EJ's Travels

After saying goodbye to my Spanish companions I set off to climb a mountain. It happened that Caesar’s company had been contracted to guide a group of 12 army personnel from the UK up Brandbeg Mountain, the highest in Namibia, as part of their adventure training. And, because Caesar is such a kind soul, he graciously allowed me to tag along. He had actually hired a freelance guide by the name of Paul to lead the trek. I didn’t dare pass up the opportunity.

Brandbeg is 8444.23 ft at its peak. That didn’t sound so high to someone who has spent the last 4 years in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains with no shortage of 14,000+ ft peaks. I reckoned it would be a fairly easy hike to the top. Approaching by car the mountain appeared relatively small and unimpressive only reaffirming my deception. We arrived late morning and spent the next 6 hours climbing in the prime heat of the day which seemed a cruel and unusual punishment. Much of the climb involved scrambling up exposed rock faces, which was fantastic fun, but exhausting as well. I’m not going to lie to you, it kicked my ass. The last couple of weeks of touring in luxury had caught up with me and I was paying the price for over-indulgence.

The following day we woke before sunrise and reached the summit by 10:00am, a far more reasonable time of day to be out in the African sun. Not surprisingly we encountered no other signs of human life apart from the cave paintings left by Bushmen some 5000 years ago. Aside from a few natives, the mountain is left virtually unexplored. A shame really, but I certainly didn’t mind. Seeing as how safari travel is often limited to viewing the countryside and its wildlife from the seat of a car, I was thrilled to be encountering a small piece of Namibia on foot with an opportunity to peer out over its wide open spaces which set this African country apart.

Brandberg in the distance

Making progress

Desert flowers

Sunset first night

Bushmen paintings

Still smilin’ at the summit

Early morning departure… that’s the Atlantic in the distance

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

I was fortunate enough to join Susana on one of her tours as an assistant. Her clients were Antonio and Mercedes, a Spanish couple from the island of Ibiza who have traveled with Susana before, and their daughter, Monsina, and her boyfriend, Isidro (“EZ” for short). This trip was a gift to Monsina for successfully completing medical school. She now practices family medicine while Isidro specializes in otorhinolaryngology (ear, nose and throat). I was a little nervous that my presence would be resented or that I would feel like an outsider making everyone a little bit uncomfortable. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I was immediately made to feel welcome and soon even part of the family. They were absolutely lovely people.

Although they all claimed to speak very little English, which I thought would force me to practice my extremely limited knowledge of Spanish (despite 3 weeks in South America and having Spanish hosts in Namibia), the truth was they were all quite capable of expressing themselves in and understanding English. I am afraid they spoke far more English throughout the trip than I did Spanish. Although my vocabulary was growing I still had very little understanding of how to form sentences out of those words. Still I enjoyed listening to the dialogue each day knowing that hearing the rhythm of their language was an important step in eventually learning to speak it.

Day 1:

Our first stop was Okonjima Lodge just a couple hours north of Windhoek. The lodge is run in conjunction with Africat, an organization aimed at promoting large carnivore conservation and animal welfare. Unfortunately many of Namibia’s large carnivores (cheetahs, leopards, lions, spotted hyenas, brown hyenas and wild dogs) are in conflict with local farmers and often end up being trapped and/or killed. Others are captured and kept as pets, often being mistreated. Africat rescues and rehabilitates captured and injured animals and releases them back into the wild when possible. To date they have rescued over 800 leopards and cheetahs and returned 85% of them to the wild. They also conduct plenty of research and provide environmental education programs. Their sanctuary consists of approximately 1250 acres.

We arrived just in time to go leopard tracking. Not so easy, even when they are collared. But we were in luck. What an absolutely stunning animal.

Leopard found, but not so easy to spot

Off she goes!

Day 2:

Before leaving Okonjima we got a chance to see a couple of lions that are currently being housed there. We also went in search of cheetahs with the help of providing their morning snack.

Enjoying a little morning sun

Keep arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times

We then drove to Etosha National Park. Etosha means “great white place,” referring to the mineral pan which covers 4731 square kilometers (25% of the park). The pan is part of the Kalahari Basin, the floor of which was formed around 1000 million years ago. The pan was originally a lake fed by the Kunene River. However the course of the river changed thousands of years ago and the lake dried up. The pan now is a large dusty depression of salt and dusty clay. The perennial springs along the edges of the Etosha Pan draw large concentrations of wildlife and birds. And that’s what we went to see.

Jackyl

Gnu

This isn’t a great shot, but we had a wonderful sighting of 14 lioness!

I never grow tired of these magnificentally tall beasts

White with black stripes

So happy together

We actually found this one crossing the road once we left Etosha Park

Day 3:

After a full day of wandering throughout Etosha Park, we drove to Hobatere Lodge for the night. It was at dinner when Susana surprised Monsina and Isidro with the news that they would be spending the night in a tree house! The looks on their faces were priceless. They didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. The thought of being left in a tree house several kilometers from the lodge with no one but lions and other wild animals as company was exciting, but also terribly disconcerting! Eventually they warmed to the idea and after a night game drive we said goodnight and wished them sweet dreams!

No fear!

Day 4:

We drove to the tree house to retrieve Monsina and Isidro and were met with all smiles. They had enjoyed a peaceful night in the tree house. No tales to tell. We parked the jeep and went for a walk with Martin as our guide. It’s not often your trekking guide carries a loaded shotgun just in case.

Treehouse in morning light

All smiles!

