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alphaannapurnabasecamp · 10 months

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Unique Ways To Trek Everest Base Camp

Trekking to Everest base camp is one of the best treks in the world, and trekking to Everest base camp is possible through different routes. This is the famous and most popular trek in Nepal. It starts from Lukla and long hike in Khumbu Region. On the way trekking to Everest Base Camp, you can see the mesmerizing and majestic views which will make your trek joyful.

1. Take an Alternative Route

The most popular way to trek to Everest Base Camp in Nepal is from the Lukla route through Namche Bazaar. You can see the crowds at any time of your trip because it is only the last route to Everest Base Camp, but there are many other alternative routes that include other remote routes and some parts of the trials.

Trek in the Lower Solukhumbu

Travelers who go through Lukla miss the beautiful views of Lower Solukhumbu. To experience these amazing and wonderful views of the Himalayan mountains, then take a bus or jeep from Kathmandu to Bhandar or Salleri, or you can fly to Phaplu and start the journey. Any of these options will allow you to enjoy the valley, the beautiful Sherpa villages, and the Tibetan monasteries. You will need more time (another 6 days from Bhandar and about 4 from Sallerie/Phaplu) before connecting to the EBC main road near Lukla.

Combine with the Gokyo Lakes

An increasingly popular type of EBC trek is the Gokyo Lakes and Three Passes trek. The lower parts of the journey are similar to the EBC journey as both routes depart from the EBC road above Namche Bazaar and take you into side valleys and on high ground before entering EBC.

Trek via Amphu Lapcha Pass

This alternative route is very difficult but worth it if you are up for the challenge. This trek is not for the weak heart as it takes you to two uninhabited valleys at 5800m/19,000ft of Amphu Lapcha. You need about 3 weeks to do this trip, and you will have to camp on the way, which will require complicated equipment (some local trekking companies take care of this). This trek passes two well-known peaks, Mera Peak (6476m/21,247ft) and Island Peak (6189m/20,305ft) which you can climb if you have the right permits, equipment, energy, and skills. You will reach the EBC main road just 2 days before the base camp, and then you will be so excited that you will pass other travelers who are wandering and wheezing on the way. When combined with a trip from Lower Solukhumbu and a trip from Gokyo to Renjo La (along with three trips) you have the best 4-week trek of the Everest region.

2. Think Beyond Hiking

If you are not a hiking person then you can choose a different way to go to Everest Base Camp.

Use Helicopters

If you have less time then using a helicopter ride for a trek can be a great way to get a close-up view of Mount Everest. Some travelers choose to fly from Kathmandu to EBC and back because they are very busy but also want to visit Everest. You can easily catch a flight from Kathmandu to Lukla and Lukla to Kathmandu,

Mountain Bike

You can use your mountain bike to climb Pikey Peak. It is a little far from Everest but offers a spectacular and unobstructed view of Everest and other mountains. Another more interesting option is to trek in Tibet to the Tibetan camp of Everest. You can do it by motorbike and mountain bike.

3. Visit the "other" Everest Base Camps

Not everyone knows that there are two other Everest Base Camps in Tibet, north of Mount Everest. The second most famous base camp, where climbers attempt to climb Everest via the North Col route, is in Tibet. There are actually two base camps on this route: one called "Everest Base Camp" and the other called "Advanced Base Camp". But there is yet another base camp on the Tibetan side, in the Kangshung Valley, below the eastern face of Mount Everest. This base camp is rarely used by climbers because climbing the face of Kangshung is dangerous and difficult (in fact, it has been successfully climbed twice), but it is a more popular place.

4. Stay at Higher Lodges

Most travelers stay in tea houses, which are usually clean and comfortable, and are a great way to socialize with other travelers. If you appreciate comfort and maybe even a little luxury, you can stay at high-end lodges like the Yeti Mountain Home. You can also stay in a tent, which may seem difficult, but the camping trip to Nepal is like "Glamping".

#Trek to Everest Base Camp #Everest Base Camp Trek #Everest Base Camp for beginners

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newenglandtaxiburlingtonvt · 2 years

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Burlington Airport to Stowe Taxi Service

There are many ways to get around Stowe, including buses, taxis, and shuttles to the Morrisville-Stowe State Airport, which is just seven miles north of Stowe Village, and the Burlington International Airport (BTV), a full-service international airport in South Burlington, Vermont. The Stowe Recreation Path, which meanders 5.3 miles up the Mountain Road from the old Stowe village, makes Stowe also accessible by foot and bicycle.

The center of Stowe is located 58 kilometers from Burlington International Airport. The taxi ride to Stowe from the Burlington airport takes around 45 minutes, and the bus ride takes about 2-3 hours. Renting a car is the most affordable method to get from Burlington Airport to Stowe. Because it will take so long if you opt to take the bus. And the cost of a cab ride, depending on where you're going, will be roughly $70-80 USD.

The Burlington airport also offers vehicle rentals and private transfers. Travelers can contact affordable nearby Burlington to Middlebury taxi and shuttle services, whether you need a trip from the airport into the city or transportation to bring you around the area. To reserve your ride, make an advance call to one of trustworthy transportation companies.

From Burlington International Airport, Cab of Vermont offers shuttle service and transportation to Stowe, Vermont. Additionally, offering daily cab service from Burlington to Stowe as well. You will be recommended good restaurants and tourism attractions because the drivers you hired are locals who know the Stowe region intimately. Book the ideal vehicles for yourself, such as SUVs and Minivans, to fit your bulky winter travel luggage and ski racks.

With each trip to your destination in Stowe, Vermont, take advantage of the following beneﬁts:

· Drivers with experience and knowledge of the Stowe region

· Reasonable prices

· Available Day and night, seven days a week

· Certified checks, all major credit cards, and cash are all accepted.

Best Time to Visit Stowe

In Stowe, there are 4 seasons. Because April through October has the finest weather, those are the best months to visit Stowe. Since it's not the busiest time of year, but it can snow for a few days, many tourists prefer to travel between the months of January to March.

How to Get to Stowe from Burlington Airport

Renting a car is the best method to get from Burlington Airport to Stowe. Since you have to change buses and the schedule isn't great, traveling by bus will cost you money and take you 2-3 hours. Since the distances are short and you will get at your destination in 10 minutes, you can take an Uber or a taxi for $60 to $80 USD. This is a wonderful idea if you are going with someone to divide the expense.

Private Transfers from Burlington Airport to Stowe

Although they can be rather expensive, hotel transfers are also incredibly simple and practical. The transfers, which are typically offered around-the-clock, are only perfect if you have the money and truly need comfort following your journey to Burlington. The cost is about $100 USD, and it can accommodate up to 4 people. It might cost each participant $25 USD. Private transportation will undoubtedly be as pleasant as a cab; they will wait for you and take you to your destination without you having to worry about a thing!

Accommodation in Stowe

You should expect to spend between $40 and $50 USD on lodging in Stowe. Mid-range hotels cost between $100 and $150 USD, while luxury lodging starts at $300 USD. It is crucial to get insurance when you travel outside of your place of residence. Make sure you have one so you may travel safely around the world.

Burlington Airport to Stowe Taxi Service: FAQ’s

What are the travel restrictions in Stowe?

Ans: There are no restrictions on domestic travel, but there may be some restrictions:

· Masks for the face are advised.

· There is a 2-meter social distance minimum.

· there are national control measures

What is the national COVID-19 helpline number in Stowe?

Ans: Stowe residents can reach the national COVID-19 helpline at 800-232-4636.

What is the cheapest way to get from Burlington International Airport to Stowe?

Ans: The line 11 bus, which costs $2 to $6 and take 3 hours and 33 minutes to go from Burlington International Airport to Stowe, is the least expensive option.

What is the fastest way to get from Burlington International Airport to Stowe?

Ans: Taxis costing between $65 and $80 and taking 42 minutes to travel from Burlington International Airport to Stowe are the quickest option.

How long does it take to get from Burlington International Airport to Stowe?

Ans: Burlington International Airport to Stowe travel time, with transfers, is roughly 3 hours and 33 minutes.

#Best taxi services in Burlington VT #Airport taxi services in Burlington

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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Here I am at age seven, standing in the grassy park that borders Lake Michigan at Rainbow Beach on the south side of Chicago. Except for our brief sojourn in Iowa from my infancy through 1st grade, I was born into a family of non-swimmers, who managed to stay out of the water despite being virtually lifetime Chicagoans. I was always clearly a water person. Sometimes you wonder how you got to be the different one in the family. I remember my parents telling me they thought I was going to be an Olympic swimmer. That was naïveté talking. For them, my voluntary entry into the frigid lake was my first step toward athletic fame. I learned how to swim adequately in that cold water and then improved somewhat in high school, where we had a pool that I mostly disliked. I always preferred swimming outside. I know how to do all of the strokes but basically, I’ve got a decent, comfortable breaststroke in addition to being an excellent floater. I’d never win a race, even when I was young. But I have endurance and can last a long time in the water.

The laat time I did any real swimming was in the beginning of March when I was lucky enough to be visiting friends in Florida, whose subdivision has a pool. Lots of the residents down there like the air temperature and the pool temperature to be what feels like a bathtub to me. I was happy to have it to myself a few times on cool mornings. Covid was on my radar before I left for this trip but during my ten days away, the progression of infections was ramping up and I was terribly anxious when I returned home through two airports and as a bus passenger. I bought groceries and self-quarantined for days before having the courage to walk across the street to see my daughter and her family. Within a week, I cancelled a long-planned sisters’ trip to Alaska and hunkered down along with so many other older people who I darkly refer to as “the death group” because of our age and co-morbidities. For the first few months, the sameness of my daily life didn’t bother me much. I had my spring garden to think about and work in, I started babysitting for my grandsons and found ways to see a few people by parking next to each other and chatting through our car windows. I was really grateful I’d had both my knees replaced so I could take walks.

As the weather heated up, I started having some issues. Going for long walks and returning home drenched was not my idea of a good time. I started missing the water. Desperately. I knew the pools, both indoor and out, were closed in my area until the end of July. I set up a little kid’s splash pool and a beach umbrella in my back yard which really made a difference in how I felt for awhile. But I found myself spending lots of time on the internet, looking for bodies of water close to home, places where I could feel safe from the virus and yet at the very least, wade and feel a small sense of submersion. In addition to longing for that physical sensation, I started running low on the rocks and pebbles I’ve been using for years to decorate brick pavers which I use to surround trees and create borders for my different garden sections. I found myself going out in the yard to scrounge them out of a few containers I use as yard decorations.

I haven’t much liked this version of myself. Lots of people are struggling with this stressful time. And certainly there are those who are facing much more challenging issues than me. I’ve not been enjoying this rather petty and selfish piece of me that’s erupted at this point. I’ve been thinking that feeling trapped without the physical release of swimming is just one piece of a bigger picture. When Michael died, I realized how hard it was going to be to not have human contact on a regular basis. I lived my whole adult life right up until his death next to a warm body. I know, lucky me. But going cold turkey has been hard for me. Being a person who plans ahead, I decided to budget a standing massage and pedicure into my calendar. Those contacts plus haircuts went a long way to not getting in the weird place I could go with no physical intimacy. Add in swimming and hugs from friends and voila – ways to stay sane. But basically, all that planning has been negated by the threat of Covid. I honestly don’t know if there will be a return to my previous existence. So now, I’ve had two significant adjustments in three years, along with the limits of travel these days. Which brings me back to the lake. While perusing social media and chatting with friends, I saw that some people, admittedly younger than me and so perhaps less vulnerable to the virus, were on the road. And what caught my attention was the photos posted of one of my favorite places on the planet, Lakeside, Michigan.

The first place we stayed at in Lakeside was a bed and breakfast place at the time, sometime in the late ‘90’s. After basically going on an extended family vacation with a close group of friends further north in Michigan, our son, our youngest child wasn’t enjoying the trips much. When our friends decided to invest in a place as a group, we opted out to be able to address our kid’s needs. From then on, we took different trips as a family. But Michael and I always slipped away on our own for a weekend in Lakeside, right on the shore of Lake Michigan. That felt like home. The lake there has this magic illusory feeling to it. You know you’re at the shore of familiar waters but sometimes it feels like you’re on the edge of an ocean when the waves are up and the water is so, so clear. After a time, as the kids got into their teens, they wanted to join us for these few days and we needed bigger accommodations. We wound up a little way down the road at the Lakeside Inn, a rustic lodge listed on the National Register. No televisions, primitive decor and furniture, it’s a little island of detachment from the rapid pace of daily life. As Starved Rock became our winter destination, Lakeside was our summer one, with an occasional fall or spring getaway on the side.

