, I haven’t lived there in so long. I’m location independent.”

“I see. So, how long are you traveling for on this trip?”

“Oh. I’m traveling indefinitely.  For example, when I met George I’d just finished six months in the Darien.  I never know where I’m going next. That’s why I’m a citizen of the world”.

This girl had such an air of conceit in her voice that I felt like punching her in the face but instead I just swallowed and smiled.  And then came the punch line, when someone asked her how she liked traveling by motorcycle.

“Oh, it’s so much fun and unpredictable.  We just go wherever we feel like whenever we feel like it. The only difficulty is bringing my hula”.

“Your what?” I ask.

“My hula-hoop.  I hula everyday when I travel.”

No-one likes a know-it-all show off.  Even if you’ve visited over a hundred countries and have been on the road for the last ten years, it doesn’t make you better than anyone else.  It makes you privileged. Travel should enlighten, build confidence and a sense of tolerance and community.   So feel free to share your experiences, your wisdom and your stories with those less ventured,

but do so to encourage, not to impress.

Otherwise you’ll be shunned by others and some blogger will write a nasty post about you when they get home.

From that point on, whenever I would see this girl, I would avoid engaging in conversation.  The next day when I spotted her and George inside the Lanquin Caves, I really wanted to ask her where her hula-hoop was.

Actun Tunichil Muknal: THE Cave To Visit In Belize

14 Thursday Apr 2011

Posted by in Belize

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Crawling through a tight squeeze in the cave

Belize is a great place exploring caves.   And I had not received enough punishment the day before when I swam instead of tubing through a set of caves the day before. I was ready for the next challenge: Actun Tunichil Muknal, dubbed The “ATM cave” about 45 minutes from San Ignacio.

My lovely tour guide actually ended up driving me to San Ignacio, so I thanked him by buying him dinner at a street side BBQ stand.  He then dropped me off at the cutest little colonial guesthouse called Hi-Et (which I thought sounded hilariously similar to Hyatt) where I rented a room for $20 BZD from a ninety year old man who instructed me to call him “Junior”.  It was the cutest little place with two corgis named Princess and Duke (mother and son) who sat next to me on the porch swing while I watched the sunset.  I felt right at home.

ATM cave was only discovered in 1989, but the archaeologist in question decided to keep it to himself until he’d had time to map the cave and assess the many Mayan artifacts contained within.

Speaking for myself, I thoroughly enjoy a caving adventure on its own merit.  I love venturing into the dark underbelly of the world, especially if its journey is through water, marveling at the formations and experiencing the genuine creepiness of it all. This particular cave had even more going for it than its flowing river, stalagmites and stalactites.

It was the location of many ancient Mayan ritual human sacrifices.  It contained many very well-preserved artifacts which included skeletons, parts of skeletons, and rather less exciting: ceramics.

I was excited.

After what was described as an hour-long hike into the deep jungle, and turned out to be a flat meander along a well-beaten path to the cave’s entrance, we arrived.

Stalactites

Annoyingly, there were several tour groups ahead of us.  Silly me: when I’d read that only two companies could take up to eight people per group, I had booked online thinking that I had better reserve my spot on the tour since I had only one day allotted to going. I didn’t realize that between the two companies , there were 18 guides allowed to take 8 people in EACH.

Ugh.

There were several groups crowded at the cave’s entrance making cheesy smiles and chanting “you won’t Belize it” for their photo, and it felt more like Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland than the jungle.  I could tell patience would be in order for the rest of the tour.

It got even more annoying when our guide explained that he would be pointing out potential hazards to us inside the cave and that as we passed them ourselves, we should repeat the warning to the person behind us so that we could all stay safe as a group.  This works in theory, however in practice, all it accomplishes is hearing “there’s a big rock to your left” shrieked 8 times when the last person in line is far behind the obstacle being warned about.

This is not to say that the entire experience was irritating.  Far from it.  I really enjoyed the cold short swims followed by the bodily contortions and squeezes that you had to make to get through the cave.  I wondered what the tour guides did to the fat tourists who couldn’t make it through the tight spots.  Did they refuse to sell them the tour?  Were they sent back to the entrance on their own?  Or made to wait in the cold water for two hours for the guide to return?

I was relieved that neither I nor anyone else on my tour was tubby enough to find out.

After an hour or so of horizontal exploration – we were told we had to climb up into the main cavern referred to as The Cathedral – where all of the artifacts lay.  It was not too difficult of a climb as long as you had shoes with grip and a fearless attitude.  Up, up, and up we climbed, sometimes using the guide as a human step-ladder, sometimes over a strategically placed metal alternative.

