Hike - 2/3 - i should log off

Atop Mt. Sinai

June 7, 2010 By Danny

Hiking Mt Sinai is the sort of thing that manypeople come to Egypt to do. Most people fly to one of Egypt’s expensive coastal cities, book a tour, get on the bus around midnight, arrive sometime before 2am, and with some luck are at the summit with one thousand of their closest friends that they never met before who are all just as tired and cranky as you’d expect them to be…..oh, but the sunrise is spectacular. We decided against that route.

We arrived in the small yet touristy town of St. Catherine’s in the afternoon. This is little town is walking distance from the actual mountain but sees a mere fraction of the traffic the mountain does…since no one wants to sleep here. We were welcomed to town by nice cool air (it might be a desert but it is as high as Denver) along with a Bedouin man who took us rather quickly to his hotel where we quickly made ourselves comfortable as the only guests there. We sat out under the stars,enjoyed a nice Bedouin dinner (which looked surprisingly similar to Italian) and prepared to sleep in rather than waking up at 2am to start our hike…we slept until 10 am.

Doing this hike in the afternoon has three clear benefits from my standpoint. One, you’re awake. Two, you can see things and will enjoy yourself rather than injure yourself. Three, hardly anyone else does it this way. Teaming up with another fellow who arrived at our hotel long after we did we set off around midday to start our hike, passing the usual camel in the road, a couple of fruit stands, and an overpriced souvenir shop.

Arriving at the St. Catherine’s Monastery at the foot of the mountain we obtained the mandatory guide (in lieu of an entry fee) and started up the long windy trail rather than the steep staircase. On the way we passed 16 overpriced snack shacks but only a handful were open…they really exist for that morning crew. We had the mountain to ourselves the entire 3 hours we hiked.

At the top we were the first to arrive and immediately set to work. First I needed to find to large stones in the shape of tablets. Then, I gave myself a “desert nomad” look using my bandanna and found a suitable place for the photo shoot where I cast myself as Moses. Finally, I posed for the camera with my props approximately 250 times. Most of these photos remain private however, and will be used at a later date.

As far as I can tell, the sunset was just as spectacular as the sunrise would have been except that we were awake to see it so it didn’t feel quite as otherworldly as many who climb in the pre-dawn hours might experience. We went down that mountain rather quickly, and aided by the light of the nearly full moon. We ate well that night and slept even better.

IF YOU GO: Trust us, go and spend a couple of nights in St Catherine’s rather than doing this as an uncomfortable bus trip from Dahab. We stayed at Sheik Sina (owned by Sheik Musa’s son/) and had a found it very comfortable with a lot of options regarding lodging. Getting out the options were a bus to Dahab or a bus to Cairo (where we came from) so we took a cap to Nuweiba in order to continue to Jordan. You can walk to the Monastery and the hike from town without a problem.

Capetown- the San Francisco of the South

February 23, 2010 By Danny

I don’t know if its called the San Francisco of the Southern Hemisphere, but if it isn’t and the name catches on, well you heard it here first. The winelands are close by. There is a famous prison in the bay. The vibe is cosmopolitan. The coast is wonderful but without a wetsuit you might find yourself a bit cold. Cape Town has the world’s largest population of Great White Sharks, followed by the waters off shore of San Fran. I suppose the biggest difference, on the surface anyway, is that San Francisco is dotted by huge hills whereas Cape Town is divided by a huge mountain. But, that’s just the surface I’m talking about.

Cape Town was founded when Portuguese sailors 400 years ago were looking to go east and found Table Mountain instead. Eventually the need was realized for a couple of lighthouses on the point (the first one was too high and always shrouded in fog) and a permanent settlement was established, complete with wine courtesy of the Dutch. The need for cheap labor lead to slave imports (from Angola, Madagascar, and Asia) which is a large part of the reason Cape Town is so cosmopolitan today. Much of its own history, like that of the entire country, has been shaped by events in Europe as Capetown slipped from the Portuguese to the Dutch and then to the British.