I waffled up and back about going. Was it selfish and stupid to go in this uncertain time? Was I just acting like the type of spoiled person I find so irritating? And even more than that, was I ready to go back to a place that holds so many beautiful memories of my life with Michael? I haven’t been back there in four years, since the summer before he died. We just had a scant day and a half back then because we were taking what would be the last big trip of our lives, our Utah National Parks adventure shortly thereafter. The only photos I have from that time are of Michael standing in front of our two favorite restaurants in the next town east of Lakeside, him at the beach and one of our feet in the water.

But I have photos of our family enjoying Lakeside going all the way back to 2003. There were times when it was just the four of us. We lay on the beach, swam, collected rocks and read books. Over the years we tried lots of different restaurants in the small towns that line the Red Arrow Highway, some wonderful and others awful. I remember spasms of convulsive laughter, mostly in the expensive places, when we were sharing the most entertaining words from the book Depraved and Insulting English. We played Spades and Hearts at night or Scrabble and Monopoly. Some of us were more competitive than others. I took my son’s high school graduation picture there.

He convinced me that we should go back to Lakeside as he’s heading out west soon, and we’d have a chance for one more special time together. I made the reservations, worried that I’d get up there and cry the whole time. I wound up doing my crying in advance. I looked through all the old photos with a combination of joy and love, nostalgia and pain. I got worn out but in a good way.

As the years passed, our family group went from four to five and eventually six. Three generations on the beach along with a couple of dogs on occasion. What I know is we had so much privilege and fun that eludes so many people. I remind myself of that all the time.

So off we went on our brief excursion. By doing the emotional work in advance, I was pretty relaxed. My son and I travel well together and we enjoyed our couple of hours drive, listening to music and chatting. We stopped at a cafe which made good sandwiches and then headed to the Inn. I was relieved to see that good Covid practices were being observed which also took away stress. After quickly checking in, we headed to the private beach, a bonus when trying to avoid crowds. The weather was perfect as was the water. I scavenged for rocks for a long time and finally got my body into the lake. We stayed all afternoon and into early evening.

We headed upstairs and drove over to a favorite burger joint for a takeout dinner. After a day of beach and driving we were tired and decided to call it a night. We headed back to our rooms at the inn. When I looked out my window I realized a glorious sunset was taking place. We dashed back down the 115 steps to get back on the beach in time to see the flaming colors shimmering on the lake. I was so glad. Who knows when I’ll be there again, if ever? We went back upstairs and watched an episode of a series we’d been sharing on Netflix. Then my son turned in for the night. I wrote for awhile and pondered how just a few hours away from this 5 month slog soothed my tired brain.

The next morning we ate our boxed breakfasts on the long porch that spans the front of the Inn. We decided to go back down to the beach for a few hours to soak in the last moments of our perfect excursion. No one was there but us. I think many people think mornings are too cold to take the waters. They don’t know what they’re missing.

We reluctantly tore ourselves away for the ride home. I felt tired but restored. My body was so refreshed by the water and the vista from the shore. The same magic I always felt and had missed so badly. Although the time was brief, it’ll hold me for awhile. As we drove along, I was thinking of the face of a young native girl whose photo hung in my room at the Inn. I was haunted by the layered look in her eyes, which were complex, sad and moving. Life has always been challenging for everyone, long ago, currently and certainly, will be in the future. Perspective is everything.

Meanwhile, I’m back in the routine of these past five plus months. But I’ve replenished my soul a bit and additionally, my supply of rocks for the garden project of the winter months.

#reneerocks

Back to the Lake Here I am at age seven, standing in the grassy park that borders Lake Michigan at Rainbow Beach on the south side of Chicago.

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taylorowelch · 7 years

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8/24 - 8/4 Mile 2461.5 - Mile 2660 - 198.5 miles