Inside "The Cathedral"

When we reached the main chamber, the guide launched into his long, serious, and how-many-times-must-I-hear-the-same-speech lecture about Mayan history.  Don’t guides ever stop to think that perhaps some of us had racked up a few Mayan sites and already learned the basics?  That maybe some of us would be more interested in the geological significance of the cave instead of the year Mayans first began construction on their elaborate pyramids?

However, I must say that the information presented concerning the human sacrifices was interesting.  For instance, I knew that sometimes babies of the upper classes had their skulls bound with a wooden board in the front to make it more angular, but I didn’t know that their teeth were also filed into sharp points.  It has been suggested that this was done to resemble the jaguar – an animal revered by the Maya.

The majority of remains in the cave, 14 persons in all, belonged to children as their sacrifice was considered more valuable to the gods.  It is believed that if a person belonging to the upper echelons of society were chosen for a sacrifice, it would be considered an honor for the victim and death would occur voluntarily.  Not so for the lesser in society who were brought to the cave to be sacrificed against their will.

Ceramic Artifacts

I couldn’t actually believe that tourists were allowed to walk so close to the artifacts and bones.  Even only being permitted to wear socks is not going to preserve these relics from further damage in the future.  There were even a number of skulls that we were told had been punctured by tourist’s dropping rock or their camera lenses on them.  As such, I highly doubt that tours will be allowed to continue here for much longer.

The Crystal Maiden

The final relic is a fully intact skeleton known as “The Crystal Maiden” whose bones have been calcified leaving them with a sparkling crystallized appearance.

By this point, I was ready to get out of the cave.  I was shivering, and starting to feel a little claustrophobic. At least I could count my blessings: I wasn’t brought here as a sacrifice to the gods.

Cave Tubing The Anita Way

07 Thursday Apr 2011

Posted by in Belize

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Entering the Cave System

Belize is known for its abundant limestone caves; formations that are a continuation of the systems also found in Guatemala.  One of the methods for exploring these caves that Belize is marketing primarily to cruise ship passengers is floating through them in the safety of an inner tube.

Cave Tubing: it’s what all the cool people are doing!

Did I want to be one of the cool people?  Hells yeah, I did!  However, as cool as they are- I did NOT want to share this unique experience with 100 buffet-fed, visor-clad, fake nailed cruise ship passengers.  That would make it very un-unique.  So I took the advice of the locals and booked the trip for a Saturday, when no ship is docked in a Belizean port.

In fact, I think that what I ended up doing, transport-wise, was rather ingenious, and I highly recommend it to any traveler who is visiting Belize and taking a Western-bound route.  As I’d mentioned in my previous post, I had taken a shuttle directly from Flores to Belize City, stupidly believing that Belize didn’t have much to offer the visitor along the way.  How wrong I was!    In order to visit the caves of Western Belize, I was going to have to back-track from the Cayes, and this was at least a two hour bus ride.

So here’s what I did: I booked a cave tubing trip through cave-tubing.com, and asked to be picked up at the water taxi terminal in Caye Caulker.  Then, since I knew that Nohoch Che’en Caves Branch Archaeological Reserve was already at least an hour west of Belize City, I asked if they could possibly drop me off in Belmopan in the afternoon so that I could transfer to a bus heading west onward to San Ignacio: and whether I could safely store my backpack in their van while tubing.  This way, I killed two birds with one stone: the tour was cheaper out of Belize City, (it was offered in San Ignacio but was outrageously expensive, like $95 USD), and I got to complete this excursion and get to San Ignacio in the same day.

This plan worked out even more perfectly than I could have imagined.  I was emailed a confirmation of pick-up by a guide named Erskin, and I was to pay $60 USD to him when he dropped me in Belmopan. What I didn’t know, was that I was going to be the only one on the trip!  When I arrived at the terminal in Belize City, Erskin was there- in a beat up old Mazda.  I hesitated: As a single woman, do I really want to get in this man’s car in one of the most dangerous cities in Central America, and let him drive me into the jungle?

I checked my intuition: He had a guide’s license, he knew my name, and he had the same name as was promised me by the owner of cave-tubing.com.  I decided it would be ok.

How it is on the Cruise Ship Days: Avoid Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays

Erskin turned out to be a wonderful tour guide, and certainly gave me the VIP treatment.  He talked to me FOR HOURS about life in Belize, including lots of almost-too-personal information about his life.  This would require an entire post to cover, so that will be coming!

We arrived at the Archaeological site: the caves here contain lots of Mayan artifacts.  As I would also discover the following day, the Maya liked to use cave interiors for their religious ceremonies, leaving behind pottery remnants, bones, and even skeletons of those sacrificed to the gods! We got our gear which included a life vest, headlamps, and inner tube and started to make out way through the jungle.

