• About

Anita Go Travel

~ Life as a passport, one stamp at a time.

Anita Go Travel

Tag Archives: Adventure Sports

Climbing Mt. Rainier – My 8 year journey to the top – Part II

04 Saturday Aug 2018

Posted by Anita in North America, United States, Washington State

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Mountaineering, Mountains, Personal

Rainier – taken at sunset from Camp Schurman

In January of this year, I had been made an offer to join a wealth management practice in the bay area and assumed I would be moving to Oakland around May or June.  As such, I decided I had to have another go at Rainier before I officially had been away so long that Seattle didn’t feel like home anymore.

I signed up for the Peaks of Life All Women’s climb of Rainier via the Emmons route, July 21-22, 2018.

I spent the first 3 months of this year traveling around West Africa and I certainly didn’t get much exercise.  I started training for this climb in April, but more seriously starting in June – getting in at least one or two 3-4000 feet of gain hikes each week as well as cross-training at the gym.  The opportunity in Northern California fell through, and I was struggling to decide what to do next with my career.  As such, training was hard and the stress of looking for work made me question whether I had the physical and mental stamina to go through with the climb, and whether I was going to be able to fundraise enough $$ to hit my goal (especially since things were financially tough not working.)

All this stress began to take its toll, but I pressed on and managed to get close to reaching my target fundraising goal and felt relatively and adequately physically prepared for the climb.

The “before” picture of our Peaks of Life All Women’s climb (including honorary woman, Forrest, replete in his dress)

What about mentally?  For me, time spent in the mountains can be very contemplative and almost meditative.  But it can also be additionally difficult to concentrate and focus when there are lots of emotional obstacles in life to contend with at the same time.

It was during this difficult time of transition in my life that the week of the climb began to approach, and along with my trepidation about being ready or not came the anxiety fed by memories of three previously unsuccessful summit attempts.

If that weren’t enough, the climbing rangers put out reports the week of the 17th of July that suggested the route was getting broken up, that navigation had become far more difficult, that running belays might be necessary through a re-route that would make the journey through the Emmons much steeper and more of an intermediate climb for teams.  I distinctly remember feeling quite alarmed when I read that the route presented the potential for “team-eating snow bridge collapse”.

That didn’t sound good.

The 3 climbers and the 2 leads from Peaks of Life – Forrest Barker (Brooke was unfortunately, taken sick) and Eve Jakubowski gathered over dinner at the Himalayan restaurant on the Thursday before the climb to discuss options.  Personally, I wanted to delay the climb by a day and do the DC route on Sunday through Monday when we might have a shot of getting a walk-up permit.  Kara was able to follow through with that plan, but Christina couldn’t take the day off.

Forrest rocking his dress and signature helicopter hat

Forrest assured us that the weather forecast looked really good and that simply put, if we still wanted to do the Emmons together, he felt confident that he would be able to guide us through it and set protection along the way where necessary.  You could see the gleam in his eye that always lights up at the thought of guiding newbies through somewhat hazardous, challenging terrain.  He thrives on that and I knew he wanted us to go for the Emmons.  Eve was on board too – and the plan would allow all 3 of us to see our fundraising goal through to its potential fruition.

We all agreed we would stick to the original plan.

That night I had horrible dreams about crevasses, climbing on steep snow and falling into a dark void.  I felt very uneasy about the weekend, but I set about packing my gear in any case – I had volunteered to drive down Friday afternoon and obtain our climbing permit before 5pm so that we could hit the trail at sun up.

That Friday I hit the most horrendous traffic that Google Maps failed to anticipate and I missed the permit office being open by over an hour.  I felt additionally despondent when I realized that I had forgotten my annual park pass and was charged $30 to get into the park, and I was informed that no camp spots were open.

Me heading up Steamboat Prow – PC Eve Jakubowski

Things turned around when a couple at the very first campground I drove past were kind enough to let me pitch my tent on their site which had plenty of room.  I was so grateful, and managed to sort out my gear and re-pack it, since in order to leave the house by 2 I had literally thrown a bunch of gear in my back seat and then realized all the stuff I’d forgotten as I drove south (Diamox, an extra Nalgene, AAA batteries, caffeine gel shots – shout out to Eve who was kind enough to grab those items for me and bring them down Saturday!)

The campsite was by a lovely stream and I settled happily in my sleeping bag after enjoying a cold beer and managed to get one of the earliest nights before a climb ever.

I broke camp early and met with the rest of the team at the Ranger Station at 7am the next morning to pick up our walk-up permits.  I had freshly baked banana bread for each member of the team as we stood in line and Forrest made coffee.  We managed to secure our permits and were given the harsh warning about the state of the route before we headed on up to the trailhead parking lot.

We finally headed on out up the trail around 9am.  As usual, my main concern was being a slower hiker than everyone else.  No matter what I do in terms of training, I usually find myself to have a slower pace than most which makes me extremely anxious doing group climbs such as this one.  Whenever the group made a stop, I would press on because I knew they would catch up sooner or later and I didn’t want to hold everyone up.

Me and Kara getting ready to rope up

Despite the weight of my pack, I felt that I was progressing along the trail much better than I had almost 11 months ago.  The extra time and energy I’d put into training and gaining elevation was paying off – even if I was still slower than everyone else on the team.

By the time we hit the interglacier, I was hitting my stride and only suffering from the sweltering heat of the day.  We put on crampons and headed up in a much more direct route than we’d taken a year ago – luckily there was more of a boot made staircase this time around, which makes steep ascents on snow much smoother.

Steamboat Prow crept closer, the last 30 minutes or so of that long steep trudge was a challenge, and I was very thankful to finally sit and take a break and eat some food.  We were making good progress time-wise, we were just now going to need to rope up for the final hour’s glacier crossing up to camp.

The crevasses were wide and open and Eve (with whom I was on a two-person rope team) applied her climbing experience to route finding our way up, over and around the gaping holes in the snow.  By the end of this climb, I was getting used to stepping over these wide cracks that led to deep dark blue ice of unknown depth.

We arrived into camp six hours after starting out.  That was an entire 2 hours faster than it had taken us the previous year and I was feeling good about it.  Even more lucky – we managed to secure two tent sites from folks who were just leaving – meaning the amount of snow shoveling and leveling out the ground for our tents was minimal.

Our Campsite at Camp Schurman

After setting up our base camp, we set about melting snow for water and dinner.  That was when our first disaster struck – we ran out of camping gas.  One of the canisters brought up was thought to be full but later we determined it to be near empty.  We were in trouble – and Forrest thankfully traded some gear for another used canister from a bunch of climbers heading out.  In any case, we were going to be limited in how much snow we could melt for the summit push, and to make matters worse – Forrest had forgotten his water bottle and ended up getting quite dehydrated in the process.

I had my 3 liters which was recommended for the summit, but by the time I drank some that night and with “breakfast” – I only carried two bottles for the summit.  We all became quite dehydrated during the following day – which turned into an epic, almost 22-hour day of physical effort.

After dinner, where I had very little appetite, I took a hit on my vape pen to try and calm my nerves and relax myself enough that I might catch an hour or so of sleep before we had to get up again.   I was having a lot of anxiety – especially knowing that we were going to be getting up at 9pm to leave by 10p.  This was it.  The big moment.  A large part of me knew the pain that I was walking into and I wanted to pull the plug and just stay in camp.

I buried those feelings and tried to settle in Forrest’s circus-like tent for what amounted to about 90 minutes of sleep.

My favorite part of alpine climbs – the first glow of the sky as the sun rises – I’m the first climber in this photo – PC Eve Jakubowski

All too soon the alarm was sounding, and adrenaline took over.  I packed my gel shots loaded with caffeine that I knew I’d need (thank you Eve!) warm layers including my summit jacket that only gets used on climbs like this.  Gaiters, crampons, ice axe, helmet and headlight on.

Ok…deep breath…here we go.

The next few hours were kind of a blur.  We were keeping a quite brisk pace up solid snow that had a steep incline to it such that you often had to duck or French step with the points of your crampons to ascend.  We would stop every 90 minutes or so to drink fluid and take in snacks.  Christina would take a power nap.  I would just keep the thought patterns in my head spinning in a positive direction as best I could.  I felt strong, but the mental fears of needing to turn around perhaps, again, kept creeping into my consciousness.

We deliberately slowed our pace when we realized we would top out before sunrise if we kept going the way we were.  The trail edged up, relentlessly.  I was breathing hard, wondering just how much longer this steep gradient was going to last.

That’s when Forrest announced that things were “about to get steep” as we hit the section of the trail that was the ranger re-route.  “What?! Steeper than it’s already been?” It involved a far left traverse followed by a far right traverse to reconnect with where the original trail goes to the summit more directly.