Shotguns never seem to make me feel more at ease

Enjoying the view

An elephant sighting on our way back to the lodge

Day 5:

We made our way north to spend a couple of days at Epupa Camp near Epupa Falls. The falls are formed by the Kunene River which flows from Angola and descends rapidly westwards into Namibia through narrow gorges until it empties into the Atlantic Ocean. The last 100km of the river actually forms a natural border between the two countries.

This region of the country is home to the Himbas. The Kunene River is a significant source of food and water for these nomads. The government would like to build a dam here, but thus far has been unable to secure funding. Let us hope they never do.

And so, yes, we joined the other tourists with our very own token village visit. Actually, the family requested two. I tried to keep an open mind and to look at it as a beautiful opportunity. Of course I too brought my camera and couldn’t resist taking pictures of their homestead, and, quite simply, of their gorgeous selves.

Epupa Falls

More Epupa Falls

This Himba child was racing after our car in hopes for “sweeties”

Himba home & bull

Homes are built by the women and made from saplings bound by
fronds of a makalani palm and plastered with cattle dung

Inside home

The most sacred part of a homestead is the line between the main
dwelling, the sacred fire and the entrance to the calf enclosure

Leather loin cloths and goat skinned skirts are the traditional dress along with intricate jewelery made of iron and/or shells. Hairstyles are symbolic of age and marital status. An ochre paste made from powdered redwood and butter fat is rubbed on their bodies making their skin smooth and shiny (not to mention beautiful) like that of the sacred calf.

Young woman outside home

I played a wicked game of tag with these two boys

Day 6:

Made the long drive to Palmwag with a stop in Opuwo for lunch. At Palmwag we met up with Caesar, our guide for the next 5 days camping in Damaraland.

Roadside in Opuwo

Days 7 – 10:

I couldn’t have been happier to be back in Damaraland which was my favorite place in Namibia. Again we were alone in this remote region aside from the wildlife that call it home. This trip I added a lion to my list of animals seen in the wild.

My favorite seat

The view from on top couldn’t be beat

Barren

“True Adventure is Rare”

Look real close… there’s a lion there

Passing through a small village – horse drawn carts are still common

Last look at Damaraland

Day 11:

As we continued west the Namib desert met the Atlantic Ocean along the Skeleton Coast. The Skeleton Coast stretches for hundreds of miles with only a handful of small fishing villages along the desolate strip of land. It gets its name from the many ships which wrecked in the treacherous currents here and lives lost when they discovered nothing but barren desert for hundreds of miles upon reaching land. Aside from its reputation for excellent fishing along this stretch of coast, the largest and purest diamonds are also found beneath the dunes of the Namib. We were headed south to Swakopmund, but first we stopped at Cape Cross, a seal colony along the way. Upon reaching Swakopmund we said goodbye to Caesar and then rushed to the dunes just outside of town to watch the sun go down.

Skeleton Coast… it just goes on and on and on

There were hundreds of thousands of them…I couldn’t get over it!

Motherly love

One last sundowner with my amigos

Ocean, dunes and a full moon make for one happy Erica

Day 12:

This morning I went kayaking at Pelican Point in Walvis Bay (just down the road from Swakopmund) with Antonio, Mercedes, Monsina and Isidro before finally parting ways with them. It was a beautiful sunny day which is rare along this part of the coast. We enjoyed paddling through the water surrounded by seals and dolphins. And then it was time to say goodbye. It took but seconds for me to begin to miss their constant pranks, their contagious laughter, their traditional songs, their kind smiles, their earnest attempts to speak English, their wonder, their graciousness, their bathroom humor, their “buenos noches” and their friendship.

Happy days!

Sunset on my own in Swakopmund

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

Since I had plenty of time to spare it was suggested I make a side trip to Zambia and/or Zimbabwe to see Victoria Falls, one of the 7 natural wonders of the world. From Onamatadiva in the north of Namibia where I traveled with Maria and friends, I caught the Intercape bus which took me farther east to Livingstone, Zambia. The town is named after David Livingstone, the 1st English explorer to lay eyes on Victoria Falls in 1855.

I first set off to see the falls on foot. I had been encouragaed to take a look from both the Zambia and Zimbabwe sides for differing perspectives. However, it cost another $50 US to cross into Zimbabwe and enter the park so I decided that money would be better spent elsewhere. I was warned I would get wet. The spray from the falls can be seen from as far away as 40km on a clear day. Walking beneath the falls at this time of year when the river is at its highest is like walking through a tropical rainforest when it is pouring rain. I didn´t just get wet, I got absolutley soaked.

It is difficult to describe what an impressive sight it is. The sheer force of the water as it spills over the edge is hard to comprehend even when staring directly at it. The sound is thunderous. The ever changing cloud of mist is surreal. I could only began to grasp the monstrosity of the falls from my vantage point on the ground. It is 1.7km wide and drops between 90 and 107 meters into the Zambezi Gorge. At its lowest level in late November/early December as little as 20,000 cubic meters of water pass over the falls every minute and the falls remain virtually mist free. During flood stage between March and May at which time I visited, as much as 500,000 cubic meters plummet over the edge. It is certainly no wonder why people travel from every direction simply to behold its magic.

First view of the falls

A little closer… the ever-present mist

Notice the folks wearing raincoats…useless!

The boiling pot below the bridge linking Zambia and Zimbabwe

Me soaked after viewing the falls from below!

Verdent monkeys were everywhere!

Originally I had hoped to raft the Zambezi river known for its roaring rapids. Unfortunately since the water was at full capacity, the rafting companies were closed for the time being due to unsafe conditions. Alternatively I decided to see it by air. There were a few options for transport, but the one that appealed most was the Tiger Moth. Think ‘Out of Africa’. The novelty of flying in this open air machine was worth the expense alone. Combined with the all-encompassing view it afforded of the falls, it was nothing short of spectacular.