I slept until about 9, which felt heavenly. The bunkhouse was fresh with cold morning air. Jerry, the trail angel who runs Hiker Haven, drove all the hikers into town to have breakfast. We sat around a big round table at the inn and I ate a giant plate of scrambled eggs with a warm homemade biscuit. I was so content. One of Jerry’s friends, Bill, walked in as we were eating and had breakfast with us, eventually offering to let Dustin and I use his washing machine, since Jerry’s wasn’t working. The town of Skykomish is about 200 people. The high school, middle school and elementary school are all contained in one building. The girl who gave us a ride to town yesterday told us that she graduated from that high school and that there were six people in her graduating class. When we told Jerry this he said, “Oh, wow, that was a big one.” When we finished breakfast Jerry dropped Dustin and I at Bill’s. We did our laundry and made phone calls and googled things for a few hours. I sat by the Skykomish river and talked on the phone, watching the light catch on the water, watching tiny birds flit from one bank to the other. When our laundry was done, Bill drove us back to Hiker Haven where we watched movies, ate copious amounts of gas station microwaveable food and basked in our cleanliness. The next day all the hikers got ready to leave. We got to town, ate breakfast and did phone chores, scrolling and scrolling in service land. Supposedly there’s no service until Manning Park, in Canada, 188 miles away. I ordered shoes and a new tent since my zipper broke. We got a ride back to the trailhead at Stevens Pass and scrolled some more, trying to squeeze every last google out of the internet. We hiked out around 2:30, later than we had planned but it was nice to have a relaxing day. This last section of trail into Canada is tough, notoriously so. We hiked a difficult 10 miles to camp, our feet aching after the short day. We pitched our tents next to a lake, cooked dinner and went to bed. My alarm went off at 5:30 and I ignored it stubbornly. I was up by six and walking around 7:15, later than I would have liked. The day involved lots of climbing and descending, over and over again. The terrain was tough, roots and rocks nestled in ditches where water had eroded the trail into little canyons, barely wide enough to put both of my feet inside side by side. It was painstaking work. My pack heavy with five days of food didn’t help. Huckleberries grew dense along the sides of the sunken trail. When I felt discouraged or tired I stuffed my face with a handful. We took more breaks than usual, stopping for water every five-or-so miles just to take our packs off, sit down, and drink a liter of water. We ate lunch at a beautiful lake that sat low in a basin of gray boulders. The water was a stunning blue, bright and deep at the same time. After I ate a tortilla with cheese and hot sauce for lunch we plowed on, climbing and descending for twelve more miles to camp. We only hiked 21 miles but it was arduous work. We finally got to camp at 7, in a little saddle at the top of a climb. I cooked spicy pasta shells and set up my tent while they soaked in boiling water to finish cooking. I ate them gleefully and chatted with a Swiss couple camped in the same spot. The setting sun cast these beautiful rays over everything, like it had spun the light with gold and laid it out over mountains and tall spruces and firs and patches of dirt. My alarm went off at 5am. I sleepily ate my breakfast and left camp at 6:15. The morning was dangerously warm and the rest of the day followed suit. There was a lot of climbing today, steep inclines leading to breezy passes. The trail was rough, rooty and rocky and carved out of the earth like yesterday. Sweat ran down my face, dirt gathered on the insides of my elbows, stuck to the sweat on my legs. We stopped for lunch at a creek and I hid in a patch of shade. A couple hiked up to me while I was eating. “Is that real food?” a middle-aged lady asked. “If you count cheese and cheetos and taco bell hot sauce in a tortilla as real food?” I mumbled back at her through my mouth full of junk food. After lunch I washed my feet in the creek, put my pack on and hiked, climbing again, dealing with many large blowdowns. I took a break at a creek three quarters of the way up the hill. I killed flies that bit my legs. I watched an ant carry a dead fly body in a large circle, pulling it around, yanking it through tufts of grass with all its might. It had no idea where it was going. We climbed a bit more and then descended a couple of miles to camp for a 23 mile day. The backs of my knees were sore from all the climbing. I made dinner and pitched my tent. Dustin made chocolate pudding that didn’t really set but we ate it anyway and it was better than not having any pudding. I didn’t sleep very well, and I was up at 5 and walking at 6:30. The morning was warm again and I knew we were in for another hot day. I climbed up and over a pass as light slid onto the mountains. A warm breeze passed over the mountainside. I lumbered on into the morning, tired, my feet hurt, my pack straps digging into my shoulders like they do. In a couple of hours I was dripping sweat, climbing 1500 feet in the humid sun. When I got to the lunch spot, a little campsite perched almost at the peak of the climb, it was half-shaded. I was so happy. I laid on my tyvek, feeling the weight of my body released from me feet, my skin hot. I ate lunch and then dug dirt out from under my toenails. I hiked out around 2, stopping at a little stream and pouring water over my head. It was so cold. I began a long descent that left my feet angry and painful. The forest around grew huge and tall and dense, moss carpeting the entire floor, growing over rocks and downed trees. It looked like one huge blanket, like snow. It consumed everything. Giant ferns and wide green leaves grew all around. In some places leaves grew into little archways over the trail, tinting the sunlight green. I felt like I had entered another world, like I was a bug, something microscopic, crawling through some super-sized version of forests I thought I knew. At 6:45 we got to camp at the Suiattle River for another 23 mile day. It was raging and swollen and brown. The water munched down over big boulders, slapped against rocks on either bank, making it difficult to get water. I cooked dinner, burnt it, ate it anyway. I was so hungry. Today felt just as difficult as yesterday. As I washed my pot I felt the exhaustion creeping up through all of my bones and I hurried off to bed. At 5am when my alarm went off I could feel that deep tired trying to pull me back into sleep. I begrudgingly got up and moving in the warm morning. I began a monstrous climb, 4,000 some feet. The incline wasn’t terrible but my body was exhausted and painful. My feet hurt in so many different places and ways. As the day heated up I got pack rash again. The straps of my pack began to chafe my armpits. I sat down for lunch and was greeted by biting flies. I killed so many of them and they continued to appear from whatever terrible place biting flies materialize. I filtered water and kept walking, the day beginning to boil. It was so humid. Smoke hung low in the atmosphere, trapping all the heat. My hip began to hurt. I listened to music to try and power through the next few miles and started crying in the middle of the trail. A huge fly whizzed around me, hanging in front of my snotty face. I wiped the snot from my nose and then wiped my snot-covered hand on a tree. I walked and snot-rocketed and walked and snot-rocketed. Washington is hard. I forded a creek and the icy water filled my shoes, which felt great on my aching feet. I sat down on the other side of the creek and filtered water. I talked to Dustin and felt a little better. there were only three more miles to camp. A hot wind followed me the whole way. I got to camp around 6, laid out my tyvek and collapsed on it. I laid on my back feeling the pressure release from my feet. I took off my socks and scraped some of the dead skin off my feet. I filtered water and made dinner and ate snickers bars and felt the heaviness of exhaustion pooling behind my eyelids. I crawled into my tent happy that there were only ten miles left until Stehekin tomorrow. We got up at six and hiked the last ten miles to town, arriving early to the spot where the shuttle would pick us up. A girl I met my second day on trail was there. She was hiking south. It was so cool to see her, in the same way it had been cool to see Blue. A white bus pulled up to the group of hikers and a middle-aged guy wearing a ten-gallon hat and a short-sleeved button down climbed out. He stretched his legs, we got on the bus, and got out at the infamous Stehekin Bakery. I got a lemon bar, a piece of hawaiian pizza and a giant stromboli filled with ham and swiss cheese. Dustin got the same one filled with pesto, onions, mushrooms and swiss cheese. We split them and felt like we could die happy. Then we got back on the bus and got dropped off a few miles down the gravel road at the North Cascades Lodge, where there’s a campground and a store and a public shower/laundry building. I took a great shower, did my laundry, spent too much time at the post office and ate a giant burger with beer battered fries. We stayed up late talking with other hikers and then wandered back up the steep dirt road to the campsite. I awoke to a bright tent, the day becoming warm even in the constant breeze that tumbled over the little town of a Stehekin. I broke down camp and went down to the deck of the lodge. When Dustin got there some kind of debacle was going on about a bus driver not having a CDL, and no busses were running, so we walked the 1.6 miles to the bakery. We got stuck in front of the pastry case again, eyes like saucers, salivating at bacon-swiss stromboli, carrot cake muffins piled high with cream cheese frosting, chocolate zucchini cake, chai coffee cake, six different kinds of cookies, etc. I ate so much. I felt like I did in Big Bear Lake, hundreds of miles ago. I laid in the fetal position on the grass outside, again. Other hikers laughed at me, again. At least this time nobody asked to take my picture. I packed out two pieces of pizza for dinner. A bus came around 11:20 to take us to the trailhead. All of the food jostled around in my stomach. I curled up in the seat and tried to stop thinking about how sick I felt. I sat around at the trailhead for a few minutes and then decided there was no better way to cure a stomach ache than a 29 mile climb, so I started walking. A woman we met in Skykomish named Hot Thumbs has been hiking with us for a few days now. The three of us hung out at a creek and talked for a bit. I saw my first bear on the PCT today. It was a bit small. I think it was a young adult bear. I rounded a corner and it was in the trail eating berries off bushes. I startled it and it ran further down the trail. “Heeey bear,” I called, trying to make it run off the trail. It looked at me. “HEY BEAR,” I yelled. It ran off onto the hillside, ambling over bushes and taking swooping bites of berries as it passed them. It was cute. We reached our campsite around 6:30 for a 13 mile day. I ate my pizza and taught Hot Thumbs how to tie a bowline knot. The trail to the site was covered in bear scat. A ranger had warned us that this area was densely populated with bears who didn’t care about people being there and would do anything to get to their food. We hung everything we had that smelled from a tree and hoped for the best. I dreamed about bears and woke up at 6, the sleep still so close, heavy on my brain. We packed up and hiked out into the dense forest in the cold morning. After a few miles we crossed a highway that led to a trailhead parking lot and caught up with some hikers we met in town, Hats and Butter. Hot Thumbs and I walked with them into the parking lot where we were greeted with trail magic. We each had a beer and sat in the parking lot talking and procrastinating the long climb ahead of us. We let the day warm up a bit and then started the climb. It went on and on through the forest that soon opened up and had us on sandy ridge line, a row of peaks opposite us. Can something be bright dark gray? If it can, that’s what they were. Everything was so bright against the deep blue sky. Everything green was so stark against the pale pinks and browns of the rocks that lined the dusty trail. I hiked with Hats for a bit and then Butter for a while. We talked and marveled at the snow-covered mountains in the distance, the plummeting valleys below. The day was so windy, my hat blew off at one point and I had to tip toe down a steep hill of loose rock to retrieve it. I love that hat so much. After a while I crossed a tiny stream to find John, who I had hiked around for a while in the desert, sitting on the other side. It seems like every day I see someone from trail past. It’s really nice. We caught up for a bit and then I hurried off to camp. Being a Friday, all the weekenders were out and the campsites were all full of big tents and very few people taking up lots of space. All the thru hikers end up cowboy camping where they can fit, which if you think about it is a really funny scenario. Sometimes if the trail is really packed on the weekend and we can’t find a campsite, Dustin and I shake our fists and, when we’re out of earshot, yell “get off my lawn” in an old man voice. I got to camp around 7, made mashed potatoes, set up my sleeping pad on the ground and pulled my sleeping bag around me. I listened to the sound of the Methow River next to me and watched one star in the sky above become ten, twenty, thirty in a little opening in the trees. Another hiker twenty feet away began to snore loudly. I put my earplugs in and hoped no bears would bother me in the night. The first light woke me as stars began disappearing. The sky turned light blue and I ate a pop tart and drank instant coffee in my sleeping bag as everyone else in camp went about their morning chores. I started walking around 7:30. The morning was chilly again, it felt good to shift into fall, away from the heat of summer that crept in at eight in the morning and lingered all day. I stopped at a stream before a 2500 foot climb to filter water. I powered up the climb, stopping a couple of times to take in the views of giant mountains opposite me. They were all angled and brown and dark gray, snow still resting in little pockets on their faces. Once I was on the ridge, wind swept over the side of the mountain. Big white plumes of smoke from two forest fires extended from other ridges to the north and the east. I stopped to eat lunch with Dustin and Hot Thumbs at a little spring in a sunny meadow. We huddled in a patch of shade. I ate cold ramen and washed my socks in the icy water. I left a note for Hats and Butter telling them where we were camping that night. A couple of hours after lunch, Hot Thumbs and I hit trail magic: a canopy set up at Hart’s Pass campground with coolers full of fresh cut watermelon on a table. We drooled over that for a while and then kept walking, climbing and descending and climbing to camp. Nine tents were already pitched in the field, all weekenders, so we cowboy camped on a ledge above the site. The moon was bright all night. In the morning a chorus of pikas woke us to see a beautiful yellow-pink sunrise. The sun was fiery orange as it peeked above the ridge in front of us. It had gotten quite chilly at night so we got up slowly. I brewed coffee thanks to the cup and reusable filter Hats and Butter had given me. This was the best treat I’ve had in so long: to drink hot coffee in my sleeping bag on this beautiful ridge watching the sky light up the day. I felt so soothed and wonderful even though my skin was dirty and my feet were prickling from all the miles I’ve walked and I smell like an old running shoe. Dustin left camp first and Hot Thumbs and I slowly got our things together and left about a half an hour later. We climbed up and over a pass, then descended to cross Foggy Pass (it seems like all the passes in Washington are gloomy: Rainy Pass, Foggy Pass, Windy Pass, the list goes on). I filtered water from a creek, talked to a day hiking couple and their dog, and ran into hikers all day who had chosen not to go into Canada and had already been to the monument. This was weird. This is the end of the trail for so many people. As they talked to me and walked away from me I could feel their energy just colossal and booming in a way that mine couldn’t be yet. Even though I still have miles to hike after I get to the monument, it feels enormous to be able to touch one end of it tomorrow, to bring tangibility to all of these miles, to remember where I was four months ago when I touched the one at the southern terminus. All of the moments I’ve experienced between the two have already been stupendous, difficult, agonizingly beautiful, mind-numbingly fatiguing and filled with infinitely varying amounts of hope and sorrow and joy and wonder. I felt lucky that there were more ahead of me. I knew that if I had to be done today, that if I didn’t have a reason to hike more miles, to keep being on the trail, that I would be deeply sad. My immediate physical pain would be relieved if I didn’t have to continue waking up and walking so much every day, but I would spend so much less time in the sun, so many fewer moments watching the world unfurl itself before me in such a pure, silent, slow way. I would miss drinking cold mountain spring water, I would soon take for granted all the moments I spent squeezing water from one bottle to another through my filter, I would become accustomed to the luxury of turning a knob on a faucet and filling a glass of pre-treated city water. I would be forced to face the world as I’ve grown up knowing it: loud, busy, fast, demanding, stark and harsh in opposite and tragic ways from this one I’ve lived in for four months. This is what people mean when they when they say that thru hiking will break your heart and ruin your life. I have spent the last few days contemplating the progress of human kind in the context of this walk. People who walk long trails often find that it needs to become part of their life permanently. Why is this? I keep visiting this question. Weren’t the earliest humans nomadic? Is this similar to the way they lived? After walking so many miles it seems like it could be true, going where the weather is suitable, following reliable food, bearing witness to the constant pattern of nature accumulating and dying and being born again that is life. We have moved so far from this as a species that to live in this way would be defined as unsuccessful, unproductive or foolish. How could a person make a “decent living” if they spent so much time in nature? I guess that depends on how one defines living decently. Thru hiking ruins a person’s concept of leading a successful life as society defines it. It brings people back to the essence of whatever it was to be human thousands of years ago. I watched smoke plumes from a wildfire extend into a bright blue sky from behind a jagged gray ridge. This fire was caused by humans, rangers had told me a couple of days ago. The smoke was so dynamic, so many different textures, puffy and flat and dense and thin as the wind spread it across smaller peaks in the distance. Some of the smoke was bright white, other smaller plumes were an old yellow, and another was a deep gray. Hot Thumbs and I stood at the last 7000 foot peak on the PCT in Washington. This was going to be her last night on trail, her last big view. We could see the trail below us snaking down the side of the mountain. Another hiker, Chubs, pointed to some peaks in the distance and said, “That’s Canada.” We just stood there and looked. We savored that last northern Cascade peak, the wind swirling around us, our shirts flapping in the breeze. We descended to Hopkins Lake and filtered water as the sun sank behind the mountain, then hiked the last couple of miles to camp. I made pesto pasta, drank electrolyte water and ate a snickers bar. I blew up my sleeping pad on my sheet of tyvek and watched the stars come out one by one. I woke up and made coffee, the process spilling it all over my tyvek. I drank it and watched the pale sky lighten, smoke dense in the mountains north of us. We got to walking soon and descended into it. This was the first time I could really smell the smoke. In four miles I heard clapping and cheering and walked into the tiny clearing where the monument was. It was four little wooden pillars and one metal one, an American flag on one side and a Canadian flag on the other. I walked up and looked at it. “Touch it!” yelled someone behind me. My hand reached out for it and I hesitated just above one of the pillars. Here it was. One end of this thing. I put my hand gently on the pillar. I froze there for a moment, I looked at the clear-cut line of trees behind the monument, the dividing line between two nations. What a moment this was. I was still glad I wasn’t done yet, but it felt good to celebrate all the miles I had hiked anyway. I drank a beer and Dustin, Hot Thumbs and I took pictures. Then we hiked the last smoky eight miles to Manning Park, a resort where we ate giant burgers. We showered and then Dustin and I said our goodbyes to Hot Thumbs who was taking a bus to the airport to go home. Then we got our longest hitch of trail into Vancouver, about 140 miles, during which I got a smoothie and a free beer and chips and dip. We got to Vancouver at about 9pm and met up with Dustin’s friends who generously let us stay with them for a couple of nights. In a few days we’ll take a bus to Sacramento, resupply, and hike into the High Sierra from Kennedy Meadows. I can’t wait.

#pct

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inadarkdarkroom · 7 years

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My Father’s Story of the Two Times He Came Face-to-Face With a Serial Killer.

I don’t recall the precise date, but I know it was a hot Murray, Ky night in August of 1970 and I was about 14 years old. I was in the state park lodge lobby. It was a normal summer night for me after swimming and playing with some of the kids my age and being disappointed when their parents made them come to their rooms at a time that seemed early to me, around 10pm. I do recall how tourist Mom and Dads looked at me quizzically. I understand more today that I may have appeared like an orphan, homeless maybe. And I’d been swimming with their children. It was as if they wanted to ask me who my people were or where I lived. The absence of parental constraint, my ability to roam freely and I pleased, must have made them uneasy.

That particular night I was wearing an orange swimsuit, no shirt, no shoes, hair sun and chlorine bleached, thoroughly tanned, and I sat with a hotel towel around my neck. The hotel was glass all across the front. Inside, I sat on the long padded bench, leaning against the glass front within sight of the front desk

A man approached asking, “Do you live around here?” I tuned into his northern accent, the norm in the summer time around the park. My antennas heightened, for I was used to talking with strangers. Just over his shoulder I noticed the desk clerk glance our way. Me talking to a stranger was nothing unusual, but Ella, the clerk was new, and she didn’t know me. I’d noticed her nametag earlier. I wondered how the guy picked me off as a local. Maybe he’d heard my western Kentucky accent, no shoes perhaps, or did he see my bike parked behind the hedge out front. Sometimes the kids from the north would refer to us as briars around here.

“Yes sir”, I said.

“What’s there to do around here?” he asked.

“Do you like to fish?” I replied.

Now he took a step closer. He was five to six feet from me. Dressed all in black and brown, heavy set, his hair combed back, he was strong looking man with a mustache, just under six feet tall by my estimate. His clothes made him look out of place for a resort: dark slacks, black shirt, and brown long sleeved sweater.

“What’s there to do around here?” He repeated.

“Do you like boating, sailing?” He shook his head and said, “Nah.” Once again, the same question,

“What’s there to do around here?”

Now he was beginning to annoy me, and I’m pretty patient with my peers and adults.

I said, “Are you looking for liquor or women?” It’s 35 miles to Paducah by car for liquor, 20 by water to Tennessee, and that’s beer only. If you are looking for women, I would try a lady named Smoky at the Marina Grill.”

Smoky was overly friendly. When I would go in for a coke after watching and sometimes helping the fishing guides clean fish, I would walk around the grill counter to sink and wash my hands. Smoky would grab a towel and dry my hands off like I was a little kid. And if I saw her three times a day, she would hug me tight against her very ample and very real boobs every time. Plus I’d heard comments from the guides, the marina staff and local men regarding Smoky and her ways with men. She lived alone at the trailer park at the end of the Ledbetter Bay. Reportedly, she worked as a cocktail waitress at all the joints between Fort Campbell and Hopkinsville, Kentucky. With her skirts shorter than norm, more perfume than the norm, and eyes shadowed in blue, Smoky called all men “feller”.