This section was so steep it really hurt one’s ankles.  I was so glad it was still dark because if I shone my headlamp down mountain, I could see just how steep the run out under us really was and I tried to suppress the thought that a single misstep could have me hurling down that icy slope, yanking Eve off of it with me.

Climbing up steep snow as sun rises – PC Eve Jakubowski

No, don’t think about it.  Just one foot in front of the other.

It was so cold that I put my summit jacket on and found that I could still climb with it on and not get too warm.  The wind was pretty calm and Eve said this was the best weather she’d ever experienced on Rainier.  It certainly was the best I’d experienced!

These moments are both the best and worst of alpine climbing.  You are so totally alone out there on a rope with the next person 30 feet or so in front of you just putting one foot in front of the other.   All you can hear is the sound of your own breath, and the crunch, crunch, crunch, of your crampons and ice axe hitting the snow.  And then there are your thoughts: nagging at you.  Willing you to quit.  Asking questions like “what if someone on my team gets AMS?  They didn’t take any Diamox like you did.  Both of them haven’t been above 12,000 feet before! What if one of us bonks out?  Will we all have to turn around?” – and fear sets in which you have to actively ignore and go back to your breath and each step.

Just keep climbing.  Just keep breathing.

Every time we got to a section of the re-route that a stumble/fall could produce a team pulled off the mountain scenario, Forrest would place a picket and a running belay as we moved through.  One section was quite a vertical climb of snow with steps kicked in nicely.  This sort of turned a corner and it felt like we were finally within an hour or so of the summit.

More sun glow PC – Kara Hedges

I started to get excited.  The sky was glowing amber as the sun rose and there is that wonderful and albeit surreal visual of the stream of people with headlamps in front of you getting ever lighter with each passing minute – and it is just so beautiful it takes one’s breath away.  I had a feeling that we were going to make it!

The final push to the summit presented a challenge to me that I could not have imagined.  Penitentes.  These are extremely sharp snow formations that stick up like thousands of ice picks and form in the same way as sun cups, from rapid thawing and re-freezing.  That last section required us to walk on top of these Penitentes and it was by far, the toughest physical and mental challenge of the ascent so far.  Each step, your body weight was only distributed through about 10% of your foot as you had to balance precariously with your crampons, all the while trying not to fall over because these things were sharp and painful.

I cursed those penitentes of death under my breath (and out loud) the whole rest of the way which seemed like the longest hour of my life.  We finally got to a rocky scree slope that Forrest told me lead all the way to the summit.   This was where we could remove our crampons and head up without packs.

What he and none of us realized was that the rocky scree led to even more penitentes!  And this time I didn’t have crampons on that helped grip each step as I precariously balanced on each one.  I was falling, stumbling every which way and my feet were being pummeled.  I have morton’s neuroma in both feet and this enlarged nerve was flaring up from the pressure of these nasty ice formations.  Oh, how I hated them!

Penintentes of DEATH

Then the summit of Columbia crest was in sight!  The air was thin, my heart was beating out of my chest.  I was the last one to clamber up and when I finally stood on the summit, I became overwhelmed with emotion.

Disbelief, pride, exhaustion, accomplishment, a sense of “Finally!  I have made it!” 8 years after my first attempt – I was finally atop Rainier.

Most of all – I had this overwhelming relief that I would never have to put myself through this again.  Ever!!!!

I had made it!

We took our obligatory summit photos and posed with the Peaks of Life Banner.  I cried tears of joy and took a video expressing my gratitude to Forrest and Eve for their help getting to the top of this monster of a mountain, unfortunately, the playback is almost inaudible due to the wind howling.  All you can see is my facial expression and tears – and that will be enough when I look back on it in years to come.   We were the only ones out on Columbia Crest at that time – 8 and a ½ hours from when we had left camp the night before.  We later learned that the DC route was out and that was why we were lucky enough not to have to share our photo spot with a large group of other climbers.

Thank goodness we had stuck to our original plan of climbing the Emmons!

By 8am we began our descent and I continued my cursing of the Penitentes of death once again and willed for that section to end.

Obligatory group summit shot for Peaks of Life

Then it was the long, long, long, slog down the steep snow back to camp – this time, however, we could actually see what we had walked up during that long cold night.  About an hour into our return, we realized that we must have taken a wrong turn and we were on the original route instead of the re-route.  Forrest and Eve decided that if we moved quickly we could minimize any hazards and so that’s what we did – basically eliminating probably over an hour of extra walking since the original route is much more direct.

The downside to this fact was that it put us about 1500 vertical feet below where Forrest had placed his protection in some of the sketchiest parts of the route.  Being the mountain goat that he is, he took off back up the mountain to retrieve his pickets and we thankfully took the opportunity for an extended break.

The sun was so strong at this point and those who haven’t climbed a glaciated mountain cannot fully appreciate just how much glare and UV are constantly reflected back on any of your unsuspecting skin that you haven’t doused in sunscreen- even the insides of your ears and nostrils.  We kept adding snow to our almost empty Nalgene bottles, hoping the sun would melt them enough that we’d have some more to drink on our descent.

Me – happy as a clam at the top of the world.

Forrest finally caught up and now we were fully plunge stepping through soft snow all the way to camp.  At this point, my quads were totally fried and I was physically quite useless.  Every few minutes I would fall backwards, unable to stay upright, sitting in the snow and cursing my legs.  Eve was so patient with me.  She would pull on the rope telling me that we just “had to get moving!” and each time I would explain that I going as fast as my broken body could carry me.  I was doing my best!

Getting into camp I desperately wanted to just lay horizontally for a while – but I soon found that it was way too hot inside the tent to get any sort of rest.  Taking off my boots and letting my feet breathe provided a measure of relief.  Every single cell in my body did not want to have to walk back to our cars that evening.  I wished we had enough camp fuel and food that we could simply rest and recover that day.

I would recommend to anyone attempting the Emmons to turn the climb into a 3-day trip rather than 2.  The hike out proved to be painful for me.

We used up the very last of the gas to melt about 400mls of water for each person – we vowed to re-hydrate at the river that crosses the trail at the base of the interglacier.

And so, with heavy heart and even heavier feeling legs, we packed up camp and re-roped up to head down the Emmons over to Steamboat Prow.  Everyone got off the rope at this point and it was each man for himself.

Forrest, Eve and Christina rest on the ascent

This is when my self-pity kicked into high gear as I watched the rest of the team tearing down the face of the interglacier and I struggled to keep pace – my legs and feet were screaming.  I decided to try glissading when the glissade chute seemed to offer a viable and faster alternative to kick stepping – however, I did a terrible job of fixing my crampons to the back of my pack and ended up losing them and a bunch of other gear on my first attempt.

Taking time to reassemble my pack and put on gloves – I re-entered the glissade chute and used my ice axe to brake strongly as I wasn’t a big fan of speed on steep slopes like this one.  I could see everyone else on my team already drinking water at the river – Forrest appeared to be waiting for me to get down the chute.

Starting the long ass descent – PC Eve Jakubowski

After refilling my water bottle, waiting for a chlorine tablet to sterilize it first, I decided to keep walking down the trail ahead of everyone because of how slow I was moving.  Forrest had hidden his approach shoes among the rocks and marked the GPS on his phone but was having a hard time locating them.  I didn’t want to hold everyone up (again!) so off I set down the trail…wishing and wishing that I had trail runners to change into as well.

Mountaineering boots are wonderful as torture implements.  Something about the stiffness of their soles and wearing them for 22 hours straight make them so painful that you’re swearing under your breath at them, just waiting for the moment when you can take them off and throw them into your car.  Those last few miles of trail were the hardest for me – especially once we made it back into the easy forest trail that skirts the river.

Beautiful summit crater – under this is a large ice cave system and a lake

It seemed to continue for hours and all four of the others passed me.  I told them in no uncertain terms to please not wait for me at the car – to please go ahead and find food and text me the restaurant they were at and I’d meet them there.  I didn’t want anyone waiting for my sorry ass.

The pain on the underside of my forefeet had taken on a whole other level.  They felt so swollen and my nerves so inflamed that each step felt like I was stepping onto the head of a nail.  My pace slowed to a crawl, and by the last 2 miles, tears were rolling down my cheeks and I seriously wondered if I could somehow get rescued?  Every step just shot up my legs and into my eye sockets.  I needed the parking lot to appear.  Now.  And then there would be another turn and another – still no campground or parking lot in sight.

Me about to cross another dicey looking snow bridge that I’m not happy about – PC Eve Jakubowski

Finally, around 7:30pm I emerged at the trail head.  I was suffering so much though, that I couldn’t initially remember which direction we had parked in.  I knew if I made a mistake and turned right instead of left I might be forced to make hundreds of sharply painful steps in the wrong direction.  I opted for walking straight ahead and then found some people who took pity on my face and pointed me in the right direction – offering their congratulations as I miserably trudged away.