Introducing the tiger moth!

Old school!

How does Meryl Streep make this look good?

A rainbow in the mist from a distance

Aerial view

Zambezi gorge

Another angle

Now do you understand why I got drenched?

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

It seems it is human nature to be fascinated (and all too many times fearful) by that which is foreign to us, especially when it comes to other members of the human race. This is made evident with the token visit to a Himba village which no Namibian tour is complete without (mine would come later). These interruptions into their daily lives seem to walk a fine line between serving as an educational opportunity to gain an undestanding of an ancient culture and an opportunity to exploit an already marginalized people with a strange curiosity akin to that with which we view animals in a zoo. I can only imagine what they must think of our requests to peer into their lives while capturing it all on our fancy digital cameras.

In the case of both the Bushmen (also known as San) and the Himba tribes in Namibia the fascination for me is more of an immense respect for soceities which still live life so deeply connected to the earth and its natural environment in a world where our food is prepackaged, our dependence on limited resources grows, our need to leave our home or office vanishes with the advancements of technology, our patience is replaced with an expectation of now, and the majority of us are too distracted with {fill in the blank} to be aware of our own bodies, let alone mother nature and the delicate relationship between the two.

Bushmen used to populate a large part of Southern Africa, but today their hunter-gatherer culture has been almost extinguished. Farmers and cattle breeders have seized much of their land and mining companies and national parks have also contributed to the demise of their traditional way of life. As hunter-gatherers they could recognize more than 35 species of edible mammals, birds, reptiles and insects and list more than 250 edible plants. They would cover up to 2500 miles per year in search of game. Today many of them earn a living as farmhands or survive on the outskirts of villages without any prospects.

Charitable organizations such as UNESCO have arrived on the scene with the best of intentions to help these displaced communities. Every once in a while they succeed, but as is the case with aid all over the world, their attempts are often in vain or gravely misplaced. Tractors are given when there is no petrol to run them, elaborate plans are devised to provide electricity for houses which don’t exist, and more money is spent on executives making visits to these villages than on the villages themselves. But, here in Onamatadiva a new school had been built and would soon begin educating a new generation of Bushmen children. Some of whom had walked as far as 60km alone to reach this village when they heard a school was being built. And it was our mission to paint a mural on the outside of that building.

Our presence seemed a continual source of delight and entertainment, something out of the ordinary. They don’t often get visitors in this remote village, especially white ones. I understood nothing of thier language spoken with clicks, but all that needed to be said was communicated through smiles and kind gestures. And, of course, through the univesal language of dance! It was the weekend and I am not exaggerating when I say that if they weren’t sleeping or eating, this village of young and old alike was dancing. From first light to well after dark the sound of drums and singing was audible. And with it, the well-rehearsed movement of bodies unfamiliar with restraint was visible. Bodies that know to dance before they can walk. Bodies that celebrate the gift of music in an otherwise quiet existance. Bodies that truly feel what it is to be alive.

Before the painting began

Despite their faces they begged to have their picture taken and
absolutely loved looking at their images afterwards!

Cleopaz looking for last minute inspiration

My playmates while the rest were at church

Everyone took their turn in the circle

Their hut-like homes

The finished product

A very happy bunch of people!

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

I arrived in Windhoek, Namibia, Africa, after 36 hours of travel from Buenos Aires. I was met at the airport by Susana who I spent many days trekking through the mountains of New Zealand with 5 years ago. Susana is from Spain, but has been living in Namibia the last 13 years working as a freelance tour guide. She approached me as animated as I remembered her and upon hearing her contagious laughter that I had fallen in love with immediately when first we met, I grew all the more excited for the next couple of months.

The first week we spent enjoying long breakfasts on her terrace overlooking Windhoek, walks into town in the afternoon, watching the sky turn a brilliant shade of colors at sunset from her balcony, and dinners that carried late into the night with laughter and conversation. It felt a bit like heaven to wake each day with no agenda, no list of “have to´s,” no sense of urgency to see and do before quickly moving on to the next destination. We were waiting for her roommate, Maria, to finish her 2 year contract with UNESCO so that the 3 of us could go on holiday together to Damaraland, a remote region of undeveloped landscapes and abundant wildlife in northwestern Namibia. Susana´s boyfriend, Gary, lives in the bush in this region working in conjunction with Wilderness Safaris (a tour company) and Save The Rhino (an NGO dedicated to conservation of the land and wildlife, specifically the red-listed, endangered Black Rhino). Gary has been helping the 2 organizations develop a walking camel safari for clients aimed at tracking and spotting rhino in this region. He was born and raised in England, but has spent almost half his life (20 years) living in various parts of Africa, the last 14 years in Namibia. At the last minute Gary arranged for some long overdue vacation and decided to join us. This was great news since there are few people who know Damaraland better. Especially the far north region where few tourists ever get to, but most of which Gary has explored on foot.

We drove as far as Palmwag Lodge (belonging to Wilderness Safaris) our first day where we camped and where Gary couldn´t escape without taking care of some business the following day. We set off from there in our 4×4 and as we drove deeper into the bush I smiled contently to myself convinced that I must be one of the luckiest people in the world. The roads we followed were not roads at all and would be unrecognizable to anyone unfamiliar with them. The recent rainfall made them even harder to spot and occassionally we had to stop the vehicle and search for the lost track on foot before carrying on. At other times the grass that had sprung revealed 2 faint parallel lines void of any growth stretching out before us and carving out our path ahead.