“This is a resort, sir,” I said, “Are you here by yourself?”

“I’m visiting someone from Chicago who has a cabin at Jonathon Creek. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said. Jonathon Creek was four miles away by boat or car. I had fished there with some of the guides from the marina, they were gassed and baited but their party had cancelled at the last minute. The guide would go ahead and fish for a couple of hours to fill his freezer with fresh filet of crappie. I enjoyed all the guides, especially the older fellow named Mr. Baker. So I take the towel from around my neck and start to get up, and the stranger says, “You like beer?”

I said, “Yes,” not having tasted much more than my Dad’s beer, or when a couple of friends and I camped at the tree house and would split a beer two or three ways. I didn’t want to appear not man enough for a beer, but I hardly liked the taste. He said, “Come on down to my room.”

All rooms at the lodge have inside entrances. As you approach the front desk, the rooms are at a ninety degree angle left and right. The floor turned from tile to carpet as we approached the hallway. Before we entered a set of double doors, we passed the men’s restroom, across from a linen room, the one I had memorized the lock’s combination, and the staff was okay with me having it. We went through the heavy double doors, the kind with a commercial door closer so that they close gently. The carpet was sky blue, and the hall’s indirect lighting shone up toward the ceiling, making the hall dim. His was the fifth or sixth room on the left. He turned the key, a real key before hotels changed to the plastic credit card type. The lock made that metal to metal sound as the door swung back to our left. He motioned with his hand for me to enter first, so I took a couple of steps inside, just enough for him to close the door and walk past me. The door closed, and I noticed the lights had been left on as if he’d planned on not being gone long. As I stood there, he passed by and his hand grazed my butt, almost like a caress. It was weird. My inner voice told me it was an accident, because he seemed unaware of it having happened. A typical hotel bathroom was on the right, and further into the room were two beds spaced about four feet apart. Two chairs on the left were separated by a chest of drawers. Atop the chest sat a TV. On the far wall was a large plate glass window with two smaller side windows that opened. I sat in the first chair on the left, as he reached into a medium sized red and white cooler and sat between the first bed and the bathroom wall.

“It’s cold.” He said as he handed me a Wiedmann beer in a red, white, and black can. He’d fail to mention the bathtub was loaded with beer too. I opened the can, leaned back, and he proceeded to shut the small window on the left and close the curtains. When he turned to walk back from the window toward the bathroom, he said, “Do you like sex books?”

Again, not to appear so kid-like, I said I did. The only books of that type I’d seen were when my good friend Dwayne “Cowboy” Martis stole them from his older brother Gary. Cowboy would be bring them to school and we would get our eyes full on the bus ride or at recess.

He reached under the bed, pulled out a suitcase, and opened it on the bed right next to the cooler. Inside were lots magazines. I leaned forward to study the pile, and before I could select one, he handed me a stack of four or five. I sat back down and started to flip through the pages, and in no time I realized it was all boys. I also realized he was getting nervous. He was in and out of the bathroom and his face was getting really red. He was holding a towel, and the best I could tell, he had wet it repeatedly and wrung it out over and over. As I was turning the pages, he locked the door. I tried not to act concerned, but now my mind was racing and I was saying to myself, “Oh no, this is not good. I’ve screwed up. I’m in a mess here.“

A year before, Roger Parish and I decided to swim the lake at a point where it was almost a mile wide, but we had miscalculated, underestimating the distance. We got almost to the halfway point and Roger said, “I can’t go on!” I was getting tired too, and I told him we had to float on our backs and rest. Panic was setting in, and for a moment I thought we both would drown. I began looking for a buoy, a channel marker; anything floating we could make it to. We both were good swimmers but we were too exhausted to turn back and too tired to keep going. After a few minutes we heard a boat and waved it over. As luck would have it, it was water patrol. We were saved, but we got a good scolding from Mr. Harris, the officer, and from our parents.

Now I had the same feeling. I had calculated this situation wrong, really wrong. He kept pacing. He was anxious big time, and he was talking now, but I was in state where I only heard a few words from each sentence. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, and then he locked the chain lock. I will never forget the sound the lock made or the look on his face when he turned around and stared at me. I knew right then and there he was not going to let me out of the room. I reached to the floor where I had set my beer, picked it up, and I realized I could not defend myself against the agitated powerfully built man from Chicago. He paced back and forth from the bathroom to the window, peering at me from the corner of his eye. With each pass his expression changed. More determined. More serious. Finally, he stopped and said, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “There are only boys in here. These are all boys.”

He walked back to the bathroom; water goes on in the sink. Is running and running. He came back in and said, “I have something else you might like.”

“What?” I asked.

He reached under the other bed, the one by the window and pulled out another suitcase. Putting it on the bed, he opened it and inside were handcuffs, shackles, and chains. “Do you have any snacks, chips, or anything?” I asked.

He started toward the bathroom, and again the water went on again in the sink. He was washing his hands or face again, or both, wringing the towel again. Is that a weapon, I wondered. His face is extremely red now. I picked up the cooler and quickly moved it to the wall beneath the plate glass window, right beside the controls for the heat and air conditioning unit. I set it back down. Putting my half full beer by my left foot, I kicked it over as if by accident when he turned the corner from the bathroom. He noticed, and I said, “Can I have another beer?” He looked confused as he looked for the cooler. Seeming dazed, he spotted it by the window, walked over toward it passing me. As he bent over, his back to me, I ran straight for the door. First the chain lock, then the deadbolt. Everything was going in slow motion, and I was saying to myself, “You gotta get out of here! Faster! Faster!” I heard him coming after me. I got the door opened, and the dim light of the hall appeared. I bounced outward sideways. He was right on my tail.

I skipped backward down the hall toward the lobby, never taking my eyes from him. He lunged at me but I was just out of reach. I turned around and took sprinted down the hallway. The lights were getting brighter. I’d made it to the lobby. Ella was on the phone, not taking notice of me, but I felt safe. I exited through the solid glass double front doors. My bike was stowed behind the hedges on his side of the hotel. His was the fifth or sixth room, and my bike sat outside the window of the third room. Wishing I’d parked behind the hedges on the other side, I grabbed my bike and pedaled as fast as I could from the parking lot, passing the roads to the cottages, turning in at the golf course road, heading down the fairway on hole one, and crossing the fifth hole fairway, climbing an embankment, and crossing Highway 94 to our long driveway. I got halfway up the driveway, and I heard Von, our German shepherd bark. I called his name, his bark turning to eager to see me sounds. The curtain moved and I heard Mom’s voice, “Where have you been?! I was getting ready to come look for you.”

“Mom, you’re not going to believe what happened,” I said, telling her the entire story. I saw her getting nervous. “Don’t ever do that again”, she said in a fairly calming voice. We talked a while longer, and I went to my room. She stopped in to see me again before she went to bed. “Now. Never ever do that again!” She said not as calmly as the first time. She told me she loved me and didn’t want anything to happen to me. “We’ll talk to your Dad in the morning.” We both knew it would be late when he got home.

Flash forward to 1974. I’m a full time summer employee at the Marina, having graduated from cleaning fish for guides. But at a dime each, cleaning sometimes 250 a day, I missed it a bit. That was good money. It was far better than a paper route. I did a bit of everything, from renting houseboats to processing slip rental fees. I managed to spin off other side jobs that paid more than my regular duties and was more fun too. I gave water ski lessons, sailing lessons, and performed underwater salvage. Mostly folks would lose keys or glasses, but I was called upon to find two bodies. One drowned, the other was a heart attack victim who fell from his houseboat while it was still in the slip. I remember how eerie they felt as I brought them to the surface.

I was bigger, stronger, and certainly more confident. I had posters advertising my side business at the marinas up and down the lake. Having been a state champ pole vaulter three of the four years in high school, I had solid upper body strength and I was toned from daily water skiing. I picked the early shift, 5am to 1pm so I could fit in more lessons from 1pm to dark.

I was just about to get off from my regular duty, and as I walked to the front of the marina to check the wind in Ledbetter and Cool Creek, I turned the corner and bumped into a guy. My first reaction was, “A little heavy on the aftershave, buddy,” to myself, then I turned and got a good look at him. I said without thinking, “You remember me?”

He said, “No.”

“Yes, you do,” I said with total confidence, and “I’m not 14 anymore.” By this point in my life, I’d been in a few scrapes mostly from hanging around my wild Uncle Billy Don, my Mom’s youngest brother. He was six years older than me, and was a notorious bar room brawler from Paducah. I was in a ready stance, chest to chest, eye to eye, and then my boss came around the corner. He could tell something was wrong. Mr. Willham and I walked around the other side of the marina and he asked what that was about. I told him it was nothing and then went off to go skiing.

Fast forward to December 23, 1978, Nashville, Tennessee, The River Gate Mall. I was shopping for a Christmas gift for my parents. I’d spent the night there with a friend, and we’d closed down most of the bars in Printers Alley, so I was ready to get my gifts wrapped and get on the road for the 90 min drive home. I sat there while a lady wrapped the gifts, as my eyes drifted to the newspaper stand. Several papers in a row, Nashville papers, and before I could read the headline, I saw the man’s face. Instant cold chills this time. I moved closer to be sure, printed in big bold letters read John Wayne Gacy.

I don’t know why, but this scares me more now, than it ever has before. I’m not sure why either. I guess, its because as I get older I find myself reflecting a lot more. Life moves quickly. Its very fleeting. I’ve done a lot and accomplished a lot and I have a family now. I think about how fragile life is and how one stupid mistake could have cost me everything. I think about this moment all the time. Sometimes it makes angry and other times embarrassed. I picture this big man reaching his hand out the door trying to grab me, to snatch me up and take my life, and every time I think of this story it scares the hell out of me.

#scary story #serial killer #serial killers #true scary story #true scary stories #creepy #horror #gacy #john wayne gacy

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waywardluminarychaos · 5 years

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We had planned to go to Central Asia after India, but since it’s cold and wintry there in February, we spotted a cruise that was visiting four Indian Ocean islands. After considering the prices for lodging, meals, and airfare to such remote places, the cruise turned out to be a good deal- being flexible with our dates, we were able to get a heavily discounted fare for a sailing that was coming up. We signed up- and got a free $50 onboard credit from Expedia!

Mauritius

Leaving the Maldives, we transited through Dubai and arrived in Mauritius a few days before the cruise. The small island has a fascinating history: known to Arab traders and the Portuguese but settled by neither, it was the Dutch in 1598 that populated the island for a hundred years- and completely wiped out the Dodo bird and the black ebony trees. In 1712 came the French, who valiantly fought the British during the Napoleonic Wars- the 1810 battle of Grand Port in Mauritius was the only naval battle the French won. But… four months later the Brits returned and prevailed, taking possession of the island. After the British abolished slavery, they produced sugar cane with the labor of half a million indentured laborers from India in what was called “The Grand Experiment”. Finally, in 1968, Mauritius gained its independence.

The sugar cane fields seem to go on forever here

We stayed three nights in the small village of La Gaulette on the southwest side of the island, in a fabulous roomy studio apartment (a place I really loved). We swam at La Morne beach, saw the UNESCO memorial commemorating the end of the slave trade, and teamed up with our hotel neighbors to drive to waterfalls and a nature reserve in the interior of this picturesque volcanic island. Then we moved north for two days, staying in Grand Baie, where we went scuba diving (and saw a very cool scorpionfish trying to camouflage himself next to a sunken wreck we were exploring). A barrier reef encircles the entire island of Mauritius and makes for some of the best diving in the world. That night we had a delicious Creole seafood dinner. The next morning we boarded our Costa cruise at Port Louis.

Chamarel Falls

Seven Colored Earth Nature Reserve

Exploring with our neighbors

Seychelles

After two northbound days at sea, our first port of call was Victoria, Seychelles. The Seychelles are a collection of 115 islands, most of which are uninhabited. We felt like the tour excursions were rather pricey, so we set off on our own. We took a public bus up and over the granite spine of the island, and arrived at a postcard-perfect beach. On the other side of the street: a small shop, where we purchased cold Seybrew beers and Slow Turtle Ciders, which we enjoyed while sunbathing. The water was warm, the beach was clean, and the waves were perfect for body surfing. The next day we took another bus to Beau Vallon beach on the other side of the island, and enjoyed that one too. Some fellow cruisers we met the second day told us “This beach is just like the excursion we took yesterday except it didn’t cost €140!”.