When I finally saw my car, I was alarmed to see that everyone except Christina was still there!  I angrily asked them what the hell were they doing there and why had they waited for me?  I was being super irrational because of the pain.  Forrest claimed they’d only gotten back ten minutes before me and apologized for telling me that we were close to the trailhead when he and Eve had passed me.

Hmpf!

Lies!  Hahahaha.  I got my pack off and feet into my flip flops – and I was alarmed that the pain actually intensified rather than feeling that typical relief as the blood starts to flow back in and around one’s foot.  Hunger and exhaustion were equally tugging at my brain – and I knew that I was also going to be forced to drive another 2 ½ hours home at this point as I’d brought my own car.  We elected on a burger/brewery in Enumclaw and headed over.

I stopped on the way to get gas and realized I also hadn’t stretched and so took the time to work out my hamstrings and quads, calves and hips while waiting for my tank to fill.  I got some strange looks – but I couldn’t care less.   My body was a mess.

Crossing on the original trail

On arrival we asked for water, right away – but our waitress was overworked and distracted so I got up and let her know why we were all so dehydrated and she immediately gave me a pitcher to take back to the table.  No matter how much we drank – we didn’t feel it quite satiate our thirst.  The physical push of the day, the lack of fluids and the extreme heat was taking a toll.   Turned out we weren’t all that hungry either and after eating half of our plates, the desire to crash set in with such fervency that we bid good night and raced to get home before falling asleep at the wheel.

That was a pretty tough drive home.  I had the windows open and my music blaring – even still, it took all my strength to keep my eyes open.  Leaving all my gear in my car, I walked into my house and almost directly into the shower where I let the water wash the day away.

We had done it.  We had gotten to the summit of Mt Rainier.  Though I still couldn’t feel my feet, I fell asleep with a big grin on my face.

Climbing Mt. Rainier – My 8 year journey to the top – Part I

26 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by Anita in North America, United States, Washington State

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Mountaineering, Mountains, Personal

My IMG team heads up to Muir from Paradise for my 1st attempt, Summer of 2011

I have been wanting to climb to the summit of Washington’s highest mountain, Mt. Rainier since I moved to Seattle in December of 2004.  I can remember the first time I saw the mountain, majestic and mocking in her sheer size and prominence – like she was looking down over the city, a clear winner in the contest of who’s bigger and badder.  My first attempt at climbing Mt. Rainier was with International Mountain Guides in 2011.  Like most guided first-time climbs – we went up the DC route but were unfortunately turned around due to high winds and very low temperatures about 500 vertical feet above the top of the cleaver.

That first experience on the mountain was a great lesson in how the mountain has its own weather and how unpredictable she can be.  I can remember thinking to myself that I had never in my life felt that degree of physical cold.  It was terrifying.  I remember desperately needing to drink some water from my Nalgene which had partially frozen despite being in my backpack and weighing my aching thirst with my fear of taking my hand out of my glove to unscrew the cap which was stuck.  I remember the disappointment at having to turn around coupled with the sheer sense of relief that the team wasn’t planning on pressing on into the night while that weather raged because it would have brought untold suffering.

“Team Eurotrash”, with our guide Andreas Polloczek in a white out right before turning around

Being so stubborn about attaining goals I set for myself, however, I know that had the guides deemed it safe, I would have continued no matter how much it hurt.  In other words, I was glad that in that instance, it wasn’t my decision to make.

The following summer, a dear friend of mine, Karsten Delap, was in Washington State training for his American Mountain Guides Association certification, and offered to help lead my boyfriend and I up the DC for our second attempt.  Once again, we experienced very shitty weather: not quite as cold, but definitely very high winds.  Additionally, we were faced with what has become another hazard on the ever-popular DC route – especially in the high season for climbing that is July – and that is the human traffic jam that lines the route all the way from Camp Muir to the summit.

Our team heading out from Paradise for my second summit attempt

In crossing a section after the Cleaver that was notorious for rockfall, I watched as a football sized rock fell from overhead without warning – narrowly missing my friend Karsten.  He looked at me, shaken, urging us to press on through that section much faster.  Later, as we came to what I remember as the endless switchbacks of snow about a 1,000 feet higher than our first attempt had gotten us, we caught up with the crowds of people on the mountain who had now come to a grinding and painfully slow stop-and-go line.  A long queue had formed heading to the summit.

Heading out by the light of one’s headlamp – one of my favorite things about alpine climbing

Karsten became agitated, and as the wind picked up, he started cursing as he noticed the number of inexperienced climbers doing stupid shit like sitting near an open crevasse eating snacks unclipped from their team’s rope.  This, combined with the worsening weather and the fact that we were unable to push on at a pace that would result in us getting to the summit with a reasonable safety margin to return before the snow/ice had softened to a dangerous level led him to pull the plug on our ascent.

That being our second attempt, I felt crushed.  As we descended to Muir, we realized the wisdom in Karsten’s decision as the wind had now picked up to the point where you would see these bursts of color flying by as tents below us at Camp Muir were being ripped off the mountain, one by one.  I remember him picking up the pace and managing to secure his yellow Black Diamond tent which had had 3 of its 6 stakes yanked out by the time we got to it.

Picture of Karsten looking back from above the cleaver

To add insult to injury, we experienced what so many climbers must face on their descent to the Paradise area and parking lot:  day trippers asking dumb questions/comments when they see you descending in mountaineering gear.

“Wow!  Did you climb all the way to the top?”

“What’s it like up there?”

“Oh…you didn’t make the summit?  Did you get too tired?”

“How long does it take to walk up there?”

“My sister did it last year and said it was super easy.”

Our Team for attempt Number 2 heading out around midnight from Muir

You get the idea.  Mostly you just grit your teeth and smile, but it eats away at you as you watch them smiling back in their jeans and toddler on their shoulders laughing because they can’t believe there’s snow up there “in the middle of summer!”

My boyfriend was super miserable after that climb and declared he was done with the mountain and wouldn’t attempt it again.  Conversations with friends about our experience were also not helpful and anytime someone would point out that they had had a successful summit climb on their first attempt, it made it worse.

Karsten arriving at Muir

What people don’t understand is that it takes just as much physical effort to get within a 1000 vertical feet of the summit as it does to summit.  It also takes, by order of magnitude, a hell of a lot more effort to get close to the summit in really bad weather, than it takes to make the summit on a calm, bluebird day.

For several years, I tried to forget about Rainier.

But then she’d always just be there.  Staring at me as I drove across the bridge.  Taunting me.  Reminding me of how I hadn’t succeeded at something.  Somehow, she became a metaphor for lack of accomplishment in my life.

Taken from Mt. Si. Pointing out the goal as I started training for my first Rainier Climb

In 2014, I decided to take a course in climbing with the Mountaineers.  I thought it would be a great way to learn the skills I needed to have another go at the mountain by myself with a team of friends I’d make in the class.  What I didn’t realize was that the other 500 students who’d signed up had the same idea…and Rainier climbs got filled, literally, within seconds of them posting to the website.  You’d be lucky to get “Waitlisted number 14”.   That issue, coupled with the fact that I lost my job that May and decided to spend the majority of the summer hiking and climbing in Peru (on 18,000 foot peaks that didn’t count at all toward my Mountaineers climbing badge) meant I didn’t really make the kind of connections I needed to form my own climbing team, nor did I get a chance to go with any of the basic climb leaders that year.

2014 became 2015 and then 2016 – each of those years posed serious career challenges and climbing took a bit of a backseat as I struggled financially.

First time to Muir – training hike

Last year, however, I became more involved with a non-profit here in Seattle called Peaks of Life.  I’d met the founders – a couple called Brooke and Forrest (I know, it’s the cutest pairing of names for a nature loving couple ever) at a prior Washington Hikers and Climbers event up at Mount Baker – but we didn’t connect until I joined them on one of their “Adventure Series” hikes to Lake Serene in June.  This Adventure Series was designed to raise awareness of their non-profit which seeks to bring groups of mountaineers together to climb local peaks and raise money for uncompensated care at Seattle Children’s Hospital.  So…I could find a group of people who loved to climb AND raise money for charity at the same time?  Seemed like a winning combination to me!

Peaks of Life had a Rainier climb scheduled for the summer of 2017, however it was already full.  I joined them on climbs of Mt. Adams and I also summitted The Brothers independently with a good friend of mine.  I was in great shape from hiking and climbing all summer – and I was finding my joy in it again.  When a member of the All-Women’s team had to turn around near the summit due to AMS – Forrest offered her the chance to have another go via the Emmons route in August – and he was kind enough to offer me the chance to be 3rd on the rope team.