View at Palmwag

Sunset at Palmwag

Our road ahead

Before even reaching Namibia I was told of the above average rainfall it was receiving, turning the typically red landsape green. Both Susana and Gary assured me this was a rare treat which only instensified the beauty of the place. “You are extremely lucky, Erica. You could visit Namibia a dozen times over and never see it again like this.” More than double the average rain had fallen in many parts of the country and records were being broken as well. At least 30 years have passed since the country has experienced such an abundance of rain.

Looking out the window I found it hard to believe that this grass filled terrain which resembled the wheat fields of my childhood in North Dakota was typically rock fields barren and red. My guides were in disbelief as well continually remarking on the treasured oddity and the fact that they had never seen it like this before. As the wind blew the long grass shimmered and danced across the horizon like flames of a fire. It was so hard to imagine this was not a common sight for it was everywhere the eye could see.

Blowin’ in the wind

The landscape was more mountainous than I imagined. In fact we spent the 6 days winding around peaks, in and out of valleys and canyons, crossing one dry riverbed after another. There were moments when I could have convinced myself I was somewhere in Utah… that is until a herd of zebra would come into view.

A greener than usual Damarland

Our first campsite in the “bush”…not bad eh?

Sunset at camp…have I mentioned I fell in love with African skies?

Sunrise wasn’t so bad either

Bottleneck tree

The wildlife I saw there was truly wild, no fences, no patrol, no reserve set aside and populated with game for viewing pleasure. The animals were countless in number and also the only signs of life we saw the 6 days we roamed the region. I still recall spotting my first giraffe as we rounded a corner and there it stood towering above us not 20 feet from the car. I was breathless. It was alone and despite the vastness that served as a backdrop it still appeared giant in statute. It paused from its grazing to check us out, equally fascinated, and perhaps a bit fearful, of us. The hours and days that followed were filled with zebra, giraffe, oryx, springbok, ostrich, baboons, desert elephant, and the aforementioned endangered black rhino, along with an array of birds, insects and lizards foreign to me. Although I heard them outside my tent our first night in the bush, I never came face to face with a hyena (I fear them most… one too many gruesome tales has been told), nor did we spot any lion for which I had hoped.

I don’t know this beetle’s proper name, but they were everywhere

An oryx caught in the sun’s rays

Oryx, oryx everwhere

Zebras at roam

The most exciting and rewarding animal viewing was of the endangered black rhino. Our second day camping in the bush we arrived early enough at our destination to take a wander in search of wildlife and potentially another campsite for Gary´s giraffe safaris. It felt good to be out of the vehicle taking in the sights and sounds while getting a little exercise. I was content just to be walking about and by no means had my heart set on seeing anything in particular. Just as we reached the valley that would lead us back to camp by dark, Gary signaled from ahead for me to quickly join him and Maria. He gave me 2 thumbs up and whispered, “rhino.” I peered into the distance and saw the creature grazing lazily a couple hundred meters away. Gary checked the wind and led us to the riverbed where we could approach it without our scent being detected. Rhinos are practically blind, but their smell and hearing are especially keen (in fact their nasal passages are larger than their brain!). And, if feeling threatened, they will most certainly charge. Maria and I took off running behind Gary as quietly as possible amidst our excitement and nervousness. We found a bush perhaps 30 feet away where we could camoflauge ourselves while watching it and taking pictures. It slowly moved nearer to us, seemingly unaware of our presence. Spying through Gary´s binoculaurs I became aware of the incredible strength and power of this animal weighing in at between 2000 and 3000 pounds! It is almost impossible to believe that something so massive can run at speeds up to 50km/ hr. It was flawless in appearance save for the small corner of its left ear that had been marked for tracking purposes. My adrenaline was pumping. There was little shelter aside from the bush we were crowded behind. But the rhino passed right by us unphased and with its back to us we began our escape. Glancing back over my shoulder as we ran away I saw the rhino turn in our direction, ears perked, but with only a mild interest as we disappeared up the valley.

Looking at the pictures below it should be noted that black rhinos are not actually black at all. The distinction between it and the white rhino is not one of color. The white rhino got its name from the Afrikaans word, “weit,” meaning wide-mouthed. Conversely, the black rhino has a hook-lipped mouth. Apparently the word “weit” was mistakenly understood as “white” and as such the two species became commonly known as black and white.

Gary & Maria walking ahead of me unaware of what was to come!

Black-rhino approaching

The following day we were startled when driving along we dipped down over a small rise in the road and found another black rhino waiting for us! An additional gift from the animal gods it seemed. Gary was particularly pleased as he had never seen a rhino in this part of Damarland before. Although the wind was in our favor, the rhino was definitely aware of a presence in its close vicinity. We shut off the engine and sat watching and waiting. It was a mere 10 feet from us, staring at us head-on, when it began snorting and scraping its back feet into the sand in an agitated manner. Sitting in the front seat I felt vulnerable and was seconds away from crawling into the back when it began running in circles and then departed in a cloud of sand and dust. A truly magnificent beast. I felt blessed to have encountered it twice in this wild landscape.

A little too close for comfort!

His profile in the far distance

The landscape was forever changing and in time we came across the red rocky terrain Damarland is known for, as well as desolate expanses of sand and dunes. The last day we were planning to drive up the riverbed of the Hoanib River, the largest in the region. This of course depended on whether or not the riverbed was dry. I guess you could say it was damp. In places there was resting water. But we decided to try our luck and head as far east as we could manage. It seemed a bit risky considering there had been recent rain, and what looked like current rainfall in the distance, which meant the river could come in at any moment carrying us and anything in its path out to sea. Gary had shared numerous acounts of people and vehicles being swept away in its fury when caught unexpectedly with only seconds to escape. We traveled 6 or 7 km before water which was slowly heading our way forced us to turn around quickly. That night we camped beside the riverbed and as we were preparing dinner a couple of hours later Maria exclaimed, “the water!” The sound of water rushing by was audible. We walked in the dark down to the river and saw that it had in fact come in. We were thankful to have exited the riverbed on the north which meant we would not be stuck waiting for the water to go before being able to cross in order to carry on.