Our view of one of the Seychelles Islands

A bus ride, a beach, and a beer is more our style

Madagascar

After two and a half days in the Seychelles, we sailed southwest for one day and arrived at Nosy Be, Madagascar (“Nosy” means island, and “Be” means bay in Malagasy). Originally settled by explorers from Indonesian Borneo, Madagascar has a little different feel to it than the rest of the Indian Ocean islands- part Indonesian, part Indian, and part African, along with some remnants from European exploration as well. On Nosy Be, Chris and I took a tuk-tuk to a lemur sanctuary, where we were able to check out 15 of Madagascar’s 71 lemur species. In a “semi-free” environment, the primates live on their own little islands- they don’t like to cross water- not in cages, but fairly domesticated by this point, cared for and fed by tourists and park staff.

On our second day in Madagascar, our boat docked in a different city- Antsiranana, previously known as Diego Suarez. After a stroll around the small city (it was a quiet Sunday, so not much going on), we found a bar with cold Three Horses Beer and not-so-blazing-fast WiFi, and caught up on some communications.

Chris in Madagascar

We had another day at sea while we sailed up and around Madagascar- did I mention that our time onboard our cruise is mainly spent trying out the culinary creations of the 106 cooks, served by the 145-person restaurant(s) staff? Of course we also make time each day for the four hot tubs, two pools, theater, five clubs, two coffee bars, and the gym. Plus lying on the loungers up on the solarium deck at night watching the Southern Cross rise in the jet black sky- so clear you can see the Milky Way. It’s just beautiful.

A fisherman approaches our cruise ship

Anyway. On our third Madagascar day, we docked at Tamatave (also called Toamasina), where we decided to visit another lemur park, because they are just so danged cute. I didn’t like this one as much, because they kept some in cages- as they are getting acclimatized to the park- but the park does stretch for acres and acres where other semi-wild lemurs roam free (we spotted two in the trees). As most of the wild lemur species are endangered, I guess this is better than losing them all.

I love those sweet lemur faces!

Reunion

After another day at sea, we arrived at the last of our stops in the Mascarene archipelago , the island of Reunion. Originally known as Isle de Bourbon, it’s now a French overseas department. The island is dominated by a volcanic caldera, and surrounded by both black sand and white sand beaches. Roaming around the small town of Le Port on our first day there, it seemed so European after our other stops. We found a bar and settled in for some cold beverages and people-watching. The next day, we took a bus to the beach town of St-Gilles-des-Bains, and played in the ocean for a while. Standing at the back of the boat that night, we watched the glittering lights of Reunion fade away as we headed back to Mauritius.

The dodo might be extinct, but you can still find a cold one at this bar

We arrived in Mauritius and docked, and spent the day in Port Louis, visiting some historic buildings there including the Caudan Waterfront and the Aapravasi Ghat, a UNESCO World Heritage Museum that tells the story of the 462,000 indentured servants brought from India, China, Comoros, Madagascar, and Yemen to work in sugar cane plantations. Most modern-day Mauritians are descended from these laborers, so it’s a big part of their history. It’s a good museum to visit and includes parts of the original processing buildings for the immigrants.

Aapravasi Ghats Heritage Museum, Port Louis

After one last night on the boat, we were done with our cruise. We left Port Louis, and stayed at a BandB on the southeast end of Mauritius for two more nights. Tomorrow we fly from here to South Africa, to visit some friends in Durban.

Have you been to the Indian Ocean islands? What was your favorite?

Cruising the Indian Ocean: Mauritius, Seychelles, Madagascar, and Reunion We had planned to go to Central Asia after India, but since it's cold and wintry there in February, we spotted a cruise that was visiting four Indian Ocean islands.

#costa cruise #Diego Suarez #French overseas department #lemurs #Madagascar #Mauritius #Port Louis #Port Victoria #Reunion #Seychelles #Toamasina #Tomatave #travel #travel blog #travel journal

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thorsenmark · 12 hours

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There's Nothing Wrong with Downloading a Map As Long as It Takes You Outside (Denali National Park & Preserve) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While on a bus ride from the North Face Lodge along the main park road in Denali National Park & Preserve. This was a view looking to the southwest not too far from the Polychrome Overlook.

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africacalling · 7 years

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From Swaziland to Mozambique

We have travelled quite some distance since I last wrote. We left the beautiful Lesotho due to heavy rain making it impossible to get to the places we wanted to see. We decided to enter back into South Africa, have a one night pit stop in Clarens, a beautiful little town (even had a room for the night for £20 to get things dry). Then we began the 8 hour trip to get back on to the South African coast. Illovo was our first stop, we stayed for one night in a little camp site and then moved down the coast a couple of km to Kerradine where we camped for 3 nights at the Petora Hotel, we were able to use all the facilities and the beach was right on our door step. Each day the monkeys would come and put on a show using the trees and shrubs as a gymnasium to swing from and chase each other. We met a nice couple, Mike and Denise who gave us some tips for the trip ahead and warned us of the cyclone due to hit Mozambique.

From here we headed north of Durban to Ballito, we camped at the Dolphin Resort making this home for a week. A sea town with a bit of hustle and bustle, a few bars and restaurants and most importantly, somewhere for Chris to watch the rugby. We met a lovely Dutch family Jiske and Jurrianne travelling with their 2 children Hugo and Sophie age 3 (very adorable may I add). The day they arrived we experienced one of the maddest thunder storms I had ever been in. The lightning lit up the sky in shades of purple and pink while the thunder roared and crashed above us. For shelter we had the awning from their motor home and decided we would drink wine and flying fish to get us through. A few hours and many laughs later, the storm passed and we were able to safely retreat back into our tent. The heavy rain continued for a few more days and so we stayed stationary. We were in the tail end of cyclone Dineo which hit Tofo region in Mozambique pretty bad. Soon enough we would see the destruction that it caused.

We travelled with the Jiske and Jurianne for another 5 days heading north to St Lucia and Hluhluwe before travelling into Swaziland. We were able to do a really great self drive in the iSimangaliso wetland park. We saw lots of Giraffe, elephants, buffalo, antelope and zebra. On our way back to Sugar loaf camp in st Lucia we crossed over the river and to our amazement were able to catch hippos having their daily swim down the river. Thankfully we were viewing them from the safety of the bridge and not ground level. Hippos are one of the most underestimated animals of all time. They are notoriously quick on their feet and know to attack humans frequently.

After iSimangaliso we headed to Hluhluwe where we camped at the Bushbaby Lodge. We relaxed in the pool and then the following morning made an early start to the game reserve. Once again we were able to get up close to elephants, giraffe, zebra, wilder beast, buffalo, many antelope and we must not forget the rhinos. I was amazed by the sheer size of them, some of them weighing up to 3 tons! Another successful day at a game reserve and we decided we would make the border run to Swaziland. I don’t think we had really accounted for how long it would take to get there... Finally at 10pm we found our destination, Milwane Nature reserve.

Waking in the morning we were able to take in the beauty of Milwane. Zebra, Warthog and Duiker roamed free. The trees surrounding us were tall reaching up into the sky, offering plenty of shade to get respite from the sun. We went on a hike around the reserve in the hope to spot crocodile in the lake. It wasn’t until we were leaving that we were able to see a crocodile off for his morning swim.

Heading north we made our way to Maguga dam, one of the largest in Swaziland the infrastructure was quite impressive, despite the rain the dam was still only at 20%. We camped for our last night with the Dutch at the Maguga lodge. The whole area to our selves overlooking the dam was a perfect setting. We held a little party for Chris’ pre birthday night, even had a cake and balloons courtesy of Jiske. The only thing that was quite was concerning was the sign stating to be aware of the hippos and crocodiles!! Needless to say I was hyper sensitive to all the sounds around me that night.

The day of Chris’ birthday we went white water rafting in the Great Usutu River. There had been a lot of heavy rainfall and so the river was full. The safety speech at the beginning was enough to make me want to turn back and get on the bus, but it was Chris’ birthday and so I thought I should really face my fears and give it a go. The first couple of hours were really fun; we rafted down a working wear and got into sync with our paddling. I don’t think any amount of paddling would have prepared us for the rapids that would face us in the afternoon. The guides had decided to not show us the rapid before we went down in the fear that I would say I didn’t want to do it. We tipped over the edge and were faced with waves of water crashing into us. Two brits on an inflatable croc... this wasn’t going to end well. We negotiated the second wave and it sent us sideways, crashing into a large rock that we got stuck on. The force of the water sent us flying out of the croc, trying to get orientated I surface from the water and shout for Chris to help me. The guides are laughing finding it all very amusing, they drag me back to the river bank where I am able to get my breath. Chris had managed to swim himself in and decided he needed another go down the rapids. This time he went with a guide and again they get over the first wave and then the boat gets tipped vertically and out they come, floating down the river. Thank goodness for helmets and a life jacket is all I can say. I am thinking that has to be the worst one, but then later that afternoon we had to take climb with our croc over rocks to bypass a raging waterfall, the rain is coming down and the rocks are slippery. The guides make it look so easy, jumping across the rocks with our croc on his head as if we goat clinging to the mountain. Myself and Chris however, are sliding all over the place. The final large rapid of the day and there is a torrent of water raging down there. Keep straight, come on keep straight we can do this, and then we hit another rock, and get spun sideways. I luckily manage to stay in the boat but Chris comes flying out again. He resurfaces and to make matters worse I go over his head with the croc. Get me off this croc, I have decided that grade IV water rafting is not for me and I will leave it for the adrenaline hunters. Needless to say that night we treated ourselves to a room in the hostel to recover from the day.

The next day a much more relaxing day, we went to Hilwane Royal National Park, we stayed in a beautiful traditional rondavelle. We booked onto the sunset safari ride and at 4pm off we went. Within 10 mins we come across 6 rhinos grazing, we are able to get so close, all I can think is please don’t charge. Their giant horns protruding into the sky, they really are beautiful. We travel around the park for another hour and just as we are about to go back we get to see what everyone has been waiting for...lions, not just one but three. They are napping and hiding in the tall grass so we are able to just see them but still we have seen lions.

For now it’s goodbye to Swaziland and onwards to our adventure in Mozambique. We are prepared for the border we have everything that we could possibly need, they are particularly fussy at the border and on the roads so you need to have all your paperwork in order and the car in good condition. We cross with no problems, a few runners trying to earn some money but we head straight to immigration and get through within thirty mins. Our first night to break it up we stay on Macanetta Island at Tan ‘n’ Biki, then onwards to Priar do Bilene. Palmerio Complexo would be our home for 3 nights. It was a great place to get into the swing of Mozambique life and also bulk buy the famous tipo tinto rum (6 bottles for £14). We experienced quite heavy rain while we were there; thankfully we had the gazebo for cover.

Next stop Chidengule, 160km up the road. There is only one main road heading to the north of Mozambique and so as long as you keep the ocean to your right, you can’t go wrong. Again we have some more rain in Chidengule so we only camp for two nights at the sunset lodge. Onwards and upwards to Tofo, which is where I am now. As I sit and write this I am sat looking at the turquoise ocean, golden sands and blue skies. The rain has ended.

We have been in Tofo for 13 days all ready, the break here is just what we need to refuel the batteries. Camping is so cheap, £3.50 a night so we can’t go wrong. Tofo is only just recovering from the cyclone that hit. As you drive around you still see so much damage, houses that have had the roofs blown off, straw houses that have been flattened. Giant trees that have fallen from the extreme wind and rubbish is everywhere. People are still working so hard to get things back in shape. Tofo is paradise and brings a lot of tourism to Mozambique so people need to work quickly. Thankfully the locals aren’t forgotten, there has been a lot of community projects and fundraising to help people rebuild their homes and lives. We donated a load of vegetables and rice to a school to help feed 800 children. About one week into our stay we are warned that more heavy rain and strong winds are coming. We take down the gazebo and prepare for the 50kmph winds. The sea becomes wild and waves double in size. All of the rubbish the initial cyclone took into the ocean gets spat back out on to the shore; the once beautiful beach is covered in plastic and debris. Operation clear up begins, Chris and me decide that we will get the rakes from the caretaker and clear the beach, slowly more people join and before we know we have a team and within two to three hours the beach is looking much more appealing. Less plastic in the sea = happy fish.