Peaks of Life gave me a whole other incentive to climb again

This would be my 3rd attempt at Rainier and 5 years since my last attempt.  Plus – this was a new and exciting route.  I didn’t have to climb to Muir – a huge bonus in my mind alone (I’ve hiked to Muir so many times and I really don’t enjoy it.)  I was excited to go with Forrest – he is genuinely a climbing savant and an all-around wondrously talented, funny, and generous human being.

So, one Saturday very late into the climbing season, we ignored the warnings of how broken up the route had gotten (relying on Forrests’ navigation skills to get us through the maze of crevasses) and heartened by a decent weather outlook, the 3 of us set out to Camp Schurman on the Emmons route which starts at White River.

Gorgeous sunset at Camp Schurman, August 2017

Pyramid shadow of the mountain at sunset from Schurman

My first recollection of that day was putting on my fully loaded pack and thinking “Hmmm…this is so heavy, I’m not sure I can make it out of the parking lot!”

I managed.  But it was a long, slow, and difficult trudge for me up to camp.  It took us 8 hours, though we were delayed for about an hour while Forrest set off after some rather expensive looking gear that a hapless climber must have lost in a gust of wind.

When we got to camp – we were the only group there!  Forrest told us that during the height of the season, there could be 50 groups heading up the Emmons.  I felt lucky.  It was a gorgeous evening and sunset…with only a very light breeze in our faces as we fired up dinner and good conversation.

The plan was to head out around 2am so we tried to get to sleep as early as we could – around nightfall.

The hole ripped into my tent by wind

I was anxious, but really vibing off of the positive energy and outlook of my two teammates.  I was finally gonna get my Rainier Summit!!

I woke up around 2am, but not to the sound of my alarm clock.  I woke up to Christine’s face literally on mine, her body rolled on top of me like she was trying to smother me.  I remember saying something like “what the hell is going on?” and she replied with “Look up!”.

I did.  It soon became obvious that a storm had rolled in and brought high winds with it that had torn several holes right through my rainfly which was now flapping helplessly.  The poles keeping the tent up were being bent almost in two, causing the tent to collapse on Christine’s side, hence her having to roll up and on to me, flattened by the bending structure of the tent itself.

Expressing our feelings about the weather

I couldn’t help but laugh.  It was a hysterical moment.  I remember how loud the wind was.  I really needed to pee, but I had no idea how I was going to get outside the tent, let alone manage to stand up once I was outside.

We heard Forrest call out to us.  He said something about wanting to come talk to us, but not being able to, and that we would give it another hour or so and see if the wind abated a bit.

It didn’t.

In fact, after managing somehow to pee (with the spray going in every which direction let me tell you) – back in our tent, Christine and I were forced to dig out our goggles because the dust was being blown into the tent with such ferocity that we couldn’t open our eyes. We tried to get more sleep – but being pressed into each other like that was just not amenable to shut eye and we ended up chatting and giggling into the morning hours when it calmed enough to get some sleep.

Goggles and dust

Unfortunately, it was now too late to attempt the summit as we wouldn’t make it back in time for the glacier to be safe to traverse.

Christine and Forrest had a great attitude about it, and I tried as best I could to bottle my emotion and disappointment as we headed back to the car.  Carrot cake and beer cooled in the river certainly helped…as did my new life-long friends.

Shenanigans at Schurman with Forrest

Did I mention that climbing forges the best of friendships?  Going through experiences like this with people you dig is priceless.  Knowing Christine and remembering her on me like that in my slashed tent will always make me laugh.  It was a wonderful start to our friendship.

The real reason we climb is the bonds formed between friends – made stronger with post-ordeal beers!!!!

And so…this brings me to 2018 and my decision in January to sign up for the Emmons All-Women’s climb of Mt. Rainier and finally bag this bitch of a mountain once and for all.

Part II will tell that story…

Ethiopia Part II: No Pain, No Gain in the Simiens

02 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Desert, Hikes, Mountains, Trekking

The beautiful Simien Mountains

Our flight and arrival in Addis went without a hitch and the visa process was pretty straightforward also.  We chose to stay the night at Lobelia Hotel as it was close to the airport and we’d have to leave at an ungodly hour to catch our domestic flight in the morning to Gonder – where we would begin our Historical Northern Tour of Ethiopia.

After checking in and getting some soup for our tummies, I was ready for an early night when I noticed that the hotel had a sauna and a steam room! I later discovered that this is a trend in moderate to nicer hotels in Ethiopia – and it was one I took advantage of at any given opportunity.  This was my first and it helped with my cough immensely.  In the end, I had that cough for about six weeks on and off…it has finally cleared up, as of about a week ago.  I can’t tell you how relieved I am not to have to take antibiotics and be able to sleep through the night without waking Mike up with a coughing fit.

The next morning began rather badly.  As we arrived at the domestic terminal, Mike put his iPhone in another person’s “security box” as his had already gone through and he’d just that moment realized it was still in his pocket as he needed to pass through the body scanner.  Once through, he waited for it to “reappear” on the other side.

It never did.

I was, meanwhile, trying to check both our bags onto the flight and save time.  When Mike wasn’t showing up I went back to find him distressed and searching for his phone.  I cursed myself for not having been there at that moment, as doubtless someone had grabbed it and it might have been possible to spot them if it was done soon enough.  Security was useless, assuring us that they would check the CCTV cameras etc.  I kept asking “how on earth is that going to help?  You won’t know the identity of the person who you see took the phone!”  Besides, I’m pretty sure that it was a member of the x-ray machine team that took it.  We put a message on his phone to indicate it was lost and to contact my number, but unfortunately, Mike hadn’t connected it to the wifi of the domestic terminal yet – so whomever had taken it, wouldn’t see the message.  Moreover, a stolen iPhone might as well be a stolen brick – without the password, there’s no way to get into it.

What a waste.  It was Mike’s baby too – so I felt super bad for him.

Shopping in Gonder

Our flight was only about 45 minutes and we landed in Gonder, taking a hotel shuttle to the AG – chosen because it had my initials!  Mike then discovered that his camera viewing screen was broken and his day had just gotten worse, poor guy.  The hotel was actually quite nice and we soon passed out since we’d barely slept the night before.

Gonder and the day and a half we spent there turned out to be rather arduous.  Other than being the former capital of the country and full of amazing history such as the palace of Emperor Fasilades who founded the city in 1636 – it is already at an elevation of 2133 m and being quite hilly, was a physical test just to walk around and get errands ran before starting our 4 day trek to the Simien mountains.

We had to find a tour company that we could trust and was leaving in the next day or two (NOT an easy task), buy warm jackets as the temperatures at night would be below freezing, find warm hats/gloves, buy some Acetazolamide (altitude medication), buy hiking boots, buy more malaria pills for me as I was almost out, get SIM cards for our phones, and other odds and ends.  It ended up taking us almost all of our free time to accomplish these tasks, and at almost one hour prior to closing – we finally got in a cab to go visit the Royal Palace – feeling it would be too awful to not visit this UNESCO world heritage site before leaving in the am for Debark.

The Royal Palace was quite impressive, especially the castle that was actually intact.  Since we were so late, we failed to find a guide, and had to satisfy our historical curiosities by reading about each building on Lonely Planet – promising ourselves we would do more earnest research later.  Getting back to our room, we had to pack our overnight bags and combine what we were leaving into my suitcase and try to get an early night.

Fasilada’s Palace, Gonder

The next morning, we were picked up nice and early and informed that we would be getting a private tour as the Korean couple they had paired us with had never actually trekked before and our tour operator was concerned that we would leave them in the dust.  Poor Mike just looked at me and I told him that I was sorry he’d had no one else to talk to for the next 3 nights.

On arrival at park headquarters, however, we came across a lovely Polish girl, Kamila, who was looking to hire a scout and share transportation with someone to the trailhead and back from Chennek.  I told her that I’d be happy to let her share our scout and transport – but she’d have to arrange it with Tedele – our “charming” tour operator.  In the end, she paid him $50 for transport and the use of our scout – and as it turned out, she ended up having the exact same trip that we did, except for the fact that she’d brought her own tent.  We didn’t mind, per se, but she sure lucked out with getting fed at every meal – our cooks even baked her a cake on the last day of the hike for her birthday!  I was glad that Mike would have someone new to talk to – and goodness, did they ever hit it off!  They talked a lot on the trail, which was fine with me, because as many of you know, hiking in the mountains is about the only time that I’m relatively quiet – it’s my form of church.

Our first sighting of a group of Gelada monkeys – walking from Buyit Ras to Sankaber

That day the hike was short and relatively easy, though the temperatures were much higher than I had expected.  Since they were only going to feed us plain bread and bananas for lunch, I asked to stop at the Simien Lodge where I managed to finagle some ham and cheese for our rolls – which made them greatly improved.