Land of wide open spaces

Now I lay me down to sleep

Yep, I’m loving my life!

And just like that the grass disappeared

So elegant

The Hoanib riverbed

Maria watching sunset above our last campsite

The next morning we woke early in order to begin our drive back to Windhoek. The plan was to spend one last night camping in order to break up the long ride home. After 8 ½ hours of driving without so much as a lunch break, Maria and I were quite anxious to reach camp in order to fill our empty stomaches. Knowing this we could not understand why Gary insisted we stop by Damarland Camp (another belonging to Wilderness Safaris) for a spot of tea before reaching our campsite which was still a 30 minute drive away. Gary took his tea and Maria and I stood impatiently waiting to leave. In the meanwhile we were introduced to the staff who asked why we didn´t just stay with them for the night. We explained the obvious… we didn´t have the money to stay in such a place (it runs $300US/pp/night). Gary and Susana had disappered and when they returned Gary told us, “There seems to be a problem with the vehicle and we are going to have to stay here for the night.” We laughed knowing he wasn´t serious. He instructed us to get our bags so that Simon, assistant manager, could show us our sleeping quarters. Both Maria and I looked at him in disbelief. “Surprise,” he said. It turns out he was in fact very serious. In exchange for the delay leaving Palmwag Lodge our first day when he got roped into work, he told the manager he wanted accomodation at Damaraland Camp (not a camp at all, but an all inclusive lodge) for all of us on our return. I don´t think he knows how grateful we were. It was like heaven after 6 glorious days in the bush.

Maria overwhelmed by our accomodation for the night!

One of our last views en route to our “sundowner”

Sundowner

My first adventure outside of Windhoek. It was worth the trip to Africa alone.

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

After a few restful days in Punta Arenas I set off for Buenos Aires, Argentina, the city that never sleeps. Home of the tango!

I fell in love with the city. How could I not with its strong undercurrents of Latin music and dance and… romance. I spent four days walking around and in and out of its colorful and unique neighborhoods taking in the people and the sights and sounds of this bustling city. Street fairs, parks, museums, theatres and milongas (bars where tango is performed) abound. Dinner is served late by American standards, usually 9:00pm or later, and the clubs don´t begin to fill until 1 or 2:00am, finally closing their doors after sunrise. I never did manage to experience the nightlife of Buenos Aires as such. After long days of wandering the streets I could barely stay awake long enough to catch dinner!

My last night in town I finally arranged to catch a tango show at the Museo del Tango with two others from my hostel, Barbara and Francois. Rather than visit one of the touristy and flashy milongas we opted for a more traditional experience, or so we hoped. It was certainly my most memorable evening in BA. Sure, the dancing was mesmerizing, the singing heart felt, but it was the crowd that had us nearly falling off our seats in laughter that we found most entertaining. We were easily the youngest in the audience by at least forty years. In their fanciest evening wear the crowd stared longingly at the performers while mouthing every word to each song from their seats. By the end of the two hour show a few were having difficulty staying awake. One woman sat upright, head bowed, eyes closed, only to spring to life when her dessert was placed in front of her.

Afterwards the performers and a couple dance instructors took to the crowd giving these “old timers” the opportunity to show us young ones that the art of dance is ageless. The years only added to their grace and ease with which they moved across the floor. A few of us were a little more reluctantly dragged on to the dance floor. This is how I met Jose. He was a dance instructor which was made evident in the way he led. Although I may not have looked it, I felt as though I had been dancing tango for years. And so I was convinced to spend my last morning in Buenos Aires letting Jose patiently teach me the rhythm and movement of this sultry dance. I left intoxicated, floating through the streets with a smile on my face and tango pulsating in my heart.

I arrived in Punta Arenas, Chile, with no guidebook, no plan and no Spanish comprehension. I wasn´t intending on including South America in my travels after all. But I did reckon that a chance to explore even a tiny bit of Patagonia on this “forced” stop en route to Africa might be worth some floundering.

I spent one relatively unproductive day wandering in and out of tourist offices trying to gather information on getting to and trekking in Torres del Paine National Park before I decided to try my luck at an outdoor clothing store. I figured someone working there would know something about the outdoors. One of the men behind the counter was a local who, with the help of a coworker from Santiago who spoke a wee bit of English, convinced me I should walk the circuit in the park if time allowed. It sounded like a fine idea to me, now I just needed to sort out the details.

The following morning I decided to move to a new hostel where it seemed I might have a better chance of meeting other backpackers. I arrived just in time for breakfast and was immediately introduced to Pedro, a Chilean who happens to own a business leading group treks in Torres del Paine! Luckily for me, he also spoke English. I was picking his brain for valuable information when an Australian woman joined us at the table. She had just arrived late in the night. After two minutes of conversation and before learning her name, I asked if she would be interested in joining a complete stranger on the 8-10 day trek we both hoped to complete. A few hours later we were on a bus to Puerto Natales, the gateway to Torres del Paine.

I soon came to find out my new trekking buddy, Helen, is a doctor who speaks Spanish fluently. How could I be so lucky?! She was celebrating her 50th birthday with a 3 month holiday… trekking in Patagonia, diving in Belize and skiing in the States and Europe. I love this woman! I could not have hand picked a better companion.