In a couple of days we are heading to Vilankulos where we will explore the Bazarutu Island. I won’t wait so long to write next time. To be continued....

Love Marie and Chris

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jakehallen-blog · 7 years

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Spring Break: UK + Ireland

Just when I thought I could sit down and relax, I was wrong! What a week it has been! You’re probably thinking, well it’s about time that we get to read another blog post. I know, I know, it has been ages! As the saying goes, good things take time. This applies to my absence from posting within the past couple of weeks. So let’s get right to it! As my fellow peers and friends jetted off to warm places such as Italy, Greece, and Spain, I, along with my good friend Bridget, decided to be different and I’m so glad we did. Bridget and I met each other during our freshman year of college at Fisher. We were ecstatic when we both found out that we were accepted into the AIFS Study Abroad program back in September. Fast forward to now, and we have awesome memories to share with you all regarding our week-long Spring Break trip to Scotland, Northern Ireland, Ireland, and Wales. So we embarked on our 9-day journey by taking a 6-hour train ride from London to Edinburgh, Scotland. As I looked out the window when we arrived in Scotland, all I could see were hoards of sheep, and I mean a lot of sheep. Along with livestock were luscious green landscapes and seeing that reminded me of home, in other words, a nice change of scenery from the London cityscape. We arrived in Edinburgh around 7PM and stayed two nights at a church, which had been converted into a hostel. A hostel is a location, which provides inexpensive food and lodging typically for students or travelers who are trying to budget their money. To some this may not seem very appealing, it wasn’t to me at first but I eventually warmed up to it. While the sleeping arrangements typically had 4, 6, or 12 roommates, it was an awesome way to meet new people and learn about different cultures and experiences that others were able to share. At the Edinburgh hostel, Bridget and I met three high school students from Northern Scotland. They were very kind and gave us suggestions on sites to see. They shared their insight on Scottish culture, more specifically the education system. This conversation occurred mainly because they were high school students and wanted to know about our studies. So the next day we got up early and set out to explore the city. At our first stop, we visited the Elephant House Café which was where the famous Author of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, sat and found inspiration for the Harry Potter book series while she sipped on coffee and tea and stared out the back window, which faced the Edinburgh Castle.

Pictured at top: Me atop of Arthur’s Seat

Pictured: The Elephant House Café

Next, we visited a nearby cemetery of famous philosophers, writers, and poets who were born or resided in Edinburgh. The cemetery also inspired J.K. Rowling so much that she named some characters in the books after names on tombstones within the cemetery. As we walked down the Royal Mile, the main road of the city, we walked by a scarf shop where I decided to go in and buy a lambswool scarf to keep me warm for the rest of the trip. Every place I go I buy at least one souvenir specifically tailored to each city. One of Edinburgh’s major exports is lambswool and I’ve always wanted a nice scarf so I thought, why not. Next, we headed to climb Arthur’s Seat, the main mountain in Edinburgh, which was at one time a volcano and gets its name from King Arthur. The views of the city from the top were absolutely breathtaking and worth the exhaustion from the climb. Remember the scarf I bought prior, yeah, that beautiful accessory came off pretty quickly as I climbed the mountain nearly about to sweat to death and pass out. If anyone knows me well enough, they know that I tend to avoid lots of physical activity.

Pictured: View from Arthur’s Seat

Pictured: Bridget and me atop of Arthur’s Seat

We definitely got our steps in for that day and even trekked over to the castle to get an up-close view. An interesting fact about the castle is that a royal castle has been at that same location since the 12th century and archeologists have concluded that human occupancy of the location dates back to 2nd century AD. Needless to say, it is definitely an amazing place to visit for sure and I highly recommend it.

Pictured: Edinburgh Castle

Pictured: Scottish Bagpiper

Pictured: Edinburgh’s most expensive apartment building (my favorite in terms of architecture-I have expensive taste)

The next day we departed Edinburgh and traveled by plane to Belfast, Northern Ireland. We arrived in the evening and ventured out into the city to the main area where shops, pubs, and restaurants were located. We grabbed dinner and strolled the streets looking at the art sculptures.

Pictured: The Spirit of Belfast

We spent one night in Belfast at a hostel, which appeared to be an old college dorm building. Bridget and I came to such a conclusion due to the fact that one of Belfast’s largest University’s was directly behind the building we were staying in. Luckily, the room we stayed in only had two extra people. Our roommates for the night were two young men, one from France and the other from Switzerland. We talked with them for a while and actually learned that the French guy had recently moved to London and in fact lives only two tube stops away from us. As for the Swiss guy, we learned that he lived in a small village where most of the people who reside there only speak Swiss-German. At that point in the trip, I began to realize that staying in hostels is actually quite interesting. The next day we caught a bus to the picturesque Belfast Castle, located just North of the city. The original Belfast Castle was actually built in the center of the city but unfortunately burned down in 1708 and was later rebuilt in 1811 at its present location and was designed by a Scottish man.

Pictured: Belfast Castle

Pictured: Me in front of Belfast Castle sporting my new scarf

Later that day we journeyed down to the bay area and visited the Titanic Museum. The exhibit was incredible. I learned that at the time, Belfast was home to the largest port and ship export in the UK and most of Europe. During the Great Famine of Ireland, many people flocked to Belfast in search of work, ultimately building the Titanic quickly because of the influx of migrant workers.

Pictured: Titanic Museum (Titanic Belfast)

Pictured: Sign outside the Museum

After visiting the museum we headed to the train station where we boarded our train heading towards Dublin, Ireland. We arrived in Dublin around dinner time needed to switch trains in order to head to Galway, Ireland for a couple of days. Now remember, I usually do not like too much physical activity but somehow Bridget convinced me to walk 45 minutes from one train station to the other. Mind you, I had a 50lb duffle bag on my shoulder and it began to downpour halfway through the walk. It was then that I regretted not hopping in a cab to take me to the other side of town to catch the train. When we got to the train station I found a minute to breathe and also discovered a “Supermacs” which is the Irish version of McDonald’s. I thought to myself, ya know, I deserve to be rewarded with a crispy chicken sandwich, large fry, and a tasty coke. Even though I am abroad and have grown as a person, I haven’t changed at all! So we arrived in Galway in the later evening and headed directly for the hostel. We checked in and whipped open the door of our room and as if the night couldn’t get more stressful, we discovered that we would have to room the next two nights with an entire men’s rugby team. Oh my heavens did that room ever smell. On the bright side, we signed up for a tour the next day and had to get up early for to catch the bus. So at least we only were in the room to sleep and get ready in the morning. The next day we set out for the Cliffs of Moher. The tour lasted all day and our tour guide as amazing. A very intelligent older man who has been a tour guide for over 30 years taught us everything from the history of castles to the significance behind the concept of roof thatching on homes all across Ireland. We visited the first castle in Ireland but unfortunately weren’t able to go inside it because it was closed. Nevertheless, it was absolutely stunning.

Pictured: Dunguaire Castle

Pictured: Home with a thatched roof

We arrived at the Cliffs of Moher in the afternoon and had a couple of hours to walk around the cliffs. I, of course, needed a full-blown photo shoot and forced Bridget to take lots of photos of me on my camera. I got very close to the edge and even sat on it. I’m still here and alive so that’s a great sign.

Pictured: Cliffs of Moher

Pictured: Me atop of the Cliffs of Moher

Pictured: Galway Bay

While walking along the cliffs we talked with a guy by the name of Adam who was also on vacation and on the tour as well. We introduced ourselves and talked quite a bit throughout the remainder of the trip. We learned that he was in his mid-twenties, originally from Florida, and had recently moved to Germany to work as a mechanic for the U.S. Air Force. When we arrived back in Galway that evening we exchanged social media profiles. Later that night he messaged us and invited us to meet up with him for dinner, we thought why not. So we went and had a great time. We went to a local pub and I even tried Guinness for the first time. It was really good. I also had fish n chips for dinner. When we were finished Adam was so generous that he offered to pay and we politely tried to tell him that it wasn’t necessary but he insisted. It’s truly a great feeling to realize that there are still very kind people out there these days. The next day we departed from Galway by train back to Dublin to spend the next two nights in another hostel. While in Dublin we visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin Castle, Trinity College, and even had dinner at the Celt Bar where there was live music. We also visited the Kilmainham Gaol, which was a prison that held leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising and also was the location of their executions. On a lighter note, during our last night in Dublin, Adam messaged us on Facebook and told us that he had just arrived in Dublin and had extra tickets to the Country to Country Music Festival which was going on that night. He offered them to us and didn’t expect us to pay him back. Once again he insisted we join him, so we did. It was an amazing time. The major performers of the night were the Zac Brown Band. If you ever get the chance to see them, I highly recommend, they were very good live. While at the concert we introduced ourselves to the group of people who stood next do us during the concert. We learned that the couple were originally from Sydney, Australia and had moved to London for work. The other two people in the group were from Germany and were clearly major fans of not only country music but also the band performing. We danced with them, jammed out all night, and had an awesome time.

Pictured: Dublin Castle

Pictured: Trinity College

Pictured: Me in the Irish Modern Art Museum Gardens

Pictured: Kilmainham Gaol

Pictured: St. Patrick’s Cathedral

Pictured: The three of us at the concert

Pictured: Performers at the Celt Bar

The next day we left Dublin and traveled by plane to Cardiff, Wales for our last stop on our trip. When we arrived I instantly got a feeling that I would adore the city. A small seaside city, Cardiff gained its wealth due to the major amounts of coal that were mined and exported there. The hostel we stayed at for the night was so charming that I also highly recommend staying there. Originally built as an office building the inside of the building has original staircases, dark wood molding, and eye-catching wallpaper. The entire place was decorated with antiques, so basically very similar to my taste in decorating. It clearly makes sense as to why I loved it so much. So the next day, Bridget and I decided to part ways because she wanted to visit the Doctor Who Museum and I wanted to visit Cardiff Castle and knew we wouldn’t be able to fit in both since our train left that night. I visited the castle and toured the inside of the Keep, or the tower on the hill which over looks the castle. Luckily, I was able to visit the inside of the castle, which was so incredible. The photos fail to give it justice but I absolutely loved it.

Pictured: The Keep

Pictured: Cardiff Castle

Pictured: The inside of the castle

In the afternoon, Bridget and I met up at Cardiff Bay and spend the afternoon there and grabbed some great food and took in the beauty of the parks and water. We also went inside of the Pierhead building, often referred to as the “Big Ben of Cardiff,” naturally, I adored it.

Pictured: Cardiff Bay

Pictured: Pierhead Building

Pictured: Me in front of the Pierhead Building

Reflecting on my Spring break adventure, I realize that I am beyond blessed and am so thankful to have such amazing opportunities to see this beautiful world and discover all that it has to offer. During my trip I often found myself thinking long and hard about all the things that make me happy and it is my hope that I can in return give back by making others happy in everything that I do. I enjoy sharing my adventures with everyone and truly appreciate the support and kindness that I have received throughout my life. I’ll keep on continuing to smile and I hope you do as well. Keep following along. Itchy Feet is on the move!! Much love. XX

#studyabroad #aifsabroad #springbreak #uk #ireland

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j-and-b-walkabout-blog · 7 years

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WEEK EIGHTEEN (Mar 2 - Mar 8)

QUEENSTOWN, NZ // FIORDLAND, NZ

In preparation for our New Zealand trip, we spent Thursday afternoon packing our bags for the flight to Queenstown the next morning. We had plans later that evening to meet up with Andy and Elisa at "Rainbow Hotel" to celebrate Andy's birthday on the back patio with food and drinks. Located in a Fitzroy alleyway for over 140 years, "Rainbow Hotel" is one of Melbourne's oldest pubs and was established in the years following the Victorian Gold Rush. After a few hours had gone by, we went back home to catch some Zzz's since we had to be up early to catch our flight.

The three hour flight into Queenstown took us over striking mountain landscapes, vibrant aqua blue rivers, and shimmering lakes during our descent. After making it through customs, we picked up our compact rental car and then drove the fifteen minutes to our AirBnb in Shotover Country. Situated on a hillside, our windows looked across a valley towards several mountains. Once we had settled in, we drove to the town center and explored around the shops and restaurants, eventually making our way to the shore of Lake Wakatipu. Queenstown is bordered by The Remarkables mountain range and possesses a quaint alpine-town feel to it. We had dinner at "Brazz Steakhouse & Bar" before heading back to the room to shower and drink hot tea to keep warm. Toward nightfall, the wind began to howl and cleared the clouds for a grand view of the MIlky Way.