The city is beautiful to look at but it is not without its blemishes. During Apartheid the government, as the story goes, couldn’t have things be so cosmopolitan and so they took to demolishing one of the most vibrant parts of the city, District 6. (If you’ve seen the movie District 9, currently up for best picture at the Oscars, you might notice some similarities.) Naturally District 6 was a poor area but it was a mixed area for coloreds, (that means mixed race here) blacks, Jews, whites, and you get the picture. With this area knocked out, as it still is today, people were force ably removed to the other side of the mountain where many continue to reside today in squatters camps and shanty towns. The glitz and glamor of the coastline condos to these camps could not be in greater contrast.

After spending a good day hiking up Table Mountain to look down on the city below, we realized the city does have a lot on offer: diving just offshore, hiking all over the place, and enjoying the best of waterfront nightlife. There are plenty of museums to keep you busy and it is has a real, walkable, downtown area which is not something we’ve seen since Buenos Aires. Between the funky boutiques lining Long Street and the Green Market Craft Square, the downtown is a nice mix of Africa and funky cosmopolitan. This town may remind me of San Fransisco, but while in SF I’ve never seen baboons or watch as street performers dance and sing zulu war songs while sipping my cheap, local wine.

Hiking in Lesotho

February 3, 2010 By Jillian

As we set off to find the bushman paintings, the village men surrounding the gate were severely disappointed we didn’t want a guide. Sure the paintings would have been easier to find with a guide, but what’s the fun in that. Hearing the owners warning not to go into the gorge for fear of disrupting a boy’s coming of age ceremony, we took what we were sure was the right path. Breathtaking scenery, it wasn’t too long before local children started to shout lumela, hello, lumela, at us. Grabbing our hands, the children smiled, asked us to take their picture and got up the courage to ask for sweets. Without sweets, the children were disappointed, but enthralled by our friend’s camera which recorded video. Playing back their dancing and singing, he excited the children so much they didn’t want to let us go. Eventually we made our way into the gorge, our presence being the excitement of the day for children in every village. With only a few words of Sesotho between the four of us, happily navigated our way downstream avoiding every would-be guide along the way.

Seemingly scratching their heads at us, the villages smiled, said “Lodge”, asking if we were coming from Malealea Lodge, and smiled again when we said yes. “Bushman paintings?” we said and thanked whomever pointed the way. Eventually the hands started pointing up the gorge toward the rim. Confused, we let a local sheep hearder, with the same level of English as our Sesotho show us the way. Hoofing it up the hill, he explained in charades that there were 3 paintings and he would take us to all of them. Nodding our heads in agreement, I decided it was time to learn a little Sesotho. Pointing at animals, rocks, huts and trees, I asked our guide their Sesotho names and repeated them in English. We pointed at our chests, the international symbol for “I am” and said our names.

The first two sites were incredible, and we all agreed without our guide we never would have found them. Colored in red, yellow and black, the paintings represented hunting, spiritual life, and even what we thought was an erotic scene or two. We took tons of photographs, tried to determine the faded figures and marveled at the site. We’ve seen petroglyphs before, but there was just something magical about the bushman paintings. Although their style is thousands and thousands of years old, experts put these drawings at less than a thousand years old. The third site, an overhang above the valley, proved the most memorable. Picking up a stick our friend approached the cave painting as though he was going to touch it. Jumping out our guide said what we can only assume was no, don’t touch it! Without touching the painting, our friend had lined up the stick as though he was painting the image. Snapping away, we each took our turns “painting” the bushman designs. Showing our guide the pictures, he laughed and jumped up to take his turn. We could say no more than hello, sheep, donkey and our names in each others language, but we all had a good laugh over our artistry. Waving good bye, we headed back to the lodge still laughing at the thought of the modern Basotho pretending to paint the designs of his ancestors.

Modern Lesotho quickly came into view although I doubt the view is that different than 100 years ago, there was one striking difference. Along the road the school children, in their maroon and gold uniforms danced, sang and ran their way home. Seeing tourists, the children mobbed us, demanding we take their picture and show it to them. Laughing we snapped away as the children acted like they were models in a photo shoot. Recording video of them singing and playing, our friend shared the video with the children, who immediately huddled around him for a better view. Instantly his head disappeared among the sea of children. Giggling, the kids would have been perfectly happy to spend the entire afternoon at the “photo shoot”. We were treated to a lesson on the planets by one girl, and a recital of the numbers one through ten in English by another.