That evening, we set up tents and got on a few layers before heading out to a viewing point to watch the sunset.  Everything about camp reminded me of Kilimanjaro – especially the little bowl of hot water they’d put out to do washing before dinner.  Already, many of the hikers at camp were feeling sick and had symptoms of AMS.  Thankfully I felt ok – at least, I did at that moment.

Dinner was very abundant, and just like on Kili, they had already fed us with popcorn and cookies so I wasn’t exactly hungry, but that didn’t stop me from pigging out.  It was lovely and warm in the cook tent, especially when they lit a nice wooden fire which we sat around with tea after dinner.

Start of Day 2 – heading to Geech

I was feeling a bit too full but fine right after dinner and was soon snugly wrapped up in my sleeping bag within a sleeping bag.  I found that I just couldn’t get comfortable and my stomach was rumbling a bit, but I put it down to having overeaten.  Around 11:30 at night, I suddenly felt bile rise in my mouth and I knew I had seconds before I was going to barf over everything in the tent, including Mike.  In those few seconds, I managed to locate my headlamp, unzip my sleeping bags, unzip the tent and stick my head out far enough that when the contents of my stomach emptied out, it was just inches from the tarp under our tent.  Feeling somewhat relieved, I crawled back inside, thinking that I would immediately feel better and be able to fall asleep.

Not so.

I started feeling nauseous and the pain in my stomach was only getting worse.  The hours crawled by slowly and I was soon writhing in agony.  Soon enough, I realized I needed the bathroom and I struggled to walk down to the outhouse because I was also starting to feel feverish and weak.  I won’t go into too much detail about what happened next – but my travel partner Mike the next day best described it as my body mandating a total body evacuation.  I sipped some water on return to my tent, believing that by now, at 3am, the worst had to be over.

I was wrong.  The next thing that happened was one of the most embarrassing and dehumanizing moments of my life.  I shat my pants, and I realized that I was too sick to be able to walk back to the outhouse without help.  I lay there crying and woke up Mike telling him what had happened through gulped tears.  God bless him, he got up and helped me walk back down the hill to the nasty nasty hole in the ground that was the outhouse.

I’m not sure how I still had that much still left inside me, and furthermore I don’t know from where I found the strength to also change my clothes while having to balance on alternating feet in my shoes.  But Mike stayed the whole time and got me some mango juice to sip on once we were back in the tent.

It was 5am and feeling horrifically weak and sorry for myself, I managed to fall asleep.

After only a few hours’ of rest, it was time for us to awaken and head out for our 5-6 hour hike to the next camp.  I didn’t think I’d be able to make it – I felt so lousy.  Problem was, Mike was insisting on accompanying me if I decided to head back to Debark and wait my illness out.   I kept telling him that I wanted him to go on and enjoy the trip without me.  He refused.

Riding the horse after being sick all night

So, – I made a decision to try and walk for the first 90 minutes at which point our guide, Gashaw, informed me that we would be crossing the main road, and if I was still too sick to continue, I would be able to arrange transport from there.

And so, in pain, nauseated and very weak – I started to put one foot in front of the other.  It was pretty bad and required all my concentration.  After the first hour, the pain eased a little bit, and in another 30 mins I found out why – my period had just started.  Oh great – exactly what I needed on top of my nasty bug, I had horrible cramps that I’d mistaken for aftermath of the night before.

At least I was feeling a little stronger, but that didn’t stop me from taking advantage of an offer of a horse ride the rest of the way to camp when we came across a boy with a horse offering rides to presumably feeble tourists who didn’t want to go uphill.  Though it really went against the grain for me to “give up” like that – I reasoned that if I took it easier that day, I just might have the strength to finish the rest of the hike that was two more days and lots more elevation gain – up to Mt Bwahit which was at 4437 M.

Our beautiful campsite at Geech

The views on arrival at our campsite that afternoon were so welcome.  It was a beautiful high altitude plain of grass, open and flat but surrounded by cliffs in all directions.   Thought it was only 4pm, I was feeling utterly spent and happily crawled into my sleeping bag and slept for three hours before I was told dinner was ready.  I also learned that the others had gone on a short hike from camp to watch the sunset and had been stampeded by a larger group of gorgeous gelada monkeys (granted we had seen them several times during the day – but this was a very up, close and personal encounter) as they tried to get past the humans to the cliffs where they would rest for the night inside caves.  I was glad I had chosen to rest and regain strength, but disappointed not to have witnessed this spectacle first hand.

Luckily, Mike was able to capture the event on video and I include it here for your viewing pleasure.

That night in Geech was particularly cold.  I got up around 10pm to take a pee, and for the second night, I noticed our 64-year old scout – a delightfully cheerful though non-English speaking man – sitting out in the open air wearing nothing more than his shirt, thin jacket and a tarp for warmth.  I literally feared for his life and was so worried that I ended up taking the extra jacket that I’d bought in Gonder and went over to where he was keeping watch and offered it to him.  At first he motioned with his hand, “Anita…no, no, it ok!” but then I forcibly unwrapped him from his tarp and put his arms inside the jacket, the hood up over his head and zipped him all the way up.  To my delight, it fit him perfectly (it is very disturbing that the men I come into contact with here seem to all have a body shape and size that would mean I could share my wardrobe with them!)  From that point on, he wore my jacket most of the day, removing it only in the heat of midday – and even then, leaving the detachable hood on his head like the coolest dude ever.  I loved Nursie…he said almost nothing, but was always smiling, saying my name, and saying “Good, good Anita! Strong!”

I gave him the jacket to keep on the last day of the trip.

Nursie – our fearless but chilled scout who kept watch over us

The altitude and remnants of my illness had destroyed my appetite and I forced myself to have a little soup and bread most nights, got porridge in me for the morning and snacked lightly during the day.   As such, I found myself having lost much of the weight I’d gained during my time in West Africa – so being sick and this high up did have some positive consequences.

The third day’s hike was pretty tough – about 8 hours of walking, and I was proud that I managed it – despite still vacating most of what I was eating along the way.  One time I went to pee and found that I peed out of my butt instead without warning.  I felt bad because one is supposed to dig a deep hole to avoid the almost extinct Ethiopian wolves from accidentally ingesting your feces and suffering fatal consequences.  Incidentally, the beetroots I’d managed to eat the night before had turned my product a violent pink color.  I looked for a giant rock to, at the very least, cover up the evidence that I’d failed to “leave no trace”, only to accidentally drop it from a height that caused everything to spatter raspberry colored shit over the entire surrounding area, including my shoes and trekking poles.  I had to use up some of my precious drinking water to rectify the situation, and be on my way – now precariously behind the rest of the group and getting slower as the afternoon wore on.

Looking back, it is still quite a funny story – and I am so proud of myself for not giving up and for pressing on.

More Geladas

As a sidenote to all this talk of excrement (my apologies, dear readers) – the scenery we were passing through was pretty immense and spectacular, despite the fact that it was rather brown given the time of year and it being the dry season.  Much of the wide expanse of ridges below us reminded me of a lighter colored south rim of the Grand Canyon.  Once we’d made it to Imet Gogo – all the suffering was made worthwhile by the incredible views we got to enjoy from this high point.  Unfortunately, this is the typical turnaround point for all the folks who choose to do the 2 night/3 day itinerary.  I found, however, that it was the scenery and the ability to walk along a long ridgeline the rest of the afternoon before descending to Chennek and our 3rd camp night – to be the highlight of the whole trek.

On the descent to Chennek, Mike and I spotted our one far away Ibex, which made us happy – though we were hoping to spot more the next day.  On arrival at camp, we were happy to note that there was a cold water well with a pump where we could take an ice-cold bucket shower.  We took it in turns to pump water for one another, hastily, as the sun was setting and it would soon be cold both by water and air temperature.

3rd day on the way to Chennek

At Imet Gogo

I took another early night as I was very spent, forcing myself to eat a little food.  The group had quite a rowdy dance/singalong by the fire that night, and I tried so hard to enjoy it for as long as I could, then grabbing my hot water bottle and bidding all a good night.

Singalong around the campfire

The next day was an optional day hike to the summit of Bwahit – the second highest mountain in Ethiopia.  Though I had told myself I didn’t really have to summit – I don’t easily give up, and despite having another bout of diarrhea, I proudly made the summit – albeit much more slowly than the rest of the team.  I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment, especially after noting several of the members of other groups on the mountain turning around, tired or deterred by the extreme altitude.

I made it!

Celebrating the summit of Mt. Bwahit

After some celebratory summit shots, I was happy to point my feet downhill for the last time.  We loaded back into 4 x 4’s and were treated to a nice sunny field picnic lunch on the way back where Kamila was presented with a birthday cake made for her by our cook, Messy.