After a quick breakfast of cereal and toast provided in-room by our host, we drove to the base of Ben Lomond Mountain to ride the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak. The gondola ride is the steepest one in the Southern Hemisphere, and takes riders 450 meters above Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu! Although the day was slightly overcast, the views were still overwhelmingly beautiful when we reached the top. We paid for three rides down the scenic luge track, hopped into our gravity propelled sleds, and raced to the finish line. At the end of our third ride down the track, we regretted not buying more since it was such a blast. For lunch we dined buffet-style at the "Stratosfare Restaurant and Bar," with unreal views of Lake Wakatipu, the Remarkables, and Queenstown through the floor-to-ceiling windows. We caught the gondola back down the mountain, and then walked across the street to visit the Kiwi Birdlife Park. The five acre conservation park houses many native and endangered New Zealand bird species such as kea (the world's only alpine parrot), morepark (an NZ owl), and kiwi. Since kiwi are nocturnal and live in ground burrows, we figured a visit to the conservation park would be our only chance to see one in person. We were fortunate to see two during the scheduled kiwi feeding and informative talk! They are a unique, flightless bird found only in New Zealand and have become a symbol ubiquitous with the country-- appearing on money, art, government seals, merchandise, etc. Due to the fact that the kiwi is endemic to the country, the name is commonly used as a term to describe New Zealanders as well. After driving back to Shotover Country, we watched the sun set over the mountains from our room and cozied up for the night.

We got ready the next morning for a short hike on the Fernhill loop on Ben Lomond Mtn. After the hike, we hopped in the car and took an hour drive north along the shore of Lake Wakatipu to the small town of Glenorchy. The scenic road to Glenorchy is riddled with vista points and places of interest. We stopped to skip stones and eat sandwiches on the pebbly beach at Twelve Mile Delta. Continuing down the road, we passed flocks of sheep grazing alongside turquoise waters and backdropped by snowy capped mountain peaks. Once arriving in Glenorchy (Population: 363), we made our way to the small wharf to take photos, and then enjoyed a pint at the "Glenorchy Hotel" before turning around and heading back to Queenstown. We pinched pennies by having dinner at "The London" in Queenstown for 2-for-1 pizzas, then headed home to rest up for an early check-out the next morning.

Before leaving Queenstown, we stocked up on groceries and filled up the car's tank for our drive to Manapouri. The spectacular two and a half hour drive down Hwy 6 first led us along the southern shore of Lake Wakatipu before breaking off into vast farmland dotted with sheep, cows, deer, and llamas. We finally checked into our small cabin accommodation at Freestone. Upon recommendation from our host, we embarked on a three hour hike through Fiordland National Park on the Kepler Track from Rainbow Reach to Shallow Bay. After crossing a hanging suspension bridge over the emerald Waiau River, we found ourselves hiking in a damp Beech forest carpeted in moss of every imaginable hue of green. In places it grew so thick over rocks and stumps, it created what we dubbed "fairy castles". Prehistoric ferns stretched out along the forest floor as far as the eye could see. The forest finally gave way to the rocky beach at Shallow Bay on Lake Manapouri, giving us our first glimpse of Fiordland's dramatic green mountainsides plunging into the dark waters. We hiked back to the car, and drove back to Freestone to make dinner. We drank wine on the front porch while listening to music and watched fantail birds perform aerial acrobatics while they captured insects. To keep warm, we started a wood fire in our cabin's cast-iron furnace and fell asleep to projections of orange flames dancing on the walls and ceiling.

We were up before the sun since our reservations to cruise Doubtful Sound (a UNESCO World Heritage site) required us to be dockside at 7:40am to board the first vessel on Lake Manapouri. As we departed Pearl Harbour, we watched a pink sunrise over majestic green mountains and reflections of clouds in the glassy lake. The 45 minute boat ride took us across the water to Manapouri Power Station where we hopped on a large tour bus for a 20km ride through a steep mountain pass. We passed dozens of waterfalls and towering granite mountains covered in trees, before making it to the Deep Cove wharf on Doubtful Sound. We immediately boarded the 32 meter Patea Explorer cruise ship, and over the next several hours proceeded to explore the main Doubtful Sound waterway and a few of its smaller "arms." Eventually, the ship made its way out to the mouth of the sound, into the choppy Tasman Sea, where we spied New Zealand fur seals, seagulls, and an albatross. At one point during the tour, the skipper brought the ship within two meters of a vertical cliff-face, and we all stared straight up the granite wall. While there is no soil on the mountains or cliffs surrounding Doubtful, the trees cling to the sheer rock by interlocking their roots together and relying on moss and lichen for water and nutrients. Our favorite part of the tour was "the Sound of Silence," in which the ship's engines were shut down completely as we gently floated on a calm inlet. The guides asked all passengers to remain quiet for a few moments, and amongst the peaceful silence, we heard the calls of seabirds and the sound of small waves crashing up against rocks as the sun shimmered on the water. During the whole tour, the guides constantly remarked on how lucky we were with the clear weather, as Fiordland is known to be one of the wettest places on the planet, raining every two out of three days! The return trip to Pearl Harbour took an hour and a half, and we took a nice afternoon nap upon our arrival to the cabin. We finished off the evening with dinner and another pleasant indoor fire before bed.

Our hosts at Freestone provided us with a breakfast basket, which we cooked up on the morning of our departure to Aoraki / Mount Cook. On our way up north, we stopped at the lakeside town of Te Anau to peruse several souvenir shops before making the five hour journey to the Mt. Cook Lodge. The road took us back through Queenstown, and we made our way through the Central Otago region past roaring turquoise rivers, vineyards, golden foothills, rocky mountains, fertile farmland (sheep! sheep! sheep!), and glacial lakes. We checked into our four-person hostel room (with bunk beds) at the lodge, and then took a short stroll along the Bowen's Bush Trail, an easy forested walking trail with information placards about various native birdlife present in the area. Aoraki Mount Cook Village is a tiny settlement, with only three lodges and two restaurants in the entire area. We had dinner at "The Chamois", the restaurant/pub situated on the lodge's second story, before retiring for the night.

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mergersacquisitionsadvisory · 4 years

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The Bluest, Clearest Waters On The Oregon Coast Shopping

Check out some extra the reason why you have to visit Palawan within the Philippines (residence to some of the finest beaches on the planet), here. Malaysia’s seashores have an enormous amount to supply, whatever it is you’re looking for. check this out

Travel Contests & Sweepstakes: Win Luxury Holidays!

Built in 1850, the Sankaty Head Light is well value a wander to the northern tip of the beach (it is hardly ever open to climb, besides on particular days—the next one being Sunday, June sixteen, 201`9). Best of all, though, is the ‘Sconset Bluff Walk—with the strong Atlantic on one facet and a row of multi-million-greenback homes on the opposite. Waves listed here are rough, even in summer, so bundle up for a long winter walk should you're on the island during the off season. Banana Beach has a backdrop of impossibly-green jungle and appears out on crystal-clear water—all part of a national park and marine preservation area (30 minutes by boat from Chalong Pier on Phuket). Banana Boat rides are popular, therefore the name, as is snorkeling, sea kayaking, and parasailing.

Boracay White Beach, Philippines

The waters are calm and excellent for sunfish crusing between anchored boats and out to Fort Berkeley, constructed in 1704 by the English Royal Navy. At the japanese most flank of the island, Siasconset can be reached from city via a six-mile bike journey on the Milestone Road path (or, in the summertime, on a NRTA shuttle bus). Food and restrooms may be discovered close by within the adjacent historic village of 'Sconset.

Meeru Island, North Atoll, Maldives

This is a seashore that is popular worldwide for the grand waterfall that varieties a part of the beach and flows into the ocean. Now, I don't mean a small, cute man-made waterfall like many resorts have. The waterfalls at Dunn's River are a whopping one hundred eighty feet excessive feat of nature that circulate over limestone rock to meet a cerulean ocean down beneath. Since the river flows proper into the ocean, many beachgoers float leisurely down the cool water anticipating the moment when the cool water will meet the warm ocean for a uncommon expertise. Those who need to make like Tarzan, can climb the swings that hang over the river and swing carefreely whereas making an attempt to spot the elusive supply of the melodic chirps coming from the trees.

Bingin Beach, Bali, Indonesia

As a result, there are about a hundred and fifty rescues every year, the very best number in Sydney's southern beaches. It is claimed to be the most harmful patrolled seaside in all of Australia. The beaches alongside Sydney's south side are a few of its most famous and exquisite, but one specifically is best enjoyed with maximum warning.

Find Your Next Beach Getaway

It is getting simpler for Americans to journey there, as this reportin the New York Times Points out. Experience distant and unique before the beautiful fantastic thing about this stretch of sand becomes extra widespread information. Don’t confuse it with one other unbelievable seashore by the same name in Tulum, Mexico.

The stings of a few of the varieties of jellyfish, like the Irukandji and Chironex fleckeri, could be fatal to humans. This seaside is rumored to be among the greatest surf spots on the planet, however few actually try and ride its legendary barrels to shore. The surrounding space is peppered with navy amenities, although that's not what makes these waters dangerous.

When you’re right here (and of course, depending on the place you’re staying some beaches value trying out here are Cove Beach, Liku Beach, and Vatulele Island). With its 333 tropical islands and over 500 islets, there’s plenty to explore – which is especially great when you discover that spending all your time on a beach isn’t your idea of an ideal holiday.

Whether they are backed by impressive rock formations, rugged cliffs, or gently swaying palm timber, these lovely seashores actually have to be seen to be believed. It's practically unimaginable to choose a favorite seaside in the Maldives—what with over 1,200 to select from—however we're drawn to the North Malé Atoll, and Reethi Rah specifically. Eight good strands of sand circle this bigger-than-average island, each seemingly higher than the subsequent—and with just one resort here, it by no means feels crowded.

With minimal infrastructure, and one restaurant constructed out of bamboo, this can be a great, much less-than-crowded spot to park your self for the day in the solar. It's less of a swimming locale, however you'll have plenty of photographs to publish on Instagram. Survival International also introduced that authorities on India’s Andaman Islands have failed to end human safaris to the vulnerable Jarawa tribe by their self-imposed deadline of March 2015. he Andaman Administration promised to open a sea route to the Islands’ hottest tourist destinations, which might cease tourists needing to drive via the Jarawa’s reserve.

But a rising occurrence of jellyfish assaults (there are more than 1 tonne’s worth of jellyfish right here!) means its seashores are best loved from a distance. The Bahamas has a few of the Caribbean's most spectacular, idyllic seashores. This beach accommodates the largest focus of tiger sharks on the planet, and ranks as one of the planet’s top 10 most shark-infested seashores. Tamarama Beach is wedged between two sandstone headlands, and the excessive-depth waves make sure that two rips are present on the seashore.

Adventure junkies and budding mermaids can explore the country’s beautiful coast by scuba diving (or if you’re not certified yet – by snorkelling). There are plenty of different kinds of beaches right here so that you’ll undoubtedly find one thing to make you very happy if you visit. Despite the nation’s rising recognition, there are a selection of quieter beaches tucked away simply waiting to be explored. Seek out hidden gems like Gunung Payung or Pandawa Beach to benefit from the Bali coast away from the crowds.

In fact, I’d go as far as saying many people plan our holidays round beautiful seashores (stunning seashores do have a tendency to come back hand-in-hand with beautiful weather so there’s a rationale behind those choices). The Costa del Sol region in southern Spain, within Andalusia, is a very stunning stretch of European coast (Malaga, anybody?).

With its steep hillsides, pink sands and glittering ocean, Komodo’s magnificence is almost as fierce because the world-famous ‘dragons’ that roam the island. It’s a world-class place to dive, and with its tiny inhabitants of just 2000 locals, the environment is authentic and laid-back.

Lying on Mexico’s Caribbean shoreline, Tulum is not only residence to one of many country’s greatest-preserved Mayan ruins, however considered one of its greatest seashores too. Tulum was built around 1200 AD when the Mayan civilization was already in decline and therefore lacks the magnificence of another famous sites. The tropical beach backdrop nevertheless makes this one of the most in style vacationer destinations in Mexico that could be a heaven for the photographer or artist.