Running into so many villagers on our hike to the paintings made it a real cultural experience not just a hike through a beautiful gorge. For us, after so many negative experiences with children in Latin America aggressively asking and begging for money, playing with these children was a wonderfully different experience.

And then there was snow…

November 9, 2009 By Jillian

Bariloche is known for its access to great hiking, mountain biking and its delicious local chocolates. Now you know why it was high on our list for Argentina. When we left Pucon to cross the mountains back into Argentina we didn’t expect a miracle with the weather, but we did expect things to be different on the eastern side of the mountains. And they were. I nearly fell out of my bunk the first morning when the Argentinian guy in our room told us it was snowing. Great. We had traded rain for snow.

We had planned to spend a week in Bariloche hiking, mountain biking, and maybe even camping out a few nights. The heavy precipitation of the previous week left the single track (that’s mountain biking) too muddy to ride, and the multi-day hiking treks covered in knee deep snow. Only two of the numerous “refugios” (shelters) in the mountains were even open, so any sort of multi-day trek was out of the picture almost immediately. We turned to the only things that were left, day hiking and chocolate tasting.

Hiking through Parque National Llao Llao on our first day, we thought we were in luck. For nearly five hours we hiked through the park without so much as a flurry or drop of rain. Ironic considering it’s a temperate rainforest and that morning we woke up to snow. With the constant threat of bad weather, and the fact that it is still low season, we had the paths and lakes almost exclusively to ourselves. Overlooking Lake Moreno we had a great view of the surrounding snow capped peaks, and while the weather looked awful up there, we were quiet dry at the lake side.

Emboldened by the fortunate weather from the day before, we decided to make a go of one of the mountains the following day. Dressed for cold, wet weather we headed up Cerro Lopez. A challenging hike up a steep and rocky trail, the other hiker turned around before we made it to the first look out. With the light drizzle quickly turning into a stinging rain, we continued up the mountain determined not to let the weather beat us. As we got above the clouds, the rain stopped and we thought we were in the clear. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves, but about 100 yards after the hiking path joined the “road” to the “refugio” we found ourselves in a winter wonderland. Except for a few icy inhabitants, it was clear to us that the “refugio” was still closed. From as close to the top as we could get the views were incredible, and its clear why this region is called the lake district. The five or six lakes spread out before us seemed to fill the valleys between the mountain tops and it except for the threatening rain clouds, it looked like a postcard (although postcard photos are taken on days without bad weather) of the Lake District. Verdant green landscapes with turquoise blue lakes, it is easy to see why the region is so popular. Climbing back down through the snow and then the rain, we continued our circuit of the lake, walking 10K back to Llao Llao on some of the same trails we had done the day before.

After hiking in the rain and snow there was only one thing to do: taste chocolates. With more than a dozen chocolate shops lining the main street, we had to choose carefully. Unlike in the United States, there aren’t a lot of free samples, and after we bought some rather expensive samples at the first shop Danny declared we’d only buy from shops that gave us free samples. Fortunately the next two did just that, and before we left Bariloche we ended up with a ¼ kilo box of delicious chocolates, fudges and treats. Just what we needed for the long bus ride south.

The bad weather aside, we had a great time in Bariloche. This is definitely a place that gets put on the “must come back to” list only next time maybe we’ll come when the weather is a little more pleasant.

We’re either arrogant or stupid

September 2, 2009 By Jillian

Twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, the Colca Canyon northeast of Arequipa is an incredible patchwork of agricultural villages nestled in colorful canyon walls. Like the Grand Canyon, Colca Canyon is still home to indigenous Cabana and Collagua peoples, who make their living through traditional farming. Unfortunately for us, its winter, so for the most part the fields were dry.