I was relieved when we got to Debark, and though very pissed off at having another drama just getting our bags back (which I talked about in the last article) – was so happy to finally find ourselves in a room at the Hotel Sona resting a bit before going out for dinner.  Unfortunately, the room we found (that Kamila shared since it was a family room with four beds and adjoining rooms) was on the 4th floor of the hotel that didn’t have an elevator – so you can imagine how it felt going up and down those stairs with luggage after the day we’d had.  To add insult to injury, the water was shut off for a few hours but we finally were able to take a restorative lukewarm shower.

Men getting it on, I mean “dancing”, on the dancefloor in Debark

We had agreed to meet up with Messy and Gashaw for dinner, and they took us to a bar where we started with beer.  Everyone was up and dancing (shoulder dancing, that is – my first introduction into this uniqe and rather strange custom of dance that doesn’t include much in the way of hip or lower body movement.)   Funny thing is – it took 30 minutes after we’d ordered food for the waiter to come over and tell us that they were out of food!

Turns out this was the last night before lent and 55 days of fasting for Ethiopians.  So finding food was going to be difficult.  We finally left and went to another bar where more guys were dancing (only with other guys and in an alarmingly intense manner) and I was able to order some injera with veggies and minced meat.  I ate a little and then made my apologies and headed back to our hotel.

It was only a few blocks, but I still managed to get harassed multiple times on the way back.  I was so not in the mood and needed my bed.

What a memory-filled trek it had been.  Proud and happy that I finished what I had started.  It really reminded me how much physical suffering is and can be mind-over-matter.  I pushed myself, hard.  And I had made it!

The Garden Route Part II: The Crags

04 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, South Africa

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Adventure Sports, Hikes, Kayaking, Tours

Heading out on the Salt River Hike

Heading out on the Salt River Hike

My next stop along the Garden Route was to be at a place called The Crags – close to Knysna, Storms River, and other small towns along The Garden Route and close to Tsitsikamma National Park. The hostel had been recommended to me because of its beautiful location – though I was warned that it was slightly “hippy” in atmosphere.

Sure enough, there were drumming circles, copious instructions on composting/recycling, dreadlocked folk strumming guitars, yoga/meditation classes, and lots of cats and dogs roaming freely amongst the chilled out backpackers who all regaled their story of coming to Wild Spirit for two nights – and staying for seven. I was planning on staying for two nights and stuck to my plan.

Not that I didn’t enjoy the place – on the contrary, I made a nice little circle of friends, and the home cooked food was otherworldly. The whole lodge is set against a backdrop of lush forest that peters out towards the ocean. The bar area was built literally around a giant tree that was covered with fairy lights creating a lovely atmosphere in the albeit very chilly evenings. In the main lounge, folks fought for a space on one of the giant sofas with the gigantic dogs who seemed to own the most coveted spots around the open fireplace. It was very cozy indeed.

A cute little Dassie in Storms River

A cute little Dassie in Storms River

Unfortunately, I had come down with a bad cough after my bike ride in Outsdhoorn so I wanted to take it a little easy on my first day. I had made a new friend in Ashley – a girl whom on first appearance I was sure I wouldn’t get along with and who subsequently surprised me with her genuine, fun spirit. She was a total self-professed hippie, with giant purple and turquoise dreads, lots of piercings and tattoos adorning large swaths of flesh. She also had an extremely interesting career producing fetish videos – which led to lots of very interesting conversations. On the first day, I was disappointed to discover that Untouched Adventures (a company offering a kayak and “lilo” experience up the channel in Storms River) was too far away to send a shuttle for me to participate in their tour. I was delighted therefore to meet up with a lovely English couple, who’d just gotten engaged(!) named John and XXXX who over breakfast, informed me of their plan to do the afternoon kayak tour and offered to take me with them in their rental car.

Glad to have a little rest to blog in the morning, I happily joined them – and since she’d gotten back from having completed the world’s highest bungee jump that am, Ashley came along too. On arrival at Tsitsikamma National Park, we found that Jake (from Outsdhoorn and the bus) had also signed up for the afternoon adventure…making us a happy little group of 5. Still not feeling great, I opted to rent a full wetsuit in case I worsened my symptoms paddling upstream on a lilo in frigid brackish water.

Storms River

Storms River

On our "Lilos" in Storms River Gorge

On our “Lilos” in Storms River Gorge

The landscape was really beautiful and verdant – and we walked along the coastline for about a half mile before coming to the mouth of the river where we were to put in our kayaks to paddle up the Storms River Gorge. The gorge itself was stunning and reminded me a little of both The Narrows in Zion National Park, and Wadi Mujib in Jordan…I love places where you can be in the water with towering rock walls jutting up alongside you enclosing you in the magic that lies between them. All told, the kayaking was very short indeed which was a little disappointing, though I was looking forward to the “lilo” section as I can honestly say I have never ever paddled myself upstream on a river laying on one. This was one of those “firsts” that get rarer with age and the amount of travel that I am lucky enough to do. This was when I was truly grateful to have rented the wetsuit as we laid belly down and swiftly used our hands to continue our way up the gorge. Again, we didn’t go very far, but we enjoyed the experience and the setting nonetheless. A few bold cliff jumps into the water completed the excursion before it was time to kayak back to our starting point.

After, our newly founded little group got wine and seafood at the café and heard the story of how John had proposed. It was a very memorable day made all the more special by the live music that awaited us at the hostel upon our return home.

The Wild Spirit Backpackers at The Crags

The Wild Spirit Backpackers at The Crags

The bus was going to be picking both me and Ashley up the next day in the evening to take us to Port Elizabeth where we would be forced to spend the night in order to catch the next vehicle heading to our next destination – the Wild Coast. I was super excited to have made an alteration to my planned itinerary upon learning that it was possible to do a 3 night/2 day hike along the coast (think up hills, down hills, along beaches, up and inland, across inland, rinse and repeat for a very long time) and had booked nights at Bulungula Inn for my first night, Wild Lubanzi for my second, and ending my trip in Coffee Bay (where I had originally intended on staying for two nights.)

Determined not to let a silly cold/cough hold me back, Ashley and a few others opted to do the famed Salt River hike that day which is supposed to give you a snapshot feel for all that the Garden Route is famous for – Fynbos, trees, rivers, beaches, and beautiful scenery. This trail would lead us to the ending point of the famed Otter Trail – a five day hike that gets booked years in advance. Though feeling a little rough, I managed to keep up with the girls as we set out on our intended loop – aiming to be back to the hostel in time to shower, change and hop on the bus to Port Elizabeth.

The map that our hostel owner had given us lent itself to extreme frustration as none of the markings were accurate or helped us orient ourselves. We eventually had to just rely on our sight and logic and made our way along the beach to the restaurant at the end of the Otter trail where we ordered a lovely lunch. Since I wasn’t feeling great, we opted to take the slightly shorter route back up to the starting point, where we got picked up.

Ashley and me

Ashley and me

Ashley and I had a lovely day and discovered that we actually have a lot in common and eerily similar backgrounds in terms of our religious childhoods. It was a lovely day, and we were glad to have some down time before having to re-join the bus (where Lea and Jake also joined us) as we headed to PE for the night.

The Garden Route Part I: Wine and Ostrich Country

31 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, South Africa

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Animals, Biking, Caves, Cycling

Heading out on our bike tour of Stellenbosch

Heading out on our bike tour of Stellenbosch

My lovely tent mate, Maud, and I headed out from Cape Town and met up in Stellenbosch for some girl time with wine. I had purchased a Baz Bus ticket that allowed me 14 days of unlimited hop on and off transport between Cape Town and Johannesburg. I had a rough itinerary already planned out ( I know, you’re shocked by that!) but was open and willing to make changes along the way should the mood strike or I received a significant personal recommendation.

I knew I wanted to have at least one day in Stellenbosch as a good starting point for my embarking on independent travel. And I was thrilled that Maud was up to meet me there, and go on a biking wine tour.

We were super lucky in that we were the only two people booked on the tour and it was a beautiful sunny day. We met with our guide and started the tour with a cycle around the main town of Stellenbosch and campus of the large university the town is also famous for. The town is framed by the most stunning countryside and mountains and I was thoroughly enjoying being out of the big city, breathing in the fresh air, and enjoying the exercise.

We visited two wineries, both of which were in stunning settings. The first had such an incredible backdrop of lake and mountains that the photos we shot during our tasting looked artificially superimposed. See for yourself!

Lake and mountain view at the vineyard

Lake and mountain view at the vineyard

Right?