After a night´s rest in Puerto Natales we spent the morning gathering food and securing a tent for me to rent. Another 3 hour bus ride that afternoon took us to Laguna Amarga, followed by another short ride to Las Torres campground where we would begin our trek.

If ever you have seen a visual representation of Patagonia there is a mighty good chance you were looking at the Torres del Paine. These towers with sheer rock faces stretch boldly into the sky. Erosion has painted an array of colors from top to bottom persuading me to believe a few of the towers have been turned on end and dipped in chocolate. Apparently the ever changing weather resulting in strong winds, high clouds and frequent rain prevents many unfortunate souls from ever seeing them. If someone mentions they have been to the Torres mirrador (lookout), the first question asked is always, “did you see the towers?”

Day 1: We decided to spend our first full day in the park hiking to the Torres mirrador and returning to the same camp that night. A warm-up day without our packs. We had been warned about the wind and it didn´t disappoint. Neither of us got much sleep as our tents flapped wildly in the strong gusts. But the wind was yet warm and keeping the rain away for which we were thankful. We crawled out of our tents and were met by sun. Little did we know what a rare treat this would be. We seized the opportunity and set off for the lookout. It was a gentle hike aside from the last 45 minute climb up a boulder field. Thankfully our efforts were not in vain and despite some sprinkles of rain along the way, we joined the fortunate few who are offered a view of the towers in all of their glory. A brilliant start to our journey.

That night I left my tent to stumble to the toilet and was surprised to find the air dead calm.

Uh-oh I thought. The calm before the storm?

Yes, actually.

En route to the lookout

Torres del Paine

Day 2: We woke to rain. This was to become a pattern. It was a mere 4 hour hike to our destination, Camp Seron, but it was slow going as the rain had saturated the already boggy swampland. It was nice to have left the crowds of people behind as we began the circuit around the backside of the park. The sun came out as we reached camp just long enough for us to set up our tents and change into dry clothes. The camp manager, Julio, welcomed me and Helen with a hot cup of tea and homemade doughnuts inside his toasty hut. He was friendly and likeable from the start, obvioulsy enjoying the company in his otherwise solitary quarters. Perhaps he had also appreciated the view…we discovered later on that Julio had himself a small peep hole into the shower we all used! Heck, who can really blame the guy.

It was here that Helen and I first met Jason & Kirsten from Vancouver and Alex, Janine and Eduardo from San Paulo. They were to become our camp buddies for the remainder of the trek along with a handful of others.

The first of many cloudy views ahead

Day 3: Another rainy day on and off to Camp Dickson. When the rain would subside it was immediately replaced by the constant buzz of mosquitoes. I have vivid memories of trying to balance my weight on a precarious log while crossing stream (after stream) with a heavy pack on my back and blasted mosquitoes swarming my face and attacking any bit of exposed flesh on my body. We were happy to call it a day.

This was one of the more picturesque campsites located next to Lake Dickson. Helen and I enjoyed our dinner inside the refugio (some campsites offered hut accomodation as well) and spent a couple of hours by the meager fire trying to warm ourselves and dry our clothes. It was a bit painful when we had to leave the shelter and return to our cold tents, especially because our camp buddies had all decided to spend the night indoors for a little needed comfort. I think they felt a bit sorry for us as well as we said goodnight. I can´t thank Eduardo enough for insisting I take his warm dry fleece with me to my tent that night.

The sun threatening to shine overhead

Moody Camp Dickson

Day 4: Hard to believe I know, but more rain again today. However, the skies did clear intermittently exposing stunning views of the surrounding scenery, making it all worthwhile. We reached Camp Los Perros where we once again set up our already wet tents in wet conditions. Warm and wet is one thing, but warm it was not. And the temperature was growing colder every day as we gained elevation. Talk this night was centered around the long anticipated pass that we would reach tomorrow. We had all heard about the hurricane-like wind and considering the current weather conditions we were all convinced we would encounter snow as well. There was a certain amount of dread in all our faces as we crawled into our tents for the night.

Glacier Los Perros

Jason in a moment of reprieve from the rain [photo by Jason Krupa]

Day 5: As we sat eating breakfast the rain turned to snow. Not a good sign. Helen and I departed camp first. The snow became rain once more and even gave us a small, but much appreciated break in the first couple of hours. The trail was tedious. It was flooded most of the way requiring careful concentration as we gingerly stepped from branch to rock to branch. Just above treeline the wind began to howl and it continued to build the higher we climbed. Unfortunately the next few hours were not so pleasant for me. I was soaked from head to toe (literally) from a mixture of sweat (as I am sure some of you can imagine) and rain and I was ill-equipped for the conditions ahead. In nothing but a light weight synthetic base layer and an even lighter weight rain jacket (with no wind resistance) I was breaking trail through a foot of snow and ice with limited visibility, at times next to zero. I didn´t dare stop to put on my fleece or my hat or my gloves knowing that they were the only dry warm clothes I had once I reached camp on the other side. I was miserably cold, perhaps even a bit hypothermic, and the only thing that kept me going was the realization that I would only grow colder if I stopped moving. I did find a bit of comfort in the fact that I had a trail of friends (2 of which were doctors) behind me so that if I did in fact collapse someone would surely find me. At one point I stopped to wait for Helen and told her I didn´t think it was wise for us to carry on. The conditions only seemed to be getting worse and there was no end to the climb in sight. But she wisely argued we would be even worse off to turn around. I have climbed higher passes and managed in equally unfavorable weather, but my lack of proper gear resulted in a state of panic driven by the belief that I would surely freeze to death on that mountain!