Every tour agency in Arequipa seems to offer tours to the Canyon from one day bus tours, to multi-day treks. Fortunately we contacted a local guide through couchsurfing who offered his expertise. In true Tobias style we decided to do a two day hike in one day. Our friend told us that it just isn’t done in one day because of the intense afternoon sun, but we’re either arrogant or stupid, and figured that after we conquered the Grand Canyon in a day we could certainly do Colca Canyon. Having assured our friend that we could do it after he expressed hesitation, we took the map he drew us, which we affectionately called the “treasure map”, and headed out on the bus. Six hours later we arrived in Cabanaconde, the furthest village in the canyon, grabbed a cheap hotel room and prepared for our hike.

Inspired by our plan, our new Spanish friends decided to dash their original plan and instead do our circuit, but in the less crazy time frame of two days. Our plan was simple, a loop from Cabanaconde east into the canyon crossing the river before breakfast, and continuing on the other side of the canyon west to the oasis before crossing the river again and climbing out. One variable was left to be determined- how would we handle the 3000 foot change from the canyon rim to the river and back up at over 10,000 feet?

At 4:15am the alarm rang, but seeing as it was still completely pitch black outside we slept for a few more minutes before finally rolling out of bed. Cold and in the dark, we walked out of the hostel shocked to see that the town was already up and moving. Shops, schools and even a restaurant or two were already open, and people were already sitting in the main plaza. Getting a move on, we hurried out of town to the trail head, arriving just before sunrise.

Hiking down to San Juan de Chuccho, the first village on our trek, we passed a few mule trains headed back up to Cabanaconde and a few indigenous men and women heading down. The trail down was steep, and in parts very rocky. (If you ever want to do this trail, it is definitely necessary to have good shoes, don’t be fooled by the smooth mule path the first hour.) Reaching San Juan de Chuccho we were shocked to see a number of really nice looking hostels and restaurants, but pushing to finish in one day we declined a very nice indigenous womens offer of breakfast.

Hiking along the other side of the canyon we were greeted by a number of side trails and off shoot trails. Unsure, we asked everyone we met which way to Costinirhuha, our next village. Friendly, they pointed us in the right direction and sent us on our way with a cheerful “buen viaje.” Unspoiled by the tourism they have, the small villages of Costinirhuhua and Malata were downright wonderful. Traditional clay homes spanned the canyon cliffs, hovering above terraced fields which spread down to the river. Clothed in traditional costumes, the villagers we met seemed genuinely happy to greet us and never once became pushy or aggressive while selling their hostel, food, or crafts. Unfortunately, pushy and aggressive locals have become a regular on our trip, sometimes so much so that they ruin the place we are visiting.

With the sun beating down on us, we clung to what little shade we could find as we rushed down to the Sangalle, the Oasis. The canyon itself was beautiful, from the inside it was blazing hot, but looking up we could see snow covered volcanoes. Hot and tired, we threw ourselves into a frigid pool at El Eden and lounged in their shade eating lunch. We had yet to run into our Spanish friends, and with a real lack of enthusiasm on my part, we headed out of Sangalle only to bump into them at the outskirts of town. Less zealous than us, they decided to take a mule train back to the canyon rim, so we parted ways and marched on.

The trail was straightforward, and by that I mean straight up. Though we didn’t have an altimeter, we figured that we climbed about 1000 feet in the first hour. Unfortunately the next two hours were similar and by the time we reach close to the top we were exhausted. Just as I was about to take my 30th break in the last hour, a man with two mules cheerfully came around the next switchback. “Hola Senorita!” He cried. Como estas? Necessitas Agua?” “No, pero estoy muy consada,” I replied. Laughing he chatted with us for a few more minutes before leaving us with good news- only 15 more minutes to the top! Energized, we mustered up what strength we could and found our way to the top. A beautiful view from above, we were unfortunately greeted by several burning trash fires, making us unwilling to spend time admiring our work. We headed back to Cabanaconde and collapsed.

The trek was difficult, but as we say in spanish, “vale la pena” (worth it). If you ever feel so inclined, it can definitely be done in a day, just make sure you are in shape, start early and be prepared with enough food and water.

Atop Mt. Sinai

Capetown- the San Francisco of the South

Hiking in Lesotho

And then there was snow…

We’re either arrogant or stupid

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