It was a 20 minute walk to the opening of Cave Number Four.  The water was a crystal clear emerald color and you could see it darken to black in the distance of the tunnel.  I jumped in and began to float leisurely along.

I really wanted to enjoy the peace of the cave, but Erskin kept talking non-stop about Maya history.  Which, incidentally I’d heard countless times before.  When you visit a lot of Mayan ruins on a trip, you tend to hear the same stories over and over and I sometimes wish tour guides would realize this.  Ah, well.

The caves were enormous and full of beautiful formations that were mostly very dimly lit from either the entrance or exit to the caves themselves.  The caves had a wonderful echo and I had fun singing a few songs to Erskin when we had the place to ourselves.  A couple of times we passed other tour groups of four or five people all in a long tubing foot-to-shoulder embrace.  I was happy for the luck of my private tour.

At the Crystal Cave, Erskin was nice enough to let me jump out, swim over to the waterfall and get out exploring further. He showed me some artifacts and other little viewpoints that he said few got to see.  After twenty minutes of scrambling we made it back to the water, and I suggested that we swim back to our tubes instead of walking.

“Really?” he asked

“You want to swim?  Damn, girl!”

“Yes, of course I want to swim, it’ll only take a few minutes!”

Throughout the rest of the day, Erskin kept saying “Damn, girl!”- Every time I exhibited any non-Belizean female trait.  Though to be fair, he told me that even a lot of the GUIDES on this tour didn’t know how to swim!  Hard to believe, but apparently true.

The entire float took about an hour and a half to complete.  As we emerged into the sunlight, I couldn’t help but reflect on the trip and mention to Erskin that I wished they’d let persons who wanted more of a challenge, to be allowed to swim through the cave.

“Ha ha! Damn, girl!” he responded.

“Do you want to go back and do it again?  I challenge you!”

“Are you kidding?!” I replied, incredulous.

“You’d let me go back and swim through?”

“For sure, if you want, but I don’t think you have the nerve for it!”

“Damn straight I do! Let’s go!”

I couldn’t believe it!  I was going to get to do the entire cave system again, but this time without any life vest, tube, or headlamp.  How many people got a chance like this?!

Erskin and I enjoying dinner at a streetside grill

I must admit, I had a few nerves- especially about my decision to complete the task without a headlamp.  There were going to be some “blind” pitch black sections where I was going to have to control my fear and simply follow Erskin’s voice.

It was fantastic!  The whole thing took us just under thirty minutes and I got a good work out at the same time.  The dark passages were a little unnerving but I was so thrilled at the chance to do this totally on my own merits that I pushed through and suppressed the fear.

Erskin laughed at me the whole way.  He claimed that I was the first person he’d heard of swimming through this system solo- other than the guides, who were once “challenged” to do this by their boss.  Only a few complied.

So, the moral of the story is this.  If you ever get the chance to go cave tubing in Belize, see if you can try out the experience without the tube.  After all, this is the way the Mayans would have had to explore, right?

Then again, they probably had canoes.

Where: Nohoch Che’en Caves Branch Archaeological Reserve, between Belize City and Belmopan

When: April 2nd

How: with Cave-Tubing.com, on an innertube, and then by swimming! Private transfer from Belize City Water Terminal

Snorkeling With The Sharks, Hol Chan Marine Reserve

06 Wednesday Apr 2011

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Nurse Sharks in a feeding frenzy

There are several reefs on Caye Caulker that are just too shallow to dive, so they make great snorkeling spots for a diver like me.  Plus I had heard rave reviews of a particular spot known as Shark and Ray Alley in the Hol Chan Marine Reserve, where nurse sharks and stingrays congregate everyday around lunchtime because fishermen have been feeding them for years.

I’m not sure how I feel about feeding the fish and making them dependent on humans.  I also don’t know how I feel about going on a sailboat which is packed to maximum capacity such that there really isn’t much space to stretch out on an all-day sailing trip.

But I do know that all of that becomes far less important or irritating when there’s all-you-can-drink rum punch available on tap.

Seeing the nurse sharks practically jumping out of the water to munch on the fish being thrown overboard was quite a sight – almost more for observing people’s reactions to the sharks than the sharks themselves.  “Oh God!  I can never get in the water now!  Look at how many sharks there are!”, “What if they start feeding on me?”, and “What if its not safe?”

Please. Nurse sharks are bottom feeders.  They don’t even have sharp teeth!

Getting in the water was a bit of a cluster, people everywhere splashing creating lots of commotion.  I swam to the other side of the boat and calmly watched from a distance.  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone grabbing a stingray and practically pulling it out of the water. On a reflex, I surfaced and started yelling “what the hell do you think you’re doing??!” – although with more colorful language.  Turned out, the guy that was wrestling the helpless giant fish was one of the guides and felt that it was his prerogative to do as he pleased with the marine life.