I finally stumbled on to the summit and was still thinking I would never be warm again when Grey Glacier came into view. It took my breath away. Even in my pathetic state I couldn´t help but stop dead in my tracks and stare in amazement. I had never seen anything like it before. It occurred to me it was a bit ironic that I was being held captive by what is essentially a big block of ice considering that is exactly what I felt like in that moment. But it was simply remarkable.

We descended the steep, slippery, snowy trail safely to camp. Upon erecting our tent I crawled into my bag immediately to get warm. Helen eventually coaxed me out of it to get some food in me. The sight that night in the small make-shift shelter resembled that of a refugee camp. A most happy and relieved one.

The view as we set out for the summit

Kirsten crossing a stream behind us [photo by Jason Krupa]

Me approaching the pass (before the wind and snow!)

First views of Grey Glacier

It seemed to stretch on forever

The trail descending the summit

Our pseudo refugee camp at Paso [photo by Jason Krupa]

Day 6: Still more rain to Camp Grey where… the sun finally showed its glorious face! And where we learned that Jason had proposed to Kirsten along the trail (she accepted). This was more than enough cause for celebration with our friends and some Gato Negro (the only wine sold at camp). But first we stepped outside to soak up the remaining rays of warmth and to watch the sun set behind the spectacular foreground where Grey Glacier melts into Grey Lake.

Here the backside gang parted ways uknowingly.

Where Grey Glacier meets Grey Lake

The many peaks of Grey Glacier

And valleys

Sunset at Camp Grey

Iceberg Sunset

Day 7: Helen and I continued on through more rain (a bit redundant don´t you think?) to Camp Italiano. Just when I thought I had had enough a flock of condors circled overhead. For a split second I thought one might swoop down, scoop me up and rescue me from the gloom and doom we couldn´t seem to escape. And then I came to my senses and realized this wasn´t Mordor and we weren´t hobbits destined to destroy the Ring in order to save the world. Regardless, their appearance somehow lightened my mood and gave me the energy to carry on happily.

Along the way

Into the clouds again after a lunch break at Camp Pehoe

Condors!

First sighting of the Cuernos

The wind that night in camp sounded like a freight train. We would hear it first in the distance and listen as it gained speed and velocity before it came tearing through the trees above us. We decided as a result not to spend a 2^nd night there as planned.

Day 8: Instead we opted for a day hike up the Valle Del Frances IN THE SUN (and wind of course)! Then back to Camp Italiano to gather our packs and on to Pehoe Campground to catch the 6:30pm boat to the bus that would take us back to Puerto Natales.

Looking back down the valley

Helen seemingly enjoying the change in climate as well, not to mention the backdrop

Backside of the Cuernos

Another view of the Cuernos

We were wasted after 8 days of trekking, all but 2 in the rain and/or wind. But I don´t think any of us would have changed a single second of it. The more trying an experience, the more memorable. And my last-minute side trip to Chile will not soon be forgotten.

I managed to meet up with Kirsten and Jason back in Punta Arenas for a celebratory and farewell dinner. I couldn´t resist sharing the description of the meal I ate that night… straight out of the menu!

Me with Kirsten and Jason

It was even better than it sounds!

NOTE: all of the above pictures unless otherwise noted were taken by my trekking companion, helen cromb (i had not yet received a replacement camera)

see more of her (and my) photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

There has been a slight change in my original plans.  Instead of a month of leisure in New Zealand to recharge my batteries and plan for the year ahead, I made a hasty decision to adjust my itinerary in order to meet up with my friend, Susi, in Namibia as soon as possible!  And because the only choice with our return ticket if we’re not going to use it is to trade it in for an around the world ticket, I did.  One of the stipulations of such a ticket is that all my travel has to be in one direction around the globe.  This meant that I couldn’t fly from New Zealand to Africa and then back to Asia.  So, instead, I am heading east.

After two days of mad errands in Christchurch I flew to Auckland on the north island with my friend, Eric.  We rented a car and drove north to explore the Bay of Islands.  Eric had also cycle toured through New Zealand years ago, and like me, he had not spent any time on this northern most tip of the island.  We only had 5 days so we made the most of it and were on the go for the entirety of the trip.  We wanted warm and we wanted coastline.  We got both.  Not to mention stunning scenery.  Sand beaches.  Gorgeous harbours.  GREEN countryside and forests.  Tranquil blue seas.  Sailing and snorkeling.  Swimming the surf.  Eating green mussels.  Falling asleep to the sound of the ocean.  It was wonderful.  Sadly I can share none of the visual beauty with you.  Eric’s camera stopped working while we were still on the ice and mine decided to die as soon as I got off of it.  Maddening I tell you.

Eric and I said goodbye in Auckland.  He flew back to Colorado for a couple weeks of training and then returns to Antarctica for the winter at Palmer station.  I flew to Sydney, Australia, where I was met by my friend, Sam, who I met while cycling through New Zealand 5 years ago.  He was on an around the world adventure when I met him.  When he hit Australia he stopped.  Instead of returning home to England, he decided to take up residency in Sydney.  He has a lovely apartment just two blocks from the beach.  I am enjoying the quiet.  Catching my breath.  Tonight we met up with my friend, Dom, who I met in Switzerland 9 years ago!  I saw him last time I was here and it was wonderful to reconnect with him and his partner, Steven, once again.

Dom, Steven, Me, Richard & Sam

Only a couple more days of familiarity.  Continuing east, on Monday I fly to Punta Arenas, Chile, where I will spend two and a half weeks exploring Patagonia and the southern reaches of the country and will end my stint in South America with 5 days in Buenos Aires.  From there I connect through Madrid (Spain) and then Johannesberg (South Africa) continuing on to Windhoek, Namibia.  There I will join my friend, Susi, who I also met while cycling through New Zealand.  She lives and works in Namibia giving guided tours of the game parks and land.  I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit Africa when I have a local guide.  I will spend a couple of months there before continuing on to India in mid June.  All of this could change between now and then, but this is the plan as it stands now.