Feeling quite tipsy and thoroughly happy after our ride, Maud and I enjoyed a lovely coffee and Belgian waffle on a trendy café-lined street before both going to get haircuts. Unfortunately, my hairdresser decided to cut an extra inch off the right side of my head vs. the left side, and I only noticed upon our return to our hostel…which ended up being an adventure in and of it!

Thoroughly looking forward to a home-made tuna salad, we asked around as to where we might find a cab to drive us to our hostel. No-one seemed to know where we might be able to locate one and we started to grow slightly nervous. We walked to several in-city hostels and we were told that cabs stopped operating at 5pm! What?!!

Don't I look super-imposed onto a green screen in this picture??!

Don’t I look super-imposed onto a green screen in this picture??!

Eventually, a kind hotel shuttle driver offered to drop us off, and we were saved from our complacent “I’m used to being in Cape Town” attitudes.

We enjoyed a lovely evening’s company with our dorm mates who were Peace Corps volunteers from the States working in Zambia. They told us some fascinating stories about the challenging projects they’d been occupied with in the rural center of that country. One of the more memorable, was the locals’ preference for “dry sex”. What on earth is “dry sex”, I hear you ask.

Maud and I chatting with the Peace Corps Volunteers

Maud and I chatting with the Peace Corps Volunteers

Well, I was fascinated to learn as well. Dry sex is sex where there is no internal lubrication in the woman. In fact, along with ensuring (of course) that the woman is not aroused before intercourse, young women in some Zambian villages are literally taught how to dry out their vaginas using certain leaves/herbs in order to please their husbands – who’s preference is for the sex to be nice and rough…ergo “Dry”. The reason the volunteers even got involved in this discussion is because in their health care education efforts, it is important for locals not to engage in this practice as the resulting abrasions vastly increase the chances of spreading the HIV virus which is rampant in Zambia.

Asking them how their efforts at condom education fared – their response was equally disheartening. They told us that locals would say “Well, when I bake a nice juicy chicken, I don’t put it in a plastic bag before I enjoy eating it…!”

Yeah…it’s like that.

From Stellenbosch I said my farewell to Maud and boarded my Baz Bus to my first stop on the famed Garden Route – Outsdhoorn – world capital of the ostrich!

Ostriches in the Ostrich capital of the world

Ostriches in the Ostrich capital of the world

I stayed at Backpacker’s Paradise and it really was one of the nicest hostels I’ve ever stayed at. And it was a paradise for me when I found out on arrival that one of the manager’s was also a masseuse and was willing to give me a massage that evening. It was not only the best massage I’ve had on this trip so far, it was the best massage of my life!

Dinner that night was ostrich meat, roast potatoes and salad.   I ate with a highly immature group of five English girls who giggled hysterically in between their ceaseless chatter about boys they’d hooked up with at last year’s Glastonbury festival. Ahhhh….hostels! Yet again, I discover that I’ve been traveling and staying in hostels since I was 17 alongside the other 18-25 year olds. The only problem is – I’m now 39, but the other backpackers have stayed the same age! What is nice, however, is that with age comes the ability to fend off peer pressure and truly do what one feels is in one’s best interest. For me, it was having my dinner and heading straight to sleep.

Outsdhoorn proved to offer quite an adventurous, strenuous day trip which consisted of being driven to the top of Swartberg Pass (1568 M) and then dropped off with a mountain bike for a 56km (about half downhill) adventure. The weather at the top of the pass was drastically different due to the elevation, and I was glad that I had brought lots of warm layers and my wooly hat! The ride literally started off in the clouds, but it wasn’t too long before I descended below the cloud line and found myself whizzing past green pastures full of ostriches, and rolling hills. It was just lovely.

 

Biking down from Swartberg Pass

Biking down from Swartberg Pass

 

The other main attraction in the area is the Cango Caves. Having visited lots of caves during my trip in South America last summer, I wasn’t too enthused about going – but I decided to at least go check out the visitor center and decide if I wanted to do the full tour or not.

The pictures at the ticket booth were pretty impressive so I signed up for the 90 minutes “adventure” tour – touted as being as close to splunking minus equipment that a person can get.

The cave tour actually far surpassed my expectations – the main caverns were enormous and were beautifully lit to highlight the wonderful stalagmite and stalactite formations. As the guided group continued deeper into the cave, the passages got narrower and trickier to get through. Our guide, Theo (a Xhosa) was hilarious telling us stories of fat tourists who’d gotten themselves stuck in some of the passageways and had to get extricated using copious amounts of grease lubricant. Some of the passageways were rather panic-inducing, but I was proud of myself for getting through it.   Unlike many cave systems I’ve been in, this one has no oxygen supply save for the initial opening, so you could really feel the air getting thinner the further you progressed into the cave.

The wonderful stalagmite and stalactite formations

The wonderful stalagmite and stalactite formations

At the turnaround point, there was a section that you had to slide down, head first on your tummy in order to squeeze your way through. A few of the larger men in the group had to turn around and come back a different way. It was challenging, but I managed to squeeze through feeling like I was re-enacting my entry to this world through the birth canal. We were all reminded of this when someone commented that the tunnel “opening” looked like a woman giving birth, and as the last tourist slid on out, Theo announced “And it’s a boy!” – and we all had a good laugh.

The rest of the ride back to town was actually quite arduous and I was glad for all the water I’d brought. I was eager to get to the farmhouse that had been recommended to us as having wonderful cakes and tea as I was getting hungry – only to discover that they were closed! The last six kilometers back to the hostel were the longest I’d ever ridden and I walked back into the lobby absolutely famished.

I ordered a piece of carrot cake and a coffee and sat relishing both as I rested my weary muscles.

My "French" evening in Outsdhoorn

My “French” evening in Outsdhoorn

That evening turned out to be rather “French”. I had met a French-Canadian on the bus named Lea (who I continually re-met at various stops along the Baz Bus route as the trip continued) and an American named Jake who was rather fluent in French having just lived in La Reunion these past six months.   Then, two guys from Lyon showed up complete in their V-neck sweaters and matching scarves – and we all went out for a meal which turned out to be dominated with French conversation. Despite struggling a little to keep up and understand – I was decidedly happier with the conversation.

 

San Gil – Learning to take things easy in the Adrenaline Capital of Colombia

01 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by Anita in Colombia, South America

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Adventure Sports, Cycling

Day Trip with Colombian Bike Junkies

Day Trip with Colombian Bike Junkies

I spent three more days in San Gil after my day hike to Guane with Kwame.  Unfortunately, whatever had plagued me on day 3 of my hike to the Lost City also returned and my symptoms were very strange.  Mostly I was exhausted, but I’d developed a fever one evening and almost fainted at a bus stop from dizziness and nausea.

It wasn’t until just over a week later, on my way to the Choco (Pacific Coast of Colombia) with Kwame that we both realized I must have Dengue Fever.  That third episode was the most severe by far.

I awoke that Monday intending to go on a downhill mountain biking day tour with Colombian Bike Junkies, but I was just not feeling up to it.  After a pancake breakfast with Kwame at Mike’s, we decided we’d have a relaxing day down at Parque Gallineral – a park by the river that was famed for it’s trees that were covered in a hanging moss that resembled an aging man’s beard.

IMG_0820

Beautiful Parque Gallineral

Beautiful Parque Gallineral

We packed a blanket, a mango to share, some sunscreen, books to read and walked down there.  We had a blissfully relaxing and lovely morning/afternoon napping in the sun, talking, and enjoying each other’s company.  We had the kind of day when you haven’t a care in the world, no time schedule to keep, and you can let yourself be fully in the moment and share a perfect day with someone.

We had fruit smoothies at a café on the way back to the hostel, and since I was really starting to develop a fever, opted for a movie and a couch for our evening.  We watched one of my favorite films – The Untouchables – and I had as much fun watching Kwame laugh hysterically as I had watching the movie for myself the first time.  If you haven’t seen it – do yourself a favor and rent this movie today!

Taking things easy

Taking things easy

Kwame - so tall he has to bend over to get through a vine-covered walkway

Kwame – so tall he has to bend over to get through a vine-covered walkway

Determined to feel better and do the bike ride the following day – I went to bed and fell fast asleep at only 8pm.  Unfortunately, I still felt strange and weak the following morning and had to cancel again.  After a very lazy morning, Kwame and I headed to the bus stop to catch a ride out to the local waterfall.  Unfortunately, I started feeling dizzy and nauseous, so we took a cab back to the hostel and elected to rest by the pool and take it easy.

By this point, I was staying in San Gil longer than I’d originally anticipated, but having met Kwame was definitely a welcome change to my plans.  I was still determined to do the mountain biking before heading to Villa De Leyva.  Then I got the idea that Kwame and I should just make the most of having met one another and I suggested we take a trip to the Pacific Coast of Colombia.  It is an extremely remote part of the country with Afro-Colombian culture, humpback whales, long stretches of wide black sand, with about as laid back of a vibe as a place can have.  I figured, after spending time in a part of the country where everyone stared at Kwame for being such a tall black man, that it would be funny to visit a part of the country where he’d look like the local and I’d be the odd one out.  Well, that, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him in five days.