Boa Viagem Beach has one of many highest shark attack rates in the world – fifty six within the final 20 years, with a death fee of about 37 %. Sharks use the ditch off the coast as a migratory route and do their searching within the surrounding shallows. A development boom has worsened the state of affairs, disrupting marine life and leaving sharks trying to find new sources of food. Third – “Kauna’oa Bay, Hawaii” – That photograph is definitely the Berjaya Resort in Langkawi Island.

Western Australia is house to some critically critical creatures, and Cable Beach in Broome has a particularly large concentration of scary animals. On land there are toxic snakes and spiders, and within the water, lethal field jellyfish and white pointer sharks roam. Cairns, in North Queensland, may be the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef, but its waters maintain far more than that. The time between November and June is notoriously known as "stinger season" because of the jellyfish that infest the area’s waters.

From the desert-island-really feel of Playa de Ses Illetes on the Balearic Islands to the spectacular rock formations of Playa de las Catedrales in Ribadeo, Spain’s shoreline is one that just keeps on giving. Australia is a big nation (the 6th largest on the earth by space) with an enormous quantity of shoreline, so it comes as no surprise that it’s residence to a number of the finest seashores on the earth.

The hazard lies beneath the waves, the place old nuclear submarines lay on the bottom, slowly leaking radiation. Dumas Beach within the state of Gujarat, along the Arabian Sea, is taken into account to be some of the haunted seashores on the planet. Originally a cremation ground, it's reportedly home to spirits that proceed to roam its shores. What’s not to love a couple of beach where crystalline water meets sugary sand? Fortunately, there are greater than 600 islands in Micronesia, so if the destination is in your travel bucket record, you can opt for an island that is extra like a Tahitian paradise and less like Chernobyl.

Fringed with coconut timber, virtually all lodge buildings usually face toward the beach. Diving-fishing facilities and boat tours to close by islands could be arranged.

The pure Doctor's Cave seaside sits in Montego Bay the place most guests to Jamaica discover lodging. As if the presence of a picturesque waterfall isn't magical enough, visitors to this beach get to really explore the waterfalls by becoming a member of guided hikes up into the waterfall. A hike takes you past naturally shaped cool pools earlier than encountering the more highly effective sections of the waterfall. Dunn's River Falls and Beach, located in the town of Ocho Rios is a should for anyone who truly loves nature.

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topfygad · 4 years

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Learn to Surf. Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica.

The first time I was traveling in Costa Rica I rented a surf board on the beach of Tamarindo determined to learn to surf, with absolutely no prior experience. There was no knowledgeable instructor in sight, just me, my board and a bucket list goal that needed to be conquered. The reality of what happened that day was a little less than inspirational. The result was swallowing ridiculous amounts of water, lemon sized bruises on my hip bones and pure exhaustion after an hour of attempting to stand for a mere half second.

Epic fail.

So, it was truly appropriate that the very next time I traveled to Costa Rica that I would learn to surf, the right way. With a proper lesson. Taught by a hot surfer boy.

While spending the week perfecting my downward dog at Blue Osa Yoga Retreat in the Osa Peninsula, there was an opportunity for an afternoon ‘learn to surf’ excursion.

Yoga will have to temporarily be put on hold. I smell redemption.

Just a half hour ride from the retreat was our surfing spot, Playa Pandulce. When we arrived, there were only a few other surfers and the waves seemed mellowly manageable, even for a clumsy novice like myself.

We were greeted by Pollo, from Pollo Surf School, our trusty instructor with sun-bleached hair and a wicked tan. He fit the part. Our lesson immediately started on the sand as he taught us the three step approach to riding a wave.

Step 1, lay on your board in a position similar to yoga’s cobra, put your dominate hand forward and lift yourself up into a modified downward dog position. Step 2, plant your back foot and exchange your front foot with the hand that was there. Step 3, stand up keeping your feet and arms perpendicular to the board. At this point you should look like you’re loosely doing a version of warrior. Every step of this lesson seemed to remind me of yoga pose, this was probably subconscious since I was playing hooky from my daily yoga class to learn to surf.

Most importantly, don’t fall.

Sounds easy enough, for someone who actually has coordination. Not me. Certainly this had to even be easier for the beach pooches who seemed to be watching my lesson in disappointment. Were they shaking their heads at me? I practiced the moves a couple dozen times on the beach before even taking to the water, I didn’t want a repeat of my first ‘learn to surf’ experience.

Besides, It took time for my body to keep catch up with my brain.

Finally, we were ready to take to the ocean. Heading towards the Costa Rican beach with our boards in hand, the water was calm with small waves, which our instructor said was perfect to learn to surf. We paddled out far enough to catch a wave, but close enough where Pollo could still touch the bottom in order to properly instruct.

He held my board with me facing the shore.

When the wave approached, just before it was underneath me, he pushed the board to help me along. Though I quickly tried to execute what I had just learned ten minutes prior, my first wave was a total bust. As soon as he pushed me, me and my board tipped over. I quietly started to get worried that I wouldn’t even be able to stand up for a second, but Pollo must have seen the concerned look on my face and told me not to be concerned, just to take my time.

The second wave: up for half a second. I needed to be quicker popping up.

The third attempt: up for a second and a half. I needed to bend my legs more.

It was already time for a short break, surfing was very hard work.

I laid on my floating board for a five minute breath-catching pause and let the waves crash over me, until I was ready to try again. My mind gave myself a pep talk, “Come on Annette, get it together, you can do this”.

The fourth & fifth try: On both tries I stood up, rode the wave and took it almost to the shore.

It was like a Rip Curl commercial.

Okay, maybe not quite, but every wave after that didn’t matter because I had just officially surfed and it turned out to be a great addition to my list of the top things to do before you die.

After about a dozen times, with successes and failures, my body was too tired to carry on. There were five adventurous (& totally awesome) ladies in this class, including two other fabulous travel bloggers: Angie from Angie Away and Camille from This American Girl…and EVERY ONE OF US was able to catch a wave.

We totally rock.

Of course, as with many adventures that include myself, there had to be a small injury involved. As I was walking my surf board toward land, triumphant, I kneed a large stone underwater.

Brilliant.

. . . Check it Off Your Bucket List . . .

Location/Facts:

Costa Rica is a Central American country bordered by Panama and Nicaragua, plus the coasts of the Caribbean and Pacific. The Osa Peninsula is the rugged southwestern headland that has the Pacific Ocean to the west and Golfo Dulce to the east. It is a primitive haven of about five thousand where the rain forests are pristine, many of the streets are unnamed and white-faced capuchins swing in the trees.

Getting There:

The Osa Peninsula can be reached by plane via Costa Rica’s capital city of San José, The daily flights to Puerto Jimenez airport takes roughly 45 minutes. My flight was with Nature Air (www.natureair.com) who is known as the world’s first carbon neutral airline, reducing their carbon footprint to zero. Alternatively, you can fly with Sansa Air (www.flysansa.com). It is also possible to drive from San Jose, by renting a car with Solid Car Rental (www.solidcarrental.com), the trip would take about 6-8 hours. Taking a bus can be tricky if you speak absolutely no Spanish and are not an experienced traveler, but it can be done. Transportes Blanco Lobo offers a daily bus service from San Jose to Puerto Jimenez, the main town in the Osa Peninsula. The cost is currently $13 and departs from the intersection of Calle 12 and Avenidas 7/9 Blanco Lobo Station at 8:00am and 12:00pm (tel. 2257-4121).

Language(s):

Spanish is the official language, though English is widely understood.

Currency:

Costa Rican colón, US dollars are widely accepted.

Electricity:

Plug Type A/B, 120v. Most outlets are the same as the two-prong American-style, though some will not include a spot for the third prong. So your 3-prong devices may need an adapter, though you shouldn’t need a converter.

When to Go:

The Osa Peninsula consistently sees average daytime temperatures between the high 70s to low 80s throughout the year, though there are two seasons; dry and wet. The ideal time to visit is during the dry season (mid-November to late April) when the rainfall is very limited. Though this time is also the peak tourist season, the Osa Peninsula doesn’t draw the same crowds as the mainland, so you will still be able to enjoy lounging on the nearly empty beaches and hiking barren rain forests. Wet season is from May to mid-November, and during the peak months (September and October) the rainfall may prevent you from traveling to the more remote parts of the area, especially when the potholed dirt roads become challenging even for the most rugged sports utility vehicle. If you are looking for a bit of a bargain, traveling off-season in early May or November may be your best bet. The rains will have just started or ended during these months and retreats may offer discounted rates.

How to Visit/Planning:

Surfing lessons are offered as an excursion at many of the hotels and resorts, or you can book directly through Pollo Surf School.

Getting Around:

The Osa Peninsula is a remote location and has very limited transportation choices while there. Some hotels will provide shuttle service from the Puerto Jimenez airstrip to the lodging and excursion operators will offer pick-up/drop-off services (fees may apply). Between spending time at the retreat and the extra tours your time should be pretty well filled up. But, if you have an interest in exploring on your own it will require either renting a car, hiring a driver or catching a ride in one of the few taxis.

Where to Stay:

If you’re visiting the Osa Peninsula on a very special ocassion spend the night in Drakes Bay stay at the luxury eco-resort Copa de Arbol Beach and Rainforest Resort set amongst the tropical rainforest (from $633). For something a little more reasonably priced and still very nice try Iguana Lodge (from $92). If you need a night in San Jose before catching your early flight home, try Adventure Inn (from $94) who includes an all-you-can-eat breakfast and a free shuttle to the SJO International airport. If you want to do a little exploring in the city, enjoy a night at the historic Grano del Oro (from $167) or Aranjuez Hotel (from $46), just a short walk from the city center.

Where to Eat:

Head to the coastal town of Puerto Jimenez and indulge in the ceviche at the oceanfront Marisqueria Corcovado (https://ift.tt/2W0isvE). Or opt for a taste of Italy with a thin-crust, wood-fired pie at PizzaMail.it (piazza central; 506 2735 5483). For a special treat head north to Drake’s Bay for a meal of fish tacos and tuna at Gringo Curt’s Seafood (Agujitas de Drake;506 6198 5899). If you spend extra days in San Jose try Ram Luna (https://ift.tt/3az8lTx) for Tierra Tica (Typical Night) where every Wednesday and Thursday evening you can not only eat traditional casado, but also listen to marimba music and see authentic Costa Rican folk dancing.

Nearby Must-Dos:

Spend a few hours meeting the inhabitants at the Osa Wildlife Sanctuary (osawildlife.org), a center focused on rehabilitation. There will be opportunities for have contact with the animals, whether it be feeding a sloth playing with a monkey or petting a porcupine.

Take a tour through a traditional cacao plantation at Finca Kobo (fincakobo.com; $32). See the different species and taste the fresh fruit from a chocolate tree.

Hike amongst the monkeys and toucans at Corcovado National Park (corcovadoguide.com). With over 100,000 acres of tropical rain forest there are many picturesque trails to choose from.

Take a guided kayaking tour through the Mangroves with Aventuras Tropicales (aventurastropicales.com; $45). The paddle will take you through the Preciosa Platanares Wildlife Refuge to learn about the ecosystem through your experiences with nature.

Essential Information:

Americans are not required to get a visa to enter Costa Rica, though they do need one upon exit. It can be purchased at the airport and the cost is $26 per traveler.

If you only learn a few Spanish words before you go, make sure that two of them are “pura vida”, as it is worked into almost every paragraph, if not sentence. This literally translates to “pure life”, but it goes beyond this definition. It is really a way of life in the Costa Rican culture, encompassing a mindset of not sweating the small stuff, letting go of what you cannot control and understanding there are many people in worse positions than yourself.

The Osa Peninsula is a rural area, so don’t expect to be able to get your morning triple shot latte at Starbucks — this is part of the charm.

If you rent a car, be cautious while driving because the dirt roads can be filled with potholes and there are virtually no street signs.

Packing Tips:

If you forget anything, make sure it is not bug repellant! The tropical, humid climate attracts many little pesky bugs that would love to eat you for dinner.

Costa Rica is another country where the strength of the sun can be deceiving, so bring lots of sunscreen.

Helpful Websites:

Costa Rica Experts (https://ift.tt/1k59qGa); Go Visit Costa Rica (https://ift.tt/1awnmmD); Book Yoga Retreats (https://ift.tt/1cFIt7O)