I’ll be sure to keep you abreast of any changes.  😉

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

As the end of the season approached we anxiously kept our eyes on the horizon waiting for the Russian icebreaker, the Krasin, to appear in the distance. The Krasin was contracted this year to carve the channel in the frozen Ross Sea that would allow the cargo vessel, the American Tern, and the tanker, the Lawrence H. Gianella, to arrive with their precious cargo. It was difficult to grasp the notion that a ship would soon be docked at the pier that all season appeared to be just another frozen piece of land. But, no, in fact it was not land, it was ice, and below it, sea.

Ship offload. This concludes the summer season in McMrdo. The cargo ship brings much needed supplies and the tanker carries fuel. The NAVCHAPS (U.S. Navy Cargo Handling and Port Group) join the community to assist in the process. Town becomes organized chaos.

The Krasin did at last arrive. And it was an impressive sight. Unfortunately it experienced some mechanical difficulties which delayed its ability to escort the other ships to station. Fortunately this meant my dear Russian friend, George, would have time to give me and a few friends an exclusive tour of the mighty vessel.

The Krasin en route to McMurdo

The Krasin at sea

The Krasin at the pier in McMurdo

Tour guide, George

Me being a goof ball

Notice small hole in the ice with ladder leading below…
Divers working on the broken prop below

Meanwhile rumors were flying around town that the South Pole station might stay open longer than expected. This possibility along with the late arrival of the vessels meant that none of us were going to leave as soon as we had expected. It is remarkable what a couple of weeks difference can do to the psyche when one is ready to move on. The new most popular question was, “when are you redeploying?” The greater majority of folks were all too anxious to get back on that C-17 and begin their onward travels.

In the end the Krasin was fixed and the vessels arrived just a couple days late. Our original departure dates were honored and the goodbyes began in rapid succession. Monday, February 13th, instead of transporting pax to the airfield, I took my seat in the front cab of Delta 363, with Shuttle Amanda at the wheel, and my mates Bert and Eric on either side of me. The snow which had begun unexpectedly an hour earlier was growing thick and heavy. Visibility was poor. It was starting to look like we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. We waited eagerly for word of the C-17’s arrival knowing that if it landed, it would then take-off. As we approached the airfield the tail of the plane came into view. I gave a huge sigh of relief.

It was odd to board the C-17 once again knowing that this time I was leaving Antarctica behind me. Probably for good. This recognition made me a bit sad I suppose. It truly is a wonderous and unique place that few will ever see. How is it I was one of the lucky, or shall I say privileged, ones? Who knows. But I’m awful thankful I was.

Yet, reluctant to leave I was not. When I stepped foot on that plane I was nothing short of elated! I was ready for the next leg of my journey to begin. And begun it has!

But wait, first I must at least acknowledge what pure joy it was to step off the plane in Christchurch and find darkness awaiting me, stars twinkling above me, humidity saturating me, warmth enveloping me, organic smells overwhelming me, the sight of small people (otherwise known as children) and animals surprising me. From sensory deprivation to sensory overload. It was magnificent.

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

Remember when the “harsh condiments” won 1st prize for their costumes at the Halloween party and were promised a boondoggle for the prize? Well, we all certainly remembered, but we were quite certain Recreation had forgot. We were also convinced that permission to visit the destination as adverstised would be declined by the folks at the chalet — the policy makers — due to the fact that the station manager actually told a coworker on new year’s that “room with a view” was off limits to all USAP (United States Antarctic Program) participants. That and all boondoggles this year were discontinued due to… well, no one is actually sure why.

Enough with the politics. The good news is that Recreation did come through and 9 of us costume winners along with 2 guides did ride skidoos out to “room with a view” and had the time of our lives. I hadn’t been on a snowmobile in more than 18 years, but it was just as much fun as it was back when I would ride every weekend on Tawnya Roppel’s farm growing up. The one notable difference being that the hand grips are now heated! Oh, the comforts of modern technology.

The “room” is really not a room at all. Rather it is a location. Somehwere near the base of Mt. Erebus. Approximatley 10 miles from town. And it certainly does provide some fine views. Thankfully the weather that day was nothing short of perfect. It made the task of 11 adults with nothing but one football and one frisbee entertaining themselves in a wide open field of snow simple. Of course the company contributed significantly to the happy vibe of the day. The pure joy of being outside, on our own, away from town for an entire day is quite evident on our faces in the pictures below.

Me & my skidoo buddy, Mary, on our sweet ride!

One of a few stops along the way

The famed “Room With a View”… not much of a room, but certainly
some outstanding views.

This is how excited we were to be FREE for the day!

We all had individual photo shoots as well…

Yeah, look at me go!

Ok, same shot with the help of photo shop. How fun is that?
(compliments of Bill Jirsa)

Another angle of the same shot. My face says it all.

We played silly games…

Nathan and Bill double somersaultin’ it!

Wheel-barrow races!

We renamed our boondoggle, “poondoggle,” and naturally spelled it out for fun.

Happy from above

Departing the room

disclaimer: it occurred to me that i haven’t given credit where credit is due for the photos both on my blog and my smugmug site that i have posted, but did not take. ice folks make a habit of sharing their photos on the i:drive here which is fantastic b/c then i can supplement my photos with those i either missed, or those that are too good to pass up. it would be painstakingly difficult to note the individual pics, so i won’t. 90% of them are mine. but those other 10% are the work of a motley crew.

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com