P8050064

Downhill bike adventures in Barichara

Downhill bike adventures in Barichara

After a long chat, and working through logistics of flight changes (thank you to my sister, Monica for her help!), charter flights out of Medellin to Bahia Solano, a return flight for me from Bogota to Medellin and agreeing that we’d take a week or so to visit Villa De Leyva, then back to Sogamoso (where Kwame had done a month long yoga retreat back in March) where I’d site-see during the day while Kwame worked (he works remotely while traveling) we made all the arrangements together giggling away with our laptops and feeling like silly sixteen year olds.

It’s not like this was the first time I was doing something crazy and irresponsible!

IMG_0850The following day, still a little weak and wobbly, I left Kwame working and finally joined a tour group going downhill mountain biking outside of Barichara (which I’d briefly visited with Kwame when we hiked the El Camino Real) with Colombian Bike Junkies.  I love their tag line which is “Put a little fun between your legs.”  Though still physically weak, I couldn’t turn down the challenge of not needing to get off the bike when we came across steep uphill sections, and only dismounted from the end-of-day cross country section when the rain was coming down so heavily that a river had been created under my bike tires, making it hard not to slide and crash.  We had some incredible vistas to enjoy, the downhill sections were long and quite challenging, but the quality of the bikes themselves made it an altogether fantastic experience.

Afternoon at the pool of our hostel

Afternoon at the pool of our hostel

I almost lost a limb when I crashed into a bridge post when failing to dismount in time for what ended up being a complete “break” in the path coming around the end of a pedestrian bridge that looked like it was one complete track.  Somehow the bike got caught between my legs and I was pinned between the bridge and a tree, with a six or seven foot drop below me.  I screamed and screamed for assistance, imagining that I was re-tearing my now almost healed hip flexor tendon.  Luckily, once they pulled the bike off me and I regained a normal pulse, I found that I’d escaped injury.  In retrospect, it was quite funny, but I did make the leader promise to warn cyclists to dismount at the end of that bridge in the future!

I will never forget the end to that day as we were covering the cross country section of trail.  The sky darkened and the thunder began to rumble.  When the rain came it was just a surreal experience to be cycling through this beautiful countryside, the sky so dark it felt like night, with lightning striking all around me and the thunder roaring as I continued to try and keep up the energy it was taking to ride the hills and maintain control on the way down.  Getting in the jeep that had been following us just seemed silly after I was soaked to the skin after only a few minutes of rain.  I luckily had brought a change of clothes with me in my daypack which was dry and in the truck.

Band parade at 7 in the morning!

Band parade at 7 in the morning!

Bike race underway!

Bike race underway!

The following day, on our last morning in San Gil, we were awoken at 5am by the sound of construction and a constant banging right outside our balcony window.  That was annoying enough, but then at 7am – we had a live marching band blaring its music right at us from the streets below where a parade/festival was in full swing!  We opened the windows, bleary eyed in disbelief at the commotion and noise going on so early in the day.

Saying our goodbyes to the lovely Joanna who worked at our hostel

Saying our goodbyes to the lovely Joanna who worked at our hostel

It was hard to be annoyed by our sleep deprivation when we literally had the best view of the festivities in the city.

Starting to pack and get dressed, we got another surprise when we witnessed literally hundreds of pro cyclists gather outside on the parade route, which was now clearly the starting line for a bike race.  We cheered and watched as the gun was shot and the cyclists sped off in a large group.  What an ending to our stay!

Time for Adventure – Baños Part II

03 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by Anita in Ecuador, South America

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Tours

With Nick and Florian

With Nick and Florian

With one more day to spend in Baños before heading out to Lago Quilotoa, I decided to join Nick on a Canyoning tour of a local river. I’d rapelled lots of times recently in my climbing course, so I figured that it would be within my capabilities to do the same thing in the middle of a waterfall…?!

As it turned out, it was a little bit more tricky than I had counted on. The first couple of waterfalls were easy, you could maintain your footing and just get distracted a little bit by the heavy spray of water over your face and body.

Canyoning with attitude

Canyoning with attitude

This, however, was not the case on the following waterfall. My guide gave me the usual advice: keep my feet really high, lean far back into my harness, and keep my stance nice and wide over the falls. The first two were easy enough to follow, but this waterfall was so big and powerful that I was really struggling to maintain a stance that had my feet clear of the heavy pounding water. Compounding the issue was the lack of grip in the super cheap (and in my case, too large) shoes, that just kept slipping. And before I knew it, I lost my footing, fell against the brute force of the waterfall and found myself being pounded against the rock, with water falling on my head with such force I couldn’t gasp for air.

I kept telling myself to stay calm and think of a solution. I could hear the guide yelling something at me from above, but I had no idea what he was saying. I kept trying to get a foot hold while holding my breath, and eventually just let out some more rope in the hope that the flow of water might change and I’d be able to get a grip on the side of the falls.

2nd waterfall

2nd waterfall

After what seemed like forever, I was able to do so, and quickly lowered myself to the pool below and one of the group members, Florian, grabbed me and helped me away from the water to a rock to sit. I was gasping for air and only now realized how fast my heart was beating, pushing the adrenaline around my body. Florian was also pretty shook up because he’d witnessed the whole event from below. He said he’d been terrified that I might drown and didn’t know what to do to help me. Poor guy, he was super sweet to be so concerned.

To add insult to injury, our guide was wearing a Go Pro and captured the whole embarrassing episode on video which I’ve added here for your viewing pleasure.

Feeling quite shaken, I was very scared to complete the next and final waterfall descent. However, I didn’t really have a choice because there wasn’t a way to hike out of this location. Luckily, there was an option to descend on the drier side of the waterfall which I did, very thankful and proud of myself once my feet touched solid ground.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

anitagotravel

anitagotravel

Recent Posts

  • Climbing Mt. Rainier – My 8 year journey to the top – Part II
  • Climbing Mt. Rainier – My 8 year journey to the top – Part I
  • Ethiopia Part VII: Bahir Dar – The Ethiopian Riviera
  • Ethiopia Part VI: Lalibela and its Churches built by Angels
  • Ethiopia Part V: Journey to the Center of the Earth – The Danakil Depression

Categories

  • Africa
    • Benin
    • Botswana
    • Burkina Fasso
    • Cote D'Ivoire
    • Ethiopia
    • Ghana
    • Guinea
    • Kenya
    • Lesotho
    • Malawi
    • Mozambique
    • Namibia
    • Rwanda
    • Sierra Leone
    • South Africa
    • Tanzania
    • Togo
    • Uganda
    • Zambia
    • Zimbabwe
  • Asia
    • Cambodia
    • China
    • India
    • Japan
    • Nepal
    • Seychelles
    • Singapore
    • Thailand
    • Vietnam
  • Australasia
    • Australia
    • New Zealand
  • Central America
    • Belize
    • Costa Rica
    • Cuba
    • Guatemala
    • Honduras
    • Nicaragua
    • Panama
  • Europe
    • France
    • Italy
  • Middle East
    • Jordan
    • United Arab Emirates
  • North America
    • Canada
    • Mexico
    • United States
      • Washington State
  • Opinion Articles
  • Semester at Sea 2001
  • South America
    • Argentina
    • Bolivia
    • Brazil
    • Chile
    • Colombia
    • Ecuador
    • Peru
    • The Galapagos
  • Uncategorized

Tags

Adventure Sports Animals Archaeological Sites Art Artisans Beaches Biking Camping Caves Charity Christmas Churches Cities Climbing Culture Cycling Dancing Desert Diving Flights Food Geology Health Hikes History Independent travel Indigenous People Kayaking Monkeys Mountaineering Mountains Museums Opinion Pieces Personal Public Transport Religion Reverse Culture Shock Safari Sailing Snorkeling Solo Travel Tours Townships Transport Travel Travel Days Trekking Tubing Villages Volcano Volunteering Waterfalls Women

Recent Comments

Anita on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
Elle Mclees on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
Anita on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
evejakubowski on Climbing Mt. Rainier – M…
TsiTsi McLure on Take Me to Church – Chimaniman…

Archives

  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • March 2011
  • August 2010
  • April 2010
  • March 2010
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • September 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2007
  • February 2007
  • May 2004
  • April 2004
  • March 2004
  • February 2004
  • January 2004
  • December 2001
  • November 2001
  • October 2001
  • September 2001

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • Anita Go Travel
    • Join 162 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Anita Go Travel
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...