I decided to choose my battles more carefully.

Later came the highlight of the snorkel trip for me: a spotted eagle ray gliding gracefully beneath me. And did I mention Rum Punch?

The boat ride back “home” was definitely more pleasant than the journey here.  I think that might have something to do with the fuzzy haze that came over me as I sipped from my filled Nalgene bottle.

Chilling on the Blackwater

I was feeling the reggae beat through my body, I was gleefully aware of the bobbing waves and the glorious afternoon sun on my skin.

And I’d found myself a little corner to chill on at the front of the boat, happily heeding Bob Marley’s words and not worrying about a thing.

Where: Hol Chan Marine Reserve, Caye Caulker

When: 31st March

How: BlackHawk Sailing

La Isla Bonita: Cycling in Ambergris Caye

05 Tuesday Apr 2011

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Susi and I heading out on our rental bikes

When Madonna sang “Last night, I dreamt of San Pedro” in the late eighties, she was referring to the town of San Pedro on the island of Ambergris Caye off the coast of Northern Belize. After having enjoyed two incredible days of diving on Caye Caulker, I decided to head over to San Pedro, rent a bike, and see just how Bonita La Isla was.

I went with my new British Pal Susie who has a very strong head on her shoulders, a wicked sense of humor and an equally vibrant sense of fun. We hit it off immediately when we met in Flores at the Los Amigos Hostel. Susi had just taken a fall outside on the street and was icing her leg as I came in looking like I’d had the blood purposely drained from my body after my bus ride from Rio Dulce. Perhaps it was the shared sense of suffering. In any case, Susie’s Spanish was limited and she needed help re-booking a bus ticket to Belize City. I offered to make a call for her using my iPhone and Skype (which is a Godsend when you’re traveling I have to say for cheap calls on the go wherever there’s wifi!). The kinship was then solidified over a Chocolate Banana Smoothie.

So Susi and I headed off on the water taxi to San Pedro, a jiffy 30 minutes ride. On arrival, we talked with the most amazingly helpful hotelier who told us where to eat, rent bikes, and catch the boat home. She also suggested that we cycle all the way out to Captain Morgan’s Resort and rest up there while taking a dip in their pool.

Sounded like a stellar suggestion to us!

Riding along the beach

We feasted on Shrimp tacos and Banana Pancakes (sounds like an odd combination but it was the perfect marriage of yummy let me tell you) at Estel’s By the Sea, fuelling up for our mini-adventure.

After generously giving Susi the pink ladies’ bike and saying a little prayer for my girly bits, I mounted my oversized man’s bike and headed north. Susi cried out something about never having driven on the right hand side. I giggled to myself: it wasn’t like we were navigating four lanes of traffic.

Having said that, Ambergris Caye is by far noisier, and busier than Caye Caulker, and there are several vehicles other than golf carts on the streets. There is also a lot more construction going on, with one ugly condo complex after another going up for North Americans wanting to buy a slice of paradise.

The perfect hammock

After ten minutes or so, and cleverly out-peddling the sneaky bridge toll for bicycles (how ridiculous is that? To charge to ride a bike on a bridge??), we veered right to the beach path which was nothing more than hardened sand.

Or at least, mostly hardened sand.

At the Swim-Up Bar, Captain Morgan's Resort

These were not state-of-the-art mountain bikes and at times the sand got rather deep and I would hear Susi shrieking as she lost control. The upside of the difficulty of the trail was the combination of stellar ocean views to one’s right, and real estate-gazing heaven to one’s left. Mansion after mansion after beach villa unfolded before us with some of the most painfully picture perfect beach views I’d even seen, including what Susi and I dubbed “THE Perfect Hammock” which we photographed about a dozen times from different angles.

We finally arrived at Captain Morgans and sheepishly approached the pool bar with its “Resort Members Only” sign. Carlos, the bartender, warmly welcomed us and suggested we take a dip and order a cocktail at the swim up bar. There was no-one else around.

We were moved to tears.

Enjoying myself a little too much

After a fabulous hour of sun, swimming and “Sea Breezes”, we headed back to our water taxi via the main road singing the Island theme song at the top of our voices.

Yeah. Madonna had a point.

“Tropical Island Breeze, all of nature wild and free. This is where I long to be…La Isla Bonita.”

All my photos from The Cayes can be viewed here.

Where: San Pedro, Ambergris Caye, Belize.

When: 30th March

How: Caye Caulker Water Taxi to San Pedro, Joe’s Bike Rental, Drinks at Captain Morgan’s Resort